Food Halls Have Lost Their Edge
I’m over food halls. Once, they were my go-to for an exciting meal, a bustling hub where emerging chefs and restaurateurs tested bold ideas, and where every bite came with a story. But now? They’ve become over-commercialized, soulless, and frankly, not worth the hassle.
I used to love diving into a food hall with excitement to try a few different things. Over the years, I’ve slowly noticed corporate brands creeping in; now, it’s a sad state of affairs.
At their best, food halls were incubators. They provided affordable spaces for chefs with big dreams but modest budgets to experiment. They were spaces where chefs could experiment with bold ideas and see if people liked them. They weren’t just places to eat; they were places to discover. That sushi burrito, oxtail grilled cheese, or Nashville hot chicken slider you loved? It probably started as a food hall concept.
A London food hall or canteen. Photo by: Diana O’Gilvie
But now, the creative spark seems dimmed. Big brands have noticed the food hall trend, and instead of letting indie chefs shine, they’re moving in with downsized concepts. It’s a chain restaurant’s idea of being cool, same logo, smaller menu. It feels like fast food with better lighting and $20 price tags. No thanks.
I get the appeal of food halls for city planners. They repurpose iconic spaces like train stations, warehouses, and historic buildings, injecting life into forgotten corners of a city. And sure, they’re visually stunning. Who doesn’t love dining under exposed beams in a revamped industrial building? But the charm fades quickly when you realize the vibe is more a corporate Instagram playground than a culturally food-curious space. Food halls have become polished, bougie, and, dare I say, antiseptic. They’re too clean, too curated, too… obvious.
Grand Central Market food hall in Los Angeles. Photo by: Diana O’Gilvie
Let’s talk logistics. Dining with friends at a food hall sounds fun until you’re all splitting up to wait in separate lines for tacos, pho, pizza, and whatever else your group is craving. Then, someone has to brave another line for drinks. By the time you’ve secured a table, if you can even find one, you’re exhausted, hangry, and wondering why you didn’t just go to a sit-down restaurant.
Food halls used to be about discovery and spontaneity. You’d stumble upon a hidden gem-a grandmother rolling dumplings by hand, a chef whipping up dishes inspired by their travels, a dessert you never knew you needed.
Pernil simmering in spices. Photo by: Diana O’Gilvie
Now, they feel like a sanitized version of that. The focus seems to be on looking good for Instagram rather than delivering a unique experience. It’s ironic, I know, complaining about something being too Instagrammable while typing these words for the internet. But the point stands, food halls have lost their edge.