Not Brought by Koxinga: The Four-Hundred-Year Farming History of Milkfish

Tainan locals call milkfish "home fish," but its origins lie in aquaculture techniques introduced from Indonesia by the Dutch East India Company, thirty-seven years before Koxinga arrived in Taiwan. Qigu's 4,500 hectares of fishponds and the seven or more ways to prepare a single fish are living fossils of this four-century history.

At four in the morning, the edges of the fishponds in Qigu are still dark. Fishermen, stepping in rubber boots, open the pond gates, and the schools of fish begin to surge at the sound of incoming water. Milkfish are intolerant of low temperatures, requiring insulation equipment in winter, and the harvest season in summer begins at dawn—if the fish aren't collected, the congee stalls in downtown Tainan will have empty trays by the next morning. This supply chain, stretching from Qigu to Guohua Street, began its first run over three hundred years ago.

This fish has no connection to Koxinga (Zheng Chenggong).

The Most Beautiful Story is Also the Least Accurate

Folk legends say: When Koxinga arrived in Taiwan, his army lacked food. At the shores of Anping, he saw a type of fish and asked those around him, "What kind of fish is this?"—the pronunciation of "what" (shímù) in Southern Min was misheard as shímù (milkfish), and thus the name was set.

This story circulates in temple entrances, textbooks, and tourist brochures; it is emotive, visual, and easy to remember. However, historians have long pointed out the error: The Dutch East India Company brought milkfish aquaculture techniques to Taiwan during the Dutch colonial period (1624–1662), at least thirty-seven years before Koxinga arrived in 1661. The Taiwan Prefecture Gazetteer (Taiwan Fu Zhi) of the late 17th century (1694) already contains written records of milkfish farming, with the first group of farming sites located in the Luerhmen area—the vicinity of today's Anping District. This spans over four hundred years.

📝 Curator's Note: The legend that "milkfish was brought by Koxlar" illustrates one thing perfectly: the vitality of a good story lasts much longer than historical evidence. The Dutch brought the aquaculture technology, but Koxinga took the naming rights.

Qigu: The Geography of Fishponds

Today, Tainan remains the largest milkfish-producing region in Taiwan, accounting for approximately 50% of the national annual output. The core is the Qigu District—with over 4,500 hectares of aquaculture area and more than 6,000 fishponds, it ranks first in Taiwan.

The topography of Qigu is key: the coastal terrain is low and flat, with muddy bottoms and moderate salinity, providing natural conditions for fishponds. It is about a forty-minute drive from downtown Tainan, but there, the roads are flanked by continuous expanses of water, egrets stand on the pond embankments, and the Taiwan Strait lies in the distance.

The straight-line distance from Anping to the congee stalls on Guohua Street does not exceed fifteen kilometers. Even counting from Qigu, it is no more than forty kilometers. This short-distance supply chain is the material foundation that allows Tainan's milkfish breakfasts to be both cheap and fresh.

📝 Curator's Note: Qigu does not only farm milkfish; it is also one of the most important wintering grounds in the world for the Black-faced Spoonbill. Ecological advocacy for wetland protection and fishery interests engage in long-term tug-of-war here—fishponds are not just starting points for food, but also arenas of ecological politics.

The Anatomy of the Whole Fish

People in Tainan do not waste milkfish. This is a legacy of the breakfast logic of dockworkers: every part has its proper place.

The belly contains the most fat and is best pan-fried; the skin is crispy while the flesh is soft, offering two textures in one bite. The fillets (back meat) are best in congee, sweet, fresh, and elastic, with a light fragrance that does not overpower other flavors. The skin is high in collagen and ideal for soup; drinking it leaves a slight stickiness on your lips—that is collagen, not an additive. Fish intestines, deep-fried, are crispy and satisfying, but require extremely high freshness and are a style difficult to replicate elsewhere. The fish head is braised or red-cooked, rich in gelatin, perfect for savoring slowly. Seasonal fish roe, either fried or pickled, is something only regulars know to hunt for.

Every cut is precise because every part deserves to be treated individually.

📝 Curator's Note: The culture of "eating parts separately" in milkfish is essentially a zero-waste logic of working-class diet. When ordering at a Tainan congee stall, you are not just choosing ingredients; you are expressing a different understanding of a single fish. Tourists order "assorted," but only regulars have specific preferences.

White Congee at Five in the Morning

At five-thirty in the morning, the congee stalls poach various parts separately, portion them into small dishes, and serve them to the table for customers to add to their white congee themselves.

This self-selection system is not a culinary innovation, but an efficiency measure. Dockworkers eating breakfast have no time to wait for a chef to decide what goes in their bowl. The toppings are right there; you know yourself what you need to replenish or avoid today—add more intestine if you've exerted great physical effort, or stick to plain congee with fish skin soup if you drank too much the night before.

The aquaculture logic from three hundred years ago still lives within the rhythm of this morning.

The Name Remains an Unsolved Mystery

How "milkfish" (shímùyú) actually came to be remains undecided in academia.

Some say it is a transliteration of Dutch or Malay; some research suggests it may come from the Taiwanese term sè-ba̍k (referring to the fine-eyed characteristic of the fish); others believe it was simply what workers in various farming areas called it, eventually becoming standardized in Taiwanese.

The story of Koxinga asking "what kind of fish" remains the most widely circulated version. Sometimes, the most memorable story is not the most accurate one—but it allowed an industry from four hundred years ago to leave a name on everyone's breakfast table.


References

About this article This article was collaboratively written with AI assistance and community review.
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Tainan milkfish Qigu aquaculture Dutch snacks breakfast
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