From a market stall to a corner everyone loves.
In 2009, Forno was a single portable oven and a folding table at the Saturday market. We sold one thing — a proper Margherita — and we sold out by noon every week. People didn't just come for the pizza; they came back for the welcome.
A year later we took the keys to a little room on Vine Lane, built a brick oven by hand, and hung a sign painted by the founder's father. We still have that sign. We've just added a lot more tables — and a kitchen that rolls its own pasta every morning.
One fire, lit before sunrise.
The dome at the back of our kitchen is the soul of the place. We built it from firebrick and clay, and we burn nothing but seasoned oak. It takes hours to come up to temperature, so the first flame is lit before the prep cooks arrive.
At a steady 480°C, a pizza cooks in about ninety seconds — long enough to puff, char, and blister, short enough to keep the centre soft. We feed the fire by hand all day, reading the flame the way a baker reads dough.
- Hand-built firebrick dome, fired only with seasoned oak.
- Held at 480°C from morning prep to last order.
- Ninety-second bake for that signature leopard-spotted crust.
Meet Chef Lucia Ferraro.
Lucia trained in Naples before bringing her hands — and her grandmother's dough recipe — to Vine Lane. She still stretches the first pizza of every service herself, and she'll happily tell you why a slow ferment beats a fast one any day of the week.
“A pizza only has a few ingredients,” she likes to say, “so each one has to earn its place.” It's a small philosophy that shapes everything we serve.
Meet the Forno team
The faces who'll learn your order, your name, and your usual table.
Lucia Ferraro
Naples-trained and still stretches the first pizza of every service.
Tomas Greco
Reads the fire by eye and keeps the oven at a perfect 480°C.
Marisa Conti
Rolls every ribbon of pasta and pipes the cannoli to order.
Eli Marsh
Keeps the music right, the wine flowing, and the welcome genuine.
The values in every pizza
Honest ingredients
San Marzano tomatoes, real fior di latte, slow-grown flour. We'd rather pay more for the good stuff than cut a corner you can taste.
Kinder to the planet
Locally milled flour, seasonal produce, and a kitchen that composts every scrap with the neighborhood garden.
Community always
From dough-stretching classes to free pizza nights for local schools, this room belongs to the people in it.
Come taste the difference.
Words only go so far. The best way to understand Forno is to pull up a chair by the fire.