Taiwanese Bando: The Martial Field That Opens Tables Amidst Torrential Rain, and the Fading Human-Ghost-Divine Trinity

30-Second Overview: Bando is not a modern invention; the Taiwan County Gazette from the late Kangxi reign of the Qing Dynasty recorded that Taiwanese people "feast lavishly for family celebrations and seasonal festivals" ¹. In Neimen, Kaohsiung, a mudstone badland where even crops struggle to grow, there were approximately 150 groups of Master Chefs among a population of 14,000 at its peak, making it the densest cluster in Taiwan ². But today, this craft is bifurcating: Bando dishes enter five-star hotels and Michelin stars, even returning to overseas markets ³; yet the ritual knowledge involving the whole village, with the master chef acting as a folkloric consultant across the human, divine, and ghost realms, is quietly disappearing due to a lack of successors ⁴. What is truly disappearing is not the flavor, but the tacit understanding behind it.

The evening rain came fast and furious, and the water quickly rose to calves.

This was a 120-table banquet taken on by Wang Yi-yong, a senior Master Chef from Tainan, just as the seating was about to begin. The skeleton of the canvas tent was bent by the rain, stoves were extinguished one by one, pots and pans floated on the water surface, and even the trout ready for the pot swam out of the basin, with over ten escaping at once ⁵. For anyone else, this event would likely have been called off.

Wang Yi-yong arrived to inspect the site and did not call it off. He asked staff to cut the tent fabric to drain the water, moved all kitchenware under the eaves, rolled up his sleeves, and waded into the water to catch fish first. That night, only one trout was missing, and the shortfall was made up with ingredients from the reserve table. Every guest had something to eat ⁵.

For 300 years, Bando has operated roughly like this: as long as the host doesn't call it off, the tables must open. This discipline of mission accomplishment has supported all important moments for Taiwanese people, from birth to death, from worshipping gods to respecting ghosts. And now, it is moving in two directions simultaneously—one upward, one downward.

Restaurants are the "Literary Field"; Bando is the "Martial Field"

There is a common metaphor in the industry: Chefs cooking in fixed locations with air conditioning and complete kitchen workflows are in the "Literary Field" (Wenchang); carrying equipment to the roadside, temple squares, or activity centers to set up temporary tables is in the "Martial Field" (Wuchang) ⁵.

The difference between the Literary Field and the Martial Field is not the level of culinary skill, but uncertainty. In a restaurant, the location, stoves, and staff are the same every day; in Bando, the location, time, and personnel are all fixed. The same Master Chef might host a deity's birthday in a Tainan temple square this week and hold a funeral in a mountain clan hall next week. The tent must be rebuilt, the fire re-lit, and the kitchen assistants (shuijiao) redeployed. From a management perspective, this is the most difficult catering model: a complete Bando event requires the Master Chef to simultaneously act as executive chef, event director, and logistics coordinator—managing canvas tents, tables and chairs, tableware, ingredient suppliers, and the labor force ⁵.

Therefore, culinary skill is merely the basic foundation of this profession; crisis management is the core competitiveness.

✦ "I fear guests waiting in pain the most; the moment they get home, they rush to the phone." — Xue Meng-hui, Neimen Master Chef, on the night of the 88 Flood ⁶

On the night of the 88 Flood, Xue Meng-hui was cooking for a peace banquet for a deity's birthday in Fengshan. The wind was strong and the rain heavy; the canvas tent was blown down, and an iron frame hit a chef's head. Only then did the host decide to cancel the event ⁶. As he sent the kitchen assistants back to Qiuwei and Shanlin one by one, he found his way back to Neimen blocked by broken bridges. He was trapped in a 7-ELEVEN all night, watching the torrent of the Nanzi Xian River roll by like a sea ⁶. What kept him up all night was the thought of those guests waiting in pain for the tables to open—the moment he got home, he rushed to make phone calls. And the next day, he still had a banquet for Guanyin Bodhisattva's birthday to host ⁶.

Regardless of strong winds, heavy rain, broken bridges, or collapsed roads, as long as the host does not cancel, the Master Chef must find a way to serve the dishes. Mission accomplishment is the true threshold of this industry for 300 years, far preceding culinary skill.

In a Place Where Only Thorny Bamboo Can Survive, a Kingdom of Master Chefs Grew

The mudstone badland of the Gutingkeng Formation in the Kaohsiung area, commonly known as the "Moon World." Neimen is located on the edge of this landscape where even crops struggle to grow. Photo: StevenK234, 2019. CC BY-SA 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons.

To understand how this martial field discipline was forged, one must first look at a land that is difficult to farm.

The place with the densest concentration of Taiwanese Master Chefs is Neimen, Kaohsiung. Neimen is located on the mudstone badland of the Gutingkeng Formation—the landscape commonly known as the "Moon World," with gray-white slopes that are barren. Taiwan Kwanghsa Magazine describes this geology: "The cementation and permeability of mudstone are low; it softens into mud when wet and cracks and peels when dry. Coupled with the high salinity of marine sedimentary soil, plant growth is difficult" ⁷. On these barren slopes where even crops struggle to grow, only drought-resistant thorny bamboo can survive; mangoes and bananas can only be grown in areas with thicker cretaceous soil, and because they grow slowly, they are sweeter ⁷.

When the land cannot sustain people, people must seek other ways out. There are two prevailing theories for why Neimen became the hometown of Master Chefs, each with its own source.

One theory comes from The Reporter's interview: In early days, Neimen people made bamboo baskets for livelihood, supplying banana farmers in Qishan for export packaging; when paper boxes took over the market in the 1960s, the bamboo weaving industry declined. Coinciding with the rise of Bando, many craftsmen switched to cooking ⁸. The other theory comes from local officials and cultural workers: Neimen has many temples and troupes; the Songjiang Array is a local signature, and every festival requires feeding large numbers of participants. This repeated demand for "providing meals" gave rise to professional Master Chefs ⁹. Whether it was bamboo weavers switching trades or temple festivals requiring feeding, both lines point to the same thing—this land forced people to develop a profession relying on craft for survival.

At its peak, Neimen had a population of about 14,000, yet there were about 150 groups of Master Chefs. Almost every 5 households had one household relying on Bando for livelihood, capable of cooking over 20,000 tables simultaneously ². This is the densest cluster of Master Chefs in Taiwan. (This figure comes from research compiled by Chang Yu-hsin in 2007 and Tang Yu-ning in 2016 at I-Shou University, not from a recent census ².)

The inheritance of this craft relies on the master-apprentice system. Once kitchen assistants accumulate enough experience, they can graduate; second and third chefs then establish their own households. In the early days, apprenticeship was passed down like "Soup Pork Knuckle"—master takes apprentice, apprentice takes apprentice—spreading Bando technology across Taiwan generation by generation ⁸. The key step that turned Neimen from a group of craftsmen into an industry occurred in 1976: Xue Qing-ji formed a "Four-in-One" company with several partners (including Deng Zheng-ping, as well as meat and vegetable vendors), integrating ingredient supply, cooking, and table/chair rental. Bando became a business with a complete supply chain, handling everything from ingredients to cooking to tables and chairs in one go ⁸.

Today, Xue Meng-hui estimates that Neimen has only about 30 to 40 Master Chefs left, about one-quarter of its peak ⁸. The kingdom remains, but the people are scattering.

In Ledgers from 300 Years Ago, "Hire a Master Chef for Bando" Was Already Recorded

Many people think Bando is something that emerged in post-war Taiwan. It is not. Its roots can be traced back to the Qing Dynasty.

The Taiwan County Gazette (compiled by Chen Wen-da in 1720) from the late Kangxi reign already recorded that Taiwanese people "feast lavishly for family celebrations and seasonal festivals"; by the Changhua County Gazette (compiled by Zhou Xi in 1835) during the Daoguang reign, it described the grandeur of banquets where "dishes exhaust the mountains and seas" ¹. In 1902, an article titled "Miscellaneous Notes on Banquets and Dishes" in the early Japanese colonial period formally included the term "Bando" in literature, explaining it clearly: "Preparing tables, organizing wine and food, and setting up banquets is called 'Bando'" ¹⁰. This article comes from Records of Taiwanese Customs—a monthly journal published by the Taiwan Customs Research Society (note: this is a different institution from the "Temporary Taiwan Customs Investigation Commission" of the same period, often confused) ¹⁰.

So, when did the business of "Bando" actually start?

Zeng Pin-cang, Deputy Researcher at the Institute of Taiwan History, Academia Sinica, points out based on Qing Dynasty ledgers and diaries that Taiwanese people in the Qing Dynasty already commissioned professional chefs for Bando during weddings, funerals, and sacrifices ¹¹. The evidence lies in the ledgers: ledgers of the Wufeng Lin family in the late Qing Dynasty clearly record entries like "Hire 'Zongpu' (Master Chef) for Bando, cost per table" ¹¹. Zeng Pin-cang infers that this habit of commissioning professional chefs for banquets can be traced back to the Kangxi period ¹¹. Looking further to the source, the origin of Bando lies in Min-Yue (Fujian and Guangdong)—the banquet culture traditionally called "Bao Jiu" (Organizing Wine) or "Dao Hui" (Cooking Out) in Fujian and Guangzhou areas, which crossed the sea to Taiwan with Qing Dynasty immigrants ¹².

However, from the Qing Dynasty to before the 50th year of the Republic of China (1960s), Bando was very different from what it is today. In cities, restaurants provided catering; in rural areas, people mostly relied on villagers with slightly better cooking skills to work part-time. The dishes were limited, and ingredients were often prepared by the host themselves; wealthier families had dedicated "Kitchen Women" (Zaoxia Fu) to help manage ¹³. True professionalization began around the 1960s—the 50th year of the Republic of China. When villagers discovered that "the profit from part-time Bando exceeded farming," this craft gradually became professional, peaking in the 1970s and 80s ¹³.

💡 Did You Know: The Hokkien pronunciation of Bando is pān-toh, and Master Chef is tsóng-phòo-sai. The character "Shi" (Master) is a term of respect in Taiwanese folklore for professional craftsmen ¹⁴—just like "Tu Shui Shi" (Plumber/Mason) or "Mu Shi" (Carpenter). It is evidence that this craft is respected as an "art."

資料來源：*Records of Taiwanese Customs*, Zeng Pin-cang research, The Reporter, Ministry of Economic Affairs, TaiwanPlus

The Sequence of Twelve Dishes Hides a Whole Set of Invisible Knowledge

If the martial field discipline is the bone of Bando, then what follows is its soul.

A standard Bando usually has 12 to 14 dishes, with a sequence of beginning, development, turn, and conclusion: Cold plates are served first to open the appetite while waiting for guests to sit; then soup warms the stomach; then the climax of main dishes—the most luxurious seafood or meat, such as lobster, red crab, or Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, appear here, divided into "commoner version" and "noble version" based on each table's budget; after the climax, a palate-cleansing soup is served, followed by re-opening the appetite with heavy-flavor bamboo shoot braised pork or pork ribs; the final dish is chicken soup to conclude, with dessert and fruit to finish ¹⁵. (This dish sequence is a consensus accumulated by Master Chefs and food media over years.)

It is worth noting that lobster is not actually a "traditional" Bando dish. It only became the protagonist after the Ten Major Construction Projects and economic takeoff in the 1960s; earlier Bando tables more commonly featured stir-fried rice noodles, white-cut chicken, celery squid soup, and meatball soup—for many people, Bando was one of the few occasions to eat meat back then ¹⁶. Even the most majestic Buddha Jumps Over the Wall was originally called "Fu Shou Quan" (Longevity and Fortune Complete), originating from a family banquet of a Fuzhou official during the Guangxu reign of the Qing Dynasty ¹⁷.

But the truly unique aspect of Bando lies behind the dishes: these dishes are placed into a communal eating cosmology. Research from the National Museum of Taiwan History divides Bando communal eating into three types, which form the theoretical skeleton for understanding Bando's "soul" [^15]:

The first is Human-Divine Communal Eating. Banquets for seasonal festivals are where humans and deities share offerings together; Taiwanese call this "Receiving Divine Blessings through Eating" ¹⁵. The second is Human-Ghost Communal Eating. Gatherings for ancestral associations, sacrificial trusts, and Zhongyuan (Ghost Festival) banquets are where humans eat with ancestors and "good brothers" (ghosts), thereby remembering ancestors and establishing harmony with beings in another world ¹⁵. The third is the Host-Guest Communal Eating we are most familiar with—banquets for life rituals celebrating various stages of life, and association gatherings consolidating interpersonal relationships ¹⁵. A single Bando event may span the human, divine, and ghost realms simultaneously.

This is why the Master Chef is simultaneously the host's folkloric consultant. As described by practitioners in The Reporter's interview: "How to prepare for a full-month ceremony? How to arrange offerings? Which foods cannot be served on specific occasions? Ask them, and they know best" ⁵.

📝 Curator's Note

It is easy to think of Bando as "a larger-scale meal," but this framework misses its most critical element. What Bando truly sells is a correspondence between timing and meaning—which table matches which life moment, which dishes are auspicious, inauspicious, or taboo for which occasion. This correspondence is not written in any recipe; it exists in the Master Chef's mind and in the muscle memory of one event after another. When we later see "Bando dishes entering five-star hotels," remember: hotels can buy recipes, but they cannot buy this correspondence. What is disappearing is the latter.

What does this correspondence look like specifically? The meticulousness of it can be seen in the compilation by folkloric researcher Zhang Yun-shu [^18]: Full-month tables use whole chickens, taking the meaning of "completeness" to symbolize perfection (although the true core of the full-month ceremony is actually oil rice, chicken wine, and red eggs); funeral banquets must have an odd number of dishes, 7 or 9, with a "triangular meat" (sann-kak-bah) with a missing corner on the table, using the shape's imperfection to symbolize the loss in the bereaved family's heart, while avoiding ingredients with specific homophones or meanings like lotus seeds, bitter melon, and pineapple; wedding banquets must have chicken (starting a family), fish (surplus), braised pork (promotion), and pork stomach (wishing the bride "big belly"), and red crab rice cake must specially select female crabs with many eggs, seeking the auspicious meaning of "having noble children early" ¹⁸.

⚠️ Controversial Viewpoint: Some Bando taboos circulating in the folk are actually unfounded. For example, "Funeral banquets must have刈包 (Hulao/Tiger Bites Pig)"—Hulao (Tiger Bites Pig) is actually a custom for the Last Day of the Year (December 16th lunar calendar), symbolizing biting away the year's bad luck, having nothing to do with funeral banquets; another saying, "Moving house avoids round balls because 'ball' sounds like 'finished'," has weak origins and directly contradicts the custom of using tangyuan (glutinous rice balls) to symbolize completeness in moving banquets ¹⁹. When writing about Bando, even taboos must be verified—because if written incorrectly, it damages the credibility of this knowledge.

The other side of the soul lies after the banquet ends. After the Bando, the Master Chef mixes the leftovers of each dish into "Vegetable Tail Soup" (also called Mixed Vegetable Soup) and sends it to neighbors who came to help to take home ²⁰. This is not disposing of leftovers; it is a symbol of cherishing fortune and gratitude—Taiwan Panorama describes it as a symbol of reciprocity ²⁰. A Bando event is the business of the whole village from start to finish; the host never does it alone. And the Vegetable Tail Soup itself is also on the verge of disappearing ²⁰.

The "Black Forest Grand Hotel" on Auspicious Lunar Days

Older generations of masters often use presidential terms to remember the industry's ups and downs.

The 12 years from 1988 to 2000, when Lee Teng-hui served as President, are considered the golden age of Bando. This was not only the era of the traditional "Eight Celebrations and One Funeral"—engagement, marriage, full-month, returning to natal home, opening business, birthday, moving house, death—but also the era where even children getting PhDs or winning pigeon racing prizes would host a banquet ²¹. On auspicious lunar days, the temple square and roadside were full of "Black Forest Grand Hotels." The origin of this name is very Taiwanese: early canvas tents were often provided by beverage companies, printed with Black Forest soda advertisements; over time, "Black Forest Grand Hotel" became a synonym for Bando ²¹.

A Bando held directly on the street in Tainan in 2014. Blocking the road, setting up tables, and starting the feast is the most everyday appearance of the "Black Forest Grand Hotel." Photo: Ce Jingzhe, 2014. CC BY-SA 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons.

How prosperous that era was is best remembered by Xue Meng-hui through the work diary left by his father, Xue Qing-ji.

✦ "The entire yearbook is written full, hosting 25,000 tables in a year." — Xue Meng-hui recalling his father Xue Qing-ji's work diary ²¹

In Xue Qing-ji's era, even in slow months, the average was still 1,000 tables ²¹. In contrast, in Xue Meng-hui's pre-pandemic period, hosting 500 tables in a peak month was already something to be grateful about, with only a few thousand tables annually ²¹—between one generation, the scale has shrunk several times over.

The turning point was around 2003 (the third year of Chen Shui-bian's presidency). Taiwan's industry moved west in large numbers, and small and medium enterprise clients decreased one by one. An old client didn't hire Bando for two consecutive years; upon inquiry, it turned out the company had gone bankrupt ²¹. The tail end of the golden age began with unanswered phone calls.

Forty Years Old is Considered Young: A Fading Generational Gap

The shrinking of an industry can be due to economic cycles, waiting for the next cycle. But what Bando faces is something harder to turn back—the generational gap in succession.

Li Jun-xiang, a Master Chef from New Taipei, speaks plainly: "For catering chefs, 40 years old is considered young; mostly, they take over because of family connections. Among 30-year-old chefs, you can't find 2 out of 10; kitchen assistants are generally aging" ²². Another Master Chef, Jiang Yi-yong, offers a more specific observation: Only about 2% of culinary school graduates ultimately enter catering ²³. The reason is understandable—"For noon banquets, departure is at 3:30 AM, long working hours, hot stoves" ²³. If young people have choices, they prefer working in air-conditioned restaurants.

Talent is draining, and the craft is breaking with it. Older masters did everything from slaughtering pigs and chickens to making pudding and baking cakes; now, with outsourced frozen foods, apprentices in the kitchen cannot learn the complete picture, and those most labor-intensive "hand-road dishes" (shoulou cai) are disappearing one by one ²⁴.

The legendary "Chicken-Pork Stomach Turtle" in the movie The Master Chef is the best example—stuffing a softshell turtle into a native chicken's stomach, then stuffing the whole chicken into a pig's stomach, slow-cooking for 3 hours. The process is so cumbersome that almost no one is willing to do it ²⁵. The "Chestnut Chicken" popular 40 years ago is already unknown to young chefs; others like Bone-Changing Penne Eel, Bag Chicken, and Five-Silk Branch are also on the verge of disappearing ²⁴. (However, it should be noted: Braised pork and red crab rice cake, although labor-intensive, are still very common and not considered disappearing.) The one who left the most records for these dishes is Huang Wan-ling, the Godmother of Taiwanese cuisine—she was the food director for the movie The Master Chef, spending over ten years going to the countryside to visit and preserve those disappearing Taiwanese dishes ²⁵.

📝 Curator's Note

Note an unspoken choice here. The market actually gave the Bando industry an easy path: using frozen meal packs and semi-finished products, one can still serve 12 dishes, and guests probably won't notice. Taking this path allows the industry to survive longer. But the cost is that those hand-road dishes requiring oral transmission and hand-teaching between master and apprentice will quietly die on this path—not because no one likes to eat them, but because no one needs to learn them. Crafts are rarely eliminated by new things; more often, they are bypassed bit by bit by "good enough."

The Longest Winter

If the generational gap is a chronic disease, then the 2020 pandemic was an acute illness.

The Reporter interviewed nearly 10 Master Chefs from north and south at the time. The consensus was: the number of catering tables shrank by at least 90% starting from the Lunar New Year (this is a consensus from interviews, not official statistics) ²⁶. Xue Meng-hui alone had over 500 tables canceled in the lunar months of February and March; a second-generation heir from a Bando family, who usually used a large spatula for stir-frying big pots, had to switch to holding a small soup spoon to pack bento boxes for survival ²⁶.

Official numbers also couldn't hold up. Ministry of Economic Affairs statistics show that in April 2020, the revenue of the "Catering and Group Meal Contracting Industry" decreased by 32.3% year-on-year, with monthly revenue of about NT$2.5 billion ²⁷. However, this number must be read carefully: it was mainly dragged down by air catering (airline meals), and a large number of open-air Bando events have no business registration and are not within the statistical scope—so for open-air Bando, this number actually underestimates the impact it suffered ²⁷.

Beyond the pandemic, Bando in the north faces a more structural dilemma—space. Li Jun-xiang describes that in the north, Bando requires blocking roads and applying for road rights, and is often reported by neighbors: "Even when we are frying things, neighbors downstairs scold us and report us to the Environmental Protection Bureau for air pollution. Aggressive ones even throw things from upstairs to drive us away" ²⁸. Activity centers and elementary school auditoriums in Taipei City are almost never lent for hosting banquets ²⁸. In land-scarce urban areas, it is becoming increasingly difficult to find a legal place to set up tables for open-air Bando.

Are all these pressures bad things? Cultural worker Yan Zhen-yu has a different view. He believes the pandemic is both a blow and a stimulus, forcing Master Chefs to improve hygiene standards and seriously consider transformation ²⁹. But the deepest fear of interviewed Master Chefs is something else: "We worry not just about this year, but more about everyone not hiring (Bando) becoming a habit" ²⁹. The Reporter's conclusion is calm: Bando is tightly linked to the economy, and it is difficult to warm up in the short term ²⁹.

The Dishes Remain, the Soul Scatters

But if the story stops here, it would be terribly wrong.

Because looking back from 2025, Bando is not dying in a single direction. It is actually bifurcating—as "dishes" and "brand," it is going up; as a "whole-village ritual," it is sinking down.

This upward branch is impressive. The Michelin Guide Tainan incorporated Bando dishes into its formal discourse; three restaurants serving Bando dishes—A-Xia Restaurant, Xin Xin Restaurant, and Dong Shang Taiwanese Cuisine—were all selected for Bib Gourmand ³⁰. Palais de Chine Hotel in Taipei launched "Taiwanese Bando," directed by Chef Lin Ming-can, with a table costing NT$22,800 plus a 10% service fee, claiming to be the first five-star hotel in Taiwan to formally pay tribute to Bando culture ³¹. The next generation is also taking over: TaiwanPlus reported in August 2025 with the title "Bando Is Back," showing how the new generation uses "Next-Gen Marketing × Parental Craft" to bring Bando back—such as Tofu Master Chef Huang Mao-yuan with his daughter Huang Jia-yu, and Master A-Long with his son A-Xiang ³². The English report writes: "Once fading from Taiwan's cultural fabric, this legendary banquet tradition is making a dynamic comeback…" ³²

Even overseas is seeing a回流 (return flow). The restaurant Good To Eat in Emeryville, California, has Taiwanese chef Tony Tung (who and her partner Angie Lin are a wife-wife team) treating Bando as a love letter to Taiwan, with the menu named jan ba bae (Bando) ³³. On January 4, 2025, she invited Neimen Master Chef A-Càn (Master A-Càn) to Taipei to host a traditional Bando for over 400 people, attracting diners from California to fly back to Taiwan specifically to experience it ³³.

Looking at these two branches together, the shape of the bifurcation is clear. What is reviving is the "dish" and the "brand"—they can enter five-star hotels, Michelin tables, and California restaurants; what is disappearing is that ritual knowledge. Five-star hotel banquet halls can replicate a pot of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, but they cannot replicate the tacit understanding of "whole village mobilization, Master Chef as folkloric consultant, vegetable tail soup shared with neighbors." Scarcity has turned Bando dishes into a cultural pilgrimage; California diners are willing to fly half the globe back to Taiwan to eat a meal—but the object of that pilgrimage is losing its habitat: the badland that raised Master Chefs, those temple festivals one after another, that village that calls all neighbors to help.

Air-conditioned restaurants can grow dishes, but cannot grow a soul.

That Yearbook Filled with Writing

Back to Xue Qing-ji's yearbook filled with writing.

That is the object Xue Meng-hui treasures most, and also the most authentic archaeological site of this industry ²¹. The dense orders on the diary—celebration banquets for pigeon racing wins, gratitude seats for PhD graduates, peace banquets for Mazu's birthday at the temple square—record a whole set of things that Taiwanese people once jointly recognized: which moments are worth gathering people away from their tasks, what to eat at that moment, who hosts it, and how to say goodbye properly.

The dishes have proven they can enter five-star hotels, fly to California, and be certified by Michelin. What about the tacit understanding written in that yearbook—which table matches which moment, which dish is auspicious or inauspicious for which occasion, which neighbors who helped should receive the vegetable tail—how many people still remember, how many can still take it over?

Further Reading:

• Taiwanese Hand-Road Dishes
• Hulao (Tiger Bites Pig)
• Taiwanese Seafood Culture
• Night Market Culture
• Chen Yu-Hsun

Image Sources

This article uses 3 public domain / CC licensed images, all cached in public/article-images/food/ to avoid hotlinking to the source server:

• Bando after Zhongyuan Ghost Festival (hero) — Photo: Xuan Shi Sheng, 2017-09-19, CC0 1.0
• Mudstone Badland of Gutingkeng Formation in Kaohsiung (Moon World) — Photo: StevenK234, 2019-04-01, CC BY-SA 4.0
• Street Bando in Tainan — Photo: Ce Jingzhe, 2014-12-07, CC BY-SA 2.0

References