Frozen pizza is the province of the world's lazy bachelors, exhausted parents and college kids. Economically, it makes more sense than just about anything else in the frozen food section of the grocery store. For less than the price of a proper meal, an individual can get enough sustenance for around two meals, three if supplemented with something like salad. Though most frozen pizza is as grease-soaked and salty as the delivery analog, there are still several food groups represented in the average Supreme slice. Some vegetable matter is better than none, and when a Supreme costs as much as a Pepperoni, why not go for the loaded pie? Naturally, not all frozen pizzas are alike in quality. Here's a quick run-down of the best, the worst and the crowded middle.
DiGiorno
Let's get the big player out of the way early. There was a time when DiGiorno was the best frozen pizza at the supermarket. That time was 1996 and it has long passed. DiGiorno pizzas are the very definition of middling, which is important for the isolated 20-somethings who eat them most regularly. There's no reason to buy one when it's not on sale, but on those not-so-rare occasions when a full-size DiGiorno is five bucks at the corporate grocery store, it's worth it.
I will say that DiGiorno's recent self-preservation panic has made for one notable improvement. I can't recommend the pricey pizzas packaged with chicken wings, cookies or other variety packs. Combining mediocre pizza with mediocre barbecue wings isn't a winning business plan. The garlic bread pizza, though, is a marked improvement on the original recipe. Crust has always been DiGiorno's weak spot, so adding some flavor to the mix is a real plus.
Freschetta
Aside from the fact that the brand name kinda makes me want to punch myself in the mouth, this new kid on the block is poised to be the best. It's not quite there yet, though. The sauce is less cloying, the cheese less plastic-like and the toppings mimic freshness a lot better than the vast majority of frozen brands. The crust needs a little work, though. It needs to be baked longer than the packaging suggests, unless you want gummy crust. Of course, that puts the toppings at risk of burning. It's a gamble, which isn't what I want out of a frozen pizza.
Red Baron
An oldie and never a goodie. These are usually a few dollars cheaper than the best and it shows. You're paying 60% of the price for 60% of the pizza. Sure, its surface area matches that of a better pie, but its overall density is laughable and the “toppings” too often amount to mere sprinklings of finely diced ingredients. This is sadness pizza. It's “I just lost my job” pizza. It's “daddy doesn't love you” pizza.
Totino's
“Party Pizza”? Really? Look, Totino's, there's only one thing you do well and it's pizza rolls. And no, you shouldn't be proud of that. Succeeding at pizza rolls but failing at pizza itself is a mind-bending kind of shameful. It makes a twisted sort of sense, though. People expect pizza rolls to be awful, greasy little pockets of heartburn. Show someone a slice of pizza, though, and they might expect it to be good.
*Not listed: California Pizza Kitchen, because a dogged refusal to use tomato sauce disqualifies it as mere flavored flatbread.