THE NANJINGER | VOLUME 12 ISSUE 06 | APRIL 2022
NANKINISH With Wu Zeyuan
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anjing’s long-standing food vendors and eateries in downtown neighbourhoods offer a real taste of city and local life. I go back to those places when I can, preferably later in the afternoon to bring something home for a simple supper, and, like many other Nanjingers (or the older ones perhaps), I always get a bag of “shaobing” (烧 饼). You must try them if you haven’t, but it is even better to appreciate these humble pastries in some cultural context. “Bing” apart from being a search engine which you’d use only when you don’t have a VPN, is a major category in the diverse world of Chinese wheat foods. Simply put, it’s anything that is flat and rounded, whether steamed, fried, or baked, leavened or unleavened, with or without fillings, round or oval, gigantic or petite. But we’re talking about a specific type of bing; the shaobing, which means “baked bing” in classical Chinese. Whereas almost all wheat foods in China were boiled or steamed, as suggested by archaeological findings, it was perhaps not until the 2nd century CE that travellers from the Middle East or Central Asia introduced “baked bings” to the Chinese, presumably sharing the same origin with naan and pita bread. In fact, many shaobing bakeries today still bake in tandoor-like ovens. These baked, exotic bings soon became popular in China and, along with some major migrations in Chinese history, were brought to almost every corner of the large empire in the following millennium. The shaobing made in different areas continued to develop into numerous variations in the hands of local bakers. In Jiangsu province alone, you can easily find at least a dozen major variations. This makes it impossible to translate “shaobing” into a single English term; it may be “flat bread” in this city and “pie” in another.
In Nanjing, shaobings are a favourite companion with mini wontons or duck-blood noodle soup, and they are often made with, unsurprisingly, duck-fat shortening. They first appeared in Chinese Muslim (Hui) restaurants and delicatessens which have been popular in Nanjing for centuries. Using the by-product of Nanjing’s favourite bird, these shaobings started as a halal substitute for the lard-laminated ones made in other parts of Jiangsu and Anhui. But over time, they have evolved into a distinctive regional type that eventually defines shaobing in the Nanjingers’ lexicon. They are about the size of a palm, with dozens of paper-thin layers that are crunchy and soft at the same time. They come with two shapes and two fillings; the oval-shaped are savoury, flavoured with minced scallions and softened fat at the centre, while the roundshaped are sweet, using a fine layer of sugar crystals (and often with ground black sesame) instead. Both are generously covered with white sesame seeds on the top. Which store makes the best shaobing in Nanjing? That question is of little interest to locals, just like New Yorkers do not travel across the city to find the best bagel shop; they just buy them downstairs. They are too commonplace. It was not until recent years, with the rise of social media and review websites, that some better shaobing bakeries became renowned beyond their communities. Among all the delicious shaobing bakeries in the city, Chengcheng (成诚酥烧饼) has always been my favorite since 2009 when I moved to the neighbourhood and discovered this hidden gem. Setting the competition of “the best” aside, there should be no doubt that Chengcheng at least makes the flakiest shaobing in town. To me, the flakiest means the best. You will love them if you are, like me, a fan of mille-feuille, baklava and
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