Xī'ān Hànbǎo (西安汉堡) is the Xi'an burger, a popular nickname for roujiamo that frames the split baked mó packed with chopped braised meat as China's version of a burger. The angle is the comparison itself and where it holds. Like a burger it is a handheld round of bread split and filled with seasoned meat eaten on the move, but the resemblance ends at the structure: the bread is a firm griddled-and-baked wheat bun rather than a soft yeasted one, and the filling is long-braised, finely chopped meat rather than a seared patty, so the build hinges on bread and braise behaving nothing like their burger analogues even while filling the same role.
The build is the classic roujiamo. The mó is a low-leavened wheat dough cooked first on a griddle to color and firm both faces, then finished in a hot oven so it puffs to a crisp shell around a soft layered crumb, with a faint seam ring marking where to cut. Meat, most often pork belly and shoulder, is braised long and slow in a spiced master stock until it falls apart, then lifted out and chopped on a board with some fat and a little of the gelatinous sauce and often a handful of fresh chili and cilantro worked through. The warm bun is split most of the way and the chopped meat packed in with a spoon of the braise so it soaks into the crumb. Done well it shows a mó with a shell that cracks under the thumb and a tender inside, meat that is rich and yielding with a clean spiced depth, just enough braise to moisten the bread without making it sodden, and a bright lift from chili and herb cutting the fat. Done poorly the failures are clear: a bun under-baked and gummy that collapses to paste around the hot meat, meat braised dry or chopped too coarse so it falls out, too much sauce so the bread turns to mush at the seam, or no fresh edge so it eats heavy and flat.
It shifts by the meat and the spicing more than the format. Pork is the standard, but beef and cumin-spiced lamb are common regional builds, each with its own stock; the chili and herb level ranges from mild to fierce, and the fat-to-lean ratio of the chop tunes how rich it eats. The bread itself, the mó, is its own preparation with its own structural rules and gets its own treatment, as do the donkey-meat and other regional fillings within the wider roujiamo family. What fixes this entry is simply the burger framing applied to roujiamo, the same split-mó-and-braised-meat sandwich under a name that points at what it stands in for.