Unearth The Voyage
You hear it before you see it, the low hiss of brisket on the flat top riding the chatter of a hungry line. Tucked inside the Hinterland pod on SE 50th, Matt’s BBQ Tacos turns Texas smoke into Portland mornings and late lunches that stick with you.
The tortillas are warm, a little pillowy, and they carry more than meat—they carry ritual. If a friend swears these are the best tacos in town, believe them, then show up early and see why locals whisper please do not post.
The Tortilla: Soft Engine Of The Whole Operation
The first thing that hits is warmth through the paper boat. These flour tortillas feel thicker than standard, soft with a tender chew, and they carry a butter-kissed aroma that sneaks up as you peel back the foil.
A quick toast gives faint blistered freckles, enough to hold brisket drippings without surrendering structure.
There is a small lift at the edges when steam puffs inside, and that bite lands between cloud and stretch. Corn is an option, sure, but most orders ride on flour because the texture syncs with Texas-style smoke.
You notice it most on breakfast builds, where eggs, queso, and hashbrowns could swamp a weaker wrap.
The tortilla’s job is quiet and essential. It keeps salt, fat, and acid in a calm lane so the green salsa can shine.
By the final bite, it is still intact, a small engineering feat. I have watched diners finish and glance down, surprised the thing never leaked.
Brisket Breakfast Taco: Morning Smoke And Queso
Show up before 11 and you catch the city in a gentle mood, coffee in one hand and this brisket breakfast taco in the other. The eggs are soft, not watery, folded rather than scrambled hard, and they pick up a whisper of smoke from the meat.
Queso slides into the seams, a silky binder that makes every bite feel composed.
Brisket here is tender with a clean bark, sliced or chopped to order, speckled with fat that melts across the tortilla. Green salsa brightens the edges with heat that reads as friendly, not punishing.
One taco can carry you through a morning, two might demand a nap.
People compare it to Austin and mean it. The line moves, orders ping by text, and steam curls into the cold air while you hover near heaters.
If you add hashbrowns, you get crisp against creamy, a little crunch that behaves like punctuation. Bite, sip coffee, repeat.
Pork Belly Perfection: The Crowd’s Secret Favorite
When locals lean in and whisper get the pork belly, they are not being dramatic. The slice arrives lacquered and warm, edges charred, center tender like custard.
Fat renders into the tortilla and meets a cool swipe of guacamole that calms the richness without muting flavor.
Pickled red onions bring snap and color, that electric magenta crunch. A squeeze of lime flicks the salinity forward and suddenly you are chasing balance rather than heft.
The first bite is indulgent, the second one is focused, and by the third you are plotting the return order.
I have heard folks call it the best taco in Portland, and I do not argue. It eats bigger than it looks, a small-stack architecture lesson in weight distribution.
Sauce matters here, but restraint matters more. You want just enough salsa verde to wake it up, not drown the bark.
The GOAT: A Greatest-Hits Flex
Names can be hype, but this one earns its cap lock. The GOAT is less about goat meat and more about a greatest-of-all-time vibe, a pileup of textures that somehow stays graceful.
You taste smoke first, then salt, then a cooling wash of queso as the pickled onions snap you awake.
The tortilla holds, even under pressure. Each bite feels like a flipbook of the menu’s best instincts, especially if you add a green salsa drift across the top.
It is not subtle, and that is the point. Order it when decisions feel impossible and you want a masterclass in house flavor.
There is usually a pause after the first bite, a tiny nod like your brain needs to file paperwork. It is meat-forward without bullying your palate.
If you came hungry and curious, this is the lane. Finish it and you may reconsider what a taco can reasonably hold.
Hinterland Cart Pod: Atmosphere And Flow
Matt’s lives at the back of Hinterland, a tidy pod with covered seating, heaters, and a central bar pouring beer, cider, and the occasional spritz. On cool nights, steam curls from taco boats while pints clink under string lights.
It is clean, communal, and built for lingering without fuss.
Ordering happens on a touchscreen or online, with a digital wait time climbing during rushes. A text pings when your tray is ready, which lets you hold a table or grab a drink.
Lines move, but prime hours can stretch to nearly an hour, a sign of demand more than delay.
There is room to spread out, families at long tables and solo diners leaning on railings. You hear first bites turn into short laughs when the salsa lands right.
Parking can be tight on weekends, so rideshares help. The vibe balances Portland casual and Texas swagger, no costumes required.
Breakfast Window Strategy: Beat The Rush, Eat Happy
Breakfast runs eight to eleven most days, and that window is your best friend. Show up near opening and you dodge the lunch crush while snagging the brisket breakfast taco still singing from the flat top.
Pair it with a cold brew from the bar or a citrusy soda and claim a spot near a heater.
Two tacos do the job for most, three if you are hiking later. The migas can go a touch soft, but the green salsa brings it back to attention.
Hashbrowns add crunch, sausage brings pepper, and queso ties the morning together without turning the tortilla soggy.
Order at the screen, watch the clock, and relax. The text alert frees you from hovering, and the first bite repays the planning.
If you want corn tortillas, ask. Flour is standard, but swaps happen with no drama, and the heft still holds.
Why It Matters: Portland Meets Texas
Matt’s cooks Texas ideas through a Portland lens: big smoke, soft flour, produce that snaps. It sits in a city where food carts are a civic pastime, not a trend.
According to Travel Portland’s 2023 visitor report, the metro welcomed millions and food was a top trip driver, reflected in high repeat visitation.
That context explains the line. People come for breakfast tacos rare in the Pacific Northwest and stay for the tortillas that actually fight back.
The price tag stays fair, the vibe stays loose, and a 4.7 rating across hundreds of reviews tells you the locals are voting with stomachs.
This is cultural mixing done with respect, not cosplay. The brisket tastes like hours of smoke, the salsas taste bright, and nothing needs a filter to sell it.
If you miss Austin, you will nod. If you are new to breakfast tacos, you will get it in three bites.
How To Order Like You Mean It
Decide your base first. Brisket breakfast for morning, pork belly or the GOAT for anytime swagger.
Add green salsa and pickled onions, then stand down on extras until you taste the balance. Two tacos suit most people; three if you skipped breakfast or ran the Springwater Corridor.
Order at the screen, watch the posted wait, and grab a drink from the bar while the text system does the babysitting. If the line surges, consider a split order: one breakfast classic and one meat-heavy anchor.
Corn tortillas are available, but flour carries heavy builds with less mess.
Timing matters. Hit early lunch on weekdays or right at breakfast open on weekends.
Bring cashless payment, a sweater for the breeze, and patience for the rush that means you chose well. When the tray lands, lime first, salsa second, talk later.
Bite, breathe, repeat.
