On a Friday evening in a commercial kitchen on Delridge Way in West Seattle, Matt Gorman pulls from a wood-fired oven a pizza with a puffy rim of crust mottled with leopard spots of char. The naturally leavened dough smells of whole-grain flour and a faint tang, while the toppings — tiny tomatoes, pesto and local cheese from Ferndale — lie in a thin layer, never weighing down the crust.
After the year 2020, Seattle saw a blossoming of pizza pop-ups, when bakers experimented in borrowed kitchens and backyards. Many of those projects vanished, but the taste of those improvised evenings lingered in memory: a crisp rim, hot dough and the sense that the pizza was being born right here and now, not in a permanent dining room with a menu on the wall.
Gorman, who previously worked at Lupo, launched Pizza Ritual in 2024. Now he bakes on Fridays and Saturdays from 17 to 20 o'clock: a margherita for 18 dollars, a vegan marinara for 15, and seasonal variations — for instance, with roasted plum and pancetta. The crust comes out airy, with a deep fermented flavor, while cheese from local farms adds a sweetish milky note.
On the third Thursdays of the month in Queen Anne, Markkus Ridgle appears at Montana Badlands with Anarchia Pizza. His Detroit style — rectangular slices with a crispy frico edge, a 72-hour fermentation and an airy center. Classic pepperoni for 12 dollars, cheese with garlic and basil for 10, and a seasonal one — no sauce, with three kinds of mozzarella, ricotta and pickled bell pepper that lends a bright acidity.
Both projects draw on their creators' personal experience: Gorman on professional training, Ridgle on teaching himself through videos and work at other pizzerias. Pop-ups allow them to keep the freedom to experiment now that permanent establishments have taken hold, while demand for informal formats remains high.
Pizza Ritual can be found at 5608 Delridge Way S.W., with preorders at pizzaritual.com; Anarchia is on Instagram @anarchiapizza on third Thursdays. It is best to come at opening: the pizza is made to order and goes quickly.
These pop-ups show how in Seattle the taste of pizza continues to depend on the hands of specific people and their ability to turn temporary kitchens into places where the crust remembers both the soil of Washington and the perseverance of the bakers.
