“We initially wanted a very, very small restaurant, but obviously the rent in New York City is outrageous,” Ms. Lee said. “But then I realized that a truck was a better idea, because jianbing was supposed to be sold on the street.”

The truck’s Beijing Original jianbing now costs $8 — about 10 times the price in Beijing.

The travels of Ms. Lee and Ms. Tsering in northern China appear to have paid off. Their jianbing captures most of the flavors of their native land, and the crispy fritter shell, known as bao cui, is superior to many found in Beijing. It’s crispier.

The Flying Pig variety adds elements rarely found in China. For one, my two-egg version came with fresh lettuce. It takes a brave soul in Beijing to countenance having a food vendor on a dusty alleyway slip a raw vegetable of unknown origins inside a breakfast jianbing, regardless of intestinal fortitude, though that option is available from longtime Beijing jianbing-makers like Guo Xueping, who draws a crowd of regulars to her bike-powered cart in the Dongzhimen neighborhood.

And, this being America, the Flying Pig jianbing is supersize. Forget eating this monster on the go. This is the S.U.V. of jianbing. It comes in a small box. You are even given a knife and fork. Eat one for lunch and give your stomach a rest for the remainder of the day. You won’t be hungry come sundown.