Hu Jiao Bing

The pepper bun traces to Fuzhou in Fujian, where a baked, oven-stuck filled bun known as 'guang bing' or peppered meat bun was a local tradition; immigrants carried it across the strait and it took root in Taiwan. Its modern fame belongs to Taipei's Raohe Street night market, where queues form for buns baked in a clay oven shaped like a barrel — the raw buns are slapped onto the hot inner wall and bake there, much as naan bakes in a tandoor. The defining seasoning is white and black pepper, used liberally enough to make the name; a heavy fill of scallion balances the meat. The result is a snack with a crackling sesame crust and a juicy, peppery, herb-laced core.

The sesame crust shatters and crackles, then gives way to a steaming, juicy core of pork heavy with pepper — a warming, almost throat-catching heat — shot through with sweet green scallion. The bottom crust that touched the oven wall is the crispest, the top chewier from the dough. Eat it the moment it leaves the oven, when the meat juices are still running.

The oven is the heart of it. The clay barrel oven, fired by charcoal, radiates intense heat from its walls; the raw bun stuck to that wall bakes from one side by conduction and from the chamber by radiation, blistering the sesame crust fast while the filling steams in its own juices. Marinating the pork with pepper, soy and sugar seasons it and, with a little starch, helps it hold moisture so the core stays juicy. The large volume of scallion releases steam and sweetness as it cooks. The crust crisps and browns through the Maillard reaction at high heat, and the sesame seeds toast on top for nutty aroma. Resting the dough lets gluten relax so it can be stretched thin enough to seal a heavy fill.