Step 1: Preparing the Dough
Place the flour into a mixing bowl.
Gradually add water in small increments, stirring with chopsticks until the mixture forms coarse crumbs that can be pressed into a dough.
Cover with cling film or invert a bowl over the dough and let it rest for 20 minutes.

Knead briefly, then rest for another 20 minutes.

Repeat this process once more. After the final kneading, the dough should be smooth and ready to be divided, rolled, and filled.​

Step 2: Preparing the Filling
While the dough is resting, prepare the filling.
Finely dice the cabbage and onion into 1cm cubes.
Mince the ginger thoroughly.

In a mixing bowl, combine the minced beef, diced cabbage, diced onion, and minced ginger.
Add the light soy sauce, dark soy sauce, salt, sugar, Sichuan pepper oil, cooking oil, ground white pepper, and Shaoxing wine.
Finally, incorporate the egg white.
Mix the ingredients gently with chopsticks or a fork, then stir in one direction (either clockwise or counterclockwise) until well combined.​

Step 3: Assembling and Cooking the Buns
Heat a generous amount of oil in a cold frying pan over high heat.
Place the buns seam-side down into the pan and cover with a lid to simulate the effect of steaming.

Once the oil reaches a high temperature, reduce to medium heat.
After 2–3 minutes, check the bottoms of the buns; if they are golden brown or darker, flip them over.

Since the dough is thinner on the flipped side, reduce to low heat.
After flipping, you can gently tilt and rotate the pan to ensure even browning, similar to the technique used by professional pan-fry chefs.
Condensation from the lid will drip back into the pan, creating steam that helps cook the sides of the buns thoroughly.​

Step 4: Final Cooking and Serving
Once both sides are browned to a deep golden colour, remove the buns from the pan.
The sides may appear slightly collapsed, lacking the fullness of leavened buns. The aroma of fried wheat will permeate the kitchen.​

Step 5: Enjoying the Buns
After allowing the buns to cool slightly, cut or bite into them to experience the crispy skin and savoury filling.
Serve with Zhenjiang vinegar for dipping.​

Story Behind the Recipe | 菜谱的故事
Before the expansion of XX Road, there was a modest beef pan-fried bun shop.
The unassuming storefront had a frying station by the entrance, with only two small tables inside; the remaining space was occupied by a stove simmering beef soup.​

On one occasion, only a mother and her son were present in the shop.

The owner, having some free time, chatted briefly: "Don't underestimate my shop; although I only sell two items and the presentation isn't impressive, people returning from the US come straight here from the airport and make sure to have a meal before heading back."

At the time, I thought it was just a joke, perhaps reflecting the lack of authentic food abroad. I didn't find the buns particularly remarkable then.​

Soon after, the buildings along the street were demolished. The owner and his craft vanished without a trace. Since then, whenever I encounter beef pan-fried buns at street stalls, I give them a try. However, none match the texture of the wrapper, the quality and flavour of the filling, or even the aroma.​

From distant memories, what stands out is the crispy, deep brown bottom, the thin sides enveloping the filling, and the non-sticky texture. The shop was likely named "Niurou Jianbao dian" or "Beef Pan-Fried Bun Shop." Each bun cost about three to five cents, and a bowl of beef soup was one and a half cents. Had the documentary "A Bite of China" been produced 20 years earlier, this shop might have been featured as the epitome of Shanghai-style beef pan-fried buns.​

Today, with some leftover beef dumpling filling (including celery, carrot, spring onion, and coriander), I decided to make beef pan-fried buns. I added some curry powder and onion to the filling and prepared the dough. However, I forgot to add yeast. Despite my apprehension, the result unexpectedly replicated the old Shanghai-style beef pan-fried buns (at least the wrapper). It turns out they weren't made with leavened dough after all.

菜谱的故事
在XX路拓宽之前，有一家不起眼的牛肉煎包店。门口就是煎包的炉子，店内只有两张小桌子，剩下的空间被炖着牛肉汤的炉子占据。

有一次，店里只有母子二人。老板闲暇时聊了几句：“别看我这里只卖两样东西，卖相也不怎么样，从美国回来的人下了飞机直接来这里，回美国前还专门再来吃一顿。”当时我觉得只是玩笑话，可能是国外缺乏地道的食物。当时并未觉得这煎包有多特别。

不久后，沿街的建筑被拆迁。 老板和他的手艺从此无影无踪。 此后，每当在街边看到有卖牛肉煎包的摊位，我都会尝试一下。 然而，无论是外皮的口感、馅料的用料和味道，甚至是香气，都远不及当年的那家店。

从久远的记忆中，唯一能回忆起的是那两面焦褐色的底部非常酥脆，侧边薄薄地包裹着馅料，没有一丝粘牙感。 店名似乎就叫“牛肉煎包店”。 煎包大约三角五分一个，牛肉汤一角五分一碗。 如果《舌尖上的中国》早二十年策划，估计这家店会被选中，称之为“海派牛肉煎包”。

今天，包牛肉饺子时剩下了一些馅料（包括芹菜、胡萝卜、大葱、香菜），于是我和了些面，又在馅料中加入了咖喱粉和洋葱，准备做牛肉煎包。 然而，和面时忘了放酵母。 忐忑地下锅后，竟然意外地复刻了古早的海派牛肉煎包（至少是外皮）。 原来它并非使用发面制作。