4 Tombstone Frozen Pizzas To Buy, And 3 To Avoid

Don't mind the macabre name; the Tombstone frozen pizza brand is still very much alive and well. But its origin story reads differently than most. The brand was actually born in a Wisconsin bar known as the Tombstone Tap, because of its proximity to the cemetery across the street. It's not the worst placement. A cold beer has the power to improve just about any situation, after all. And of course, a cold beer is nothing without some grub to go with it. That's exactly why bar owner Joe Simek first started making pizzas while recovering from a broken leg. Seriously, you can't make this stuff up. The pies soon made their way across Wisconsin, and the operation officially became a national brand in 1994.

Tombstone has always leaned on fittingly dark humor in its advertisements, often featuring the Grim Reaper and the slogan, "What do you want on your Tombstone?" But honestly, I do think the brand missed an opportunity to go all in on the theme with its flavor names. Imagine a "Rest in Pepperoni" or a "Buried in Bacon" pie. Instead, Tombstone focuses simply on delivering budget-friendly frozen pizzas.

It's hard to beat the price point, but I wanted to take a closer look at which flavors are the tastiest. So I tried several different Tombstone varieties and separated the ones I'd gladly buy again from the pizzas I wouldn't mind sending straight to Tombstone's product graveyard. Here lie my final results.

Prices are as of the date of publication and may vary based on region.

Why stop at one, two, three, or even four cheeses when you can have five all layered one on top of another? Tombstone knows what cheese pizza lovers are looking for, and it delivers (it doesn't actually deliver your pizza, but it delivers all the flavor).

The brand combines mozzarella, cheddar, Parmesan, Asiago, and Romano onto its base of original thin crust and tomato-based pizza sauce. That adds up to ⅓ pound of cheese that melts into a molten blanket of white and orange in the oven. As it cooked, the pizza gave off a slightly sweet smell that I assumed was coming from the crust, though that sweetness doesn't carry over into the actual taste. The crust is actually pretty neutral, but it's the crispiness that really makes it. It has a cracker-like crunch all along the bottom, which peaks along the edges. Texture-wise, the cheese is the complete opposite. It leans into the gooey pull of mozzarella and sharper tangs of Parmesan the most. There's surprisingly a decent amount of bright sauce hiding underneath as well.

I'm not saying this is some kind of gourmet slice or the best cheese pizza you'll have in your life. But it has a nostalgia factor baked into it and reminded me of frozen pies I would eat growing up — even a little bit of Chuck E. Cheese's thin and crispy pizzas (which some people say aren't that good). But for a sub-$5 option, the Tombstone pie is quite satisfying.

You would think Tombstone's pepperoni pizza would be an upgrade from the cheese. You still have that same original thin crust and tomato sauce. And you're gaining a sporadic collection of pork, chicken, and beef pepperoni. But even so, this pizza doesn't produce the same kind of balance and appetizing results as the five-cheese pie.

The main problems are a lack of cheese and an excess of grease. The pepperoni is far from the tastiest I've ever had on a frozen pizza. It comes off bland with little to no spice. So the only thing they really contribute to the taste is their oiliness. Because of this (and perhaps other factors), the crust also feels soggier here. You only really get that pastry-like crispness around the edges. To top it off, mozzarella flies solo. Coming off the five-cheese extravaganza, it doesn't feel like nearly enough fromage to go around. Some slices were left rather barren, and the cheese pull was underwhelming at best. It's one of those pies that needs some at-home doctoring up in order to be presentable.

I will note, I still like the sauce recipe Tombstone uses. It has a likable zest to it and an underlying sweetness that elevates each bite. It doesn't do enough to change my opinion about the pepperoni pizza, but it's worthy of some attention.

If you're buying a Tombstone pepperoni pizza, let it be the garlic bread crust pepperoni. It's admittedly hard to tell this one from the original pepperoni at first. The packaging should have been a different color, instead of nearly the exact same shade of dark blue. The two also look fairly similar coming out of the oven, but this one is noticeably thicker, and the cheese was far more golden and bubbly.

As the name would imply, the largest difference here is the garlic bread crust. It's closer to a medium-thickness hand-tossed crust. It offers the best of both worlds: You still get the crispiness, but it also remains doughy at the very center. It's subtle, but you're clearly getting an extra dose of buttery, garlicky flavor here as well.

Once the crust does its thing, the rest of the pizza falls into place. The pepperoni is still somewhat lackluster, but it doesn't seem as absurdly greasy here. The sauce is as good as ever and the mozzarella is more generously applied. Tombstone notes that ¼ pound of real cheese is tossed onto this pie. This is the same amount found on the original pepperoni, but this version tasted far cheesier to me. I especially loved the toastier, browned bits that round out each slice. Between that and the extra hit of garlic throughout, this is a no-brainer pick.

To be honest, I was on the fence when it came to the pepperoni and sausage combo pie. But I ultimately decided the good outweigh the bad, and it's an overall decent frozen pizza.

Most of this pizza's components are nothing new. The original thin crust is back, and it cooks up the same way it did for the five-cheese pizza. It's certainly thin, with a wafer-like crispness, but it holds its shape underneath the weight of the toppings. The sauce also keeps its signature tanginess; it's plentiful and spread evenly across the pie. Fair warning, though: It comes out of the oven practically boiling, so give it some time to cool unless you want to burn your tongue (something I learned the hard way). Mozzarella is still the only cheese, but it uses the same amount as what I found on the garlic bread pepperoni pizza. 

What's new is the sausage crumbles. They're listed as "cooked seasoned pizza topping" on the ingredient list, which gave me pause. But the crumbles do bring a surprisingly good flavor — salty, savory, and juicy — to the pie. They easily beat out the pepperoni as the superior meat topping. I just wish there were more of them. Even at its low price point, I think Tombstone could have afforded to scatter a few more on there.

The saddest little supreme pizza you ever did see. I think it's a stretch to really even call it a supreme pie in the first place.

Even the picture on the front of the packaging shows a rather measly display of toppings, and somehow, it's even worse on the real-life pizza. My hopes of abundant olives, onions, and peppers covering each slice were quickly diminished. I counted just six total black olive slices on the entire pizza — and some weren't even full slices, just random bits and scraps. The amount of diced red and green bell peppers maybe added up to just one full strip, sausage was even scarcer than it was on the pepperoni and sausage pie, and onion was nearly nonexistent. To make matters worse, the peppers and onions were mushy and lacked flavor. Honestly, I think you'd be better off grabbing the previous pepperoni and sausage pie — or better yet, sticking with the five-cheese pizza and piling on your own vegetables and toppings. At least then you'd have something to work with.

There are good bones here, from the crisp crust to the zesty tomato sauce and melty cloak of mozzarella (¼ pound's worth). But it's disappointing, considering the vibrant and hearty supreme pizza this could have been. What should have been Tombstone's most fully loaded pie ended up feeling sparse and forgettable.

This is a new one even for me. I'm plenty familiar with cauliflower crusts. I've even seen pretzel crusts and breakfast-style croissant crusts. But a crust inspired by french fries is something I had never encountered before. Tombstone unleashed this carb-loaded creation back in July 2025, and it now comes in several flavor varieties, but I was able to get my hands on the original two: Chili Cheese and this Loaded Bacon Cheddar.

Immediately, the Loaded Bacon Cheddar feels like the more natural fit. It's meant to imitate a platter of fries covered in cheese and bacon bits, and it comes really close to that experience. The only deviation is that the crust reminds me more of hash browns than french fries. It's thin and cooked to an audibly crunchy texture. Inside, though, it still maintains a softer potato consistency. You can really taste the spuds when you get to that last bite that's devoid of toppings.

You also get two cheeses here: a creamy cheddar cheese sauce and classic mozzarella. Surprisingly, Tombstone didn't skimp on the bacon and pork belly blend either, so you're getting that smoky, salty flavor throughout. With the combination of potatoes, bacon, and cheese, it comes off like a breakfast pizza to me — all it's missing are a few crumbles of egg. I see that as a positive, though. It just means you can get away with eating it first thing in the morning.

Still a clever idea, but not as well executed. This time around, Tombstone attempts to channel the energy and taste of an order of chili cheese fries. It piles hamburger bits, chili cheese sauce, mozzarella, and cheddar cheese all on its french fry crust and then also throws on red onion and parsley for good measure.

There's a lot going on with this pie, and it doesn't add up to the flavor of chili cheese fries to me – nor does it really taste like a pizza. The hamburger bits reminded me more of sausage than the beef you would find in your favorite chili recipe. The chili cheese sauce also comes across as ultra-processed, almost like a Cheez Whiz-style base with a few extra spices and peppers mixed in. Even the crust didn't land quite as well here. Instead of developing the same crunchy, hash brown-like texture as the Loaded Bacon Cheddar pie, this one felt strangely sticky on the inside and less crisp around the edges. So even though the pizza is fairly cheesy, the whole thing comes off as disjointed and more bizarre than cohesive. I'm sorry to say it, but it was a swing and a miss.

While this is one I would recommend skipping, I am holding out hope that the brand's newer Garlic Parm french fry crust pie fares better. It's topped with garlic sauce, cheese, and garlic seasoning — and I'm dying to get my hands on it.

Here in the Midwest (I'm located in Ohio), I've seen Tombstone pizzas at most of the large grocery stores I frequent. But it's a bit harder to track down a larger collection of pizza types. Picks like pepperoni or five-cheese are a given, while the Garlic Bread Pepperoni and newer french fry crusts took some hunting to find. After a few stops, I eventually ended up with this list of Tombstone pies. Each one requires about 20 minutes in the oven at 400 degrees Fahrenheit, and I had to crank the heat up a bit for the french fry crusts. Once I baked all of them, I tried a slice of each.

Deciding on whether I'd recommend you buy them or not required careful examination of the crust, sauce, cheese, and toppings. Many have that signature cracker-like thin crust that fared well, as long as it held its shape and didn't become soggy. The thicker garlic bread crust was definitely a favorite, while the french fry crusts were more hit or miss depending on the toppings. Tombstone's zesty sauce was a definite high point, and the cheese was consistently tasty — as long as it was generously applied so it was melty in the center and browned along the edges. Toppings, on the other hand, were sometimes a problem. Oftentimes, they were skimpy, and some were also of lower quality. For the most part, I liked pizzas that kept it simple with just classic ingredients and good all-around flavor. That's really all you can ask for in a low-cost, store-bought pie.