Din Tai Fung, Kyoto: Upscale Taiwanese dim sum chain

Din Tai Fung – once rated as one of the top 10 gourmet restaurants in the world by The New York Times – is a Taiwan-based Chinese cuisine restaurant chain.

In Kyoto, where Chinese food/chuka (中華) is considered local comfort food like Tex-Mex in the US, Din Tai Fung is more of an upscale authentic chuka restaurant. An expensive Taiwanese dim sum/a well-heeled chuka chain is what it is about.

Din Tai Fung at Takashimaya (高島屋).

Located on the third floor of Kyoto’s landmark department store ‘Takashimaya (高島屋)’ is where Din Tai Fung claims sovereignty. It’s the type of place you never walk by unless your well-heeled Japanese parents took you there. I happened to walk by for some reason.

Din Tai Fung’s menu.

All the items on a laminated menu have a high-resolution photo and a trilingual caption. All you have to do is write down a serial number of your choice on an order sheet. Mine included SH 4 (6 pieces of xiao bao), CH 505 (fried rice with a pork rib), RY 306 (one shrimp stick spring roll), RY 310 (shrimp fritters with mayonnaise sauce), and SH 5 (2 pieces of truffle xiao bao).

Xiao bao (小龍包). 990 yen ($7.60).

Xiao bao came with shredded ginger and soy-based vinegary xiao bao sauce. Follow how-to-eat instructions and maximize the flavor, I guess. The xiao bao was phenomenal anyway.

Shrimp stick spring roll (えび入り棒春巻き). 420 yen($3.20).

Shrimp stick spring roll was so crispy that it was almost a thin biscuit. Umami-laden, plump shrimp bombs exploded as I bit into it. Quirky yet pleasant texture it was.

Shrimp fritters with mayonnaise sauce (小えびのフリッターマヨソース). 960 yen ($7.40).

Shrimp fritters with mayonnaise sauce are one of the most popular chuka dish in Japan. Din Tai Fung’s was ethereally fluffy. The sauce was like elegantly mild Thousand Island dressing.

Fried rice with a pork rib (パイクーチャーハン). 1600 yen ($12.30).

Fried rice was minimal and had “the expensive Japanese Chinese fried rice” taste. A pork rib a.k.a. paigu (排骨) had a star anise aroma ever so slightly, which I felt so Japanese since Japanese Chinese/Taiwanese or chuka restaurants almost never smell star anise: star anise doesn’t exist in Japanese kitchens. Even better was the surface of the pork rib which was professionally executed to deliver the finesse of grilling skill.