Pitmasters have gone rogue, inventing flavors that boggle the mind (and taste buds). In doing so, they’ve even caught the attention of Michelin’s fine-dining guide. It’s a whole new world for meat lovers.
By Omar MamoonA platter of Texas barbecue is as recognizable as an Andy Warhol lithograph.
You know it when you see it. A cafeteria tray lined with butcher paper and piled high with an artful arrangement of smoked meats. Glistening brisket with pepper-crusted bark, plump and snappy sausages, and tender pork ribs, all of it flanked by some combination of coleslaw, potato salad, pinto beans, pickles, and slices of white bread. It’s a familiar American tableau—one worthy of contemplation and celebration.
And in yet another sign that Texas barbecue continues to evolve from a regional specialty into an object of global obsession, the Michelin Guide recently touched down in Texas for the first time—and awarded its coveted stars to four shrines to the Lone Star art of smoked meat.
But something more compelling than tire-company hype has unfolded over the past few years: That instantly familiar platter has begun to change. Pitmasters from coast to coast are going rogue and giving Texan tradition a personal spin by incorporating spices and dishes from Asia, the Middle East, and Latin America. Welcome to the realm of Hawaiian pulled pork suffused with Kahlúa, ribs spiced with za’atar, and Indonesian rendang made with heady smoked brisket.
The history of Texas-style barbecue can be traced back to the late 1800s and early 1900s, when the state saw an influx of immigrants from countries like Poland and Germany. “Many of those immigrants operated meat markets and were smoking their leftover meats, grinding it up into sausage, and smoking that using recipes from the old country,” says Daniel Vaughn, an author and the barbecue editor of Texas Monthly. “That’s really the genesis of Texas barbecue.”
But what defines it, exactly? Depending on whether you’re in the western or central or southern part of the state, you can get super nerdy and find hyper-regional variations. But for Vaughn, Texas-style barbecue generally comes down to a few tenets: the meat (the Lone Star Texas Trinity of brisket, ribs, and sausage) must be cooked with hardwood (post oak is popular in central Texas, because it’s abundant, but mesquite, pecan, and hickory are also common throughout the state); seasoning is simple (just a base of salt and pepper); proteins are sold by the pound (a remnant of those OG meat markets); and sauce is served on the side. Always.
Beyond the meat markets, barbecue was served at rural shacks and sit-down restaurants that opened throughout the 20th century and boomed after World War II. In 2009, Aaron Franklin stepped into the arena, and everything changed. With its baby-blue trailer in Austin, Franklin Barbecue helped nudge traditional barbecue into a new era with an ingredient-driven ethos. “Franklin was a big turning point, bringing great barbecue to Austin,” Vaughn says, “and bringing the idea of hisversion of barbecue: high-quality, focusing on ingredients and focusing on consistency.” Instead of using the cheapest cuts of meat, Franklin upped the ante with well-sourced pork and beef—striated with the fat that makes barbecue juicier. His success inspired others to get into the game—in Austin and beyond.
As the post-Franklin barbecue gospel spread, new territories of deliciousness opened up: The sides went artisanal; chefs began making breads and pickles and desserts in-house. In the past few years, pitmasters both within and beyond Texas started tweaking the tradition itself.
In Alameda, California— just across the Bay Bridge from San Francisco—you’ll find Fiks and Reka Saleh, a married duo doing halal Indonesian/Texas barbecue at Fikscue, which opened in November 2023. Fiks smokes his brisket over almond wood (native to California) and sticks to a simple salt-and-pepper rub, but the brisket is then incorporated into Reka’s spicy and complex rendang. (The smokiness adds an extra element that makes your head spin.) Reka also makes sides such as nasi goreng, Indonesia’s famous fried rice. “My whole thing is I want to honor Texas-style tradition,” Fiks says, “but we’re trying to differentiate by using little unconventional Indonesian sides and the fusion-ized Indonesian dishes that Reka cooks. It’s a good mashup.”
Meanwhile, over in Austin, you’ll find Egyptian-born Kareem El-Ghayesh, an ex-banker turned pitmaster who’s bringing an Egyptian and Middle Eastern perspective to the craft via his KG BBQ trailer, which opened in October 2022. He adds warming spices like cumin, coriander, and fenugreek to fatty smoked lamb ribs, and he tops them with dukkah, a crunchy Egyptian condiment composed of nuts and spices. A cooling sauce of dill yogurt sauce completes the picture. “This is where the natural evolution is going, and the future of barbecue is in the fusion now,” says El-Ghayesh. “People are becoming more creative with food and it’s not just about sticking to your old family traditions and recipes—people are now thinking out of the box.”
For pitmaster Ernest Servantes, it’s more about preservation than fusion. Servantes presides over Burnt Bean Co. in the sleepy city of Seguin, about an hour south of Austin. On Sundays, Burnt Bean serves the breakfast dishes that he grew up eating: spicy menudo spiked with dry chiles, hearty huevos rancheros, thick carne guisado, and fatty barbacoa made with beef cheeks. “I call it Tejano versus Tex-Mex because there’s a stigma that Tex-Mex has—everybody thinks of Chili’s and all those places that’s bastardized the beautiful cuisine that it was,” Servantes says. “I get people from Houston and Dallas that drive at four in the morning just to come and have our soul food, which is a dying cuisine, and I’m trying to bring it back to life.”
Of course, differentiation doesn’t hurt, from a business standpoint. “What’s going to separate you from the guy next door?” Servantes asks. “Why are people going to come all the way to Seguin, Texas? You have to have something else that brings it—it makes it more of an experience than just a meal.” Aaron Franklin himself is prone to agree. “It’s inspiring to see other people getting creative with it and adding their own spins on it,” Franklin says when asked about the new wave of pitmasters. “If everybody was just doing the same thing, it’d be pretty boring.”
Want to get a taste of where Texas barbecue is going? Below are some of our favorite spots.
Lone Star tradition with a touch of Indonesia.
Mustachioed pitmaster Kareem El-Ghayesh invites flavors like cumin, coriander, and za’atar to the party.
Friday through Sunday, Ernest Servantes serves and preserves the Tejano cuisine he grew up with.
Pitmaster Daniel Castillo celebrates his Mexican heritage at both locations of his southern-Californian restaurants.
Thai chef Earl Ninsom partnered with pitmaster Matt Vicedomini for delicious and spicy mashups like brisket burnt-end white curry and smoked red-curry sausage.
Brisket biryani. Smoked cauliflower Manchurian. Cardamom cornbread. You need this South Asian–Texas barbecue fusion coming from Ryan Fernandez, who was born in Kerala.
Some of the ’cue is southern, yes, but the giant dino kalbi is decidedly Texan … via Korea. The massive piece of meat is served with a side of kimchi coleslaw.
Nihari is a rich, slow-cooked stew often made with beef shank. It is the national dish of Pakistan. Pitmaster Zain Shafi offers it as a side at his blue trailer.
Slow-cooked brisket and smoked beef cheeks pair perfectly with Puerto Rican staples such as tostones and arroz con gandules—all from pitmaster Hector Garate.
Burnt-end empanadas. Brisket rubbed with Cuban coffee. Barbecue sauce laced with guava. Smoked flan. Pitmaster Harry Coleman gives Texas barbecue an extra layer of Latin flavors—which makes perfect sense, after all, in Miami.
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