Indolfo Martinez came to Texas with luggage full of dreams. The native of the Mexican state of Michoacán was 17 when he arrived in Dallas on April 15, 2000. The next day he got a job at a Saltgrass Steak House and he stayed with the company for 22 years, rising through positions from bus boy to regional manager of eleven restaurants across Colorado, Las Vegas, and West Texas.
In 2011 Landry’s, Saltgrass Steak House’s parent company, relocated the Martinez family to Amarillo. In 2022, after a pandemic-related pay cut and general instability in the job, Indolfo quit to open a food truck. It was better than the status quo. “I felt like a sponge full of water, where they squish you and squish you until you don’t have anymore water. They were just going to use me up,” Indolfo, 42, says. Raul, Indolfo’s son, was in high school at the time and skeptical of the idea of opening a taco truck.
“The taco industry is saturated,” the younger Martinez recalls telling his father. “You can drive on [Amarillo] Boulevard and find at least twenty trucks. There have been well-established trucks there for decades now.” Nevertheless, the family supported Indolfo’s decision. The elder Martinez would be the chef, and Raul would be co-owner and cashier. The newly minted Taqueria MTZ had its first service on June 17, 2022.
The risk paid off. Taqueria MTZ is now a successful roving food truck that I wager will have the longevity of the city’s other mobile Mexican food rigs.
But first came the struggles. “Sometimes we stayed out until two a.m. and only made $150,” says Indolfo, thin with closely cropped hair, and an accent that reminds me of my father’s. On a desperate day, Raul contacted a bar asking to set up outside and hoping that once the bar closed customers would come flooding out. “Two customers came to us,” Raul says. Shortly thereafter, Indolfo told the family he was going to sell the truck. Instead of agreeing with his father, Raul offered to leverage his Amarillo College course work in graphic design to create a wrap for the trailer. Soon enough, the Taqueria MTZ trailer was covered in an eye-catching yellow printed with illustrated tacos, onions, limes, and chiles, plus the the menu in wavy typeface reminiscent of the bubbles in lava lamps.
Next came social media. Raul posted a video to TikTok and Facebook that showed the preparation of his father’s birria. “As soon as we posted that video, we sold out,” says the son, now 19. “The next day we sold out, we sold out, we sold out.” The Martinezes were shocked at the change of fortunes. Raul describes it as a surreal experience. They scaled up quickly, bringing on Indolfo’s wife, Maria, to finish and package the food, and daughter, Mia, to pass bagged orders through the truck window to customers.
Raul credits much of Taqueria MTZ’s initial success to social media. “Everything is becoming more digital and everything’s all about marketing yourself on social media,” he says, adding he also joined as many Amarillo-based Facebook groups as possible.
Raul’s engagement on platforms such as TikTok and Instagram are in line not only with birria’s allure but also with Latino-owned businesses. Those are the social media channels favored by almost everyone who peddles tacos. It’s the hook Raul needed to rope in patrons, not only with images and videos of the food but also with the schedule and location. And so Taqueria MTZ gained regulars and newcomers. First on everyone’s order: birria de res.
The elder Martinez is quick to point out that what Americans call birria is what he called barbacoa de res growing up in Michoacán. Birria is lamb or goat in Michoacán, but he knew adapting to make it with beef was integral. “I told my son, let’s do birria. I put in some more water, more spice, and more flavor,” Indolfo explains. The process uses sirloin and can take six to eight hours. What’s sold are saucy strings of deeply spiced beef in a net of melted, milky Oaxacan-style quesillo that is packed into a consommé-infused corn tortilla and crisped. It’s got a pleasant crunch. The birria is so tender that when removed from the pot, tongs are sufficient to shred the meat. Indolfo does note, however, that the cheese he uses is more expensive than others, like mozzarella. “To see the people, how they enjoy it. I don’t care how much it costs,” he says. “For us, it’s worth it.”
The rest of the menu is built around a short list of fillings: earthy pastor, tender carne asada, and tangles of brisket. Everything can go into tortas, burgers, and hot dogs. I especially loved the comforting carne asada dog. Inspired by a visit to Las Vegas Mexican restaurant Dirt Dog, the frank is wrapped in bacon, lined with strips of ketchup, mayonnaise, and mustard, and topped with ribbons of grilled beef and onions, salsa verde and salsa chile de árbol, and one jalapeño. A bag of chips is served on the side. Birria is served atop ramen and a quesadilla-like pizza as well.
With just a few protein options, the Martinezes are able to reduce time spent cooking and financial investment while increasing potential revenue. These are lessons Indolfo learned in his decades working for Landry’s and has used to push Taqueria MTZ closer to prosperity. Everything is made fresh daily.
Not everything on the menu is perfect, but nothing is bad. The enjoyable pastor burger, topped with gnarled chops of vermillion pork needs mustard to balance the savory and sweet flavors. The birria torta is just as good as the tacos, except it’s a stain risk as the bread is brushed with consommé.
These issues are easily remedied. What shouldn’t change is the enthusiasm father and son have for Taqueria MTZ. Such is the clamor for the Martinezes’ food that, as Indolfo puts it, “The way we’re growing right now, it’s hard to be in just one location.” That’s an excellent problem to have.
Follow Taqueria MTZ on Instagram for their weekly schedule, or call 806-340-8465.
