Hours
| Friday | 5–10 PM |
| Saturday | 5–10 PM |
| Sunday | 5–9 PM |
| Monday | Closed |
| Tuesday | Closed |
| Wednesday | 5–9 PM |
| Thursday | 5–9 PM |
Address and Contact Information
Address: 506 Coshocton Ave, Mt Vernon, OH 43050
Phone: (740) 392-2031
Website: https://www.dinerdashers.com/r/121/restaurants/delivery/Pizza/Rons-Pizza-Mount-Vernon
Menu Photos
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Ron’s Pizza – Mount Vernon | Delivery Menu – DinerDashers.com
Ron’s Pizza is a restaurant featuring online Pizza food ordering to Mount Vernon, OH. Browse Menus, click your items, and order your meal.
Ron’s Pizza of Mount Vernon, Ohio – Facebook
Ron’s Pizza has been serving up pizza for 50 years in Mt. Vernon, Ohio. Ask any local and they’ll … See more. Pizza place · $$.
Updated menu with new prices! – Facebook
Oh boy !! 1y. Recent Posts. Ron’s Pizza of Mount Vernon, Ohio. Feb 14 . . The sub prep table is up and running again! We are back …
Reviews
Olivia Thompson
We are new to the area and LOVED Ron’s. Best pizza we have had here so far. It’s an hour wait on the weekends, so order earlier. But I promise it is well worth the wait. So good.
… moreRoy Grindstaff
Ron’s has been a great pizza for over 50 years.
The only reason atmosphere is lower is Ron’s is set up as a carry out buisness.
… moreThe only reason atmosphere is lower is Ron’s is set up as a carry out buisness.
Roger Murphy
BEST pizza anywhere i been getting pizza here for 40 plus year’s we have to drive 45 minutes to get it now but we do it 2 or 3 time’s a month
… moreRobert Hobbs
Rons Pizza is hands down THE BEST Pizza in Mount Vernon and tied for #1 for the entire county, for me.
Always fast, always tasty, great service and genuine great ownership and family ran business.
Nothing but fantastic things to say about Ron’s!
I really wish they delivered, but, its so good I don’t even care.
… moreAlways fast, always tasty, great service and genuine great ownership and family ran business.
Nothing but fantastic things to say about Ron’s!
I really wish they delivered, but, its so good I don’t even care.
Adam W Nelson
What a great little mom and pop pizza shop. Positive pizza was great customer service may have been even better. there’s no place to sit inside so take note to that it is a take-home or to a park kind of place.
… moreChad Allen
My wife and I moved into the area back in March. Like any other out of shape trucker, I had to find my favorite pizza place in our new town. If it was on google for the area, we tried it. There are a couple good places in town but hands down, Ron’s takes the award for the best in town. The crust has a perfect crisp, flavors are a party in your mouth, more than generous topping, great value, from the owners to the staff, everyone is friendly and you can grab some whits for dessert (we always do)!
The reviews aren’t lying with the highest score in town. Highly recommend!
… moreThe reviews aren’t lying with the highest score in town. Highly recommend!
Danny Potes
My “Go to” pizza is the Hawaiian with extra cheese and extra sauce. RON’S always builds a phenomenal pizza! The Rhina sub is legendary as well!!!
… moreLori Lynch
We were in town for a wedding but wanted pizza. I was so glad we chose this place for food it was delicious.
… moreJoseph Deaton
Not bad but for dbl cheese hardly any cheese and they gotta use breakfast sausage common gotta use Italian sausage not breakfast sauce was decent ordered bacon I didn’t really see any bacon offered 2 coworkers the pizza to try Def will never return to this place
… moreDan (Harris)
Ron’s Pizza: A Tragic Tale of Dough and Despair
I stepped into Ron’s Pizza on a cold, drizzling evening, the kind where the streetlights flicker like dying embers and the air tastes of forgotten dreams. The neon sign buzzed overhead, its red glow reflecting in the puddles like the blood of lost hope. I hadn’t eaten all day. Not because I couldn’t, but because I wasn’t sure if I deserved to.
The door creaked as I entered, a sad groan that mirrored the weight in my chest. The cashier, a hollow-eyed man with the expression of someone who has seen too much yet never enough, barely acknowledged me. I ordered a large pepperoni, a meal meant to fill the void, though I knew it never could.
I sat alone, staring at the cheap plastic table, tracing the scratches left by those who had come before me—ghosts of past customers, each mark a testament to their own silent battles. The air smelled of melted cheese and mild disappointment. A child cried in the corner. His mother stared blankly ahead, chewing without passion.
When my pizza arrived, I felt nothing. It was warm, sure. The crust had a decent crunch, the cheese stretched in obedient strings, the pepperoni curled like a sneer. But with every bite, I tasted something more—regret, lost time, the crushing realization that no matter how much I consumed, I would never truly be full.
A man walked past the window outside, his face gaunt, his coat tattered. He peered in for a moment, eyes empty, then shuffled away. I wanted to call out, to tell him it wasn’t worth it, that nothing in here could save him. But I remained silent, just like everyone else.
I finished my meal, paid my bill, and stepped back into the cold night. The neon light flickered one last time as I walked away, disappearing into the dark.
Five stars. Good pizza
… moreI stepped into Ron’s Pizza on a cold, drizzling evening, the kind where the streetlights flicker like dying embers and the air tastes of forgotten dreams. The neon sign buzzed overhead, its red glow reflecting in the puddles like the blood of lost hope. I hadn’t eaten all day. Not because I couldn’t, but because I wasn’t sure if I deserved to.
The door creaked as I entered, a sad groan that mirrored the weight in my chest. The cashier, a hollow-eyed man with the expression of someone who has seen too much yet never enough, barely acknowledged me. I ordered a large pepperoni, a meal meant to fill the void, though I knew it never could.
I sat alone, staring at the cheap plastic table, tracing the scratches left by those who had come before me—ghosts of past customers, each mark a testament to their own silent battles. The air smelled of melted cheese and mild disappointment. A child cried in the corner. His mother stared blankly ahead, chewing without passion.
When my pizza arrived, I felt nothing. It was warm, sure. The crust had a decent crunch, the cheese stretched in obedient strings, the pepperoni curled like a sneer. But with every bite, I tasted something more—regret, lost time, the crushing realization that no matter how much I consumed, I would never truly be full.
A man walked past the window outside, his face gaunt, his coat tattered. He peered in for a moment, eyes empty, then shuffled away. I wanted to call out, to tell him it wasn’t worth it, that nothing in here could save him. But I remained silent, just like everyone else.
I finished my meal, paid my bill, and stepped back into the cold night. The neon light flickered one last time as I walked away, disappearing into the dark.
Five stars. Good pizza