What do you order at a place that’s been making pizza the same way since 1964?
At Mister Pizza on Bailey Avenue, the answer is simple: get the pepperoni. Order a large if you have the people for it, a medium if you’re eating alone and lack self-control. The crust is thin enough to fold but sturdy enough to hold its shape, and the sauce is sweet in the way old-school Western New York tomato sauce tends to be — not aggressive, not trendy, just consistent. It tastes like a place that figured something out decades ago and saw no reason to revisit the question.
The shop sits on the East Side of Buffalo, on Bailey between Kensington and Fillmore, in a neighborhood that doesn’t get a lot of food writing attention. The storefront is small, the dining room basic. There are booths, some tables, a counter. The lighting is exactly what you’d expect. None of that is the point. What draws people back — and people do come back, regularly, in the way that matters — is the pizza itself, and the fact that the place has stayed open and stayed recognizable across six decades of a city that’s changed enormously around it.
Prices are honest. A large cheese pie runs around fourteen or fifteen dollars. Add toppings and you’re still not doing much damage. If you’re feeding a family or picking up for a group, this is not a place that requires a budget adjustment. It’s one reason the regulars are regulars.
The menu doesn’t wander far. You’ll find subs and wings alongside the pizza, and both are worth trying if you’re inclined, but pizza is the reason you’re here. The wings are done Buffalo-style, crispy, properly sauced — no reinvention, no aioli on the side. The subs are straightforward and adequate. Order them if you want. But the pizza is the thing.
Going on a weekend evening means a wait, especially for carry-out. This isn’t a complaint — it’s information. If you show up at 6:30 on a Friday expecting to be in and out in five minutes, you’ll be standing. Plan for it, or go earlier in the week. The staff moves efficiently and the wait times are communicated clearly enough.
What makes Mister Pizza worth driving to — or walking to, if you’re in the neighborhood — is exactly its refusal to be anything other than what it is. Buffalo has seen its share of restaurant reinventions, chef-driven concepts, and places trying to make their name on originality. There’s room for all of that. But there’s also room for a pizza shop that has simply been good at one thing for sixty years, in a part of the city that could use more institutions it can count on.
If you’ve never been, go on a weeknight, order a large pepperoni, and eat it in the car or at one of the booths. You’ll understand within two slices why the place is still standing.
