A bacon, egg and cheese sandwich is a classic New York City dish, served fast and nearly everywhere. At a bodega in the East Flatbush neighborhood of Brooklyn, the price of the breakfast staple (on a roll) recently rose to $5, up from $4.50. It was the first increase since 2019.
Freddy and Yovanna Melo, the husband-and-wife owners of the bodega, El Vacilon Grocery, decided to raise the price after the cost of eggs soared during the first months of 2025. They used to pay between $2 and $3 for a dozen eggs but watched the price shoot up over $8. (A recent order cost about $3.96 per dozen.)
The sandwich is prepared with three slices of bacon, an egg and a slice of cheese, typically gooey American cheese. A 25-pound order of bacon costs nearly $100, while a five-pound block of cheese is $27.80. One hundred pieces of bread and rolls are delivered daily for $45.
The couple employs three workers, who make $16.90 an hour. Payroll is about 50 percent of overhead. The Melos own their building and pay a monthly mortgage of $4,900, as well as electricity bills ($3,000 during the summer). Property taxes are paid quarterly and amount to $4,088.
During the pandemic, the costs of all sorts of items sold in the bodega climbed and have remained elevated. Cold medicine doubled, for instance. The couple watch their costs very closely and aim for a profit margin of 30 to 40 percent per item, so they have had to raise prices across the board.
The Melos said they could not continue to operate their bodega had they not bought the building decades ago. The store’s revenue has declined over 25 years to about $2,000 per day on average, down from $3,000. But they also collect about $6,200 per month in rent from four apartments above the store.
A bacon, egg and cheese is a no-frills sandwich, cut in half and wrapped in wax paper and foil. It is ubiquitous, like bagels, pizza and pastrami on rye. But unlike those New York City staples, no single establishment crowns itself king of the bacon, egg and cheese. Ask any New Yorker where to get one and they are likely to tell you to just go to the nearest bodega.
At El Vacilon, the cook, Solano De Los Santos, fires up the flattop grill not long after the sun comes up, and soon neighborhood regulars, from schoolchildren to hospital workers, roll in. On a busy day, Mr. De Los Santos will make up to 60 bacon, egg and cheeses before lunch.
“They say it’s the sandwich of New York,” said Mr. De Los Santos, 35, the store’s cook for the past nine years.
The Melos handle the orders at the front of the store and holler them to Mr. De Los Santos. When it is a bacon, egg and cheese, the couple relays it to him with shorthand they devised: bandera, or “flag” in Spanish, because the sandwich represents the city and bodega culture.
There are roughly 15,000 bodegas in New York City, according to United Bodegas of America, an association of store owners. Most are just a few hundred square feet, often on a street corner, and serve as both a convenience store and a deli, serving other local classics like the chopped cheese.
It is a challenging business, even more so today.
Because of their cramped size and limited storage, bodegas cannot buy in bulk at a discount like bigger grocery stores can. El Vacilon caters to customers who want items in a hurry — like beer, the store’s top seller, but also canned food, cleaning supplies and snacks. Every so often, a customer asks the Melos why they charge more than the supermarket across the street.
A gallon of milk costs $5.50 at El Vacilon, for instance, while it may be a dollar less at the grocery store, Ms. Melo said.
“Supermarkets are buying by the pallets,” she said. “It’s a small business, and some people don’t understand that.”
El Vacilon is in the middle of a block near Linden Boulevard on Church Avenue, the bustling thoroughfare that cuts through the sprawling and diverse Flatbush neighborhood. The location has been a grocery store since at least the 1940s.
A relative of Mr. Melo’s previously owned El Vacilon and hired him in 1981, shortly after he immigrated from the Dominican Republic, where he had also worked in a bodega. In 1985, Mr. Melo bought El Vacilon, which means “good times” in Spanish, and the building.
Some years later, Mr. Melo, 66, was joined at the store by his wife, who also immigrated from the Dominican Republic. “He always said it’s something you carry in your blood,” said Ms. Melo, 45, referring to her husband. “It’s inspiring to be bodegueros.”
Since the Melos took over, they have faced increased competition, including from the supermarket, which opened in the 1980s, and a nearby BJ’s Wholesale Club, which opened about 15 years ago. There are also new fruit stands and other bodegas.
The couple said that operating the bodega used to be less stressful and more fun. They got to know their customers, some of whom would call every morning to order food for pickup. Those orders have largely stopped.
While they confront rising expenses at the bodega, the Melos said they have noticed that their customers are also struggling with a higher cost of living, leading some to move out of the state.
“For us bodegueros, what we are doing is surviving,” Ms. Melo said.
Wesley Parnell contributed reporting. Produced by Eden Weingart
Matthew Haag writes for The Times about the intersection of real estate and politics in the New York region. He has been a journalist for two decades.
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