The People’s Pie

I spend a fair amount of time standing near a pizza oven watching people exist near each other. Which, honestly, feels rarer than it should.

Lately, I’ve started noticing how much modern life sorts people into categories. Even community itself can feel tiered into places for affluent people, places for young people, places for families, places for everyone else.

And increasingly, if you don’t have enough money, there are entire parts of public life you just quietly stop participating in. You stay home more. Not because you want to. Because existing in public starts getting expensive.

I know a pizza stand isn’t going to solve modern isolation. But there’s something meaningful about spaces where people from wildly different backgrounds just exist together for a while.

And honestly, pizza helps. Pizza is weirdly democratic. Nobody looks cool eating it. It’s hard to be pretentious while dripping hot honey on your sweatshirt. Pizza is the people’s food.

I’ve written before about how much I appreciate operating at Valhöll Brewing because of the community they create. As I think about what I’m building toward, I think it matters even more. I keep asking myself: Can I build a business where people pay what they can? Because sure, lots of things in life are luxuries. I’m very familiar with not being able to afford every luxury. But food is different. And honestly, I’d argue pizza is different too. 

Recently I was reading statistics about food insecurity in our own community. I’ll spare everyone the soapbox version and just say this: it’s unacceptable. I know I’m the smallest pizza operation in town by a mile. I’m not pretending I can solve systemic problems with dough and pepperoni. But still. Everyone should be able to get a pizza. (Preferably one that didn’t arrive through an app designed by venture capitalists and sadness.)

Of course, this gets complicated fast. The people selling flour and cheese still expect actual dollars instead of inspirational community vibes. So I don’t fully know what this becomes yet.

But I think I’d rather build something imperfect that at least tries to push against isolation than build something polished that quietly reinforces it.

Anyway, this may just be what happens when you spend too much time near 800-degree ovens. But it’s been on my mind lately.

I’d genuinely love to hear your thoughts.

And if you want to discuss the future of community gathering spaces over pizza and beer, a quick heads up: we’re only open Thursday this week before taking a couple well-earned days off. We’ll return slightly more rested and probably still overthinking pizza.