Heart Mountain Ranch
Beef · 15 miles from PowellGrass-fed, grass-finished beef from a family operation at the base of Heart Mountain. We've been buying from them since our second year — a whole animal at a time, once or twice a month.
Most of what we cook with is raised, grown, or made within a two-hour drive of Powell. That's not a marketing line — it's a decision that shapes our menu, our prices, and what we can and can't do on any given week.
On this page: the farms we work with, what's in season when, and the principles we use to decide what makes it onto the plate.
Long-term partners across Park County, the Bighorn Basin, and southern Montana. Most within 120 miles.
Beef and pork come to us whole. We break them down in-house — that's why the menu has lengua, cachete, and short rib.
If a farm doesn't have it, we don't serve it. Menus change four or five times a year as a result — sometimes more.
We buy from people we can drive to in an afternoon. It's slower, it's more expensive, and it means our menu changes when the season does — all of which is the point.
Grass-fed, grass-finished beef from a family operation at the base of Heart Mountain. We've been buying from them since our second year — a whole animal at a time, once or twice a month.
Heritage-breed pigs raised outdoors, fed a mix of local grain and garden scraps. The source of our chorizo, our bacon, and every pork shoulder we slow-cook.
Where our guajillo, ancho, and poblano chiles come from, along with the heirloom corn we nixtamalize for tortillas. Small operation — mostly one family — but the chiles are extraordinary.
A small rancher co-op that pools animals from five or six families. We buy whole animals on a rotating basis when they have surplus — usually beef, sometimes lamb.
Wildflower honey from hives in the Bighorn foothills. Used in marinades, desserts, and the bar program — our agave syrup in cocktails is actually local honey cut with water.
Cilantro, onion, radish, and seasonal herbs grown about an hour east. Two deliveries a week, usually Wednesday and Saturday mornings. When they have a good crop of something, it goes on the daily board.
Apples, pears, and stone fruit in season. The applewood we smoke our bacon over comes from here — it's the same orchard, same trees, same family since the 1970s.
A small family dairy — cream, butter, and the cotija and queso fresco we use on plates. We buy what they can spare; the rest of the cheese comes from a Colorado creamery we've used for years.
Powell is a small town in a big state. Some things — good tequila, great olive oil, certain spices — we can't source anywhere close, and we don't pretend to. The point isn't purity; it's making the best decisions we can, and being honest about the ones we can't.
These five rules are what we actually use, in order, when we decide what goes into a dish.
Local first, whenever we can. That's most of the produce, all of the beef and pork, and a fair amount of the dairy.
It forces us to use everything, which is why the menu has lengua, cachete, and stock-based dishes that a chain restaurant would never run.
Tortillas, chorizo, salsas, stocks, consommé — all made here. Some things we buy because they're better than what we could make. We try to be honest about which is which.
When a farm has a bad season, the menu reflects it. We'd rather have four great dishes and one missing than stretch a mediocre ingredient to fill a slot.
To the farm and to the guest. Prices on the menu are the prices at the register, no hidden service charges, and the farmers we work with are paid fairly for what they grow.
When we opened Amigos in 2019, we were buying meat from the same places everyone else does — a distributor out of Billings. It was fine. It was consistent. It was also anonymous and mostly frozen, and it was expensive for what it was.
One conversation with a rancher at the farmers market changed that. He had a whole beef he couldn't move quickly, and he offered us a price that made sense. We bought it, borrowed a chest freezer, and spent a week learning to break it down from a YouTube video and a patient neighbor.
The food got dramatically better. The prices stayed the same. And the decision-making got simpler — instead of asking which cut of meat we wanted, we started asking which animal we had and what to do with it. That's the shift that turned a small taquería into a butcher-backed kitchen. Everything on this page is a consequence of that first whole beef.
Read the menu, then come see the case. The butcher is usually happy to talk about what came in this week and where it's from.