So Long, Salad Bar

The salad bar at our co-op has been here longer than most of us, first appearing in the old store across the parking lot as a modest island in front of Henry Tewksbury’s cheese counter. Then when we moved into the building we occupy now it came too, transformed into a behemoth all the way at the end of the Deli line. As part of our big refrigeration project, it’s being taken away at some point mid-summer. (Due to the nature of the project, a more accurate timeline is impossible to predict…I respect the wisdom of those who refuse to put a more precise date on it.)

I myself was a frequent salad bar customer even before I was an employee. My friends and I would come in and fill those giant plastic bowls (the ones molded to suggest enormous, transparent lettuce leaves) with mountains of greens, vegetables, tofu, cheese, and too much of the garlicky sesame tamari dressing. When I started working here in 2012 a big part of my job was to keep the salad bar stocked and beautiful. In the new store (our current location), that job still fell to me, hauling a huge cart laden with fresh vegetables and tongs up and down the elevator to and from our then-brand-new second floor kitchen. I was also producing the grab-and-go recipes and packing them by hand. It was, in fact, nearly impossible for me to manage it all, traversing all that square footage and keeping up with the demand for sesame noodles, tempeh salad, and all the other myriad options on the newly expanded grab-and-go wall. That was probably the hardest job I ever had. I was, admittedly, terrible at it.

And yet, the salad bar carried on, along with our affection for it, even as most of us stopped using it.

This is the hard truth that underlies most difficult institutional decisions: the things we love and the things we choose to use are not always the same. Our point-of-sale data for the twelve months ending April 21, 2026 tells the story. Deli sales exceeded three million dollars in that time frame, of which the salad bar accounted for a mere 2.1%. Sushi, by comparison, represents 10%. Pizza, 5.56%. Grab-and-go, 21% (wow). When we set those numbers against the square footage each station occupies — the resources consumed, the labor required, the food waste inherent in a self-serve bar where freshness is everything — the picture becomes difficult to argue with.

The Brattleboro Food Co-op is a cooperative, which means it belongs to all of us, and that ownership is not merely sentimental or nostalgic. It requires that we, the leaders of this cooperatively-owned business, take action in the genuine interest of our shareholders and staff, even when it is uncomfortable and sad.

But there is a great, big, sparkling stainless-steel silver lining: the space freed by this change will allow us to honor the success of our pizza, hot food, and sushi stations with more room. We will expand the grab-and-go case that has, in the data and in practice, become the way most of us actually choose to eat. Many more delicious, prepacked fresh salad options will be available. The refrigeration project is, at bottom, about improving our carbon footprint (it was spearheaded by our Sustainability Coordinator). It is also about the sustainability of our business — about building a Deli line that works for the store we are now rather than a memory of who we used to be.

The salad bar will be missed; that is simply true. But there is something deeply peaceful in knowing when to let go, and in trusting that what we are currently creating will someday earn its own place in our hearts.

The Salad Bar will remain in place, beautiful and fresh as always, until some point mid-summer. Come use it while you can. We’ll keep you posted.

By Ruth G, Marketing & Community Relations Manager at the BFC