A Terrible Dining Experience and Review of a Restaurant on Xuefu Road, Tamsui

Yesterday, my family and I visited an ostensibly stylish restaurant in Tamsui and spent nearly NT$2,000 on a meal. While the interior decoration displayed considerable design flair, as an eating establishment, its culinary offerings could only be described as pedestrian—neither remarkably flawed nor possessing any memorable qualities. What left a truly bitter taste in my mouth, however, were two glaring issues: sanitary conditions and management attitude.

To avoid turning this article into a purely subjective emotional venting session, I will recount the events exactly as they unfolded:

Upon entering, our family was guided to our table. After placing our orders with the waitress, as we chatted, dishes began arriving at an astonishing pace—so fast, in fact, that it made one wonder how the kitchen could cook that quickly.

Setting aside the suspicious cooking speed, the dishes served were exceedingly plain and uninspired. Much like the dining room itself, which hosted only two or three tables on a chilly evening, the food felt cold and lifeless—even the centers of several rice grains in our bowls were noticeably chilled.

During the meal came the specific incident that compelled me to write this post: I noticed an insect struggling in the sauce of the scallion oil chicken. The moment I saw it, words failed me. Even when dining at casual roadside night market stalls, encountering such a situation is extraordinarily rare.

Initially, our family intended to eat at the well-known Big Footprint Restaurant. However, when we exited the parking garage and took the elevator up to the first floor, we spotted this trendy-looking venue right in front of us. Thinking the weather outside was freezing and that walking all the way to Big Footprint seemed tedious, I specifically suggested trying this place, having had a vague impression of decent online reviews.

Upon spotting the fruit-fly-like bug, I used a spoon to scoop it onto an empty plate, then called the waitress over to address the situation. When she saw the insect on the plate, she swiftly whisked it away. Moments later, she returned with an empty clean dish, murmuring a few polite apologies along the way.

Shortly after, a middle-aged gentleman approached our table quietly from behind. I presumed he was the restaurant manager or an equivalent supervisor. He fancied himself quite clever: he deliberately walked up right behind our toddler’s high chair—a spot tucked tightly against the inner wall that we adults had intentionally chosen for the child’s safety and privacy. This fellow went out of his way to navigate a cramped, awkward path just to position himself there.

Once he positioned himself, without so much as a greeting, he abruptly asked whether we were satisfied with today’s dishes. His sudden presence startled me, and for a split second, I could not fathom why he stood in that awkward corner or why his approach was so bizarrely blunt. My sister-in-law calmly replied that the meal was acceptable—except for the insect found in our food.

Upon hearing her reply, the man merely gave a couple of dry, nervous chuckles and quietly walked away without another word. His behavior left our entire party dumbfounded, wondering what on earth he had walked over for in the first place.

From that moment until we settled the bill and exited, that mysterious middle-aged man never showed his face again.

This trendy restaurant admittedly benefits from geographic convenience, enjoying views near the historic cultural district of Tamsui. Even though it is situated along the bustling Xuefu Road, the tranquility of the adjacent Yinshan Temple (Denggong Temple) provides a pleasant, relaxing backdrop.

However, the individual managing this establishment, or whoever is in charge of customer relations, is profoundly unfit for service management.

Had we made a loud scene and shouted, he might have bowed and offered multiple apologies. But I wanted to see how a professional establishment would handle the matter, so we maintained a completely calm, composed posture. Predictably, seeing that we posed no confrontational threat, he offered not a single word of apology. Who knows—perhaps this gentleman was someone exceedingly high up in the company’s hierarchy who deemed himself above apologizing to ordinary patrons.

On its website, this stylish venue promotes itself as Tamsui’s “affordable upscale dining,” yet the actual experience failed to meet even the standard of a street food stall.

Finally, so this review does not read merely as a diatribe, I offer two objective observations and constructive suggestions:

First, that insect could not possibly have been an isolated case. Fruit flies and gnats are highly gregarious creatures.

Second, the venue’s most critical hygiene vulnerability lies in its architectural layout: the kitchen is completely separated from the dining hall. In itself, a separate kitchen is not unusual, but here the kitchen opens directly to the outdoor environment. Food transport between the cooking area and the dining room is entirely exposed to outside air and airborne contaminants. This is a fundamental flaw in facility planning. With such spatial design, poor service recovery, slipshod management, and mediocre food, it is an absolute stretch to label this a "**fine dining**" or upscale restaurant.

Perhaps the establishment focuses predominantly on large banquet catering, where small quality details are routinely overlooked. Of course, if you are not as meticulous as I am about hygiene and service, the stylish decor might still appeal to design-conscious diners looking for a quiet ambiance—quiet primarily because there are hardly any customers (smile).