The Slice: Jolly Pumpkin's Wood-Fired Pizza
The third entry takes us to Dexter for brewery pizza that refuses to be an afterthought.
The third entry in our Best Pizza in Ann Arbor series leaves Ann Arbor. Again. But where Supino took us forty minutes east to Detroit, Jolly Pumpkin takes us fifteen minutes west to Dexter, to a wood-fired oven inside a brewery that has no business making pizza this good.
Brewery pizza has a reputation problem. Most of it exists to keep you in your seat long enough to order a third beer. The crust is an afterthought, the toppings a concession, the whole operation a side hustle that the kitchen treats like one. Jolly Pumpkin's Dexter taproom at 2319 Bishop Circle East does not operate this way. Chef Maggie Long runs a kitchen that takes the pizza as seriously as Ron Jeffries takes the sour ales, and the wood-fired oven is not decoration.
The Room
The Dexter taproom sits off Bishop Circle, near the river, in a town of 4,500 people that moves at a different speed than Ann Arbor. Inside: exposed wood, barrel staves on the walls, a long bar with enough natural light to read a menu without squinting. The room is comfortable without being designed to look comfortable. It smells like oak and bread smoke.
The patio is the real draw. Spacious, shaded by mature trees, facing away from the road so you forget there is one. On a weekday evening in late spring, I sat outside with a La Roja and a pizza and spent two hours without checking my phone. The Ann Arbor location has its own energy, but the Dexter patio is where the beer and the food make the most sense together. No rush. No noise. Just the trees and the glass and whatever comes out of the oven.
The Margherita
Every Slice entry starts here. I ordered it on a Thursday, which at the Dexter taproom means half the patio was empty and the kitchen was moving deliberately.
The crust comes out of the wood-fired oven with a char pattern that's uneven in the right way. It's thin, with some structural rigidity at the edge and a slight chew in the middle. This is not Mani's Neapolitan cornicione with its big puffy air pockets. Jolly Pumpkin's crust is flatter, drier, more cracker than bread at the rim. The char is darker in places than Mani's leopard spots, a product of what I suspect is a hotter, faster cook. Pick up a slice and it holds. No droop, no fold.
The sauce is restrained. Less bright than Supino's, less sweet than Mani's. It doesn't announce itself. It coats the crust and lets the cheese and char do the talking. The mozzarella melts into a thin, even layer rather than the wet pools you get on a Neapolitan pie. It stretches, but it doesn't run.
Here's the thing about this margherita: it tastes like it was built to go with beer. The char on the crust, the salt in the cheese, the sauce that stays in the background. Everything is calibrated toward dry, savory, slightly smoky. I drank a Bam Biere alongside it, and the farmhouse funk of the beer filled in the gaps the pizza left open. At Mani, the margherita is a complete statement. At Jolly Pumpkin, the margherita is one half of a conversation. The beer is the other half.
The Pumpkin Poblano
The margherita tells you about the oven. The Pumpkin Poblano tells you about the kitchen.
Roasted pumpkin, poblano peppers, smoked mozzarella, calabrian chile oil. Four toppings that have no business working together until they do. The pumpkin is sweet and earthy, roasted long enough that it's soft but not mushy. The poblano adds a green, vegetal heat that's more warmth than burn. The smoked mozzarella ties the two together with a richness that regular mozzarella can't match. And the calabrian chile oil, drizzled after the oven, gives the whole pie a slow, building heat that doesn't hit until you're three bites in.
I ordered this on my second visit, after the margherita had already made its case. The Pumpkin Poblano is the pizza that separates Jolly Pumpkin from every other brewery kitchen in the region. It's seasonal in a way that feels intentional rather than trendy. The toppings are Mediterranean-leaning, which is Long's signature across the menu, but the combination reads as original. I haven't had this pizza anywhere else.
The crust handles the weight. That drier, sturdier base I noticed on the margherita pays off here, supporting toppings that would turn a wetter Neapolitan crust into a soggy mess. And the sour beer pairing works differently than with the margherita. La Roja's tartness cuts through the smoked mozzarella's richness and resets your palate between bites. The pumpkin's sweetness and the beer's sourness play off each other in a way that I didn't expect and now can't stop thinking about.
Three Entries In
Three pizzas. Three ovens. Three different arguments.
Mani Osteria runs wood-fired Neapolitan in a pasta restaurant on East Liberty. The crust is puffy, blistered, and chewy. The toppings are Italian and seasonal. The pizza is a complete dish that stands on its own. You drink wine with it, or don't. The pizza doesn't need help.
Supino Pizzeria runs New York-style thin crust in a small storefront at Eastern Market. The crust is even, crisp, and foldable. The toppings are classic and consistent. Seventeen years of the same dough, the same oven, the same room. Supino's pizza is a finished sentence.
Jolly Pumpkin runs wood-fired pizza in a sour brewery in Dexter. The crust is flat, dry, and charred. The toppings are Mediterranean and unexpected. The pizza is designed to share the table with an oak-aged ale, and it's better for the company. This is not lesser pizza because it's brewery pizza. It's different pizza because the kitchen built it for the room.
If you want the crust itself to be the star, go to Mani. If you want consistency and technique refined over nearly two decades, go to Supino. If you want a pizza that was built to pair with one of the best beer programs in Michigan, drive to Dexter.
The Slice verdict: Strong third entry. The Pumpkin Poblano is the most interesting single pizza in the series so far. The margherita is solid, not spectacular on its own, but with a Bam Biere beside it, the combination is better than either half. Jolly Pumpkin earns its spot by doing something the first two entries don't attempt: making the drink part of the pizza experience.
This is part of The Slice: Best Pizza in Ann Arbor, our ongoing series.