Texas Tabelog

Ramen Del Barrio
1700 W Parmer Ln Suite 100, Austin, TX 78727
Google: 4.5 Stars (477 Reviews)

Habibi-san’s rating:

Fusion food is supposed to mix cultures, so why does it all taste the same? If you are addicted to short-form video content, you know that newly opened fusion restaurants get the most clicks. Most of the time, it is a suburban storefront bravely adding kimchi to a grilled cheese, or smoked brisket to a bao bun, or hot honey to a pizza. Occasionally, it can be interesting before it becomes boring. The Texas barbecue scene comes to mind. Nowadays, combine any Middle Eastern or Southeast Asian country name with the word “barbecue” and you can probably sell it for a profit in Texas. The Korean BBQ beef ribs at Burnt Bean Co, pomegranate glazed pork ribs at KG BBQ, and wagyu beef back ribs at Kafi BBQ are interesting, but are they sustainable menu items in the fusion food industry? Are they novelties, or mainstays? The next mac and cheese pizza or the next Tex-Mex?

And by God, Tex-Mex is here to stay. Like a deer population without big game hunters, Tex-Mex restaurants have spawned out of control in DFW. Admittedly, it is an open secret that Habibi-san dislikes Tex-Mex. I know I am going to lose a lot of regional folks with this one, but I find it tragic that there are more Mi Cocinas, Rosa’s and On the Borders per capita in Dallas than there are public schools and hospitals. That is probably not true, but neither of us knew right away. For science, I would like to blind taste test chicken enchiladas, bean chalupas, and house margaritas from Chuy’s, Lupe Tortilla, and Gloria’s. Assuming the food is not smothered in Chuy’s jalapeno ranch or Gloria’s black bean dip, I doubt the most refined pallet could differentiate between the three (please keep reading). My most obvious take of the century is that you will have better luck at the non-franchised locations. Mia’s, Familia Restaurante, and Casa Navarro are my favorites for their quantities and tequila content. The carnitas fajitas at Las Palmas is the only Tex-Mex dish worth a Dallas zip code up charge (one serving is all you need for two people). Despite its homogeneity, Tex-Mex is honest, consistent, and most importantly, NOT pretentious.

And yes, this is hypocritical because all of the mapo tofu I eat at family-owned Chinese restaurants are clone copies. But, I’d rather eat microwaved crab rangoons at “Lucky Eggroll” or “Tasty No. 1 Noodles” than pretend to gawk at the table-side guacamole for the 4,000th time. Also, Uncle Julio’s or El Fenix do not pass out fortune cookies that help you pronounce “ice cream” in Mandarin. Personally, I prefer John Cena’s viral phonetic pronunciation, “Bing Chilling,” during Fast & Furious 9’s international promotional tour.

Cris and John in Addison is my go to lunch spot for fusion food in Dallas. I am not sure if you can automatically praise the fine people at Cris and John for wrapping pho or ramen ingredients in a tortilla, but some of the menu items are genius. The bò kho chilaquiles somehow taste like the breakfast chips I had in Puerto Vallarta were accidentally purchased by a Vietnamese food truck. The Hanoi fried fish plate is probably what the English thought the East India Trading Company would import instead of mushy peas. I think fusion food works best for me when the chefs commit to the bit. My frustration often stems from chefs adding a single silly ingredient that is not traditionally in a dish and calling it fusion.

Ramen del Barrio toes this line for me expertly and I have my Austin-based brother (Habibi-PAIsan) to thank for that. Who knew that raw scallops and tobiko wasabi roe paired so well on a crispy verde tostada? While a crudo bar is not inherently innovative, why had I not tasted that before now (besides blaming my problems on the woeful Dallas restaurant scene)?

Keeping the green theme rolling, their Pozole Tonkotsu “Verde” ramen is a true mix of cultures. Japanese ramen preparation and presentation paired with Mexican ingredients worked better than I thought was possible. Slow-roasted carnitas, spicy green salsa mixed with rich pork bone broth, poblano peppers, cilantro, and tortilla strips was a combination I can safely say I had never before experienced. I wanted to highlight my progression of consumption below since the second picture accentuates the verde mixture and the third picture represents the best compliment I can grant a bowl of ramen: completely finishing the broth.

Despite the long line due to this spot’s Bib-Gourmand recognition, it is well worth a trip to experience proper fusion. Austin is doing a lot of irresponsible things like importing yuppies and the homeless en masse, but they are doing Mexican ramen right. Once again this post does not quite fit the “spirit” of a Habibi-san review where I am supposed to recommend quick bites for a salaryman based in DFW (go to Cris and John), but it is a necessary investigation into why fusion food can be hit or miss for me. TLDR: slap me in the face with something new, or ban your customers/paid influencers from posting Tik Toks.

Ma al salama (さようなら ),
Habibi-san