China's Most Awkwardly Named Food Finally Got a Rename

What is recognized by the people of Shijiazhuang

Anhui Beef Banmian has been renamed!

Anhui Beef Banmian, the most distinctive delicacy in Shijiazhuang, can be found on almost every street in the city, with at least one "Anhui Beef Banmian" restaurant, showcasing the deep affection Shijiazhuang locals have for this dish.

But recently, Shijiazhuang, Hebei, announced the promotion of the regional public brand "Shijiazhuang Beef Banmian," removing the origin label "Anhui." This move sparked widespread debate. Some argue that without "Anhui," it’s not Banmian; others say the dish has been eaten by Shijiazhuang locals for decades and deserves a name change.

It carries a flavor unique to Shijiazhuang.

Shijiazhuang seems determined to represent Anhui Beef Banmian with the entire city.

Over a decade ago, when Shijiazhuang had only two ring roads, there were already more than 2,000 Anhui Beef Banmian restaurants. At the same time, Lanzhou Lamian, the most popular noodle dish nationwide, had just over 1,000 outlets in Shijiazhuang.

What does 2,000 restaurants mean? In terms of Shijiazhuang’s urban space, it’s nearly impossible for any two Banmian restaurants to be too far apart. The density of Anhui Beef Banmian shops in Shijiazhuang is comparable to convenience stores in Taiwan—cross one street, and you’ll find another. One Banmian shop can sit next to another, and even face yet another.

This aggressive saturation strategy might only be acceptable to the people of Shijiazhuang nationwide.

Why do Shijiazhuang locals adore Anhui Beef Banmian so much? Simply because it’s cheap and delicious.

Once priced at less than 3 yuan per bowl, Banmian was the most affordable meal for the less affluent in Shijiazhuang. Students with monthly allowances of a few hundred yuan, white-collar workers with limited incomes, and migrant workers were not only the backbone of the city but also the most loyal fans of Anhui Beef Banmian.

Many of these hardworking, humble builders were not originally from Shijiazhuang. They came to strive, not to indulge. Together with the city, they grew from nothing, from small to large, from old to new.

Today, as Shijiazhuang gradually reveals its "International Village" vibe, some hole-in-the-wall eateries and street stalls have closed, and the price of Anhui Beef Banmian has risen to 8 or 9 yuan per bowl. Yet, its fanbase has only expanded. Even luxury car owners eagerly queue at the famous Wuqi Road Banmian, waiting for a bowl of internet-famous noodles served in a plastic bag.

Before Anhui Beef Banmian, there’s no distinction between rich and poor. Sitting on small stools, all Shijiazhuang residents achieve equality.

However, many don’t know that Shijiazhuang locals didn’t fall in love with Banmian at first sight. After arriving in the city, Banmian went through an adjustment period with locals. Ultimately, it transformed itself to win their hearts.

Thus, Anhui Beef Banmian in Shijiazhuang carries a flavor exclusive to its people.

That flavor is the taste of beef. Originally, Anhui Banmian was made with lamb, its authentic form. But Shijiazhuang locals disliked the gaminess of lamb, and its price wasn’t appealing. The stalemate ended when Anhui Banmian compromised, switching to beef as its new partner. From then on, Anhui Banmian and beef joined forces, conquering Shijiazhuang and creating today’s Anhui Beef Banmian.

The authentic taste of Beef Banmian has always been in Shijiazhuang.

Yet, it’s undeniable that Banmian is from Anhui—more precisely, a local snack of Taihe County in Fuyang City, northern Anhui. In the 1980s and 1990s, migrant workers from Fuyang traveled north along the railways, with some settling in Shijiazhuang. Banmian, like a hidden sprite in their luggage, quietly followed.

Shijiazhuang is a city built by the railroad, making Banmian a true "railway cuisine."

The Authentic Code of Anhui Beef Banmian

To judge whether a bowl of Anhui beef banmian is authentic or not, you’d better ask the people of Shijiazhuang.

What’s the standard for authenticity? Shijiazhuang locals will tell you: it all depends on whether the broth is legit. A proper broth must meet the "three highs" standard—high oil, high spice, and high salt.

Don’t blame Shijiazhuang folks for their bold tastes—you just don’t understand the ruggedness of a railway city.

Discerning foodies can tell at a glance or a sniff whether it’s the real deal. Beef fat is the "culprit" behind the broth’s oiliness, and dozens of spices are simmered in it until every drop of flavor is extracted before being discarded. The bright red broth and layers of chili peppers quickly stimulate the optic nerves, sending a "spicy" signal straight to the brain.

Why do Shijiazhuang people love spicy food? That’s actually a false question. The real one is: why do humans love spice? Spice transcends borders—once your taste buds have been conquered, you’re hooked for life.

But the spiciness of banmian lies in the broth, not the peppers. These slightly darkened yet still vibrant red chilies can be boldly popped into your mouth, chewed, and savored, letting their explosive juices flood your palate.

Shijiazhuang people take pepper preparation seriously. Ambitious chefs always use two types: first, dried peppers are fried in oil to release their heat, then discarded. Next, meat broth is added, followed by fresh wet peppers, given ample time to slowly infuse their flavor into the soup.

If the chef skimps on peppers, seasoned Anhui banmian enthusiasts will definitely call them out.

High salt, aka "salty." Shijiazhuang folks not only endorse Anhui beef banmian but also load it with salt. Outsiders usually notice the saltiness by drinking the broth, but locals know they’ve exceeded their daily salt intake with just one bite of noodles.

Think Shijiazhuang people will compromise? No way—they’d rather pair it with a baked pancake than reduce the salt by a single spoonful.

Since ancient times, the wheat-rich North China Plain has had high standards for noodles. Authentic Anhui banmian must be tough. Before cooking, the noodles are stiff rods—the chef rolls them out with force, stacks them, and mercilessly slams them against the counter. "No beating, no noodles" is Shijiazhuang’s banmian philosophy.

Otherwise, how do you think banmian chefs develop those rock-solid biceps?

Shijiazhuang people dislike thin banmian—it must be broad and carry its unique flavor. Lift a strand, take a whiff, and you’ll detect a faint alkaline scent. Yes, it’s laced with alkali and, of course, salt.

No wonder it’s salty—there’s salt in the noodles too!

Ironically, beef plays a minor role in authentic beef banmian. Locals rarely eat it for the few tiny beef bits—just having a couple of specks is enough. For eight yuan, a bowl pleases your mouth, fills your stomach—what more could you ask for?

More beef? Would it still be affordable for the average person?

Worried about nutrition? No problem—add a marinated egg, meatballs, tofu skin, or sausage, all so cheap you’ll want to pile them high. To balance affordability and nutrition, Shijiazhuang’s authentic Anhui banmian has already gone all out.

Raised by the Hands of Shijiazhuang

Hebei isn’t without its specialties—donkey burgers and Xianghe meat pies could rival Lanzhou noodles or Shaxian snacks. But Shijiazhuang people have a unique love for this bowl of Anhui beef banmian.

Because of passion, Shijiazhuang people have the courage to face embarrassment head-on.

Shijiazhuang people may not be confident, but they are not insecure either. As an emerging city, Shijiazhuang's mindset is to accept whatever comes and make the best of it. It’s a win-win choice: Anhui-style banmian has taken on new flavors, while Shijiazhuang locals have expanded their culinary horizons.

Over the past few decades, Shijiazhuang has never turned away those who arrived after long journeys, nor has it rejected the dietary habits they brought with them. Shijiazhuang is a second home for many outsiders, and naturally, it has also become a second home for many regional cuisines. Anhui-style banmian is just one example. The nickname "International Village" reflects the city's openness to people from all places and its embrace of diverse cultures.

This inclusiveness has allowed Shijiazhuang to rapidly grow from a small village into a city of coal, steel, textiles, and pharmaceuticals in just a few decades. Shijiazhuang needed the support of outsiders, and the crisscrossing railways continuously delivered fresh blood and new hope to the city. Under the watchful gaze of the railroads, Shijiazhuang was fast-forwarded—just like how its people slurp down a bowl of banmian, eating quickly and heartily before moving on to what needs to be done.

Lacking cultural prominence? That’s something that can’t be rushed. Shijiazhuang people understand best the importance of living in the present.

Tradition is not set in stone. Where tradition exists, it should be inherited and developed; where it doesn’t, contemporary people must create it themselves. Over 200 years ago, Chinese people had yet to taste chili peppers, and the now-distinctive cuisines of Sichuan and Hunan were nowhere to be seen. Whose culinary traditions didn’t start by borrowing from others and then, through perseverance, taking shape bite by bite?

There’s a time for everything, and Shijiazhuang people are in no hurry. They’d rather focus on enjoying the food they love. Give it 100 years, and what wasn’t theirs will naturally become theirs.

Any cuisine is a product of local geography, resources, and culture—and beef banmian is no exception. It carries the imprint of Anhui, as well as that of Shijiazhuang. In the future, it will travel beyond Shijiazhuang, just like the "International Village," reaching even farther places.