Several years ago, many days deep into a trip to Italy, I found myself in Milan’s Chinatown in a state of bewildered awe. 

I was eating a sandwich that to this day remains one of the brightest culinary discoveries of that two-week trip. Considering the life-changing pastas, pizzas, and other dishes I’d consumed by that point, that is a bold statement. 

It wasn’t much to look at. Just a pile of meat between two slices of toasted muffin-like bread. But the explosion of flavor that humble little sandwich delivered was far above its weight. Soft, braised pork shoulder and belly, braised in seasoning, pulled from a crock pot and cut up with a large cleaver on a bench before being piled high between the freshly cooked, crispy bun. 

The best expression of roujiamo is when the braised meat filling is chopped fresh just before filling the sandwich.

Antony Bruno

After the first bite, I immediately returned to the back of the line stretching from the street-facing window to order two more (“for the family,” but, really, I just ate one of them myself). I’ve scanned menus and social media ever since for signs of its availability back home in Denver. 

The sandwich is called roujiamo, credited as being the world’s oldest sandwich, originating from China’s Shaanxi region (Xi’an, specifically) some 2,000 years ago. Literally translated, it means “meat sandwiched in bread.” As the legend goes, it was first created to feed soldiers on long marches, but it’s now a popular street food in China and Chinatowns worldwide. 

Like any dish that’s been around for so long, roujiamo has many interpretations and variations, but there are a few similarities throughout. First, there’s the meat: Some use beef, others lamb. My initial experience with it was pork. While often known as a “Chinese hamburger,” it’s really more akin to a sloppy joe, emphasis on the sloppy. The stock that infuses the meat with flavor (often through days’ worth of simmering) is a multi-napkin affair. 

The roujiamo is more sloppy joe than burger, emphasis on sloppy.

Antony Bruno

Next are the spices. Some use cumin, while others use a healthy dose of coriander. The rest is a mix of cloves, star anise, ginger and, in some cases, even peppers for a little kick. That’s usually it for the fillings, but there are some with bell peppers, too. 

Finally, there’s the bun, which must be robust enough to hold the braised meat without disintegrating, but not dilute the meaty, juicy filling. Most are yeasted flatbread, toasted crisp on the outside to give it a good crunchy bite to balance the soft meat filling, and cut like a pita to stuff the meat into. I’ve also seen some that use a layered effect, similar to a croissant, to increase the surface area and max out the crispy factor.

Where to find roujiamo in Denver

However it’s made, the roujiamo is a delicious creation that is, unfortunately, a bit difficult to find here in the Denver area. Golden’s New Peach Garden, where former Westword food editor Mark Antonation found it over 10 years ago, is closed. Lone Tree’s NBX Asian Cuisine once featured it on the menu, but a recent visit and chat with the chef confirmed it’s no longer offered because it takes too much time and effort for him to make it all by himself. 

But there are a few holdouts (some better than others) where you can find roujiamo in Denver today: 

The roujiamo at Chang An Taste is the best version in the city we found so far.

Antony Bruno

Chang An Taste
5155 E. 39th Ave.
720-692-4233
Located inside the Park Hill Kitchens commissary, Chang An Taste is the kind of place you go solely for the food, because there’s really nothing else there. I mean … really nothing. To order, you walk into a room decked out with a few tables and a locked interior door. No window. No staff. No instructions. Just a menu with a QR code posted on the wall. 

Place your order, take a seat, and wait for a while (about 20 minutes) until a nice Chinese woman exits the door, all smiles, with your order in a bag before disappearing behind the locked door again. 

This is the place to go for roujiamo. Not only is it far and above the best version of the sandwich on this list, but it’s also the most interesting — like a speakeasy without the hipster factor. Coming here is like a badge of commitment, as if tracking down an obscure sandwich alone wasn’t enough. 

The bread has both the crisp crunch and the texture needed to soak up all the juices from the seasoned meat as it drips down into the base of the sandwich until you’re leaking grease, fat and stock all over yourself and the table. Each bite is better than the last. (Be sure to ask for utensils when you order if you’re planning to eat there, if just for the napkins alone). 

While you’re there, take the opportunity to try Chang An Taste’s other Xi’an dishes, like the cold skin noodle liangpi, Szechuan-style crispy pork and the sticky-sweet Zeng cake. Or, make a mini food tour out of it by visiting the other vendors sharing the commercial kitchen space, like Renegade Burrito, Vegan Van and Ninja Ramen. 

Mia Moon’s roujiamo changes things up with bell peppers.

Antony Bruno

Miya Moon
1 Broadway 
303-871-8828
The roujiamo at Miya Moon is much different from that first version I had in Italy (that still feels strange to write) and Chang An Taste’s, in a couple of ways. For starters, the filling is less of a braised meat preparation and more of a cubed style of meat with diced bell peppers. 

That’s not completely unheard of. Search the internet for pictures or sources of roujiamo, and you’ll find plenty of similar versions, also with bell pepper. Some are even cut in far larger strips than you’ll find here. But this style lacks the same satisfying juiciness of the braised meat found elsewhere, and the sauce that comes with it is more salty/sweet than savory. 

The bun, while griddled, is a bit doughy. (Ironically, calling something doughy that’s made of dough is considered a negative thing). It lacks the signature crispiness of other roujiamo flatbreads, which, combined with the fact that there’s no braising stock to soak into it, isn’t the best representation of the dish. 

The duck roujiamo at Bao Brewhouse.

Antony Bruno

Bao Brewhouse
1317 14th St.
720-324-8675
It’s fair to call the options here RINOs: Roujiamos In Name Only. There are three versions, all decidedly more modern or fusion-inspired, as is the theme of the overall menu. The Shanghai Smasher applies the “Chinese hamburger” nickname literally, with two crispy beef patties and melted American cheese (!), pickles and Chinese mustard. The Fried Chicken roujiamo is just that, with a gochujang ranch drizzle. 

The We Have the Duck roujiamo is shaved duck aggressively seasoned with five-spice, along with scallions and duck sauce. But the spicy mayo is pretty overpowering. Respect is due, though, for the bun, which is crispy and almost croissant-like in its layered texture.