Food is a topic of keen interest for most Chinese, and restaurants in Chinese communities everywhere are rarely short of business. In fact, in any nation with an ancient culture and rich natural resources there should be enough to say about its cuisine to fill a shelf of books; France and Italy are but two examples which spring to mind. But of all China's culinary regions, Taiwan is especially blessed, and its cuisine today holds an extra fascination in that it bears witness to the many changes our island has seen over the last century. With this in mind, in the run-up to the Chinese New Year we take an in-depth look at seafood in Taiwan, both from the gastronomic perspective and for the light this topic throws on the social and economic changes of the past hundred years. We also go back further in time, to appreciate what our ancestors thought about seafood, and to understand some of the methods of eating, rearing and protecting aquatic produce, and of keeping it fresh, used in China over the past three millennia.

Taiwan's earliest inhabitants, the compatriots we now call aborigines, first arrived on this island by sea, and also drew sustenance from the sea. Four hundred years ago, the first Han Chinese settlers braved the perilous waters of the Taiwan Strait under the command of Zheng Chenggong (Koxinga). Their earliest settlements-Tainan, Lukang, Tanshui, Wanhua, Keelung and the like-are places where the sea's voice is never far away. Thus fish and crustaceans have always been cornerstones of Taiwanese cuisine. But to understand the many and varied ways in which seafood is prepared in Taiwan today, and its great popularity, we have to look at the influence of the political changes which Taiwan has undergone over the past century, and the island's rapid economic development since the 1980s.

In simple terms, the seafood cuisine popular in Taiwan today can be broadly divided into Japanese, Taiwanese and Hong Kong styles, and most seafood restaurants serve all three. Such diversity is due in part to Taiwan's turbulent history, from the Japanese occupation, which brought lobster sashimi and miso soup, to the influx with the ROC government in 1949 of two million people from all parts of mainland China, who brought all kinds of dishes based on both marine and freshwater produce, such as sweet-and-sour croaker, carp in hot bean sauce, stewed or dry-braised fish heads and soused prawns and crab. Recent years have seen the arrival of Hong Kong specialities such as steamed grouper, steamed sand shrimp, thick shark fin soup and Chinese mitten crabs, along with high-class Thai cooking, imported smoked salmon, French oysters and a host of other mouth-watering delicacies.

Rising incomes, greater emphasis on quality of life, a well-developed highway network and the introduction of the two-day weekend have created a fishing and catering industry aimed a burgeoning leisure market. Instead of visiting city restaurants, diners in search of the freshest seafood go out to fishing harbors, where they can also taste the sea breezes and watch the sun sink into the ocean. Elaborate preparation is not necessary: traditional Taiwanese steamed, stir-fried or salad dishes are good enough, for what counts most with seafood is its freshness. Such destinations can be found the length of Taiwan's coasts, and the Taiwan Fisheries Bureau's website provides a useful guide. As well as eating one's fill, one can also stock up on fresh fish, crustaceans and shellfish for the Chinese New Year.

However, if all we can think of is material consumption and satisfying our physical appetites, then the bounty we are enjoying may not last long. Overfishing is a danger our Chinese ancestors warned against thousands of years ago. Looking around us today, pollution of the sea around Taiwan, and land subsidence caused by overextraction of groundwater for fish farming, are pressing problems. The fishing catch from Taiwan's inshore and offshore waters today is little more than half what we import. Just what are we preparing to leave our children and grandchildren? As well as discussing the culture of seafood, we also present the photo essay "Goodbye to the Sea" by photographer Ke Chin-yuan, to remind us of the need to moderate our desires and consumption.

An abundance of exquisitely prepared food should only qualify as "culture" if it is part of a sustainable harvest. Only by continuously examining our own actions can we adjust and control them. This is true not only of food-the principle that extremes bring about their own reversal applies to many other things too. An example of current relevance is the boom-and-bust cycle of Taiwan's housing market over the past decade. The vagaries of Taiwan's stock market, which has attracted three million local investors, make it a road to ruin as often as to riches.

As the Year of the Tiger gives way to the Year of the Rabbit, we hope that a prosperous, forward-looking Taiwan can continue to critically examine its own past, so that the riches of both land and sea may be sustained forever.