In the Chinese blockbuster comedy “Jian Bing Man,” a street vendor turned caped crusader wields ingredients as weapons: raw eggs, a fistful of scallions. “It doesn’t matter who I am,” he declares. “Harmonious society is what really matters.”

Some may argue that the humble dish he sells on the streets — jianbing, a savory crepe with an omelet underbelly and a crackly heart of fried dough — is contribution enough to the world.

It starts with batter ladled onto a round cast-iron griddle. An egg or two are not so much scrambled as scrawled across the surface. If you’re in Beijing, it’s flipped; in Shanghai, it stays put, for a crisper finish.

Ingredients and order vary: scattered scallions, cilantro and zha cai (pickled mustard root); fat brush strokes of tianmianjiang (sweet bean paste) and chile sauce; and fried dough in the form of fluffy batons (you tiao) or flat blistered rectangles (bao cui). The crepe is folded like a triptych, creased or cut in half and handed over still steaming.