Chef René Ortiz of La Condesa
After honing his skills in New York, chef brings "Mexican street food" to Austin
Victoria Renard
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Naysayers who have yet to be seduced by flashy newcomer La Condesa may claim that it’s too “Dallas-y,” but perhaps those who cling tightly to clichés about “preserving Austin’s soul” would change their minds if they met its chef. True, Texas-raised René Ortiz has spent the last 15 years in New York—where he says he “cried every night,” taking solace in meals from legendary restaurants like Nobu and Patria—and eventually went on to run the kitchen of La Esquina, a Soho joint so exclusive it requires diners to navigate secret passages to sit down to a meal. (Described in a New York Times review as being “sort of like Studio 54 with chipotle instead of cocaine,” La Esquina requires at least two weeks’ notice to reserve a table and is a favorite haunt of people like Beyoncé and Jennifer Aniston.) But just because he’s coming from New York City (get a rope!) doesn’t mean he’s lost his roots: In a city saturated with Mexican fare, Ortiz has developed a menu that delivers a fresh perspective on Mexican “street food,” inspired by his own childhood in Universal City and a stint living on a commune in Las Cruces. Ortiz spoke with Decider about his unusual background and why he makes his kitchen staff listen to Baby Einstein.
Decider: What led to you living on a commune?
René Ortiz: My father had some mental illness and mom couldn’t support all three children, so they turned to the church. A good family friend was a Jesuit priest, and he convinced my parents that moving to the commune was the best way to survive. We moved out there in a ’64 pickup and stayed six or eight years. When we went back to Universal City, I was a member of Future Farmers of America, so I raised and sold animals. My dream is to have a pig farm.
D: Why a pig farm?
RO: I love the animal, I love eating it, but I sometimes don’t like how people raise pigs. Pigs are fun, and they’re tastier to eat if they’re raised right.
RO: I love the animal, I love eating it, but I sometimes don’t like how people raise pigs. Pigs are fun, and they’re tastier to eat if they’re raised right.
D: Would you do the killing yourself?
RO: Yes, I would. Austin is lacking a good butcher.
RO: Yes, I would. Austin is lacking a good butcher.
D: What sort of experiences have you had in Mexico that have influenced your cooking?
RO: I love Mexico City—the people, the dynamic of mass flesh, food, production, art. It’s about being fearless and feared. I took the Icon Group [the business team behind La Condesa] there once. We had cow teat tacos, cut up like calamari. Toasted garlic, curdled milk.
RO: I love Mexico City—the people, the dynamic of mass flesh, food, production, art. It’s about being fearless and feared. I took the Icon Group [the business team behind La Condesa] there once. We had cow teat tacos, cut up like calamari. Toasted garlic, curdled milk.
D: Do you plan to serve anything as out-there as cow teat tacos?
RO: I don’t know. In the States, you can’t just put stuff in your mouth like you can in Mexico. I travel around the world and eat whatever I can possibly put in my mouth, but I wouldn’t necessarily put people through that here.
D: And yet La Condesa does serve crickets.
RO: [Laughs.] People always order them.
D: How does the crowd at La Condesa compare to La Esquina?
RO: Equally amazing. Everyone looks beautiful. Artists and kooky people come here. It’s just like New York City.
D: Besides the customers, what’s your favorite visual element of La Condesa?
RO: The cinderblocks, because they remind me of the street—and that’s the base of the food. I like to keep it “ghetto” and kind of rough; it’s not just a grandma stirring a pot. The art in Malverde, our upstairs bar, is by my brother [printmaker Cruz Ortiz].
D: Other than the design, why should anyone come to La Condesa for “street food” when they can get it cheaper from any taco trailer on the actual street?
RO: For me, it’s about quality. All my pork is heritage. The animals are pasture-fed. It’s all humane. I don’t believe in packages or big trucks. It’s also about ambience, and having a great staff taking care of you. I’m here to help people. The raspa vendor comes by, and I tell him to hang out outside the restaurant.
D: Who decides what you listen to in the kitchen?
RO: I decide. Today we listened to Baby Einstein because the kitchen needed to learn values. Things were being thrown away that shouldn’t have been. I insist on using cucumber peelings to make agua fresca. I want the people around me to have the same passion I do.
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