Restaurant Review: Feral Pizza

Parking lot pizza trailer is serving up sourdough pies with brilliantly flavorful toppings

Reviewed by Taylor Tobin, Fri., March 1, 2024

Ankle Biter pizza (courtesy of Feral Pizza)

“Feral” isn’t the first word that we’d generally use to describe pizza. It’s not even the thousandth word. This adjective – defined by Merriam-Webster as “of, relating to, or suggestive of a wild beast” or “not domesticated or cultivated” – conjures images of fierce coyotes or packs of wild dogs, not artisanal pies made with care and attention. But owners and pizzaiolos Amy and Finley Hunt decided to build their pizza brand around that second definition, leaning hard into wild fermentation and locally sourced ingredients to make sourdough pizzas that straddle the line between low-intervention and carefully curated.

Feral Pizza sets up shop in the parking lot of Duval Market, a nondescript corner store carrying a deceptively highbrow range of products, including natural wines, craft beers, and plenty of snack options for vegan and gluten-free guests. This humble-on-the-outside, polished-on-the-inside theme is consistent with Feral Pizza, which operates inside a cozy food trailer just big enough to hold the two Hunts as they whip up the day’s orders. Because of the small size of their space (and their team), Feral Pizza tends to sell out quickly, so guests are encouraged to order ahead of time through the Feral website. We decided to do just that, placing our pie requests at 10pm the night before. Feral does accept walk-up orders on a limited basis, but once they’re sold out, they’re sold out.

The pizza sauce sings with sweetness and acidity and tomatoey umami.

The advance order system allows you to choose a pickup time and offers text notifications to inform you when your pies are ready, so we had no difficulty acquiring the pizzas while they were still hot and fresh. The Hunts provide warm and genuine hospitality, answering questions with a smile and making us aware of dipping sauce options (like ranch and hot honey) available à la carte. When it comes to the dining space, it’s all fairly bare-bones; picnic tables in a convenience store parking lot don’t give much in the way of ambience. But on a warm evening and with a bottle of wine or a six-pack from Duval Market ready to go, it can make for a pleasant hangout with friends or even a casual date. The stamped art on the pizza boxes, which features a sassy, wild cat with a pepperoni slice poking out of its mouth, evokes an appealing “not taking ourselves too seriously” attitude, which we found refreshing.

Now, on to the pizza. The Hunts strive to use quality ingredients in their sauces and topping choices, and that focus clearly shines through. The pizza sauce sings with sweetness and acidity and tomatoey umami. The mozzarella and pecorino cheeses have all the creaminess and nuttiness (respectively) that we look for from those items. And the toppings, from pepperoni cups to fresh vegetables to house-made sausage, don’t betray any shortcuts or less-than-ideal sourcing.

For the simpler pies, like the standard cheese pizza, the cheeseless Tomato Pie, and the white pizza known as the Kevin (with no sauce, plenty of garlic oil, dollops of ricotta, and spinach), the Hunts’ restrained hand with topping amounts gave the sourdough crust the chance to make its presence known. That said, we would have liked a more pronounced tang, and in more assertively flavored pies – like the Ankle Biter, which includes red sauce, pepperoni, garlic, and jalapeño slices along with the cheese – the sourdoughishness vanished completely. Texturally, we appreciated the bite of the thin crust, and the toppings were flavorful and engaging. But when sourdough is the crux of your concept, we want a “show, don’t tell” approach, and we didn’t detect enough of those nuanced sourdough notes in the final product.

In addition to its standard pies, Feral serves Grandma-style pizzas, and while we enjoyed the very thin rectangular slices (especially when we added Feral’s luxurious ricotta to the red-sauce-and-cheese toppings), we again felt a slight pang of thwarted expectations. Some of the most attractive attributes of a Grandma pie are that crispy, nearly burnt cheese that collects around the edges and the darkened varnish along the bottom of the crust, along with a focaccia-like texture in the bite. Feral’s Grandma pie ate more cracker-like, with a golden blond hue to the crust and none of that oily and cheesy singe at the perimeter.

North Loop residents and regular visitors can and should find a lot to appreciate about Feral Pizza’s attention to detail, tasty pies, and gracious service. Whether this truck is destination-worthy depends on your particular pizza preferences, but we feel that this promising new arrival, which is still in its first year of operation, still has plenty of time to sink deeper into its concept and to find new ways to expand its flavor profiles and push the boundaries of Austin pizza culture.