Caribbean barbecue meets New York's culinary scene in a way that feels both nostalgic and revolutionary. Jase Franklyn’s journey from backyard griller to Time Out Market staple isn’t just a story about food—it’s a case study in cultural fusion, resilience, and the power of timing. What makes this particularly fascinating is how Franklyn’s Caribbean roots collided with America’s obsession with brisket, creating something that’s neither one nor the other, but somehow perfect. Personally, I think this reflects a broader trend: the way immigrant communities are redefining local food landscapes by blending heritage with mainstream tastes. It’s not just about what’s on the plate; it’s about who gets to tell the story of that plate.
Franklyn’s path began in Tobago, where his mother’s holiday grilling sessions were more than just family tradition—they were a blueprint for his future. But here’s what many people don’t realize: his transition from computer science student to BBQ entrepreneur wasn’t a sudden pivot. It was a slow burn, fueled by the kind of passion that only emerges when you’re forced to confront your own limitations. Moving to the U.S., he became the de facto grill master for friends’ parties, which sounds cliché until you consider the irony: a tech-savvy guy mastering the art of low-and-slow cooking. What this really suggests is that creativity often thrives in unexpected places, especially when you’re juggling multiple identities. Franklyn’s story is a reminder that expertise isn’t confined to a single domain—it’s about how you apply your skills to solve problems, even if those problems are as simple as making the best jerk chicken in Brooklyn.
The pandemic, however, was the catalyst that forced Franklyn to rethink everything. He didn’t just experiment with brisket—he embraced the challenge of mastering a dish that’s often seen as the pinnacle of American barbecue. In my opinion, this speaks volumes about the cultural weight of brisket. It’s not just meat; it’s a symbol of Texan pride, a badge of honor for pitmasters. By infusing it with Caribbean spices, Franklyn did something audacious: he turned a regional icon into a global conversation. The fact that he sought advice from Ruben Santana of Bark Barbecue adds another layer. It’s not just about competition; it’s about collaboration. What many overlook is that innovation in food often comes from cross-pollination—when chefs from different backgrounds share techniques, the results can be transformative. This raises a deeper question: How often do we limit ourselves by sticking to tradition instead of embracing the chaos of experimentation?
The viral moment with Rob Martinez’s video is a masterclass in serendipity. Franklyn’s brisket wasn’t supposed to be the star of that interview, yet it became the defining moment of his career. This is where the rubber meets the road for small businesses—sometimes, success hinges on a single, unplanned opportunity. But what makes this even more compelling is the pricing strategy at Time Out Market. At $14 for a brisket sandwich, pulled pork, or ribs with sides, Franklyn is striking a balance between premium quality and accessibility. A detail that I find especially interesting is how he’s packaging his Caribbean roots into a format that’s familiar to New Yorkers. It’s a tightrope walk: too much authenticity might alienate locals, but too much compromise could dilute his identity. From my perspective, this is the essence of modern food entrepreneurship—you have to be both a purist and a pragmatist, constantly negotiating between who you are and who your customers want you to be.
Looking ahead, Franklyn’s plans to introduce brisket spring rolls and his award-winning pig tails hint at a menu that’s constantly evolving. This isn’t just about keeping up with trends; it’s about creating a narrative that invites curiosity. If you take a step back and think about it, the rise of pop-up restaurants and market stalls reflects a shift in how we consume food. We’re no longer loyal to brick-and-mortar establishments; we crave experiences that feel temporary, exclusive, and Instagram-worthy. What this really suggests is that the future of dining is less about permanence and more about moments. Franklyn’s permanent location at Time Out Market is a paradox: it’s a stable base for his brand, but the menu itself remains fluid, adapting to the ever-changing tastes of a city that thrives on reinvention. One thing that immediately stands out is how he’s managed to carve out a space where Caribbean flavors aren’t just an accent—they’re the main event. In a city as diverse as New York, that’s not just a business strategy; it’s a cultural statement.
