Good Times in Yilan

For travelers who envision a good vacation as immersive excursions and getting to know local life, Yilan County has much to offer. From scrumptious scallions and tea plucking, to petting farms and shrimp snagging, over the following pages, you’ll find intros to agri-tourism experiences that engage the senses and entertain all ages.

Yilan’s farming credentials are indisputable. For most visitors, the overwhelming impression of the county is of a vast, mountain-backed flatness dominated by rice paddies – the Lanyang Plain. In the winter months, migratory waders ripple the mirrored surfaces of flooded fields, and the skinny stems of young plants dance parallactic patterns as you drive past. Summers see the land transformed into a rippling sea of luminous chartreuse, heavy ears of the year’s first crop bending as if they – like us humans – have been cowed into submission by the June heat. Against the backdrop of this most visible of agrarian rhythms, an array of interactive and family-friendly farm adventures awaits.

Sanxing Township

The locals often describe Yilan’s plain as being dustpan-shaped, but in an article as entangled with local produce as this, it seems only right to set the scene with a fittingly agri-culinary analogy, so here goes. Two mountain systems – the Central Mountain Range and the Xueshan Mountain Range – extend coastwards from Taiwan’s spine, forming the southern and northern boundaries of Yilan County, respectively. Hugged snugly within their pincer-like grip is the Lanyang Plain, a fertile stretch of alluvial land with a triangle shape resembling a zongzi or sticky-rice dumpling. The dumpling’s westernmost tip is where you’ll find Sanxing Township – our first stop on this multisensory tour of Yilan’s agricultural offerings.

Sanxing is where the powerful Lanyang River runs down from the mountains onto the plain, transitioning from the vigor of its middle age to a more sedate and stately flow. In the early days, the whole area was a shifting and mostly uninhabitable mass of sandbars that could be rendered entirely unrecognizable after a big storm, but this began to change during Taiwan’s Japanese colonial era (1895-1945). Seeking solutions to Japan’s rice shortage, authorities constructed over 40km of levees to maximize available farmland, and – with the seasonal torrents tamed – farmers trickled in to capitalize on Sanxing’s favorable growing conditions.

In addition to its ready supply of fresh mountain water and good-earth land, the region benefits from Yilan’s unique climate. In the daytime, a warm ocean wind pushes in from the coast, helping crops accumulate sugar, while a cool night breeze blows down from the mountains, stimulating the production of flavor compounds. The result? Extra-sweet fruits, flavorful tea, and (if you ask Sanxing’s farmers) the best scallions in all of Taiwan.

The scallion – also called green or spring onion – is a member of the allium family widely used in Taiwanese dishes. Its primary function is as a garnish, but it is also one-third of the holy trinity of Chinese aromatics, used alongside ginger and garlic to impart flavor to soups, stir-fries, and dipping sauces. In Sanxing, however, this humble flavoring is elevated to center stage. Its historic importance to the local economy has been memorialized in a Taiwanese rhyming couplet: “Kiā tsìng-tshang, tsia̍h bē-khang,” essentially, “marry a scallion farmer and your stomach will never be empty,” and there’s even an annual festival held in its honor.

These days, few love matches are based on the green-onion-growing credentials of prospective mates, but the scallion harvest remains vitally important to the area, and Sanxing’s enterprising farmers have devised experiential travel packages centered on their star crop.

True Me Leisure Farm

True Me Leisure Farm is one such place. A 30min taxi ride from Luodong Railway Station (a smidge longer from Yilan City), the farm occupies about an acre-and-a-half of land beside part of the old Lanyang River flood defense wall. Visitors can take a crash course in scallion husbandry, learn how to prepare scallion-centric treats in an airy indoor classroom, have a go at catching loaches, and fill their bags with green onion souvenirs from the farm store. True Me has several experiences to choose from (details on its website), but to get the most out of our recent Travel in Taiwan visit, we plumped for the full package (NT$350 per person), which includes baking and a hands-on tour of the farm.

Gathering round a demonstration table, we received directions on how to prepare scallion buns (seasonal variations with passion fruit or jaboticaba [tree grape] jam are available). Our teacher was a calm woman whose habit of couching instructions in questions instantly outed her as someone experienced with young children. “Do you know why we need to put aside some dough?” Diligent apprentices, we duly guessed and our half-there answers were congratulated with a “That’s right! You’ll need it later to make the face – nobody ever remembers this part!”

After hovering nearby to ensure we remembered to set aside a knot of dough (as predicted, we forgot), our teacher left us to it. The process is simple, but achieving any degree of finesse takes practice, and our rookie status became keenly evident when it came to the final step – it turns out that creating masterpieces from dough and edible ink is easier said than done. The second project, which involved spiraling scallion-stuffed dough into snail-shaped pies, was an easier affair, so if you’re visiting with very young children, this is the one I’d recommend.

Buns popped in the ovens, we headed to the yard for our farm tour. True Me provides each visitor with boots and a douli (conical bamboo farmers’ hat) for the fields and waders for the little ones if necessary. However, it’s worth pointing out that farms like this are prime no-see-um territory, so bug spray and long trousers are a good idea.

The crop grown at True Me Leisure Farm is Lanyang No. 1, a cultivar derived from four-season scallions. It grows year-round (hence the type name) and is prized for producing lengthy pure-white bulbs with a full but mellow flavor. Walking to the fields, our guide pointed out rows of just-harvested jaboticaba trees, an irrigation channel filled with opaque, ashy-hued water (tinted by silt from an upstream gravel-extraction facility), and the stands of cat-tail willow (another Sanxing specialty) that is sold to florists in time for Lunar New Year; branches are used as auspicious decoration during the festivities.

Next to the fields, solar-powered light traps stand sentinel, protecting the tender scallions from moths, their nemeses. We observed the raised beds blanketed with straw, which help to prevent weed growth, and we also got a demonstration of how the farm workers propagate the next season’s harvest by driving a hole into the bed with a T-handled dibber, then splitting off one or two stalks and tamping them in, six to each neat row – back-breaking work.

Thankfully, for us soft city types, the planting is left to the pros, and all we needed to do was handle the picking. Our guide demonstrated how to reach into the earth, running a thumb and forefinger down each side of the clumped bulbs far enough until they felt solid beneath our grip. A gentle wiggle loosens the roots, then the vegetable can be pulled straight up to avoid damaging or bending it.

Once we had our bounty in hand, it was time to head to the washing pool – an important feature of any scallion farm. In days gone by, farmworkers would don chest-high waders and plonk themselves in a fresh-flowing stream. In contrast, modern operations tend to have a dedicated pool for this purpose, although during our June visit, I would have welcomed a quick dip in cool stream waters. We were shown how to prepare the stems for market by massaging off the mud clinging to the roots before stripping away the outer membrane of each stalk to reveal the clean stem beneath.

With that, our onion farmer role-playing drew to a close, and the only thing left for us to do was to bag up our haul, head back inside, and reward ourselves for our efforts by tucking into our fresh-from-the-oven scallion buns.

True Me Leisure Farm | 初咪體驗農場
Add: No. 13, Dongxing Rd., Tianfu Village, Sanxing Township, Yilan County
(宜蘭縣三星鄉天福村東興路13號)
Tel: 0928 576-801
Hours: 8:30am-5pm
IG: www.instagram.com/trueme_farm
FB: www.facebook.com/truemefarm
Website: www.truemefarm.com (Chinese)

Dongshan Township

Shyang Yeu Organic Farm

Lying immediately east of Sanxing, neighboring Dongshan Township has earned a name for itself as Yilan’s tea-growing region. While not as extensive as growing areas like Alishan, it nevertheless has a large number of small-to-medium-scale tea plantations, among them Shyang Yeu Organic Farm. Operated by a second-generation tea farmer, Liu Hsiang-chun, the farm is approaching its half-centenary, and sitting down in his tea-room-cum-store, Liu explained his journey to tea mastery over a pot of fine oolong tea.

When Liu’s parents began growing tea, they – like their contemporaries – relied heavily on chemical pesticides. But when his mother was diagnosed with skin cancer, Liu began learning about the deleterious effects these chemicals can have on the human body. Alarmed, he suggested switching to organic farming, and although his parents were skeptical, they gave him a small plot of land to play with.

“The problem is, when you start using pesticides, you’re stuck using pesticides,” Liu lamented. “They’re indiscriminate in which bugs they target. The pests, the beneficial insects, they’re all wiped out.” As the only organic land in the area, his little patch became an insect ark. For the first three years, it seemed as if he was just feeding bugs.

Still, Liu persevered. It took three years for the beneficial bugs to begin bouncing back and another couple of years for the natural equilibrium to fully recover. By the eighth year, the land was producing about 40 percent of what you’d expect from a chemical-doused field – enough, Liu reasoned, to make the operation viable. When he eventually took over the farm, he switched the entire operation to organic. Today, alongside his award-winning organic teas, Liu invites guests to experience a taste of tea-farm life.

Dressed in the tea-picker’s outfit – doulis fastened with floral kerchiefs, loose sleeves, and woven baskets – we walked to the fields at a pace so relaxed it would seem indecent in the city. Standing among hip-high bushes, Liu demonstrated how to pinch just below the bud and the two youngest leaves. “Feel these old ones, their skin is just like grandpa’s. We don’t want those!” Then, with a swift, upwards flick, the stem snaps cleanly.

Up close, the farm’s organic bona fides are evident. We spotted a spider guarding her egg sac in a leaf that she’d curled up, and each footstep sent up little drifts of minuscule moths. So distracting were these entomological finds that while we grabbed just a few sprigs, Liu gathered dense wads of leaves, hands working in tandem as he skimmed the rows – although as we later learned, we never stood a chance against him, for as we were walking back, he revealed that as a kid he’d won second prize in a speed-picking contest, just pipped to the post by a cousin.

Back in the shade, we were led through the hot and labor-intensive steps of panning and rolling our tea in preparation for drying. This last step basically just involves waiting for the machine to do its work, which meant we were free to try our hand at a spot of confectioneering.

The sweet in question was dragon beard candy, a traditional concoction resembling the whiskery beards of Chinese dragons. Made by coaxing maltose into ever-thinner filaments before stuffing it with black sesame seeds and crushed-up peanuts, the process is easy enough for young chefs to complete with a little assistance. The candies are light, moreish, and – thanks to their susceptibility to atmospheric moisture – best eaten right away, meaning you have a ready-made excuse to snaffle the whole lot.

Whether you try tea picking or candy-making, cup engraving is part and parcel of the Shyang Yeu experience. In the past, Liu used paper cups for general use, but he hated that the plastic-coated containers negated the health benefits of growing organic. So, he switched to using ceramic cups, and the engraving just kind of organically evolved from there. Rows of tables hold kid-safe electric engraving pens, allowing you to personalize your cup to whatever extent schedule and creative capabilities allow.

To conclude, we headed back inside to package our tea and sample some of the varieties Liu is most proud of. There is something theatrical about the way tea masters work, almost like a magician performing sleight of hand. Water passing from vessel to vessel, a secretly defined precision dictating every measure – heat, time, amount – for the alchemical process to work its magic. And Liu certainly had one final magic trick up his sleeve for me. Bringing out one of his farm’s star sellers, a pomelo flower-infused brew, he took this poor excuse for an English person and cured me of a lifelong aversion to black tea. Baking the leaves together with pomelo blossom creates an unexpected but delightful harmony of floral sweet notes and earthy richness, entirely unlike any tea I’d tasted before.

In terms of practicalities, Shyang Yeu is a 20min drive from Luodong Railway Station. The two-hour tea-picking experience is offered from April to November for groups of four or more. The dragon beard candy tutorial lasts around 90min and is available for groups of two or more. Both activities cost NT$400 per person and need to be reserved at least one day in advance by phone or email.

Shyang Yeu Organic Farm | 祥語有機農場
Add: No. 173, Zhongcheng Rd., Zhongshan Village, Dongshan Township, Yilan County
(宜蘭縣冬山鄉中山村中城路173號)
Tel: (03) 958-7959
Hours: 9am-5pm
Website: www.shyangyeu.com.tw (Chinese)

Dongshan Township

E-Long Goat Farm

E-Long Goat Farm deserves a spot on the Yilan itinerary of families traveling with younger children. Occupying a small plot of land in an area surrounded by the Annong River (the river splits into two waterways for a stretch of about 3km), E-Long gives kids the chance to get acquainted with a whole range of furred and feathered friends – from the headlining goats to pigs, chickens, rabbits, turtles, guinea pigs, and more.

The ticket price (NT$150 for those 13 and over, NT$100 for 6~12-year-olds) includes a handful of grasses that two-legged kids can use to feed four-legged kids, while pellets or bottles of milk can be bought for a small extra fee to feed the farm’s various other denizens. Bilingual and pictorial signs helpfully advise visitors on which animals can eat what, ensuring everyone gets what they need.

For those hoping to enjoy an even closer encounter with E-Long’s star residents, the farm also runs 3hr goat-rearing experiences (NT$450, bookable via the LINE app). These allow participants to experience the daily life of a goat farmer, with activities like milking, taking the goats out to pasture, and combing their hair – goats, it seems, react to having their necks brushed by entering a kind of contented trance, sometimes even comically forgetting to chew the grass in their mouths.

Scattered throughout the farm are such other attractions as sandpits and throwing games, enough for families with really little ones to easily while away a couple of hours. And before you leave, be sure to pop into the farm’s store. Here, you can exchange your entrance ticket for a bottle of goat milk (strawberry and chocolate flavors are available for anyone not too keen on the original goaty taste), while more goat-curious members can try goat milk ice cream, pudding, and cheese.

E-Long Goat Farm | 宜農牧場
Add: No. 17, Ln. 239, Changchun Rd., Dongshan Township, Yilan County
(宜蘭縣冬山鄉長春路239巷17號)
Tel: (03) 956 7724
Hours: 9:30am-5:30pm, closed on Thursday
FB: www.facebook.com/elfarm123

Toucheng Township

Lan Yang Shrimp Land

Returning to our earlier rice dumpling analogy, the final stop on this Yilan adventure lies at the dumpling’s northern tip – Toucheng Township. Compared to the rest of the county with its veritable full marketplace of stalls’ worth of produce, Toucheng doesn’t contribute much fruit and veg to Yilan’s culinary scene. However, it more than compensates for this with its seafood. Small fishing villages dot the county coast, where each night’s catch is brought in and divvied up in the wee hours, destined for dinner tables across the region. Inland, much of the Lanyang Plain space not occupied by rice farms or settlements is blanketed with a patchwork quilt of fisheries and seafood restaurants.

It was this promise of fresh seafood that lured my travelmates into a nondescript corrugated iron structure beside Provincial Highway 2, the coastal highway – Lan Yang Shrimp Land, a parent-and-child-friendly shrimp-fishing joint where aspiring anglers can cast a line and try their luck. Rods can be rented (NT$350 for 70min), and each rod comes with tiddly shrimp to use as bait. The staff are accustomed to assisting novices, so no prior experience is required, though my travel buddies were already well-versed in the art of shrimp seduction.

As a vegetarian, I’ve never had reason to partake in shrimp fishing before, so I watched in fascinated horror as my companions threaded bait and lowered their lines into the pool. Lan Yang, they explained, is a pretty standard operation, just with one key difference – compared to the usually murky pools of other establishments, Lan Yan’s crystal-clear water means there’s no need to drop and hope. Instead, you can position your bait precisely where it needs to be. The trick is to wait for the second tug – signaling the shrimp is securely hooked – then gently raise your rod.

It felt almost too easy. Within mere minutes, a shrimp was dangling from our line. At this point, we discovered we had a slight predicament; some members of the party balked at the thought of having to touch the wriggling critters. Despite this hiccup, our net soon contained our shrimp quota (each rod comes with a 300g allowance – catch less and they’ll make up the difference, more and you’ll pay extra), and it was time to transform the haul into a salty snack.

Most shrimping establishments have on-site grilling facilities, but Lan Yang cooperates with Lan Yang Chuan Cai Restaurant just across the road. In the designated preparation area, you can rinse and salt your shrimp before skewering them or sandwiching them in a grill basket. After 10-15 minutes under the heat, the carapaces begin to pink up, and it’s time to eat.

Unless ordering additional dishes from the restaurant’s seafood-heavy menu (think spicy clams, truffle garlic shrimp, fish head hotpot), no cutlery is provided, so be prepared to get cracking – literally – with your fingers. I abstained, but my companions gave their appraisals – a hit of lip-tingling salt, followed by the characteristic briny sweetness of fresh seafood, the texture firm, but yielding under the teeth.

In all honesty, shrimp fishing is something I will likely never indulge in myself, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t understand the appeal. Like a scallion bun you’ve baked yourself or tea you’ve picked by hand, the effort imparts a flavor all of its own. And on a hot evening, with industrial fans blowing warm air, buzzing scooters providing the soundtrack, and a bottle of Taiwan beer (or tea) shared amongst friends, you’d be hard-pressed to find a more authentically Taiwanese experience to cap your Yilan explorations.

Lan Yang Shrimp Land | 蘭陽蟹莊
Add: No. 110, Sec. 3, Toubin Rd., Toucheng Township, Yilan County
(宜蘭縣頭城鎮頭濱路三段110號)
Tel: 0983-428-019
Hours: 10am-7:00pm, closed on Thursday
FB: www.facebook.com/IlanTouChengXueShanCrab