Local restaurant Pig and Tiger brings Taiwanese to Denver’s Five Points neighborhood.
Denver welcomes new restaurants the way it welcomes weather—eagerly, optimistically, always ready to fall in love with new flavors. But every once in a while, a place opens that feels less like a trend and more like a truth. Pig and Tiger, now comfortably rooted in Five Points, is that kind of restaurant. It’s warm without being casual, refined without being rigid—a place where Taiwanese flavors are cooked with care, clarity, and real feeling.
At the heart of Pig and Tiger are chefs Darren Chang and Travis Masar, partners whose stories quietly season every dish. Masar, who made culinary history as the first openly gay contestant on Top Chef, cooks with a steady, confident hand—precision without performance. Chang, a first-generation Taiwanese American, brings a deeply personal lens to the menu, translating family memory into food that feels generous, immediate, and meant to be shared. This is Taiwanese cooking that doesn’t explain itself—It simply feeds you well.
For Chang, the food here isn’t about strict replication of childhood dishes. It’s about capturing their emotional center—the comfort of a familiar sauce, the rhythm of shared meals, the way food holds a family together. That sensibility gives the menu soul without sentimentality. Masar’s influence provides structure: thoughtful fermentation, balanced heat, and textures that land exactly where they should. Together, they create dishes that feel both heartfelt and technically assured.
Taiwanese cuisine thrives on contrast, and Pig and Tiger leans into that beautifully. Richness is brightened with acidity, sweetness sharpened by spice, and softness broken up with crunch. The gua bao arrive warm and pillowy, steamed buns cradling deeply savory pork belly. Pickled vegetables cut cleanly through the fat; fresh herbs lift the bite, and suddenly the whole thing feels light enough to order twice.
The beef noodle soup is the kind of dish that slows you down. The broth is aromatic and layered, built patiently and seasoned with restraint. Noodles keep their spring; the beef gives way gently, and each spoonful offers comfort without heaviness. It’s soulful food—quietly complex, deeply satisfying.
Elsewhere on the menu, Pig and Tiger channels the joyful chaos of Taiwanese night markets without losing composure. Fried chicken arrives crackling and fragrant, juicy beneath its crisp shell. Corn tastes unmistakably like corn, its natural sweetness amplified rather than buried. Noodles gleam with balance, and wontons slide slick with chili heat that lingers just long enough to make you reach for another bite. The menu moves easily between nostalgia and invention, never stuck in the past, always alive to the moment.
The bar follows the kitchen’s lead. Cocktails are ingredient-driven and thoughtful, weaving in Taiwanese elements with a light, confident touch. Some drinks lean bright and citrusy, others herbal or gently bitter. Non-alcoholic options receive the same care, and larger-format drinks encourage sharing. Tea is treated with respect—offered hot or cold, clean and expressive—while the wine and beer selections are concise and food-friendly.
The dining room feels as welcoming as the menu. Exposed brick adds warmth, wood tones soften the space, and communal tables invite conversation without forcing it. It’s a room that suits many moods—first dates, solo dinners, long meals with friends. Inclusivity isn’t announced here; it’s simply built into the experience.
