Sun Cake: From the Martial Law Era's Forbidden 'Sunflower' to a Hundred Competing Shops on Taichung's Freedom Road

30-Second Overview: The sun cake was not always called a sun cake. Its origins trace to the "maltose biscuit" (麥芽酥餅) popular in the Beitun and Tanzih areas of Taichung during the late Qing and early Republican eras. Only after master baker Wei Ching-hai refined it did it evolve into today's thin-pastry, fragrant form. In 1964, artist Yan Shui-long's sunflower mosaic mural for the "Sun Hall" shop was sealed behind wooden boards for 25 years after being suspected of "propaganda for the Communist enemy" — a political episode that only added to the pastry's legendary status.

In 1964, the "Sun Hall" (太陽堂) pastry shop opened ceremoniously at No. 23, Section 2, Freedom Road, Taichung. On its walls, a "sunflower" mosaic mural created by artist Yan Shui-long over months of painstaking work was originally meant to express sunlight and vitality. Yet in that era of martial law where any misstep brought consequence, the brilliant sunflower attracted the attention of the security apparatus, who suspected it of implying "turning toward the sun (Mao Zedong)," amounting to Communist propaganda. To avoid trouble, shop owner Lin Shao-song had no choice but to seal the mural behind wooden boards. That sealing lasted a full 25 years.¹

This "never seeing daylight" episode ironically condensed the intimate relationship between sun cakes and Taichung's urban development: they are not merely a pastry — they are a cross-section of Taiwanese social change.

From Maltose Biscuit to Sun Cake: Wei Ching-hai's "Round Revolution"

The sun cake's prototype was not entirely a modern invention; its roots trace back to the "maltose biscuit" (麥芽酥餅) popular in the Beitun (北屯) and Tanzih (潭子) areas of Taichung during the late Qing and early Republican eras.² The biscuits of that era were larger and thicker, primarily served as local snacks or energy boosts during the farming busy season.

The person who truly gave the sun cake its modern soul was master baker Wei Ching-hai — known as "Master A-ming" (阿明師) — from Beitun in Taichung. In 1949, Wei Ching-hai and Guo Ding established the "Yuan Ming Shop" (元明商店) in Beitun, Taichung. He refined the original rough biscuit, developing a round pastry with a thin, crispy crust and a maltose filling that was soft and fragrant without being sticky.³ This refined biscuit, with its round shape and golden color resembling the red sun on Japan's flag, began in the twilight of the Japanese colonial era to be called the "sun cake."⁴

📝 Curator's Note: The sun cake's birth was not an instantaneous innovation but a refinement movement — transforming a rural filling snack into an urban refined gift.

No. 23 Freedom Road: The Vanished "Original" and a Hundred Competing Shops

When old Taichung residents think of sun cakes, the one coordinate in their hearts is usually the Sun Hall pastry shop at "Section 2, No. 23, Freedom Road." This shop was founded in 1954 by Lin Shao-song and He Xiu-mei, with Wei Ching-hai engaged as the pastry master.⁵ Sun Hall's ability to stand out came not only from Wei Ching-hai's craft but also from the Lin family's deep friendship with artist Yan Shui-long. Yan created not only the famous mural but also designed Sun Hall's packaging, trademarks, and even in-store furniture — a remarkably avant-garde "brand design" concept for its time.⁶

However, on May 13, 2012, this shop that had operated for half a century abruptly announced closure. Manager Lin Yi-bo cited "physical exhaustion and no successor" as he lowered the shutters.⁷ The closure shook all of Taiwan and also unveiled a long-running battle over "authenticity" in the sun cake market. Because "sun cake" (太陽餅) was determined to be a generic name — unable to be registered as a trademark — Taichung City at one point saw over two hundred shops all claiming to be the "authentic original."⁸

Cultural Ambassador on the Rails: Why Does Sun Cake Belong to Taichung?

Beyond flavor and brand, the reason sun cakes could become synonymous with Taichung owes much to the golden age of Taiwan's railway transport. In the 1960s and 1970s before the freeway opened, Taichung Railway Station was an important relay point for north-south travel. The railway bento boxes sold by Taiwan Railways often included a sun cake as a dessert; passengers on platforms could also hear vendors calling out sun cakes for sale.⁹

This "railway souvenir" model let sun cakes spread across Taiwan along the railway tracks. For many older Taiwanese, the taste of sun cake is often intertwined with the sound of a train whistle and memories of Taichung Station's platforms.

The Bitterness Behind the Sweetness: Brand Inheritance and Collapse

Sun cake's history is not only the sweetness of maltose — behind it hides the sorrow of traditional family businesses navigating modernity. Wei Ching-hai's third-generation heir Wei Yu-qi (Master A-qi), who once wholeheartedly wanted to carry forward his grandfather's name, chose to end his life in 2013 under the crushing weight of fierce brand competition and debt.¹⁰ This tragedy reminds the world once more: beneath the halo of "venerable shops," how traditional crafts survive in modern commercial logic is an immensely difficult question.

Today in Taichung, sun cakes remain everywhere — from traditional lard-based recipes to modern butter-based versions, even honey and brown sugar flavors have appeared.¹¹ Although the mural at Freedom Road No. 23 has been unveiled again with the establishment of a museum, that memory of the sunflower sealed for 25 years still reminds us: beneath every sun cake's flaky crust is wrapped a Taiwanese story about politics, art, and survival.

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