After walking in from the strip mall parking lot, you'll find a seemingly standard food court in a family-owned Asian market. There’s a Mochinut and a simple Korean eatery. Then it hits you – Ramen del Barrio. Adorned with Japanese lanterns and Mexican diablo masks, the rustic wood ramen counter was designed and created by a chef in his mid 20s.
After receiving an investment from a satisfied diner at his garage pop-up, Chef Christopher Krinsky brought his vision to life. Taking memories from his childhood in Mexico, he imagined them under the lens of his culinary training in Japanese techniques.
The result? Soul-warming carnitas tonkotsu, unbeatable lengua (beef tongue) yaki-tacos, and spicy tuna tostadas.
Below, we spoke with Chef Chris Krinsky about his journey building Ramen del Barrio and his well-deserved Bib Gourmand recognition.
How did Ramen del Barrio come to be?
I grew up in Mexico. I'm fluent in Spanish. I came back to the U.S. when I turned 18, and I've been working in Japanese restaurants ever since.
At the end of 2022, I was running an underground ramen shop out of my parents' garage, doing DMs over Instagram for seats. I sometimes had Japanese bowls, Italian-inspired bowls, and one Mexican menudo tonkotsu ramen with honeycomb tripe.
An angel investor approached me about opening in this [Asian market] location. Two years later, I am the sole owner of Ramen del Barrio.
How do you decide which elements to keep Japanese and which to keep Mexican?
It's very tricky being respectful to both cultures. That's the very first thing that matters about a fusion restaurant. Will Japanese people respect us? Will Mexican people respect us?
At our core, we are a Japanese restaurant. Ramen del Barrio's skeleton is Japanese, and its flesh and skin are Mexican. Our structure is built around ramen, which is Japanese. We adhere strictly to all of the highest procedural techniques for making our ramen. We boil our tonkotsu every day, overnight, for hours.
Ramen is a very pliable product when you understand its different components. In its broth, you have oil, a tare, and the stock itself. When you understand those three elements, and you have them work towards a singular idea, you can project almost anything into a bowl of ramen.
Pozole is a red chili-based Mexican soup. With our pozole tonkotsu, in ramen terms, we have a pork broth as you would for pozole, our tare is a shio (salt) tare, but it's a guajillo salsa, which is exactly what you would use to season your pozole. Then the toppings: we have tortilla strips, onion, lime, and cilantro (replacing green onions and ginger), and carnitas instead of chashu.
How do you create new dishes?
I'm always thinking about a Mexican dish, and how we can interpret it through Japanese cuisine.
What are your favorites?
The carnitas tonkotsu. It's the closest thing we have to a traditional Japanese ramen with a creamy, white tonkotsu broth. It has the truest structure to show off that we're not this messy fusion restaurant, but very curated and thoughtful. It feels like you're eating a true bowl of ramen while also somehow drinking a carnitas taco.
I have a salsa on the menu as a fire bomb. It's the habanero mayu. Mayu is a burnt garlic oil in Japanese cuisine used specifically for ramen. The bitterness of the roasted garlic cuts through the fattiness of the broth really well. We create a hybrid Yucatecan salsa negra by charring habaneros and fresh garlic over open flame and then pureeing it into our mayu that we make in house. You get the floral notes from the habanero and the bitterness of the charred elements.
How did you choose the name?
Del barrio could be ramen from the ghetto. By no means do I come from a ghetto background, but I did get my ass beat as a kid growing up in Mexico more than enough times. I didn't want it to be ramen de tu abuela (your grandma’s ramen).
I have a preference for a grittier street vibe. It allowed me to combine rustic elements of Japanese alleys and Mexican streets into one concept. The music that we play here is vulgar rap, rock, and punk. It's being real, acknowledging this side of Mexico and the beauty that is still within it.
How did you learn about Japanese cuisine?
I've grown up in restaurants my entire life. My mom and dad owned mom and pop restaurants. I said I would never work in a kitchen. Then, I came to Austin and got a job at Chipotle. I was good at it, and it was a lot of fun. I changed majors from history to Culinary Arts at Austin Community College.
My first true kitchen job was at Komé, a family-run izakaya that covers all bases of Japanese cuisine at a really high level. Ramen, sushi, okonomiyaki, takoyaki, karaage, bento boxes, kushiyaki skewers. They were very serious about the discipline of what it's like to work in a restaurant in Japan. There was a love and attention to detail for their food that made me want to learn more. Afterwards, working at Neighborhood Sushi was a great eye-opening experience to the high-end world of sushi.
Then, I worked at Kemuri Tatsu-ya, an inspiring formula for fusion. They were taking elements of Japanese and Texan culture that meshed together flawlessly. I learned the most there about gastronomy in general, everything from fermentation to fish butchery, curing, grilling, and smoking.
How did you design the restaurant?
This place is very jury-rigged. All of the lanterns I hung up myself. I drilled holes in the ceiling, took extension cords and draped it through the holes, and plugged them into the other side of my kitchen. This kitchen and front of house was built by a 24-year-old.
Most important is combining rustic, warm, and inviting elements from what would be a cantina and a ramen shop. Nothing should be polished and cold and refined. It's supposed to feel like an old, dainty but well lit, comforting spot.
I tried to equally represent both places. I have banners of Japanese memorabilia and anime. On the Mexican side, I have hand-painted diablo (devil) masks with real goat horns, similar to a [Japanese] oni demon mask.
What have been your most memorable moments?
Definitely being awarded the Bib Gourmand. The same Monday, the temperature dropped, and it was ramen weather. We averaged 200 bowls a day in December and shattered our sales record. We've had people drive from Dallas and Corpus Christi. One time, someone had flown from New York to try us. We do collabs with Cuantos Tacos. Last time, the line wrapped out down the block. We served almost 500 bowls of ramen that day. Incredibly humbling.
You opened your own restaurant at a young age. What advice would you give to those wanting to do the same?
The intrigue will get [guests] in the door. The execution will get them back.
Hero image: Taylor Elliot / Ramen del Barrio
