Keeping Their Pies on the Road

A look behind the scenes at Stoked.

By Christopher Hughes· 7/28/2015, 6:00 a.m.

Photograph by Toan Trinh

Even if food trucks aren’t quite the radical statement they were a few years ago, it’s still pretty damn rare to experience a true curbside culinary epiphany—in this case, wood-fired pizzas that rival any in the city—to the tune of a purring generator. When they’re not slinging stellar pies from the cramped confines of their mobile pizzeria, Stoked owners Scott Riebling and Toirm Miller putter around in the rented commissary space they use as a lab, indulging Riebling’s “mad scientist” (Miller’s words) perfectionism, particularly on the ingredients front. Hunting for a not-too-acidic whole peeled tomato, Riebling finally discovered one he liked in Naples—and now imports it by the pallet. But Stoked’s biggest score may be the hard red spring wheat flour Riebling found in North Dakota: a key component of the magic behind Stoked’s trademark airy, bubbly crust.

The Pavesi oven takes up eight feet in the “super-claustrophobic,” 20-foot space. “It’s like living on a submarine,” Riebling says.

To combat the punishing heat, Stoked bought two AC units that ran exactly once—before blowing out the generator. Now, they’re but a cruel reminder.

The truck’s sole tchotchke, a tribute to the philosophical stylings of Fast Times at Ridgemont High’s Jeff Spicoli.

Get your pies (minimum: five) delivered via skateboard anywhere within a four-block radius of the truck.

To avoid cross contamination, Stoked uses different cutters for the vegan, vegetarian, and mushroom-and-onion pizzas (the last, thanks to the addition of truffle oil).

Boxes are employed only during the cold months and for larger orders. “If we carried enough boxes to give everybody one, we’d have 50 less pizzas to sell,” Riebling says.

The oven burns through a cord of hardwoods—roughly 230 pieces—a month. “We get it from a guy who has the best name for a business ever: Knotty Hardwood,” Miller says.