Taipei’s popular private kitchen cuisine – enjoy foie gras-infused Lu Rou Fan (braised pork rice)!

Text and photos by /Little Tiger’s Dream Food Blog

In recent years, private kitchens in Taiwan have become extremely popular, although not many manage to stay famous for long. If someone had asked me a while back which private kitchen I liked best, I might’ve had to think about it and give a different answer depending on the person – or add some disclaimers. But now if you ask me, there’s only one answer: “J&J Private Kitchen.” As for why, let’s talk about it over the meal together.

That day, invited by a foodie friend, I wandered around trying to find the place based on the address “No. 3, Dunhua North Road, Taipei City,” but couldn’t locate it. The restaurant is actually situated near Beining Road. First-time guests who can’t find it shouldn’t hesitate to call—they won’t mind (laughs).

To be honest, ever since J&J opened, friends have been inviting me non-stop, and there were plenty of recommendations – even outrageously glowing praise. I ended up missing out three or four times before finally getting a chance to try this private kitchen, where reservations are booked two months in advance. That day, I practically came with a magnifying glass. When I entered the restaurant, I had a certain feeling—or rather, an atmosphere—like visiting a friend’s luxurious home who happens to be an amazing cook.

On the right, early-arriving guests were chatting in little groups on the sofas, while familiar faces mingled with the chefs and cooks in the kitchen as if they were at home.

Dining here is extremely relaxed—you’re free to walk around the kitchen, as long as you don’t get in the way of the chefs, and they’re more than happy to answer any questions. It’s just like hanging out with friends.

At J&J, prices are $2500, $3000, or $3500 per person, but the signature black eel Lu Rou Fan is only available at the $3000+ tier. What we had that day was the $4000 advanced version.

There’s great food here, and naturally great drinks too. Don’t know what to choose? The staff can help pair your wine. You can also bring your own—no corkage fee for three bottles or fewer, and $300 per bottle from the fourth onward.

● ETtoday News Cloud reminds you: Don’t drink and drive, and don’t drive after drinking.

The first dish was a seafood platter. The vegetables on the right were simply roasted, letting the freshness of the ingredients shine through—their crunchiness was tangible. The white asparagus, when bitten into, released a hint of juice and was incredibly sweet. The ham slices were made from Iberian pork, rich in fat.

This drink was quite interesting. At first glance, it looked a bit like a Thai-style cold seafood soup, and the taste was somewhat similar—sweet, sour, and with a slight spicy kick. But the most surprising and delightful part was the inclusion of traditional Taiwanese snacks: grass jelly and aiyu jelly. These gave it a jelly-like texture—cool, soft, bouncy, and fun to eat.

This dish was called “Sous-vide Shaoxing Chicken.” Using the sous-vide method to cook chicken breast to avoid the usual dryness isn’t new, but this dish still managed to wow me. The chicken breast was incredibly tender, practically melting in your mouth without much chewing. The highlight, though, was how the elements of Shaoxing chicken were deconstructed and recombined using techniques akin to molecular gastronomy. The sauce in the bowl tasted purely like Shaoxing chicken, with a hint of subtle spice—it was salty, fragrant, oily, and sweet, yet something still felt missing.

Yes, the aroma of Shaoxing wine was transformed into white foam on top of the chicken. This creative touch not only made it unique but also allowed diners to adjust the pairing of sauce and chicken according to their preference for the wine’s fragrance.

Halfway through the meal, I discovered that some king oyster mushrooms, often added to Shaoxing chicken, were hidden beneath a few slices of sous-vide chicken breast. These large, thick mushrooms were simply grilled, preserving their original flavor and juicy texture. When all the ingredients were mixed in the mouth, it truly captured the essence of Shaoxing chicken, especially in terms of flavor.

Since I was sitting close to the open kitchen, I suddenly heard the wonderful sizzle of oil on an iron plate. Before I could turn around, I caught a whiff of a familiar aroma—and there it was, my favorite: foie gras.

Aside from the black eel Lu Rou Fan, perhaps the most praised dish at J&J is this incredibly indulgent bowl of Lu Rou Fan. Many who’ve tried it say it’s the best they’ve ever had—which is hard for someone like me, a total Lu Rou Fan enthusiast, to resist.

Besides a touch of gold leaf for color (personally, I’m not a fan of putting gold leaf on food...), there was also a whole South African abalone underneath, a semi-raw egg in the middle, and a drizzle of Lu Rou sauce that may have looked modest but packed a serious punch.

At first, I deliberately avoided the fancy ingredients and tried the Lu Rou Fan with a hint of egg yolk. It had a mild, almost herbal medicine-like aroma—not greasy or overly salty, and the most unique part was a faint, elusive peanut fragrance. After chewing, I realized the rice itself was cooked to perfection. Even after finishing a bite, the aroma of the Lu Rou and the rice lingered in my mouth. Of course, the toppings just elevated this already amazing Lu Rou Fan. The abalone, though very tender and trying its best to blend into this ultra-smooth rice, was something I pushed aside to enjoy separately—or rather, as a side dish to the Lu Rou, egg yolk, and rice trio. The joy of them melting together in my mouth was unforgettable. Calling it the best Lu Rou Fan I’ve ever had wouldn’t be an exaggeration—even if I don’t know how much this bowl costs on its own (laughs).

The name was Black Garlic Peeling Chili Chicken, but I don’t recall tasting any peeling chili flavor that day. All I remember was how rich and thick the chicken soup was—it left a layer of gelatinous stickiness in my mouth after drinking. The chicken was stewed to extreme tenderness, especially the slippery skin, which was delicious. The tendon in the leg practically melted away, leaving a satisfying bounce in the final half-bite. The mushroom broth on the right was so abundant I couldn’t take a bite until it cooled down a bit. To be fair, the soup was really good and showed clear effort, but I must admit, it might’ve been the least memorable dish of the day XXD.

Then came a smell that, in Japan, I find the hardest to handle: grilled eel. Getting closer, I realized this black eel was unusually thick—thicker than any I’d had before.

This bowl of eel rice didn’t have too many extra ingredients—just eel and rice, with a bit of egg strips adding a touch of color, texture, and flavor.

Frankly, I completely agree with friends who say it’s the best eel rice in Taiwan. I’ve rarely had such delicious eel rice even in Japan. Especially in terms of texture, it was richly oily, soft, and melt-in-your-mouth, with a slight chew from the thickness of the eel. No bones at all, needless to say. If I were to nitpick, the meat itself wasn’t as sweet as I expected, but fortunately, the black eel was very rich in oil.

The sauce, perhaps adjusted for Taiwanese palates that are becoming less tolerant of sweetness, wasn’t as sweet as Japanese eel rice sauce—but it had a certain salty fragrance I can’t quite describe.

This rice was clearly different from Japanese eel rice, which is just drizzled with sauce. It had a uniquely chewy, even slightly sticky texture. The sauce never became too salty or too sweet, even in the last bite. It was ridiculously delicious.

Mid-meal, we had an iced coffee that tasted like cold drip—over 50% fruity acidity, even with fruity aromas upon drinking. It was incredibly refreshing and clean-tasting, and I loved it, even though I usually just drink coffee without analyzing it too much.

The special braised pig trotter is also one of J&J’s signature dishes, and it even earned high praise from my foodie friend who’s eaten countless delicacies. When it arrived, the color of the pork wasn’t as dark as red-braised or as plain as boiled. But all doubts vanished after the first bite. How could this pig trotter be so tender, sticky, and delicious... The seemingly thick skin, the fat beneath it, and the soft, chewy tendons between the toes all melted in sequence in the mouth. Not too salty, not greasy, with a hint of herbal aroma in the savory fragrance, and the natural fat of the trotter blended perfectly. It was insanely delicious—hands down the best pig trotter I’ve ever had (stamped).

Next up was “Molecular Three-Cup Cuttlefish.” The ink from the cuttlefish was extracted, mixed with some three-cup sauce elements, and then reinjected into the grilled cuttlefish. The green sauce in the bowl was made from the key ingredient of three-cup cooking: basil.

By now, I’m sure all the clever folks out there have guessed what those bubbles are in the San Bei cuisine—yes, they’re ginger. The bubbles are light and delicate, with a subtle ginger flavor but an incredibly fragrant aroma. It’s a truly creative dish.

The squid has a crisp yet tender texture with a slight burst of juice upon first bite. The insanely sweet squid, paired with the savory ink sauce and then dipped in basil sauce and ginger bubbles, delivers the full San Bei flavor without the excessive greasiness typical of Taiwanese cuisine.

Honestly, by this point, almost everyone was completely stuffed... But the chef just had to bring out a huge slab of freshly grilled gourmet steak. Who is he trying to kill?!

Whether you love steak or not, when you see the color of that perfectly sliced steak, you’ll definitely be swallowing your saliva like crazy—even if you’re already bursting at the seams.

I always say, if something tastes bad when you’re hungry, then it’s really bad. Conversely, if something tastes amazing when you’re full, then it must be truly delicious. This steak definitely falls into the latter category. The crust on the outside was surprisingly crispy, even slightly crunchy, and the texture was astonishing. The meat quality and fat content were extremely satisfying, especially the subtle sweetness that emerged after the meat melted in your mouth, leaving you wanting more. In the end, I didn’t even want to dip it in the accompanying sauce!!!

Essentially, J&J is a creative cuisine that blends Chinese, Western, and even Taiwanese dishes. What’s even more rare is how it thoroughly mixes ingredients and cooking techniques, incorporating trendy molecular gastronomy methods. Here, no cuisine or flavor feels out of place (laughs). The strangest dish of all, however, was the final one—the “Three Delicacies Dumplings.”

While the chef was wrapping the dumplings, I curiously asked why they were served last. Without hesitation, the chef replied, “This is what we eat at home, and it’s always the final dish at banquets. Since you’re our guests here, you naturally have to have one or two of these ‘ingots’—they symbolize good fortune and mean you’re part of the family.”

The chef added that in the past, during banquets, they’d serve noodles or dumplings to make sure guests were full. Nowadays, if you don’t eat these dumplings, you haven’t truly been to J&J. The chef smiled and continued wrapping the dumplings.

But how could anyone possibly still be hungry after this meal... I was practically stuffed to the point of nausea. Yet, who could resist these freshly pan-fried dumplings, sizzling with aromatic oil and sporting a golden, crispy bottom?

When I cut one open, the cross-section was even more impressive—the whole shrimp was crispy and sweet, the cabbage wasn’t chopped too finely, and with each bite, you got bursts of meat juice, vegetable juice, and umami, all wrapped in a crispy, caramelized dumpling skin. Even though I was stuffed, I still managed to wolf down two. Seriously, chef, next time can I have the dumplings first? I could eat ten... no, twenty of them by myself XD

Suddenly, I caught a whiff of something resembling popcorn. Turning around, I saw the grill popping out a big bunch of flower-shaped popcorn. Using this as a dessert substitute—I doubt any other private kitchen would think of this (laughs).

You thought the dessert was just caramel popcorn? Of course not—the star was actually this bowl of youtiao peanut soup. I’m not sure if the youtiao were homemade or ordered in, but they were incredibly crispy. When placed in the peanut soup, they quickly softened while releasing the oil aroma absorbed during frying, giving the peanut soup a richer, more layered flavor. The peanut soup itself was thick, fragrant, and not overly sweet, bursting with the taste of slow-cooked peanuts. Even as I kept saying I couldn’t eat anymore, I polished it off in two or three bites, then let out a sigh and said, “This meal is probably the most filling one I’ve had in the past two or three years.” Totally satisfying.

J&J Private Kitchen
Address: No. 177D, 3 Dunhua North Road, Taipei City (formerly the first floor of the Beining Road Athletics Stadium; will operate until May 28th. From June 11th, operations will continue at the new address, offering a better venue. / New address: No. 1, Lane 8, Jiankang Road, Taipei City)
Phone: 0928003333
Business Hours: Only one evening group per weekday; lunch reservations available on weekends.
Price: Set meal costs $2500, $3000, or $3500 per person. Black eel rice is only available at the $3000/person menu. (Maximum capacity: 20 people)

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