Wheat & Water

The flour matters here in ways that don't translate to takeout pizza. They mill some of it themselves, and the dough gets a long fermentation that produces the kind of irregular air pockets you can't fake with speed. The oven runs hot enough that pizzas finish in under three minutes — long enough for leoparding on the crust, not long enough for the center to dry out. The potato pizza sounds like a gimmick until you taste how the starch caramelizes under direct flame, turning what should be heavy into something you'll fight over.

The patio pulls double duty for the neighborhood: dog-friendly enough that locals stop by with their retrievers after a morning at the Shores, but polished enough for rehearsal dinners and welcome parties when family flies in. The space leans woodsy-chic without trying too hard — exposed beams, Edison bulbs, the kind of setup that photographs well but doesn't feel staged.

The hamachi crudo divides people. It's expensive for what arrives on the plate, and portion sizes skew small compared to what you'd get at a straight seafood spot near the cove. But the Caesar salad is dependable, and the cocktails — particularly the old fashioned — are made carefully enough that they hold up next to the pizza rather than playing second fiddle. Beer selection rotates through craft options that pair better with charred crust than wine does.

Service varies depending on who's working. Some servers treat the patio like an afterthought; others remember your order from last week. Reservations help, especially if you're bringing a group or need a specific table for sunset timing. Parking is standard La Jolla chaos — circle the blocks off the boulevard or resign yourself to the paid lot.