A platter of Shandong-style jianbing is served with bamboo shoots, leafy greens and other vegetables.

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In Shanghai's Huangpu district, not far from People's Square metro station, a tiny Shandong-style jianbing (a crispy, savory Chinese pancake) stall, just a few square meters in size, regularly draws long lines.

Among the office workers and tourists waiting for their turn are many Korean visitors. The stall even offers a bilingual Chinese-Korean menu to make ordering easier.

The simplest jianbing costs just 6 yuan ($0.89). Batter is spread thinly over a hot griddle, topped with an egg and sauce, then folded around a crisp fried cracker.

The most lavish version, priced at 38 yuan, comes loaded with lettuce, cucumber, shredded potato, pork floss, ham, chicken sausage, pork tenderloin, cheese and several other fillings.

For Korean visitor Jin Hye-won, it was love at first bite. "It's really delicious. It's totally my style. I wish they sold this in Korea, too," she wrote after trying it, sharing her experience on Xiaohongshu, China's lifestyle-focused social media platform.

Affordable, freshly made and prepared right in front of customers, jianbing has become a popular street-food experience for visitors to Shanghai. Watching the vendor spread the batter, crack an egg, brush on sauce and pile on the fillings before swiftly folding everything into a warm, compact package is part of the appeal.

In China, jianbing has long been woven into everyday life. While the modern street-food version often features eggs, crispy crackers and a variety of fillings, traditional Shandong jianbing is much simpler.

Made by grinding grains such as wheat, corn, millet, and sweet potato into batter, it is cooked into a thin, flexible pancake that can be rolled with scallions, vegetables, meat, seafood or sauces.

There is a saying in Shandong: "A single jianbing can wrap up the whole world."

Its many possible fillings have made the humble pancake remarkably adaptable, allowing it to travel far beyond its birthplace in the eastern coastal province of Shandong.

Historical records from the Wanli period (1573-1620) of the Ming Dynasty suggest that jianbing has been made in Tai'an for at least 400 years. With its low moisture content, it was easy to store and carry, and became an important staple for many families in the region.

For Wang Taizhen, a Shandong native and chef at Dongyu Restaurant in Jinan, the provincial capital, jianbing is more than food. It is a taste of home.

Wang, who grew up in Tai'an and now works at Dongyu Restaurant in Jinan, remembers eating a type of jianbing with a subtle sourness as a child.

"People didn't have refrigerators back then. In summer, the batter would naturally ferment and turn slightly sour after sitting for a while. So the authentic taste I remember definitely had a hint of sourness," Wang says.

His childhood jianbing was usually made with cornmeal, sometimes mixed with sweet potato or soybeans. The simplest version was spread with sesame salt and a little peanut oil or lard, then rolled up and eaten as it was.

"We would crave it every once in a while," Wang says. "Especially when you've eaten it a lot as a child, it becomes a memory of childhood."

Today, Wang has brought that memory into his restaurant kitchen, giving the traditional staple a new expression.

His version brings together ingredients associated with different parts of Shandong: Tai'an jianbing, Zhangqiu scallions, Linyi burdock, Shouguang bitter greens and lettuce, Zaozhuang sesame salt, Jining pickles, Yantai mackerel sauce, Heze fresh chili sauce, Linyi Chinese toon sauce and Rizhao dried shrimp.

Each ingredient adds a different note — crispness, spice, savory depth or a hint of the sea. Rolled together, they create what Wang describes as a culinary journey across Shandong.

"After eating this jianbing, it's as if you've traveled around Shandong," he says.

That spirit of freedom and inclusiveness may be part of the reason jianbing has traveled so well. There is no single, rigid formula for what can be wrapped inside it. Potatoes, greens, meat and even dishes from other regions can all find a place.

From a humble grain-based staple on Shandong family tables to a bustling street food in Shanghai, jianbing continues to change with the people who eat it. Yet beneath its countless variations, it remains what it has always been — simple, warm and familiar, a thin pancake capable of wrapping up much more than food.

liyingxue@chinadaily.com.cn