I can count on one finger the number of times I've ordered a wrap in the past ten years. I'm not talking about burritos, obviously, or gyro meat wrapped in a pita. When I say wrap, I'm talking about that weird intermediate between a salad and a sandwich that emerged sometime in the late 20th century, hoping to, I don't know, let dieters eat a sandwich without forcing them to admit they were eating a sandwich?
Wraps, so defined, might be healthier than what I eat on a regular basis. But I know for a fact they don't taste better. And that's partly because restaurateurs figured out early on that people who order wraps actually don't really want them to taste good. Rather, they're masochistic health-eaters who have tricked their heart of hearts into believing that if they don't enjoy their food, they must be eating right, and worse, if they do enjoy it, they must be eating wrong. Or at least, that's how it seems to me.

Here is the problem: wraps are almost universally terrible because they nearly always employ what amounts to a peace of cardboard made in the shape of a tortilla to surround a mostly flavorless combination of lettuce some "naked" protein from an animal unfortunate enough to have given its life without even tasting good as a result. A word on that cardboardy tortilla: it's nothing like the succulent, elastic, most likely lard-based tortillas that add wonder to San Diego's burritos, nor even the semi-crumby flatbreads that get smeared with tahini and garlic paste before surrounding hunks of rotisserie chicken. These are saltine crackers with neither the salt nor the crunch, and the sheer number of calories required to chew one to completion may be the biggest reason they're considered diet-friendly.
But what if it didn't have to be that way? What if a wrap were wrapped with...something different?
Such a concoction is not what I expected to find — and definitely not what I expected to order — when I checked out the newish Point Loma outpost of Convoy dumpling shop Steamy Piggy. Here was a Convoy Street Asian fusion experiment that had paid off with an expansion to a beach neighborhood — well, that weird frontier zone between the Midway and the 8 that exists to feed local condo residents and people who got lost on the way to SeaWorld. I expected — and found — tried and true dumplings, and dessert buns that looked like cute little piggies.

But as I sat choosing between xiao long bao, baozi, and potstickers, my eyes drifted to the "rolls" menu. And what I found there were, essentially, wraps: meat, cabbage, and
But there was a difference between this and all other wraps, and that difference made all the difference: each roll is wrapped in a scallion pancake.

The most underrated of all the pancakes, the savory scallion pancake can be flaky, oily, chewy, and above all, flavorful. It's what wraps have needed all along. Sure, the people who have tricked themselves into eating wraps for however many decades have probably all moved on to gluten-free wraps by now. More power and more pity to them. But here's what a little vegetable oil and green onions cooked into your wrap base can give you: excitement. Texture. Joy. A reason to eat again.
My roll was so good that I almost forgot I had gone to Steamy Piggy in the first place to eat soup dumplings and take photos of piglet-faced buns filled with red bean paste. No wonder this place added a second location (replacing its short-lived sister concept, Bok Bok Dok). Welcome to Point Loma!
I can count on one finger the number of times I've ordered a wrap in the past ten years. I'm not talking about burritos, obviously, or gyro meat wrapped in a pita. When I say wrap, I'm talking about that weird intermediate between a salad and a sandwich that emerged sometime in the late 20th century, hoping to, I don't know, let dieters eat a sandwich without forcing them to admit they were eating a sandwich?
Wraps, so defined, might be healthier than what I eat on a regular basis. But I know for a fact they don't taste better. And that's partly because restaurateurs figured out early on that people who order wraps actually don't really want them to taste good. Rather, they're masochistic health-eaters who have tricked their heart of hearts into believing that if they don't enjoy their food, they must be eating right, and worse, if they do enjoy it, they must be eating wrong. Or at least, that's how it seems to me.

Here is the problem: wraps are almost universally terrible because they nearly always employ what amounts to a peace of cardboard made in the shape of a tortilla to surround a mostly flavorless combination of lettuce some "naked" protein from an animal unfortunate enough to have given its life without even tasting good as a result. A word on that cardboardy tortilla: it's nothing like the succulent, elastic, most likely lard-based tortillas that add wonder to San Diego's burritos, nor even the semi-crumby flatbreads that get smeared with tahini and garlic paste before surrounding hunks of rotisserie chicken. These are saltine crackers with neither the salt nor the crunch, and the sheer number of calories required to chew one to completion may be the biggest reason they're considered diet-friendly.
But what if it didn't have to be that way? What if a wrap were wrapped with...something different?
Such a concoction is not what I expected to find — and definitely not what I expected to order — when I checked out the newish Point Loma outpost of Convoy dumpling shop Steamy Piggy. Here was a Convoy Street Asian fusion experiment that had paid off with an expansion to a beach neighborhood — well, that weird frontier zone between the Midway and the 8 that exists to feed local condo residents and people who got lost on the way to SeaWorld. I expected — and found — tried and true dumplings, and dessert buns that looked like cute little piggies.

But as I sat choosing between xiao long bao, baozi, and potstickers, my eyes drifted to the "rolls" menu. And what I found there were, essentially, wraps: meat, cabbage, and
But there was a difference between this and all other wraps, and that difference made all the difference: each roll is wrapped in a scallion pancake.

The most underrated of all the pancakes, the savory scallion pancake can be flaky, oily, chewy, and above all, flavorful. It's what wraps have needed all along. Sure, the people who have tricked themselves into eating wraps for however many decades have probably all moved on to gluten-free wraps by now. More power and more pity to them. But here's what a little vegetable oil and green onions cooked into your wrap base can give you: excitement. Texture. Joy. A reason to eat again.
My roll was so good that I almost forgot I had gone to Steamy Piggy in the first place to eat soup dumplings and take photos of piglet-faced buns filled with red bean paste. No wonder this place added a second location (replacing its short-lived sister concept, Bok Bok Dok). Welcome to Point Loma!