Taichung Baker Claims Bolo Bao, Iced Lemon Tea as Taiwan’s Own, Sparks Hong Kong Fury

A Taichung bakery owner has ignited a cultural firestorm by declaring that two pillars of Hong Kong cuisine—the classic Bolo Bao (Pineapple Bun) and Iced Lemon Tea—were actually Taiwanese inventions that were later “stolen” by Hong Kong. The statements, captured during a livestream by prominent Taiwanese YouTuber Fanghuo, triggered a swift and coordinated digital backlash from Hong Kong netizens, who bombarded the shop’s Google listing with one-star reviews and rechristened it “Pineapple Thief.”

The Incident: Unsolicited Claims on a Live Broadcast

The controversy erupted during a livestream at Taichung’s Fengjia Night Market. Fanghuo, accompanied by a Hong Kong female streamer, stopped by “Bolo Mr.,” a bakery specializing in pineapple buns. Without any prompt regarding culinary history, the shop’s owner—wearing a black cap—volunteered a revisionist history of the dishes. He insisted that Iced Lemon Tea was simply Taiwanese lemon black tea that had been rebranded, and that the Bolo Bao was a Taiwanese invention that Hong Kong had copied.

To silence any objections from the streamers, he turned to the crowd gathered around him and asked, “Aren’t you Taiwanese?” rallying the audience to affirm his claims. A nearby photographer amplified the assertion, remarking that “Hong Kong is just a second creation.” The clip was widely circulated on platforms including Threads and the Hong Kong forum LIHKG, where it quickly enraged the Hong Kong online community.

The Backlash: A Digital Siege Backed by History

Hong Kong netizens responded with remarkable speed. The store’s Google Maps rating plunged from a solid 4.3 stars to a disastrous 3.1 stars within hours, as thousands of one-star reviews poured in. Users sarcastically changed the business’s location name to “Pineapple Thief” (菠蘿小偷), and the reviews themselves often included detailed historical correctives.

The outrage wasn’t just emotional—it was backed by concrete evidence. Netizens rallied around the fact that the Bolo Bao Making Skill has been officially listed on the Hong Kong Intangible Cultural Heritage Inventory since 2014 (Item 5.34). The bun traces its origins to the 1960s, when Hong Kong cha chaan teng (tea house) chefs merged Chinese walnut cookie techniques with Western sweet buns, creating a golden, pineapple-like crust entirely free of pineapple fruit.

Linguistic arguments also bolstered the case. Taiwan typically refers to the fruit as Fengli (Phoenix Pear or Taiwan Pineapple), whereas “Bolo” is a distinctly Cantonese term. “If it were truly a Taiwanese invention, it would be called a ‘Fengli Bao’ and the store would be named ‘Mr. Fengli,’” one viral comment pointed out. The very name of the shop, “Bolo Mr.,” unwittingly betrays its Hong Kong roots. As for Iced Lemon Tea, Hong Kong food historians clarified that the drink evolved from British colonial tea culture, relying on a specific blend of Ceylon teas and thick-cut yellow lemon stirred by the drinker, a process distinct from the green lemon and local tea base used in Taiwan.

The Fallout: Apology Locked, Taiwanese Netizens Distanced

As the backlash grew, the store owner issued a public apology on social media. He acknowledged that Hong Kong’s buns and iced tea “have a longer history of development” and claimed his intent was purely to express affection for Taiwanese baking traditions. However, the apology was immediately met with fresh criticism after he locked the comments section, preventing any direct response. Hong Kong netizens derided the move as cowardly, calling it “brave enough to say it, but not brave enough to face the music.”

Significantly, the incident also led to a wave of disavowal from rational Taiwanese internet users. Many Taiwanese netizens proactively apologized to Hong Kong on behalf of the bakery, stating that “anyone with common sense in Taiwan knows the Bolo Bao belongs to Hong Kong’s food culture.” They urged for the incident not to damage cross-strait goodwill.

Broader Implications: Food Culture in a Viral Age

The “Pineapple Thief” incident is more than a fleeting online spat. It highlights how deeply food is tied to cultural identity and heritage in the Chinese-speaking world. For the Hong Kong community, the fierce defense of the Bolo Bao and Iced Lemon Tea was a defense of a tangible, delicious piece of their collective history. For business owners, it serves as a stark reminder that in an era of instant virality, claims of cultural ownership carry heavy consequences. While the Google ratings may eventually stabilize, the debate leaves an enduring lesson in culinary sensitivity and the power of community-driven fact-checking online.

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