A surprise near Sun Yat-Sen Memorial Hall! 台南阿明炒鱔魚店 (Tainan A Ming Chao Shanyu): my boyfriend's favorite versus my strange-food first encounter
This afternoon, as office reports left me dizzy, my phone suddenly chimed.
My boyfriend messaged on LINE: “Babe, I suddenly really want stir-fried eel yi mein today!”
Eel? To a self-proclaimed refined Taipei office girl, those words sounded like an unknown creature. But as a newly employed, perfectly considerate girlfriend, I searched online and found a highly rated southern snack shop hidden in Taipei's East District.
After work we met at 國父紀念館站 · Sun Yat-Sen Memorial Hall. It was a 5-minute walk from Exit 1. The red sign in a quiet lane is subtle, and the shop follows a straightforward Tainan stir-fry style. There are only a little over ten sets of seats, while utensils, black vinegar, chili, and sauces are self-service—watching the next table pile on chili felt intensely local.
Beyond classic eel thick soup and dry-fried dishes, the menu surprisingly includes squid, herbal soup, sesame-oil dishes, and ginger vermicelli. The owner is reportedly from Tainan, bringing hometown flavor directly to Taipei.
My boyfriend's favorite:Dry-Fried Eel Yi Mein
Here it is—the long-awaited dish that made my boyfriend's eyes light up.

Its high-heat toasted aroma hit first, unmistakably Tainan and a major plus. Both noodles and eel were very generous; against East District prices, we found the value convincing.
I have a mental hurdle with eel, my ‘strange creature.’ My survival-savvy boyfriend never forces me to eat anything I say I dislikeat all(XD), so I only stole a few bites of noodles for form's sake.
My boyfriend said the eel was excellent: no fishiness, still fresh and crisp. Mild chili sharpened the southern sweet-tart sauce, and wok aroma soaked into the non-fried yi mein. The noodles were soft but coated in sauce and extremely moreish; he ate without stopping, looking blissfully well fed.
Just for me: Stir-Fried Cabbage loaded with garlic

Since he did not make me eat eel, this cabbage became my personal main course.
The cabbage was expertly cooked, neither mushy nor overdone, retaining its natural sweetness and crunch. Plentiful garlic made it deeply fragrant. Even without eel, I happily ate the cabbage with a few bites of sweet-tart noodles.
For my boyfriend, finding this hidden East District shop was spiritual rescue in Taipei; he declared it the city's best eel yi mein.
I ate only a few noodles and a plate of cabbage, but his satisfaction still made me happy. Better yet, because I was not full, after this strange eel he still had to pat my head and accompany me to the photogenic dessert I wanted—plan successful.