Qīngjiāo Jīdàn Jiāmó (青椒鸡蛋夹馍) is the green-pepper-and-egg roujiamo, a split baked mó packed with a quick stir-fry of scrambled egg and sliced green peppers. The angle here is that this is the vegetarian, everyday read of the roujiamo template: no braise, no master stock, just a fast wok dish folded into the same crisp wheat bun that usually holds spiced meat, which makes it a common cheap breakfast or light lunch. It lives on the freshness of the cook and the contrast of soft egg against still-snappy pepper. Get it right and the mó carries a hot, glossy, lightly seasoned filling with the peppers still bright; get it wrong and it is either a dry overcooked scramble or a watery one that soaks the bun.
The build has two parts and both want to be quick. Green peppers, usually the mild long Chinese kind rather than bell, are cut into strips or rough pieces. Eggs are beaten with a little salt and sometimes a splash of water for lift. Oil is brought up hot in a wok; the peppers get a fast toss to blister and just soften while staying crisp, then the egg is poured in and scrambled in large soft folds, the two tossed together with salt, a little soy or white pepper, sometimes a touch of scallion, and pulled off the heat while the egg is still glossy. The mó, a low-leavened wheat bun with a firm pale shell and a soft layered crumb, is baked or griddled to a crisp face, split along its seam, and the hot filling spooned in. Good execution shows tender, just-set egg, peppers with audible bite and a faint char, restrained seasoning, and a bun that stays crisp outside. The failure modes are plain. Egg cooked too long turns rubbery and weeps liquid; peppers cooked to a limp grayish mush lose the whole point of the contrast; too much oil makes the filling slick and the bun greasy; a slow assembly lets the steam soften the mó before it reaches the hand.
It shifts mostly by the pepper, the heat, and small additions. Mild green peppers give a sweet, gentle read; hotter chilies or a few of the spicy jiānjiāo push it toward a sharper, fierier version closer to a Shaanxi street style. Some stalls add tomato for tang and color, others a little dried shrimp or pickled chili for depth, and a scatter of cilantro is common. The braised-pork and beef roujiamo are the better-known relatives and run on entirely different logic, a long wet braise rather than a fast vegetable stir-fry, so they belong in their own articles. The tomato-and-egg and the cumin-potato fillings are each distinct preparations as well and deserve separate treatment rather than being crowded in here. What ties this one together is a hot, simple wok scramble of pepper and egg pressed into a crisp split bun.