"Flew in for one pie, taxied home with two. The crust has actual leopard-spotted char, and the hot honey on The Maverick should be illegal in at least three states."
SEC. 03 The hangar
We moved into a hangar. The oven stayed.
In 2016 we signed a lease on a derelict 1943 hangar at Meadowlark Field — corroded doors, pigeon tenants, and a floor stain where a B-25 leaked oil for a decade. Everyone said we were insane. They were probably right.
We spent a year building a brick oven into the old wingshop, plane-spotted our tables from salvage, and put a kitchen where the fuel depot used to be. The dough gets 48 hours of cold fermentation, the tomatoes are San Marzano, the mozzarella is fior di latte — and nothing, absolutely nothing, has ever seen the inside of a freezer here.
Whole pies only. No slices, no substitutions on the classics, noexceptions we'll actually hold. We're mavericks, not monsters.
— The crew of Hangar 3
Pilots of the 800-degree oven
Hangar 3 — dining floor
The oven, 800°F