Owner Steven Pursley worked in ramen shops for three years in Japan.

Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

Talking to Steven Pursley about ramen can be like discussing brain surgery with a medical professor: The conversation can easily drift into esoteric areas and terms that are unknown to the common person. Suffice it to say, Pursley, who “studied” ramen in Japan, knows the subject well. After a series of successful ramen pop-ups, the 24-seat Menya Rui (“Menya” is a noodle house; “Rui” is Pursley’s given name), opens April 21 in Lindenwood Park. SLM asked Pursley about how the shop came to be. 

Can you share a bit about your background? My father’s from Franklin County, my mother’s from Japan, but I grew up stateside. Until I was 10, we traveled back and forth from Okinawa, but after that we planted roots in Union, Missouri. That’s where I went to high school and after that, UMSL. I graduated in 2013, and the next year I moved to Japan to study…ramen.

What was the impetus to study ramen in Japan? After considering law school and briefly engineering school, I decided to move to Japan. I had been working in kitchens since high school, and cooking still interested me. I was half Japanese and grew up in Union, so this was partly an identity search, too. I had reconnected with an old family friend in Japan when I visited in college. He had moved back and was out there kickin’ it, having fun there as an adult. It looked like something I wanted to experience as well, and I thought I’d regret it if I didn’t.

Talk about the ramen shops in Japan. There are as many ramen shops there—probably more—as taverns and neighborhood joints here, most with scratch kitchens, each with its own broth and seasonings. 

Did you intend on staying three years in Japan? I had a girlfriend at the time, and I told her one year. [Laughs.] I thought I’d take a year, study ramen, and come back and open a shop, but as I worked in different places and learned more, I stayed on. A few months into it, I knew I might be there for awhile. 

Talk about the ramen shop culture in Japan. I’ve heard there are more ramen shops in Japan than Starbuck’s and McDonald’s combined. I compare it to the bar and grill numbers here. There are as many ramen shops there—probably more—as taverns and neighborhood joints here, most of them scratch kitchens, each one with its own unique broth and seasonings.

What was there about ramen that interested you? When I was in college, I thought, Sushi’s popular, but I really love noodles and ramen. There was a nostalgia factor, too—eating soba noodles as a kid at my great uncle’s soba shop in Okinawa. At the time, there were no ramen shops in St. Louis, and it’s one of those items that I thought could transcend cultures, like tacos and pizza. Two years later, Robata in Maplewood opened. That was the first place that I remember ramen as part of a tagline: Sushi. Ramen. Yakitori. 

What sets ramen apart from other soups? Unlike other Japanese soups, the components are separated until you put them in the bowl—there’s the stock; tare, or seasonings; the noodle; aromatic oil; and the toppings. So ramen is a dish that comes together at the very end. With other Asian soups, you tend to season the broth as you go.

How do the aromatic oils differ and which ones do you prefer? If you use the proper technique, you can infuse any type of flavor—there are no rules there—so even non-Japanese flavors are permissible. The different ramens I serve will have an onion oil, scallop oil, a chili oil, and a sesame paste, respectively. It will not be a build-your-own situation. Each one will have its own set of ingredients.

Talk about the different ramen styles. Tonkotsu—emphasis on the second “o”—is the most common and the most popular, the spaghetti with red sauce of the ramen world. There’s also tonkatsu, which is a fried chicken cutlet. Even with tonkotsu, there are subgenres, like Hakata-style, named after a district in Fukuoka, made with a white pork bone broth with skinny straight noodles and pretty much the same toppings. Many of the ramen shops in the U.S. serve that style, including Ichiran—there are several in New York—where you sit in a cube by yourself, a curtain rises, and the ramen is served. I believe the menu is on the chopstick wrapper. You mark what you want, and the experience begins. Before I went to Japan, I assumed that tonkotsu would be the style I served, that it had the best flavor and was already widely accepted. It didn’t work out that way. The first ramen shop I worked in served another style—Chintan—made with a clear broth from simmering chicken and pork bones low and slow, that was just as flavorful as Tonkotsu, but maybe didn’t appear that way due to the clear broth.

Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

Pork Shoyu ramen, as served at Menya Rui, with aromatic rendered fatback, topped with pork shoulder chasyu, menma, scallion, and nori

Do you have a favorite style of ramen? The last shop I worked in did a type of tsukemen-style ramen (pictured below), where cold noodles get dipped in a thick broth, more like a dipping soup, which I really like. But the style that won me over when I was in Japan was onomichi, which is like a shoyu with rendered pork back fat on top (pictured above). My OG Pork Bowl is done in that style. I’m geeking out here, but there are genres and subgenres and then regional styles. The bottom line is that I’m serving three styles to start off—none of them tonkotsu—partly because everyone else does that. 

Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

Original Tsukemen ramen as served at Menya Rui - Cold rinsed thick noodle served aside concentrated scallop aroma dipping broth, topped with pork shoulder chasyu, menma, scallion, and nori

Do ramen shop owners in Japan ever share their recipes? When I started, I worked part-time at two shops, one serving Chintan—made with a clear broth—the other Tonkotsu. The owner of the second place told me I would only work in the front of the house, that he wasn’t going to teach me anything. I ended up working there for two years and managed to win him over. He opened up his entire recipe book to me, including his tare, which only he made.

With ramen, which is more important, the noodles or the broth? It’s just like pasta: You can’t have one without the other—both are important. That said, with ramen, the emphasis is on the tare. The broths can be simple, but the real differences and complexities occur in the tare.

At what point did you decide to move back to the States? There was no epiphany moment. The last shop I worked in, Shuhei, was intense, a U-shaped counter with 20 seats around it. The franchise outpost in Hong Kong, Shugetsu, has one Michelin star. The owner wanted me to bring a franchise to the States, but I wanted to stay independent. The place was high energy and high volume. We opened at 11 a.m. and stayed open until 2 a.m., serving between 200 and 400 bowls per day. People ordered and ate in 15 minutes or so. You could get a 200-, 400-, or 500-gram portion—which is a huge mound of noodles—all for the same price. After eight months, I was ready for a change.

Was anything else served there besides ramen? There were a few sides called otsumami, like bamboo shoot and bean sprout salad and a pork belly plate. Later in the day, some people drank cold sake and beer, all in pop tops, but the ramen culture in Japan is not sit-and-hang around; it’s more like fast food.    

How did your Ramen X Rui pop-ups come about? When I got back [to St. Louis], I was working at Rooster, as a server at lunch. I began inviting fellow employees to my house for ramen, and it grew. Soon I was doing a few turns per night and offering several ramen options. In 2019, we did a few pop-ups at iNDO, and later, some at The Benevolent King, so the word kept spreading. 

Were guests at the pop-ups receptive to what you were serving? Almost all of them. Some people don’t finish a bowl and you wonder whether they didn’t care for it or it was just too much food. In any case, they understood my intent was to expand the ramen culture and push it forward.

Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

When did you transition from doing pop-ups to opening a brick-and-mortar? After several years of doing pop-ups, I was confident what would sell. At 900 square feet, the [former] F&B’s Eatery location on Hampton was the right size, had the right layout, and there’s plenty of parking. 

How do you make money in such a small space? I need to do three to four turns per day to make it work. Plus, when the noodle hits the hot soup, you have to get after it. The longer it sits, the more broth the noodle absorbs. So yes, I’d like to push the eat-it-and-go culture. On the other hand, if people are spending money, they should be able to enjoy it anyway they want.

Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

Describe the décor. No bright reds but rather maroon and navy, so rustic, old-school Japanese. Ramen is lowbrow food, people food. There are new-age shops now, but most Japanese shops are rougher-edged, like diners are here. On the walls are old metal Japanese signs, so it’ll look more Courtesy Diner than Rooster, 25 or so seats total.

Is the kitchen open, similar to a diner? Open but with an interior window, reclaimed from an old factory, so people can see us making noodles from inside or out.

Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

Why not just buy the noodles? When you think you can do something better, that’s what you do. We’re the first ramen shop in St. Louis to make its own noodles, and we make two: a thinner noodle for the shoyu ramen and a thicker, chewier one for the tsukemen and the mazemen, which has far less broth. The noodle machine, which I imported from Japan, is as old as I am, born in 1990. It’ll make close a hundred portions in an hour.

How do patrons order, and what’s the price point? Each seat and table has its own QR code, so orders are placed there. Bowls cost $12–$15, with an option for a larger portion or extra toppings. A few hot and cold sides are available, like karaage (pictured below) and cucumber salad.

Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

Karaage as served at Menya Rui, is served with lemon wedge and Kewpie mayo

Is there a plan to expand the menu? Once I get established, I’ll experiment with seasonal specials, dabble with other regional styles, and maybe do a cold ramen, using a cold dashi broth. In Japan, there’s a popular dish, almost like a dressed, cold noodle salad, called hiyashi chuka, which is also a possibility.

What’s on the beverage menu? Easy-open beer, soft drinks, and cold sake. No bar, no hard liquor. I’d like to do some highball taps—basically just whiskey and soda—which are popular in Japan, but that’s down the line.

Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

Is there a to-go or delivery component? To start, no. With any kind of expansion, staffing and storage space becomes an issue. To-go boxes take up a lot of space that we have to make sure we have, for example. Plus, in Japan, to-go ramen is not a thing, nor is taking leftovers home. Once served, ramen does not travel or constitute well.

Is there an option for outside dining at Ramen Rui? Not really. The sidewalk is narrow, but there is an awning. [Smiles.] But I’m hoping that’s where the line will be.

Are there plans to open more ramen shops? It’s hard to say, especially after witnessing all that’s happened the past few years. I’m confident with my food, so if I can build a vibe and have both, that’s the formula. [Laughs.] Or I can always become the noodle guy and make [ramen] noodles for other places in town. 

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