I tear it open like a child on Christmas morning. Inside: gold. No, not literal gold—worse—pork. Glorious, glorious braised pork cartilage from XIN-XING 461, a Tainan OG with four decades of clout, now trying to squeeze its way into my snobbish, collagen-deficient heart.

• Their signature Soy-Braised Pork Cartilage
• A minimalist bag of Salted Edamame Pods
• And the godfather of all pork dishes, Red-Braised Cartilage, aka Pig Heaven in Pouch Form

I look at the packaging. It’s honest. Humble. Local. I read the ingredient list, which I suspect was written by someone who may or may not have accidentally walked across a malfunctioning fax machine. “meat candy”？ “Hu Jingliu”？ “Zufangpindai”？ Sir, is this an incantation? Am I being hexed into deliciousness?

Whatever. I’ve eaten fermented shark and live octopus—I’m not scared of mystery pork.

ACT I: The Flashback

You see, back in the day—when I was going through my ✨anorexic self-loathing era™✨, a period of my life when I struggled with body image and food, anything with oil, sauce, or actual flavour was off-limits. I was the girl who peeled fried chicken and cried while chewing lettuce. Taiwan’s beauty standards had turned me into a food-phobic ghost. But fast-forward to my rebirth: a Michelin-starred meal in Milan. I asked for pepper. The chef came out, insulted-like I’d spat in his risotto. That moment changed me. I learned that the best dishes don’t scream; they whisper. They hum quietly with heart and heritage.

Fast-forward to my rebirth: a Michelin-starred meal in Milan. I asked for pepper. The chef came out, insulted—like I’d spat in his risotto. That moment changed me. I learned that the best dishes don’t scream; they whisper. They hum quietly with heart and heritage.

This pork? It’s humming like Whitney Houston.

ACT II: The Ritual of Heating

1. Snip the edge.
2. 700W.
3. 2 mins, 30 seconds.

I wait. The scent rises—sweet soy, faint bamboo, the smell of someone’s Taiwanese grandma making magic in a clay pot. I’m sweating—not from the heat—from emotion.
I plate it with 7 11‘s Ippudo ramen because, apparently, I’m supposed to cosplay eating in Okinawa without leaving my collapsing Taipei apartment. And let me say: this pairing slaps harder than my mom when I bring shame to the family.

I take a bite.

ACT III: The Bite Heard Around My Soul

The meat—trembling, jiggly, melty—slides off the invisible bone like it’s shy. There’s resistance at first, then surrender. It doesn’t chew. It weeps. Into my mouth. Into my memories. Into my therapy. This taste? It’s not just a flavor, it’s a journey back to my childhood, to my grandmother’s kitchen, to a time when life was simpler and food was a source of comfort.
The taste? Rich soy umami, layered with that almost-forgotten grandma’s flavour. Bamboo shoots add a surprise tang—like a wink from the past.
I shovel in more.
I’m moaning.
My knees crack from squatting over the bowl. I scream, my mom yells, “Your knees are squeaking again!” I ignore her. I’m deep in a culinary affair with pig cartilage.

XIN-XING 461 Braised Pork Cartilage: Product Lineup

1. Slow-Braised Soy Sauce Pork Cartilage

In a corner of Tainan, where the air simmers with tradition, lives a taste slow-bathed in time: A tender whisper of cartilage caressed by soy, bamboo, and ancient spice. One bite — and I’m seven again, sneaking into grandma’s kitchen where the pressure cooker sings. A dance of meat and marrow, drenched in the secrets of forty years. Savour the softness that yields, the joy that resists chewing yet melts with grace. Beware the bones — like life, not all sweetness comes without caution. And that sour bamboo? That’s not a flaw, darling — it’s character.

2. Edamame Pods

Little green miracles, cradled in fuzzy jackets, whispers of salt dancing on their curves. Edamame — the humble hero. No drama. No diva. Just plant-powered pride. They don’t scream flavour, they hum it. A lullaby of nutrition, a crunchy sigh of satisfaction. For late-night loneliness or post-workout peace, these pods deliver pure, unpretentious joy. Frozen green — yet always full of life.

3. Braised Pork Cartilage

This is not food. This is a ritual. A sacred slow burn of six hours, caramelizing history into flesh. A rarity — two strips per pig, no more. The chosen meat, bathed in soy and spice, brought to life in red braised glory. Pair it with rice, or slurp it with noodles. Add greens for guilt, but know: this is an indulgence, unapologized. It falls apart the way lovers do — softly, unexpectedly, leaving you gasping for more.

4. Korean Kimchi Pork Cartilage

Oh, she’s wild. She’s fire in a silk dress. Taiwanese roots kissed by Korean heat. Kimchi-fueled fever dreams colliding with cartilage comfort. This dish bites back. It doesn’t ask for permission — it crashes into your tastebuds like a first kiss in the rain. Cabbage, chilli, garlic — a ménage à trois of flavour, with sesame oil smoothing the chaos like a diplomat in stilettos. Serve it bubbling, and add cheese if you’re brave. She’s spicy, she’s sexy, she’ll stain your lips and leave you ruined—beautifully.

5. Clear Broth Pork Cartilage

This is the softest lullaby. A gentle simmer for the weary soul. Cartilage, clear as moonlight, bathed in a broth that tastes like a homecoming. No shouting flavours here — just whispering wisdom. This is for the silver-haired, the small-toothed, the ones who want flavour without fire. It’s grandma’s hug in a bowl. Delicate, digestible, dignified. Pair it with congee and mix in some greens. Or sip it solo — quietly. Let it remind you that softness is not weakness — it’s survival, steeped in broth.

6. Clear-Braised Pork Cartilage, Again

And so we circle back to the one that started it all. Same name, same soul — but each batch is a new song. Perhaps this one’s more tender; perhaps it holds back just a little, like a lover who’s been hurt before. Still, it warms, it heals, and it sits gently on the stomach and heart alike. Because some dishes don’t need reinvention. They need reverence.

Bonus Side Dish: Edamame – The Clean-Up Guy

After my porky rendezvous, I need something to cut through the grease. That’s when the salted edamame comes in—light, salty, fresh. A perfect palate cleanser. A spa day for my tongue. A cucumber facial after a night of bad decisions. No bells or whistles, just pure plant-based serotonin.

Hashtags for the Algorithm Gods

#TainanMagic #711limitededition #meltinyourmouthporkcartilage #MichelinWho #ramenathome #Cartilagewithriceistherealdeal #FathascollagenIhavelove #Tainanheritagewithasoul

Open Letters

Dear 7-11 Taiwan:
Please marry this product and stock it forever. I’ll even officiate the wedding.
Dear XIN-XING 461:
You brought a Michelin snob back to her roots. And for that, I thank you with all my pig-loving, collagen-thirsty heart.

XinXing 461’s $7 7-Eleven Pork Cartilage Is Better and More Luxurious Than a 3-Star Michelin Meal!

XinXing 461’s $7 7-Eleven Pork Cartilage Is Better and More Luxurious Than a 3-Star Michelin Meal!

XinXing 461’s $7 7-Eleven Pork Cartilage Is Better and More Luxurious Than a 3-Star Michelin Meal!

XinXing 461’s $7 7-Eleven Pork Cartilage Is Better and More Luxurious Than a 3-Star Michelin Meal!

XinXing 461’s $7 7-Eleven Pork Cartilage Is Better and More Luxurious Than a 3-Star Michelin Meal!

XinXing 461’s $7 7-Eleven Pork Cartilage Is Better and More Luxurious Than a 3-Star Michelin Meal!

XinXing 461’s $7 7-Eleven Pork Cartilage Is Better and More Luxurious Than a 3-Star Michelin Meal!

XinXing 461’s $7 7-Eleven Pork Cartilage Is Better and More Luxurious Than a 3-Star Michelin Meal!

XinXing 461’s $7 7-Eleven Pork Cartilage Is Better and More Luxurious Than a 3-Star Michelin Meal!

XinXing 461’s $7 7-Eleven Pork Cartilage Is Better and More Luxurious Than a 3-Star Michelin Meal!

XinXing 461’s $7 7-Eleven Pork Cartilage Is Better and More Luxurious Than a 3-Star Michelin Meal!

XinXing 461’s $7 7-Eleven Pork Cartilage Is Better and More Luxurious Than a 3-Star Michelin Meal!

XinXing 461’s $7 7-Eleven Pork Cartilage Is Better and More Luxurious Than a 3-Star Michelin Meal!

XinXing 461’s $7 7-Eleven Pork Cartilage Is Better and More Luxurious Than a 3-Star Michelin Meal!

XinXing 461’s $7 7-Eleven Pork Cartilage Is Better and More Luxurious Than a 3-Star Michelin Meal!

XinXing 461’s $7 7-Eleven Pork Cartilage Is Better and More Luxurious Than a 3-Star Michelin Meal!

XinXing 461’s $7 7-Eleven Pork Cartilage Is Better and More Luxurious Than a 3-Star Michelin Meal!

XinXing 461’s $7 7-Eleven Pork Cartilage Is Better and More Luxurious Than a 3-Star Michelin Meal!

XinXing 461’s $7 7-Eleven Pork Cartilage Is Better and More Luxurious Than a 3-Star Michelin Meal!

XinXing 461’s $7 7-Eleven Pork Cartilage Is Better and More Luxurious Than a 3-Star Michelin Meal!

XinXing 461’s $7 7-Eleven Pork Cartilage Is Better and More Luxurious Than a 3-Star Michelin Meal!

XinXing 461’s $7 7-Eleven Pork Cartilage Is Better and More Luxurious Than a 3-Star Michelin Meal!

XinXing 461’s $7 7-Eleven Pork Cartilage Is Better and More Luxurious Than a 3-Star Michelin Meal!