I tried Red Lobster's Endless Shrimp, which once contributed to the chain's bankruptcy. It's still an unbeatable deal. [Business Insider]
By Ahmed Abed
I have a complicated relationship with all-you-can-eat seafood. It usually ends with a regretful nap. So when I heard that Red Lobster’s “Ultimate Endless Shrimp” promotion—the very deal widely blamed for the chain’s bankruptcy filing in 2024—was back, I felt a mix of journalistic duty and gastrointestinal dread.
Let’s be clear: the numbers were brutal. Red Lobster hemorrhaged over $11 million in losses directly tied to the $20 all-you-can-eat shrimp deal in 2023. Customers, myself included, treated the menu like a personal shrimp farm. The chain ultimately filed for Chapter 11, citing “operational challenges” (translation: we couldn’t afford the shrimp anymore). But after a financial restructuring and new leadership, the deal is back—and at $25 now, it’s still the most dangerous bargain in casual dining.
The Shrimp Gauntlet
I walked into the Red Lobster in Times Square on a rainy Tuesday at 3:30 PM, hoping to avoid the worst of the rush. The hostess, a woman named Maria who had worked there for 13 years, recognized my press badge. “You’re here for the shrimp, huh?” she said, half-smiling. “I’ve seen people eat 60 of these before noon.”
The deal is simple: you pick a starting style (hand-breaded, coconut, garlic scampi, or the new Nashville hot), and then you order rounds of four different preparations until you give up or the kitchen closes. The kicker? You have to order at least one more style per round. It’s a psychological game. They know you’ll eventually hit a wall of fried batter and butter.
The Good, the Bad, the Greasy
Hand-breaded: The gold standard. These are crispy, salty, and surprisingly thick. They taste like a fairground funnel cake had a baby with a shrimp. I ate eight in the first round.
Garlic scampi: The classic. It’s less about shrimp quality and more about the butter pool you’ll soon be swimming in. The garlic is potent enough to ward off vampires—or any co-worker who sits within 10 feet of you the next day.
Coconut shrimp: A sweet, tropical betrayal. The batter is light and the sauce is a tangy piña colada vibe, but after three orders of these, you start feeling like a dessert course. I had to pause.
Nashville hot: The new kid. Spicy, but not melt-your-face-off spicy. It’s more of a slow burn, like a conversation you wish you hadn’t started. I liked it, but only because I had the buttered scampi nearby to douse the fire.
The sides are an afterthought: a limp coleslaw that tastes like it was prepped in 2022, and fries that are fine but not why you’re here. The cheddar bay biscuits, however, remain the unsung heroes. They’re free, warm, and perfectly garlicky. I ate six. No regrets.
Is It Still a Good Deal?
Yes. Unquestionably. At $25, you’re paying for the privilege of eating as many shrimp as you can physically tolerate. A single order of shrimp scampi at a decent seafood restaurant costs $18–$22. If you eat two rounds—which is basically an appetizer and an entrée—you’ve already won. The average person, according to Red Lobster’s data, eats about 30 shrimp. That’s roughly 1.5 pounds. At grocery store prices, that’s $18 in raw shrimp alone. With cooking, butter, and the ambiance of a dimly lit restaurant where someone is always ordering a “Lobsterita,” it’s a steal.
The catch? It’s a trap. You’ll leave feeling like a human shrimp balloon. The key is pacing. I watched a man in a Hawaiian shirt demolish 45 shrimp in 22 minutes and then lean back with a look of pure, empty triumph. That’s the spirit. But I also saw a couple who ordered two rounds of the hand-breaded, then switched to the scampi, and then quietly paid and left. Smart.
The Verdict: Better Than Bankruptcy
Red Lobster needed this deal to work again, but they also needed to learn from the past. The new version caps the number of refills to two per style per round, which prevents the “I’ll take 12 coconut shrimp, please” chaos that destroyed their supply chain. The servers are also more aggressive about offering the “limited time” dipping sauces—like the roasted garlic butter and the sriracha mayo—which pad the experience without costing the kitchen much.
Would I go again? Yes, but with a game plan. Go hungry. Skip the fries. Drink water. And for the love of all that is holy, do not order the dessert. The brownie is fine, but you will not have room.
This is not fine dining. It’s a spectacle. You are paying for a memory of eating 30 shrimp in a booth under fluorescent lights while a server named Tyler asks if you want another round of the Nashville hot. And it’s still the best $25 you’ll spend on a Tuesday afternoon.
Just don’t blame me when you text your friends, “I did the shrimp thing,” and they know exactly what you mean.
Ahmed Abed – News journalist