I was halfway through my third cared to me: First, this is a very good nugget, but not $100 good. Second, this is the kind of thing that spawns revolutions … and not the kind that end well for the ca
This year, the US Open achieved its true destiny, leveling up from mere tennis tournament to full-on influencer festival with tennis backdrop. Maybe it’s the photoshoots or Tiktok dance routines interrupting actual play, maybe it’s the long-shot prayer of finding reasonably priced tickets, or maybe it’s the brisk sale of three-figure fast food, but the US Open has taken American sports to a new level. Hope you’ve been saving up for that bucket-list experience.
As the crowds flowed into the Billie Jean King Tennis Center on Saturday for some of the final matches of the 2026 US Open, some sought out seats around one of the many tennis courts in the complex. Others headed straight for the merch stores to snag some prized gear. And many, so so many, went straight to one of the Grey Goose stands in search of the US Open’s most prized treasure: the beloved Honey Deuce.
A Honey Deuce — Grey Goose vodka, lemonade, raspberry liqueur and three honeydew melon balls, served over ice in a commemorative cup — is the most notable of the US Open’s many food and beverage options, but other, far more expensive offerings are coming for its crown.
So, with that in mind, I decided to embark on an expense-account-wrecking challenge: the $200 US Open lunch. Let’s just see how the 1 percent dines, shall we?
Honey Deuce ($23):Journalists aren’t supposed to drink on the job, so I’ll just say that a “good friend of mine” purchased this one and enjoyed it very much, though a significant portion of that enjoyment came from the fact the Honey Deuce was served over ice on a very warm day. Chilled gasoline with a honeydew melon garnish would’ve tasted pretty good on Saturday. And yes, my “friend” immediately sent a pic of the glass to his text chain. It’s the law at the US Open.
Salt Hank’s French Dip Sandwich ($38):This is the white-hot food offering at this year’s US Open, so much so that Salt Hank’s has been given the prestigious end slot among all the food stalls, the better to accommodate the wraparound lines. I was the third person in line at 10:50 a.m., and by the time Salt Hank’s started taking orders at 11, at least 40 people were already behind me. As for the sandwich — “dry-aged prime rib, provolone, caramelized onions, horseradish aioli, baguette” — it was a damn good sandwich. Seriously, one of the best I’ve ever had. And even so, it was overpriced by half. But I will dream of that sandwich in the years to come. Oh yes, I will.
US Open Souvenir Cup ($12.50): It’s a cup. A pretty cup, yes, but still — a cup. Good for backyard barbecues where you can casually mention, “Oh, I got this when I was up at the US Open. Maybe one day you can go, too.” (You will not be invited to backyard barbecues after this.)
The Golden Set at COQODAQ ($100, not a misprint):The nuggets are delicious, yes, light and golden-fried. But they’re not really the selling point here, nor is the crème fraîche, the diced chives or the pickled radish. No, you’re paying for the 30 grams — just over an ounce — of Tsar Imperial Daurenki cachicken nugget. A whole lot more than honey mustard does, anyway
Honeycomb Fudge Slam at Van Leeuwen ($10.75 & up):Ice cream dealers were early adopters of the mega-expensive snack treat trend, so they’re perfectly at ease charging you exorbitant rates for cones that would be three bucks at the beach. This US Open-only flavor is indeed delicious, though on top of French Dip, ca other beverages, it hit my gut like an Aryna Sabalenka serve. This is my fault, not the Honeycomb Fudge’s
Total cost: $184.25. For one person. For lunch. That’s … a lot.
This is all part of a trend that’s consuming the elite levels of American sports: The death of the cheap seat, and everything that goes with it. American sporting institutions have become extremely skilled at extracting the maximum possible revenue out of every single ticketholder. If a four-figure ticket price is a little too rich for your blood, well, step aside, friend, there’s someone who’ll happily pay.
You can’t really blame the US Open for fishing where the whales are. The sport has always enjoyed a refined, white-napkin, strawberries-and-cream veneer. Prestige comes with a cost; if everyone could afford it, what’s the point?
Thing is, as exorbitant as these prices are, there are people — lots of people — out there willing to pay them. A cashier at COQODAQ estimated they were selling 250 of the $100 Golden Sets each day, and just one of the dozens of Honey Deuce servers estimated they alone were pouring 1,500 of the pink-and-melon drinks a day.
Now, it’s worth noting that nobody in their right mind is purchasing chicken nuggets with caviar at a tennis tournament just because they’re hungry. (There are, indeed, plenty of lower-cost food offerings.) The entire reason to drop a Benjamin on nuggets is so that you can show other people you can, in fact, drop a Benjamin on nuggets. (It’s me, hi. I’m the problem.) Everyone here who’s taking a selfie holding up a Honey Deuce has to maneuver around the five other people who are also taking selfies with their Honey Deuces.
And that’s the entire issue here, that the US Open — like so many other high-level concerts and sporting events — has now become a social media laboratory, one whose value is not in experiencing, but in sharing the experience.
The same fate befell the Masters last year, when hype surrounding the legendary golf tournament’s merch, particularly the highly coveted limited-edition gnomes, boiled over. Influencers walked through the gates, waited in line at the merch building for well over an hour, bagged mid-four-figures’ worth of Masters-branded goods, then left to film their haul for adoring viewers — with absolutely zero interest in the golf that’s supposed to be the centerpiece of the event.
Rumors persist that Augusta National will stop selling the gnome next year in order to return some of the sanctity to the tournament. Augusta National, the only locale in America that enforces a mass cell phone ban, can get away with that. Nobody else can.
That, really, is the only answer to this madly spiraling inflation of sports costs — a willingness to forgo short-term cash grabs in favor of long-term goodwill. (And that’s assuming that the people with the power to set prices want to “answer” this at all.) Just for perspective’s sake: At the Masters, you can buy 66 pimento cheese sandwiches for the cost of one US Open Golden Set, or almost four beers for the cost of one Honey Deuce.
This economic pain tolerance is the new reality of sports fandom in America. If you’re willing to pay, the elite leagues, tournaments and races will happily take your money. And if you’re not, well, you can find chicken nuggets almost as good as the US Open ones at any decent drive-thru. Trust me on that.
