It begins and ends in the backlot, with a green hickory smoker that’s on a constant low-temp tear with an assortment of meats. It’s a ritual that starts with a careful rub and ends only when we think its time to pull the meat from the bath of smoke we surround it with. Pork butt. Brisket. Spare ribs. Back ribs. Whole birds and chicken wings alike. And bacon. Lots of bacon. Slow cooked bacon ready to be cut in from thick slabs into magical planks. Thank you pig, for all you do for us.

It is a menu that’s rustic in its delivery and refined in its care. And it’s crafted with hickory on the smoke side and apple and cherry wood on the pizza side. These aren’t conveyor belt byproducts these bear little resemblance to the frozen disks of surplus cheese that have come to pass for pizza today. No, Pizza Coco pies are fired in a 800 degree inferno until the cheese caramelizes and the ingredients bake into something incredible. No two pies are the same. It’s the kind of oven, the kind of crafted pie, that can take two or three of your favorite toppings and deliver them a thousand different ways.