The man behind the viral Ramen Burger quietly returns to a ghost kitchen in Irvine

While the name Keizo Shimamoto may not ring a bell, his most famous creation likely does — the ramen burger. In 2013, while slinging bowls at Smorgasburg in Brooklyn, Shimamoto swapped a bun for two ramen cakes, added a beef patty — and, almost overnight, became a viral sensation.

Now, more than a decade later, shaped by hard lessons from a shuttered Queens restaurant, a failed Orange County shop and a stint in the fintech industry, Shimamoto is back, quietly running a ramen operation out of a shared ghost kitchen in Irvine. It's deliberately low-key: there's barely a sign to let you know he's there, just the occasional social media post directing customers to an online order form.

A quiet return

Shimamoto Noodle opened in early August, and word of his return spread through word of mouth and social media before Los Angeles Times restaurant critic Bill Addison covered him in his Tasting Notes newsletter a few weeks later. Since then, business has kicked into a higher gear — Shimamoto said he's now averaging close to 50 bowls of ramen a day, plus another 20 to 25 burgers.

"I definitely wanted to do it at my own pace," said Shimamoto, who grew up in Orange County. "I knew eventually I would be found."

Keizo Shimamoto, creator of the viral ramen burger, stands in the kitchen at Shimamoto Noodle in Irvine.

(

Courtesy Keizo Shimamoto

)

The menu

His offerings are compact by design: five bowls of ramen and two versions of his famous burger, ranging from $16 to $20. You can choose from the Signature Shoyu, the spiced Negi Shoyu, the Quiet Storm (a 13-ingredient gyokai-tonkotsu broth), Ganja-style tsukemen and a Taishoken-style dipping ramen called Shoyu Tsukesoba.

"I'm not so obsessed with making the best ramen in the world," Shimamoto said. "I'm just obsessed with being able to eat a great bowl every single day."

The signature shoyu is a clear, savory broth built on chintan, a light chicken stock blended with traditional dashi, niboshi-aroma oil infused with dried sardines, and a soy-based tare — the seasoning base that gives the broth its flavor. It arrives with thin house-made noodles, pork belly chashu, marinated bamboo shoots, spinach and scallions.

Shimamoto's Signature Shoyu ramen, topped with pork belly chashu, nori, spinach and a narutomaki fish cake.

(

Gab Chabrán

/

LAist

)

It looks simple. But the fat bubbles pooled on top of that first slurp say otherwise — the tare sits for days before a bowl is even assembled.

"I let it rest for two weeks to mature," Shimamoto said.

Sitting on the opposite end of the spectrum is the Quiet Storm, a thicker, more opaque 13-ingredient gyokai-tonkotsu broth. Shimamoto builds much of his ramen from memory, drawing on a 2009 research trip through 21 Japanese cities, where he ate 55 bowls of ramen in 28 days — a journey he documented on his blog, discovering how much the dish varies by region.

The Quiet Storm itself came from tweaking a tonkotsu-gyokai dipping soup he'd made in New York until it triggered a memory of a bowl he'd once had in Tokyo. "I just ran with that," he said.

He named it during his years running the original Ramen Shack in Queensbridge — home turf of the '90s hip-hop duo Mobb Deep, whose 1999 song "Quiet Storm" lent the bowl its name.

Customers eat outside Smart Kitchens, the shared commissary space in Irvine's Sky Park Business Center at the Smart Kitchen facility where Shimamoto Noodle operates.

(

Gab Chabrán

/

LAist

)

The Ramen Burger

The dish that put Shimamoto on the map was entirely his own: a beef patty in shoyu glaze, sandwiched between two house-made, seared noodle buns engineered to hold together when you bite in.

Its 2013 virality overshadowed Shimamoto's actual training as a ramen chef, and being known as "the ramen burger guy" used to bother him. He's since made peace with it — and used his added years of experience to improve the dish itself.

"I think right now the ramen burger is probably the best ramen burger that I've ever made, only because everything is controlled by me," he said. "I made the sauce from scratch, I make the noodles from scratch, I form the buns from scratch."

The sense of control and peace of mind Shimamoto describes extends beyond the food itself.

Eight minutes from his house, close to his parents and brothers, Shimamoto said it simply feels right.

"It feels good," he said. "It feels pretty right, right now."