Fry's on Thanksgiving: Open or Closed?

Grocery shopping on Thanksgiving. The phrase itself feels like a planning failure, doesn't it? But let’s be honest, someone always forgets something. The real question is: which stores are actually open, and are they worth the hassle?

The Great Thanksgiving Retail Roll Call

The data is, as always, a mixed bag. We're seeing a clear divide: some chains are embracing the holiday closure, while others are banking on those last-minute dashes for forgotten ingredients. Aldi, Costco, Target, Trader Joe’s, and Walmart are all closed. That's a significant chunk of the market (particularly Walmart, given its sheer scale). But before you panic, let's look at who is open.

Kroger, or rather, the Kroger family (Baker’s, City Market, Dillons, etc.) is open, but with reduced hours. The data suggests a 4 p.m. closure across the board, but each location varies, so you’re advised to call ahead. Then you have Food Lion, open until 3 p.m., except for those rogue Virginia locations clinging on until 4 p.m. (Roanoke, Lynchburg, Blacksburg, and Charlottesville to be exact). Meijer is plugging away from 6 a.m. to 5 p.m. And then there's the wild card: Dollar General, theoretically open 8 a.m. to 10 p.m., but with a huge asterisk stating "hours vary by location." For a comprehensive list of stores and their Thanksgiving hours, you can check "List of Grocery Stores Open on Thanksgiving Day 2025."

What’s interesting here is the lack of standardization. Why the location-specific hours? Is it a reflection of local ordinances, staffing challenges, or simply a gamble on regional demand? Details on why these decisions are made remain scarce, but the inconsistencies are glaring.

The Whole Foods Anomaly

Then there's Whole Foods. Open, but only from 7 a.m. to 1 p.m. (and closed entirely in Massachusetts, Maine, and Rhode Island). They even extended hours on November 25th and 26th until 10 p.m., which, I'll admit, is a smart move to capture the pre-Thanksgiving rush.

And this is the part of the report that I find genuinely puzzling. The Whole Foods website states, “Many of our stores are open for modified hours on Thanksgiving… Check your local store page for details.” “Many” is doing a lot of work there. What percentage are we talking about? 60%? 80%? Less than half? The vagueness is, frankly, annoying. It’s a classic case of corporate speak designed to sound helpful without committing to anything concrete.

Wegmans is another interesting case. Most locations close at 4 p.m., but again, the caveat: "verify with your local store’s hours." It's a pattern. The chains seem to be pushing the responsibility for confirming hours onto the consumer. Is this a strategy to avoid negative PR if a store unexpectedly closes? Or is it simply a reflection of the logistical nightmare of managing holiday hours across a vast network of stores? It's hard to say, but the lack of clear, centralized information is a recurring theme.

The Cookie Conundrum (and Why It Matters)

Here’s a detour that's more relevant than you might think. One of the provided source articles is actually a cookie notice from NBCUniversal. Why is this included in a list of Thanksgiving grocery store hours? It's a data anomaly, an outlier. It shouldn't be there. But its presence raises a valid question: how reliable is the data we're getting? If a seemingly straightforward list of store hours is mixed up with a cookie policy, what other inaccuracies might be lurking beneath the surface?

It highlights a critical point: the quality of the data matters as much as the quantity. We can have all the lists in the world, but if the information is poorly curated, outdated, or simply wrong, it's worse than useless. It's actively misleading.

So, What's the Real Story?

Ultimately, this Thanksgiving grocery store situation boils down to a simple equation: reduced hours + inconsistent information = a potentially stressful experience. The stores that are open are operating on limited schedules, and the onus is on the consumer to verify those hours. The data is messy, the communication is vague, and the whole thing feels like a recipe for Thanksgiving-day frustration. Plan ahead. Double-check. And maybe, just maybe, you can avoid that last-minute cranberry sauce crisis altogether.