In an age of delivery apps and convenience, hotels shouldn’t overlook the minibar
The hotel minibar is dead. And even if it is not lost forever, that little fridge has not been metaphorically plugged in for some time and the nuts could do with a rearrange. I say this as someone who travels often, stays in good hotels and possesses only a modest amount of willpower when it comes to snacks. I should, in theory, be the minibar’s core demographic. And yet, like the long-neglected hotel trouser press, the minibar has become something that I acknowledge only in passing, often before swiftly ignoring. It shouldn’t be this way.
There was a time when the minibar mattered. Not because it was cheap or abundant but because it felt intentional. It was an extension of warmth and hospitality. A late-night glass of something civilised, a chocolate chosen with care, a small indulgence that said, “We thought about you, even after room service closed.” There are some exceptions, of course, (think Rosewood or Château Voltaire), which boast a bountiful, mini-mall of offerings. But there’s no middle ground. The solid and competent type has evaporated – it’s now all or nothing.
It became particularly obvious on recent trips to Doha, Riyadh and back home in the UAE. In city hotels across the Gulf, the minibar now feels less of a temptation and more like a museum display, a relic from a time when convenience had limits and when a lukewarm can of cola at AED35 (€8) was a necessary indulgence rather than a mild insult.
The problem isn’t just price, though that certainly doesn’t help; rather, it’s relevance. In the UAE especially, the minibar is no longer competing with the bar downstairs or the shop across the road. It’s competing with your phone. And your phone, frankly, wins every time. With a few taps, I can have a cold soft drink, a bag of pistachios, a decent hot meal and, if the night has taken a turn, electrolyte sachets delivered to my hotel room in 15 minutes. Nowadays, the UAE is built for such convenience. Not only is it faster than rummaging through the minibar price list but it’s also cheaper, fresher and gives you far more choice than the familiar trio of cashews, peanuts and something masquerading as premium.
But this raises an uncomfortable question for hotels: should this be allowed? When a guest has to rely on a delivery rider to meet basic needs, does it not signal a failure of hospitality? By outsourcing feeding, hydrating and comforting guests to apps, hotels aren’t just losing revenue – they’re also surrendering a chance to connect. Convenience might be king but hospitality is supposed to be about care.
In this context, the minibar’s traditional selling point – immediacy – collapses entirely. Why would I pay a small fortune for a miniature bottle of something that I didn’t ask for, when the city outside my window can deliver almost anything I want at speed?
Around the world, the story isn’t much different. In London, New York, Singapore or Tokyo, the minibar has been quietly sidelined by 24-hour convenience shops, room-service apps and hotels that now stock communal pantries instead. Some have removed minibars entirely, citing sustainability concerns or guest preferences. Others keep them but padlock the fridge with such moral force that you half-expect whatever is inside to come with a warning label.
That said, I’m not immune to the small, borderline illicit pleasures of a hotel stay. I will still, without shame, pocket a particularly good soap or conditioner. I have also developed a wandering eye for a well-made laundry bag, ostensibly for delicates but in reality, it could be repurposed as an excellent shoe bag for the flight home. These things feel personal, considered and generous. And they don’t ask you to do mental arithmetic before enjoying them.
This is where hotels can raise the minibar. Not by competing on convenience – it will lose – but by vying for meaning. A minibar that tells you something about where you are: local snacks, fresh fruit, a drink from a nearby producer, replenished properly and priced with some humility. Fewer items, chosen better. The minibar doesn’t need to be bigger or faster. It just needs to feel like a gift again.
Inzamam Rashid is Monocle’s Gulf correspondent. Discover Dubai beyond the hotel minibar with our hot-off-the-press City Guide.
