Here at CB Shanghai, we’ve already confessed our undying affection for the scallion oil pancakes (葱油饼, cōngyóubǐng) at A Da. Mr. Wu’s are so beautifully crafted that they take on the aura of art with their precision and flair, but we’re also a little in love with the slapdash, unconventional version fried up by an elderly couple at A Po, just a couple of blocks away.
While Mr. Wu wakes at 5 a.m. to start kneading his dough and selling his wares, Mr. and Mrs. Ge of A Po cool their heels until 2 p.m. Their version is intended to be a snack, not a meal, and their chosen time is designed to keep demand down. At the entrance of the alleyway where they fry up pancakes, a chalkboard sign touts the publicity they’ve already received from Chinese media like Xinmin Evening News and Channel Young. They’ve been serving cōngyóubǐng for more than 30 years, and they’re quick to tell you that they have a big enough clientele already, thank you very 
much. They happily let you take pictures of them in action, but request that you don’t write anything else in the papers. The husband and wife are already well into their seventies, so we’re hoping they won’t mind a little publicity from an English-language website (or at least won’t notice it).
It’s all about teamwork for this couple, and after 50 years of marriage they’ve got the arrangement down pat. Mr. Ge dips small balls of green onion-flecked dough into the wok’s hot oil, then rolls the golf-ball-sized spheres into thin pancakes. Once they’re mere millimeters thick, he tosses them back into a shallow wok, manned by his wife, who is armed with wooden tongs and an eagle eye that ensures the pancakes are flipped when just golden brown.
Want to add a bit of heft to your fried dough? Tell the missus you’d like a jīdànbǐng (鸡蛋饼) and she’ll crack an egg into the spitting oil, then grab a pancake with tongs and smash it into the yolk to make everything stick. In a few seconds, the carbs and protein meld together, and it’s ready to be flipped over. 
Where A Da’s thick, crunchy pancakes take almost 20 minutes to finish on his lightly slicked griddle, A Po’s crispy, deep-fried variety are out of the wok in 90 seconds and immediately ferried to a draining basket, where the excess oil drips off the pancakes before they’re slathered with a rich chili paste and brightened with another fistful of green onions. There are no seats here – diners are expected to take their hot savory pancakes in plastic bags and be on their merry way. And after one bite of this sizzling, flaky pancake, merry it will be.
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