Forget Salad Restaurants: My Love Remains With the Old-Time Salad Bar

I love you Sweetgreen, but it’s complicated.

For many millennials, we can’t help but watch as our past experiences become memes, our offline moments collaged and clipped into things “only true ‘90s kids will remember.” Nostalgia reigns heavy these days in fashion, music, and the never-ending loop of film and TV remakes. Aside from the errant colored ketchup or Viennetta reference, the food of our youth has largely escaped its cycle of regurgitation in the reminiscence machine.

And in many ways that makes sense. I’m not dying to relive the low-fat SnackWells craze or the cereal-for-two-meals diet advice that popped up in between episodes of Sabrina to remind me that eating is bad. But one can get caught up in a wave of emotion when thinking about the restaurants of one’s childhood. Don’t you miss the ball pits and terrifying Ronald McDonald statues? The animatronic thrills of a Rainforest Café?

What about the ice-cold delights of the salad bar?

Today you can’t turn a corner in a city without encountering a packed, beautifully branded salad place. Some prefer to build their own leafy lunches at the grocery store hot or cold bar (which have seen a post-lockdown resurgence). As a category, salad spots saw substantial growth in 2023. Salad itself hasn’t gone anywhere. But where has the once ubiquitous family chain restaurant salad bar gone?

"But what did we lose when we lost the commonplace salad bar? The grazing station for the everyman? "

The halcyon days of being able to build a bacon-bit-topped, iceberg lettuce salad (kale was largely decorative at that point) while other folks in your party ate pizza or wings or whatever large-scale quesadilla was available have largely faded. Wendy’s Superbar wandered into the great beyond in 2006, and Pizza Hut’s famous salad bar has all but disappeared from U.S. restaurants. Beloved Chicago restaurant R.J. Grunt’s, famous for its salad bar (and if you grew up in my house, its Black Cow floats) transformed from an IRL grazing station to a digital one.

Some outliers remain. Sizzler kept its salad bar front and center in its most recent redesign. Ruby Tuesday still has its Endless Garden Bar in play, even offering a “create your own” option for catering customers. If you’re really lucky you may spot a salad bar the next time you’re at a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese. But what did we lose when we lost the commonplace salad bar? The grazing station for the everyman?

And, please, do not misunderstand me.  The current offerings have merit. I love Sweetgreen, and I’ll order a big salad (or at least split one with you before we get our own plates of pasta) at dinner. But with the salad bar of my youth, one could have everything: Total customization! Multiple courses! Just a big plate of croutons! And you got to experience it all while still participating in the traditional sit-down-dinner experience. Who wouldn’t like to eat a meal that’s exactly what they want, how they want it, surrounded by their friends and family? Fast casual salad is great but sometimes you want your greens with a side of bantering with your server.

Consumers still clearly want salads. They often want them made for them and ordered on an app. But sometimes, you want to sit down and share an appetizer, order your dessert, and a big salad made to your specifications wedged in the middle. You want the freedom only a pair of tongs, a variety of toppings, and your own imagination can offer. There’s something so soothing about the ability to get exactly what you want at an affordable price. But maybe that’s just something only ‘90s kids will understand.

Read the original article on All Recipes.