Uyghur Skewers Meet the American Dream at Camino Alamo BBQ

Diego Duan pursues the American dream, one skewer at a time (Photos by Jana Birchum)

[Editor's update: Diego Duan reports that Environmental Health and Safety visited the first week of September, and Camino Alamo BBQ has been shuttered ever since. He filed the necessary paperwork and plans to be back grilling by October.]

There's something romantic about smoke wafting from grills on a busy sidewalk. Being literally enveloped by your food while watching and smelling it cooking, waiting with bated breath for your number to be called.

Camino Alamo BBQ, the new Uyghur-style skewers stand on Guadalupe Street in front of SouthCloud Ramen, is a singularly thrilling experience. The no-frills pop-up (also known as Remember the Alamo) deals in coal, heat, and only three solid carnivorous menu options: elegantly seasoned prime beef, lamb, and chicken wings (three skewers to an order, $9.99). The meat is sprinkled with salt, white pepper, onion, hints of cumin seed, Sichuan pepper, and chili flake. There is more at play here, though, especially with the wings – maybe a marinade of sorts – but proprietor Diego Duan will only give away so much.

Originally from Shanghai, China, Duan was baptized this past Easter at Hyde Park Baptist Church. He is a devout father and Christian who came to Austin in the pursuit of freedom, aware that Central Texas is currently the apex of American barbecue.

"I also want to do the business like Franklin BBQ, every day open five hours and sold out every day," he says. Ultimately, he wants to balance his work with his devotion to his faith. "The BBQ shop is not about money, it is about God, bible, and freedom, such spiritual things," he writes via email. His personal values do not confront you at his sparse three-person operation, which consists of three signs, multiple coolers, two grills, a hearth, and one card reader.

They begin service at 5:30 in the evening, Tuesday through Sunday, at the hottest time of the day, a testament to Duan's unyielding faith in what he is offering.

The young woman who takes your order will ask for your heat preference. I opt for "normal," which is balanced yet subtly spicy. Eating grilled meat outside in triple-digit heat may seem counterintuitive, but it's surprisingly pleasurable, like eating pho for breakfast or lunch.

Duan is the maestro of the two oblong grills situated right in front of their makeshift stand. The grills are similar to what the Japanese use in robatayaki (fireside cooking), what you typically would find at any legit yakitori (skewered chicken) stand or izakaya, a Japanese-style bar that serves snacks. Duan and one of his helpers fan the coals, replenishing them from the small hearth behind them, moving the skewered meats from one section of the grill to the other, for a balance of heat levels and char.

"Charcoal is important, some people want to cook it with an electric oven, it is totally different. But charcoal is very hot and difficult to control the cooking process," he says.

The wings are perfectly grilled; I watch Duan trim the too-charred nubs from the wing skewers with scissors. He and his helper cut small slices into the meat, likely to ensure the meat cooks evenly. The lamb is the spiciest of the trio, as it should be, and cooked just medium for the proper chew. The beef is tender and rich.

The lamb skewer epitomizes what most Chinese would identify as Uyghur cuisine, an almost 2,000-year-old street food tradition very similar to kabobs, but with smaller cuts of meat. Duan is not Uyghur, but he fiercely identifies with their plight and struggle and finds inspiration in their resilience.

"Uyghurs have a strong ability to survive, no matter which city they are in. As long as there is a grill, they can make a living," Duan writes.

Uyghurs align with the Islamic faith and are historically a mix of Turkic, Chinese, and Russian cultures. Not all Uyghurs identify with the same nationality or level of adherence to the Muslim faith, and this has caused some intense fragmentation within the Uyghurs as a whole. Since the late 1980s, Uyghurs in China have faced brutal authoritarianism: internment (reeducation) camps, forced labor and sterilization, and prison-style surveillance. Some human rights groups have labeled their treatment as cultural genocide.

"One thing I can be witness to is that the Chinese government has made the policy to drive Uyghur people back to their hometown Xinjiang Province. The government does not allow the Uyghur people to live in big cities like Shanghai. Uyghur people cannot book hotels or apartments, cannot apply for a passport to go abroad," Duan writes.

Duan opened his first Uyghur skewers BBQ shop, Alimu BBQ, in solidarity in Shanghai about three years ago, after he learned that a Uyghur friend of his could not get hired or maintain employment in Shanghai. Alimu is a Uyghur name, and Duan was not allowed to use it as the name of his shop or hire his Uyghur friend. He opened another shop after Alimu BBQ failed; it was also unsuccessful due to similar issues.

Duan named his second place in Shanghai "Alamo," which symbolizes freedom to him. He decided on this name after familiarizing himself with the popular tale most native Texans are taught at a very young age. This pervading myth of the Alamo brought him to Texas.

"In the last three years I opened two restaurants with Uyghur brothers and both collapsed. Although I failed, my Uyghur brother taught me how to cook and I brought the Uyghur culture to the land of free America," Duan explains.

Duan landed on the Guadalupe location for his first American venture after hitting Austin's malls and bar-heavy streets, researching these areas via Capital Metro. He sells street food, could not afford brick-and-mortar rent, and needed heavy foot traffic to be successful. After four months of research he landed on West Campus. He has taken over China Family's lease for now, and is using their license to launch Camino Alamo/Remember the Alamo BBQ. He hopes to have his own food truck up and running sometime in September.

Says Duan, "I enjoy the process, every day I work hard, bring deliciousness to customers, and continue my American dream!" In many ways, Duan exemplifies the arc of that American dream: Propelled by the stories we tell ourselves, we create narratives of struggle and triumph, constructing a life out of smoke and fire with a new idea and unwavering faith in oneself.

Camino Alamo BBQ