Making “Chinese Hamburgers” Is Well Worth the Effort

Xi’an’s ròujiāmó (肉夹馍), colloquially known as the “Chinese Hamburger” (or zhōngguó hànbǎo, 中国汉堡, in Mandarin), is celebrated in cities all across China. So popular is roujiamo that I’ve spotted it all around the world, from Vienna to London to New York, captivating curious food lovers with its irresistible combination of tender meat and crispy flatbread. It’s a common on-the-go snack in Northern Chinese cities, but it’s so much more than a simple convenience food. This is how China does fast-food: slow-cooked hunks of pork chopped with onions, cilantro and sometimes green pepper, all stuffed into a freshly-baked bun. 

I’ve eaten hundreds of roujiamo over the years, all in the name of research, of course. Every cook has their version, technique or twist. This recipe brings the best of everything together—the crispiest bun, the most succulent meat stuffing and a perfectly balanced seasoning—to give you the ultimate roujiamo. 

Roujiamo: A Classic Born of Xi’an’s Storied, Delicious History

If there’s one dish that embodies the soul of Xi’an’s ancient, cosmopolitan food culture, it’s roujiamo. This sandwich-like food isn’t just a popular street snack; it’s also a window into Xi’an’s history, a crossroads of culinary traditions. 

The city’s history stretches back over 6,000 years and 13 dynasties. During the Han Dynasty (206 BCE – 220 CE), Xi’an, then known as Chang’an, became the eastern gateway of the Silk Road, and by the Tang Dynasty (618–907), it had grown into one of the largest and most cosmopolitan cities in the world. Traders poured in from Persia, India and other parts of China, bringing new spices, grains and culinary techniques. And in Xi’an, culinary traditions didn’t just coexist—they intertwined, borrowed and adapted. Over time, these new influences blended with local tastes to form the distinctive, spice-rich cuisine the city is now famous for. Moreover, all Northern Chinese food owes a debt to the techniques and flavor profile first found in Xi’an. The city’s influence, and the ingredients that spread from its markets, ultimately shaped much of the North’s palate, leading to its heavy use of lamb, cumin, vinegar, dairy, stuffed breads, nuts and seeds.  

Of all the ingredients brought to Xi’an, none was more influential than wheat. Over time, wheat flour came to dominate Northern China’s carb-heavy cuisine (so much so that these foods there often draw comparisons to Italian food). The region has a bowl of noodles for every taste, a huge array of dumplings, and an almost shocking number of breads. Walk through Xi’an’s streets, and you’ll find piles of spiced naan breads, sweet flatbreads, crispy meat-stuffed pancakes and chewy Xi’an shaobing buns. You’ll also, of course, find the star of the show, the king of them all: the roujiamo. 

The modern roujiamo perfectly reflects the merging of flavors that Xi’an was famous for. It brings together the region’s love of baked wheat breads—often made by Uyghur and Hui Muslim communities—with the Han Chinese tradition of rich, braised pork (a filling Muslim groups would not eat themselves). The roujiamo is a living artifact of Xi’an’s past as a city where diverse communities cooked side by side, learning from one another, borrowing ingredients and cooking techniques, and adapting everything to suit a wide range of tastes and eating preferences. 

Two Types of Roujiamo

The character 馍, the “‘mo”’ part of roujiamo, refers to a griddled or baked flatbread. This type of bun was traditionally made in clay or pit ovens, which were common in Uyghur and Hui cooking but unheard of in Han cooking. As such, the early roujiamos were likely cooked by, and served to, the Muslim population traveling through on the Silk Road. The stuffing would not have been pork, but lamb and beef; indeed, if you go to a Uyghur restaurant in Xi’an today, you’ll find that lamb and beef stuffings are still the only options, while in other restaurants throughout Northern China, pork stuffing is offered, for food lovers not restricted by halal requirements.

The most common “fast-food” version of roujiamo in Northern China is made with braised pork that is cubed and then stuffed into a soft bun with a slightly toasted exterior. This style of bun, known as baijimo (白吉馍) (or “Baiji-style bread,” named for the town where it’s said to have been invented), is a kind of fluffier version of a pita bread and absorbs the sauce without ever getting soggy. It’s simple to make and perfect if you need a bun quickly for dinner. That said, I, personally, think there’s a better roujiamo bun out there. You’ll find it in the small town of Tongguan, near Xi’an.

Tongguan, a trading town, is famous for making a local twist on the roujiamo. Known as the Tongguan roujiamo (同官肉夹馍), this version uses a bun that takes things to another level: Flaky on the outside and soft within, it is almost like a round croissant. It’s a contrast of textures; each bite shatters into crisp shards, giving way to succulent, saucy chopped pork. Tongguan buns have now become popular all across Northern China, including in Xi’an, where they are sometimes also called “thousand-layer pancakes,” due to the rolling and folding technique involved in making them. This method does take a bit of practice to get right and can be frustrating when it doesn’t quite work, but the effort is definitely worth a try as it results in the flakiest buns ever. 

The Tongguan roujiamo might be the most challenging variation, but it’s also the best. Fear not; my recipe below will guide you through and break it down so you can get it right every time. 

Notes on the Ingredients for “Chinese Hamburgers”

Yeast and Leavening Agents: I have played around with this dough, trying versions with only yeast and no baking soda or baking powder and others without yeast, using only raising agents. However, I found that the best version comes from using all three. The yeast makes the dough far easier to work with and, along with the baking powder, gives the bun a bit more puffiness. The baking soda seems to firm the dough up ever so slightly while also giving the final baked buns a nicer color. 

Pork: Many roujiamo recipes use pork belly that is first braised (flavored with a mix of caramelized sugar, Shaoxing wine, light and dark soy sauces, star anise, cinnamon and aromatics) and then cubed. But some restaurants shred the pork, which I much prefer. (I personally don’t like the gelatinous blobs of fat in the cubed version, and I find the sauce doesn’t soak into the meat quite as well.) For this recipe, I use the shredding method. I’ve also suggested using pork shoulder, which is not necessarily traditional but has the right amount of fat for a rich flavor and also shreds much more easily than pork belly. 

Extras: When you’re ready to serve the roujiamo, add the chopped pork to a bowl with the diced onion and the cilantro. Then add a tablespoon or two of reserved broth to the mix; you want to add enough for the meat to be moist but not so much that it pools in the bottom of the bowl. If you want to add chili oil here, do so (just a touch), then taste and adjust for seasoning. 

Shaping the Dough for Roujiamo

Tongguan buns are not easy to make. The method involves a few steps that are unique to this style of Chinese bun, but you’ll get some practice in as each roll only makes two finished buns, meaning you’ll repeat the whole process four times by the end of this recipe.

Below are the four key steps to master in order to get perfect crispy buns. 

1. Rolling: The first step is to roll the dough out as thin as possible. The easiest way is to use a pasta machine, but if you don’t have one, a rolling pin on a well-floured surface should be okay. In my photos, I rolled the dough by hand; this results in a slightly thicker dough and a bun that is a little less crispy but still delicious.
2. Rolling: When rolling up the dough in recipe step 5, you do not want to roll it too tightly. If you do, the bun will be dense and too chewy. Instead, it’s better to roll it loosely so that pockets of air can form inside the folds. Remember that you’re not packing a cigar; it’s more like folding over a blanket.
3. Slicing: Once you’ve rolled the dough about two thirds of the way, stop. Take a knife and slice the remaining unrolled dough into thin strips, with each strip still attached to the main roll: Once finished, it will look like a grass skirt attached to the bottom of the dough. During the frying process, these strands allow the oil to sneak into the cracks and crevices, creating a crispy outer layer that flakes perfectly.  Cut these strips very thin—less than ¼ of an inch wide if you can manage it. There’s no need to be neat here. You can now continue to roll the dough, wrapping all those strands around as you roll. Lastly, cut the log in half; each half will become a bun.
4. Shaping: Once the dough is rolled and cut, you’ll need to turn the circles of dough face up, so you can see the swirled layers. Then, using your palm, push them down, flattening the dough while doing your best to make sure the eye of the swirl remains in the centre. After that, use a rolling pin to further flatten the circle until it is between ¼ and ½ inch thick. Sometimes the snail-shell-like swirl flattens and squashes into an irregular shape. If this happens, don’t worry too much; it might not look pretty, but it will taste the same. 

A Note on Timing

I’ve split up the recipe below into two different parts, the buns and the pork, giving instructions for one before the other. It is, however, perfectly possible to make these elements side by side, at the same time. If you want to do so, start by making the dough. Knead it and then let it rest. While it’s resting, you will have an hour to prepare the pork and bring it to a simmer. The pork will take 90 minutes to cook, so during that time you can go back to your dough. Roll it, slice it and shape it, then let it proof for about an hour. About forty minutes into the proofing, you can preheat the oven. Once the pork is tender, you can turn off the heat and just leave it in the broth for a little bit. When the buns have finished proofing, fry them and pop them into the oven for 8–10 minutes. While they’re in the oven, you can chop the pork with the onions and cilantro so you’ll be prepared to stuff the buns the minute they come out of the oven. 

If that all sounds a bit stressful, simply make the buns ahead of time, then pop them back into the oven for 2–4 minutes to heat up before serving.

For more delicious dishes from Northwest China, see Taylor’s Xinjiang Cumin Lamb (Ziran Yangrou, 孜然羊肉) and Spicy Cumin Beef on Knife-Cut Noodles and Fuchsia Dunlop’s Xi’an Beef Potstickers (Guotie, 锅贴).