Sushi, subs, and un-splashy soda cans. Here are 10 things to love about Market Basket. - The Boston Globe (2024)

Market Basket is Massachusetts, and it’s part of my DNA, just like Marshalls, Bradlees (RIP), and Caldor (double RIP). I come from a long line of bargain-hunters, and I spent my formative years roaming its aisles. My nana read the weekly circular like it was Tolstoy, and it was here — at “Demoulases,” as my Lowellian grandparents (and all original shoppers) called it — that I learned to reach deep into the back for the freshest bread. How to crack a carton of eggs in half like a karate black-belt. How to politely but firmly point out if I’d been charged twice for nectarines.

I’ve composed countless shopping lists, but this one is the most important: This is why I’m grateful that Market Basket has endured.

1. The deli subs. No fuss. No frills. Artisanal bread, artistic condiments, and cave-aged cheeses have their place. But sometimes you just crave a hulking Italian sub drenched in oil for $4.99. Nobody does ‘em better or faster than Market Basket’s hot foods bar. Best of all, you interact with a human. No plugging your ingredients onto an inscrutable touch-screen. Instead, point at some provolone; move down the assembly line toward the tomatoes; and encourage the slathering of hots, all in real time. Your sandwich will be held up for approval like a baby. No judgment; no technology. Personal sandwich assemblage is a lost art, but not here.

2. Speaking of lost arts: Hospitality! Almost every MB staffer is cinematically wholesome. There are surly outliers, but for the most part, it’s like “Good Will Hunting” meets “It’s A Wonderful Life.” They wear suits and ties. They bag your groceries, put them in your cart, and might even wheel them out to your car. You half expect them to break into song.

3. Which brings me to my next point: that sweet, sultry soundtrack. Where else can Boz Scaggs compete for airtime with a smooth-jazz version of “Muskrat Love” — the melody interrupted only by a store manager announcing a special on Market Basket party-size potato chips?

4. All the better to pair with that dazzling array of store-brand sodas, which take up a good portion of one aisle. Behold a neon rainbow of carbonated temptation: grape, orange, cream soda, lemon-lime, root beer, Chelmsford ginger ale (if you know, you know), and the generically beguiling “cola.” The colors don’t occur in nature. The flavors might not, either. Market Basket doesn’t pretend to care. Nobody to impress here.

5. And yet, there are some concessions toward modern mores, such as sushi, which would have been unthinkable in my nana’s day. Now, Market Basket sells an assortment, and it’s delicious. Tons of varieties, supple and fresh, maxing out at $12.99. Pro tip: There’s generally a display case near the hot foods bar and also at the fish counter. And nobody will think twice if you rip open your package and start eating while still in line. This is due to …

6. The camaraderie. Market Basket is the great equalizer. It is its own country, where everyone is treated the same beneath the fluorescent light. Push to the right. Linger to the left. Can’t reach the Wheat Thins? Someone will. It is the Filene’s Basem*nt of grocery stores, where everyone is united by two common purposes: ritual, and a bargain.

7. Take, for example, the cheapo birthday cakes. Sure, you can splurge on a train set made from chocolate fondant with Snickerdoodle wheels or life-size Minions cupcakes crafted by a TikTok tot-party influencer — or, c’mon: You could zip into Market Basket’s bakery the day before your (clearly not firstborn) child’s birthday party to plead for a yellow Mario cake with chocolate frosting. And it will be reasonably priced, ready on time, and delicious.

8. The shameless niche mix of highbrow and lowbrow. The sheer variety at Market Basket is impressive. I can find ketchup of every vintage, hot sauces from around the world, and seasonings both standard and niche, arranged right beside Tostitos nacho cheese dip and a squeeze bottle of Chick-fil-A sauce.

9. The deep inventory at the toiletries aisle. Sometimes, when I’m running late, I’ll dip into my local gourmet grocer for milk. Then, I’ll remember: Damn, I really need some nail polish remover, too. But instead I’m confronted with organic face towelettes, body scrub gleaned from pruned honey, and sandalwood essence incense. At Market Basket, I can grab my groceries — and take my pick of deodorants, bobby pins, nail polish products, and even my favorite root rescue touch-up.

10. The everlasting motto: “more for your dollar.” It’s something my nana would’ve said with pride (and, of course, with an accent). Pity the poor fools who overspend on coffee or produce. Even now, I feel a twinge of shame when I duck into a different (and pricier) grocery store. I can hear my mom or nana now: “You must be very rich.” I’m not, but I could probably shop at other places.

And yet I won’t.

My non-local husband doesn’t get it: It’s crowded, it’s overwhelming, it isn’t always easy on the eyes. That’s fair. Market Basket won’t try to charm you with pyramids of bone broth or cheddar samples. But they don’t need to. It’s Massachusetts in supermarket form: resilient, thrifty, tough, enduring. And, for so many of us, it’s just home.

Kara Baskin can be reached at kara.baskin@globe.com. Follow her @kcbaskin.