In the ancient city of Hangzhou, where mist rises from West Lake and the air carries whispers of poets and emperors, there is a humble street snack that has been sizzling on iron griddles for over 800 years. Known as Cong Bao Hui(葱包桧, 葱包烩) – “Scallion Pancake Roll, Scallion-Wrapped Roll” – this crispy, savoury treat is more than just a morning bite. It is a taste of defiance, a culinary middle finger to one of China’s most infamous traitors, and a living piece of Southern Song history that you can hold in your hands.
A Snack Born of Fury
The story begins in the year 1142, at the foot of West Lake’s Fengbo Pavilion. There, on false charges fabricated by the treacherous chancellor Qin Hui (秦桧), the legendary general Yue Fei was executed. Yue had been a hero of the Southern Song dynasty – a brilliant military commander who had led his armies to victory against the invading Jurchen forces. His death, at the age of just 39, sent shockwaves through Hangzhou (then known as Lin’an, the Song capital). The people mourned – but they also seethed.
The people of Hangzhou were furious, but they could do nothing openly against the powerful Qin Hui. So they did what any resourceful population would do: they turned their anger into food.
According to legend, a street vendor named Wang Er (王二), who ran a fried-food stall near Wangxian Bridge, took two lumps of dough and shaped them into two small figures – one representing Qin Hui and the other his wife. He twisted them together, flattened them with a rolling pin, and dropped them into a sizzling wok of oil. As they fried, he chanted: “You zha Hui! You zha Hui!” (油炸桧儿) – “Deep-fried Hui!” – a public curse against the man who had destroyed the nation’s hero.
But the story didn’t end there.
From “Fried Hui” to “Scallion-Wrapped Gui”
Wang Er sometimes fried more you tiao (油条) than he could sell. When they cooled, they became soft and unappealing. But his fury against Qin Hui still burned. So he took the cold you tiao, reheated them on a hot griddle, and wrapped them together with fresh scallions in a thin spring pancake (chunjuan pi). He brushed the bundle with sweet bean sauce (tianmian jiang), pressed it flat with an iron plate, and grilled it until the wrapper turned golden and crisp.
As the oil in the you tiao sizzled and popped under the pressure of the iron plate, Wang Er imagined he was hearing Qin Hui’s final screams. He bit into the hot, crispy roll – and found it delicious. He called his new creation “Cong Bao Hui Er” – “Scallion-Wrapped Hui” – because the scallions (cong) wrapped (bao) around the fried dough that stood for Qin Hui (Hui).
To avoid drawing the attention of Qin Hui’s spies, the character for “桧” (Hui’s name) was quietly changed to the homophonous “烩” – a cooking term meaning “stew” or “braise”. The name stuck, and over the centuries, Cong Bao Hui became one of Hangzhou’s most beloved snacks.
What’s in a Name?
The name itself is a miniature history lesson:
- Cong (葱) = scallions, the fresh green bite that cuts through the richness
- Bao (包) = wrapped, the action of encasing the filling in a thin pancake
- Hui (桧/烩) = a pun on the traitor’s name, transformed into a harmless cooking term
Locals sometimes call it “Cong Bao Hui Er,” with the “er” being the distinctive Hangzhou dialect suffix that softens the name into something almost affectionate. And despite its humble origins, the snack has earned a place in Hangzhou’s culinary canon: the official English name given by the city is “Fried Dough Sticks Wrapped in Thin Pancake” .
How It’s Made: The Art of the Press
Making Cong Bao Hui is a performance as much as a recipe. The process is simple but demands a steady hand and a hot griddle.
First, the spring pancake (chunjuan pi) is prepared – a thin, delicate wrapper made from wheat flour and water. The dough is kneaded until elastic, then small portions are pressed onto a hot flat pan in a circular motion, creating paper-thin pancakes just 1.5 millimetres thick.
Next, the you tiao (油条, the “fried Hui”) is placed on the griddle and pressed flat with a spatula until it becomes crispy again. Fresh scallions are also grilled briefly until they soften and release their aroma.
Then comes the assembly: two or three spring pancakes are laid out in a row, brushed with sweet bean sauce (and sometimes chilli sauce for those who like heat), and topped with the grilled scallions and the flattened you tiao. The pancakes are folded over the filling, and the whole bundle is returned to the griddle.
Here’s where the magic happens: the vendor presses down firmly with an iron plate or heavy spatula, flattening the roll until it is thin and compact. The pressure forces the you tiao to release its oil, which crisps the pancake wrapper to a perfect golden brown. The sizzle and crackle are part of the experience – a sound that, according to legend, represents the traitor being crushed under the weight of the people’s anger.
The finished snack is served hot, cut in half, and eaten with your hands. The wrapper is crispy on the outside, chewy within; the you tiao adds a savoury, oily crunch; the scallions bring a fresh, sharp bite; and the sweet bean sauce ties everything together with a rich, savoury-sweet finish.
An 800-Year-Old Tradition, Still Sizzling
Cong Bao Hui has endured for over 800 years because it is more than just food – it is memory. For generations of Hangzhou locals, it has been the taste of childhood mornings, of schoolyard breakfasts, of street-corner vendors calling out their wares as the city woke up.
The snack is closely associated with the city’s historic He Fang Street (河坊街) and the surrounding old neighbourhoods. During the Spring Festival, Cong Bao Hui is a staple of the “Southern Song CBD” New Year markets, where visitors can taste history alongside modern festivities.
In recent years, the snack has even found its way into high-end restaurants like Longjing Caotang (龙井草堂) and Guiyu Shanshan (桂语山房), proving that this humble street food can hold its own alongside the finest Hangzhou cuisine.
Where to Find the Best Cong Bao Hui in Hangzhou
If you’re visiting Hangzhou and want to taste this crispy piece of history, here are some of the city’s most beloved spots:
- Sun Nainai Cong Bao Hui (孙奶奶葱包桧) – 391 Zhongshan South Road (中山南路391号), just across from Juying Noodle Shop. This tiny stall, run by an elderly woman who has been making Cong Bao Hui for decades, has become a local legend. Her iron plate is worn smooth from years of use.
- Wu Ayi Cong Bao Hui (吴阿姨葱包桧) – Just a few steps south of Sun Nainai’s on Zhongshan South Road, this friendly competitor has also been serving the snack for years. Both stalls are within shouting distance of each other, and locals love to debate which one is better.
- Minsheng Road Old Shop (民生路老店) – 198 Minsheng Road (民生路198号), near Longxiangqiao Metro Station (Line 1). A long-standing favourite among locals, this shop serves Cong Bao Hui alongside other Hangzhou classics.
- He Fang Street (河坊街) – This historic pedestrian street is lined with snack stalls and small shops selling Cong Bao Hui.
- Ye Dajie Cong Bao Hui (叶大姐葱包桧) – A beloved stall near the intersection of Huimin Road and Houshi Street, run by a woman who has been serving the neighbourhood for years. After a brief closure due to injury, she returned to an enthusiastic welcome from loyal customers.
- Jiang Nainai Cong Bao Hui (姜奶奶葱包桧) – A 30-year-old stall in Desheng Xincun, Gongshu District, run by a 76-year-old grandmother.
A Taste of Rebellion
Every crispy bite of Cong Bao Hui carries the weight of history. It is a snack born not from culinary ambition, but from righteous fury – a people’s protest against injustice, wrapped in flour and fried to golden perfection. It is a reminder that sometimes, the most powerful statements come not from grand speeches, but from the sizzle of oil on a hot griddle.
As the old Hangzhou saying goes: “A day without Cong Bao Hui is a day without the soul of the city.” Or, as the city’s tourism board puts it: “If you visit Hangzhou and don’t eat Cong Bao Hui, even touring all of West Lake is in vain”.
So next time you find yourself in Hangzhou, follow the smell of sizzling oil and the sound of an iron plate pressing down on golden dough. Order a set of Cong Bao Hui, take a bite, and taste 800 years of history – one crispy, defiant crunch at a time.
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