Our story.

The Arcadia idea.

Joe grew up in Hortonville, Wisconsin — the kind of town where Friday night meant a tavern, a Stieger Lager for dad, and a square-cut pepperoni pizza on a stainless tray. Allison grew up an hour outside Detroit, where her grandfather ran a corner pizzeria and her family argued about whether sauce belonged on top of the cheese. (It does.)

They met at a Cubs/Tigers game in 2014. Joe ordered a hot dog. Allison ordered a slice of stadium pizza, took one bite, and said, “Okay, this is a felony.” Two years later they were married. Two years after that, they had a kid. Two years after that — like a lot of restless families during 2020 — they left the Midwest and moved to Phoenix.

They settled in Arcadia — the Phoenix neighborhood at the foot of Camelback Mountain, where the citrus trees still line the streets and every other house used to be an orange grove. It felt like a place that could love a neighborhood pizza shop. But there wasn’t one. Not a real one. Not one making the pizza they grew up eating.

Joe started baking out of the garage — a deck oven he bought used off Craigslist, brick cheese flown in from Widmer’s in Wisconsin, blue-steel pans imported from Detroit. He spent a year refining the dough. (He’s a dough nerd. The cold ferment is 72 hours not because of a marketing decision, but because at 48 hours it wasn’t quite right.) Allison handled everything that wasn’t dough — the lease, the build-out, the LLC, the website, the Square POS, the hiring, the brand. She still does.

Because we live here. Because Arcadia is a real, specific neighborhood — not “Phoenix” generically, not “Camelback Corridor” vaguely. It’s the corner of 32nd and Indian School. It’s the old citrus grove behind LGO. It’s the moms running Camelback Mountain at 5am and the dads at La Grande Orange at 7am. We wanted to be theirs.

Three things, forever:

The dough takes 72 hours. Not 24. Not “overnight.” 72. If we run out of dough, we run out of dough — we won’t shortcut a young batch.

Wisconsin cheese, every time. Brick from Widmer’s. Low-moisture mozz from Sartori. If a vendor’s product changes, we switch. We will not save 60 cents per pie at the cost of how it tastes.

It has to feel like a neighborhood place. Not a chain. Not a concept. A place where the cashier knows your kid’s name by visit four.

This is shop one. We have no plans to open a second yet — we want to get this one right first. We’re building the menu, the catering program, the loyalty program, and the kids-eat-free Tuesday, and we’ll see where it goes.

Thanks for reading this far. Now come eat a square.

— Joe & Allison

Come say hi.

We’re at 3236 E Indian School Rd. Joe’s usually in the back. Allison’s usually up front. Their kid is probably stealing pepperoni.

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