Ben & Jerry’s kills off their children. They do it often.
It sounds morbid, honestly, but when you’re in the business of shoved-to-the-brim pints with names like Dublin Mudslide or Bovinity Divinity, failure isn’t just an option. It is an absolute, mathematical certainty. Most food companies bury their flops in a shallow grave of forgotten spreadsheets and NDAs, hoping the public never remembers that one time they tried to make "healthy" chips that caused digestive distress. Not the Vermont duo. They built a literal cemetery for them.
The Ben and Jerry's Flavor Graveyard sits on a rolling hill behind their factory in Waterbury, Vermont. It’s got real granite headstones. It has poetic, rhyming epitaphs that are frankly a bit cheeky. It’s become a pilgrimage site for ice cream fanatics who want to pay their respects to Wavy Gravy or the dearly departed Oatmeal Cookie Chunk.
The Philosophy of Letting Go
Most brands are terrified of looking like they failed. They want to project this image of constant, unbroken success. Ben & Jerry’s took the opposite route. They realized that by celebrating the flavors that didn't make it, they were actually proving how daring they are with the ones that do.
The graveyard was established back in 1997. It wasn't some high-level corporate strategy meeting that birthed it; it was just a fun way to acknowledge that not everything works. Some flavors die because they were too expensive to make. Others die because, frankly, they tasted weird. Looking at you, Sugar Plum.
If you visit the site in Waterbury, you’ll see rows of markers. Each one tells a story of a dream that melted. Take "Rainforest Crunch," for example. It was a cashew and Brazil nut butter crunch that was supposed to help save the world by providing an economic incentive to keep the rainforest standing. It was a noble goal. It tasted great. But sometimes the supply chain or the public’s palate just shifts, and suddenly, you’re looking at a headstone.
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Why We Mourn Ice Cream
Humans are weirdly sentimental. We don't just eat food; we attach memories to it. Maybe you had your first breakup over a pint of Creme Brulee. Maybe you celebrated a promotion with Urban Bourbon. When a company "discontinues" a product, it feels like a tiny piece of your history is being deleted from the grocery store shelf.
By creating the Ben and Jerry's Flavor Graveyard, the company validates that feeling. It says, "Yeah, we loved it too, but it's gone now."
There is a psychological safety in knowing that a brand isn't trying to gaslight you into thinking a product never existed. They embrace the "Dearly De-Pinted." It turns a negative (product cancellation) into a positive (a quirky brand experience).
The Resurrection List
Every now and then, the graveyard isn't permanent. Fans are relentless. They write letters. They start petitions. They scream into the void of social media.
Because the graveyard exists, it creates a "vault" dynamic. If a flavor is "buried," there’s always the slim, tantalizing hope that it might be resurrected as a "Limited Batch" or a "Fan Favorite" return. We saw it with flavors like Dublin Mudslide, which came back after years of fans mourning its loss. It’s a brilliant feedback loop. They track which headstones get the most attention and which "Resurrect a Flavor" digital votes are piling up on their website.
The Hall of Infame: Notable Residents
You can't talk about the graveyard without mentioning the heavy hitters. These weren't all "bad" flavors; they just didn't have the legs for the long haul.
Holy Cannoli (1997-1998)
This one is a classic example of "it seemed like a good idea at the time." Creamy ricotta and pistachio ice cream with chocolate-covered cannoli pieces. People either loved it or were deeply confused by the texture. It lasted about a year before it got its granite marker.
Dastardly Mash (1979-1991)
This was one of the early legends. It had pecans, almonds, raisins, and chocolate chips. It's actually the only flavor to ever contain raisins. That might be why it's dead. Raisins in ice cream are a polarizing choice, to put it mildly.
What a Cluster (2011-2015)
This was peanut butter ice cream with caramel cluster pieces, marshmallow swirls, and peanut butter swirls. It was a sugar bomb. It was glorious. And yet, it couldn't survive the brutal competition of the freezer aisle.
The Business of Failure
Let’s be real for a second: the Ben and Jerry's Flavor Graveyard is a masterclass in business transparency.
It costs a lot of money to R&D a new flavor. You have to source the ingredients, design the packaging, buy the slotting fees at supermarkets, and run the ads. When a flavor fails, that’s a massive sunk cost. By turning that failure into a tourist destination—one that draws hundreds of thousands of people to Waterbury every year—they’ve effectively monetized their mistakes.
The gift shop at the factory is always packed. People buy t-shirts with dead flavors on them. They buy "Flavor Graveyard" postcards. It’s a secondary revenue stream born entirely from things that didn't sell well enough to stay in production. That is kind of incredible.
It's Not Just a Physical Place
While the Vermont site is the "official" home, the digital graveyard is where the real data lives. On the Ben & Jerry's website, they keep a digital version of the cemetery. It allows fans from around the world to virtually pay their respects.
This digital footprint serves as a massive, ongoing market research project. They can see exactly which discontinued flavors people are searching for. They can track the sentiment. If 50,000 people "visit" the digital grave of a specific flavor in a month, that’s a signal to the product development team that maybe, just maybe, it’s time for a comeback.
What This Teaches Us About Branding
If you’re a business owner or a creator, there’s a massive lesson here. Authenticity isn't just about showing your wins. It’s about being honest about the stuff that didn't work.
People trust Ben & Jerry’s because they’re willing to be "weird." They’re willing to take risks on flavors like "Phish Food" or "Everything But The..." knowing that some of them will end up in the dirt. When you see the graveyard, you realize that the reason the flavors you love are so good is because the company tried a hundred other things that weren't.
It’s about the process of elimination.
How to Visit and What to Expect
If you’re planning a trip to the Ben and Jerry's Flavor Graveyard, don't just show up and expect a quick photo op. It’s a whole vibe.
The cemetery is located on a hill. You have to walk a bit. It’s actually quite peaceful, which adds to the weird humor of reading a gravestone for "Peanut Butter and Jelly" ice cream.
- Go early. The factory tour gets packed, especially in the summer and during foliage season.
- Read the poems. The epitaphs are genuinely funny. They’re written by the brand's creative team and they don't take themselves seriously at all.
- Check the "Resurrection" bins. Sometimes the factory store will have small batches of flavors that are technically "retired" but being tested for a temporary return.
- Respect the granite. These are real headstones. It’s a kitschy site, but the craftsmanship is legit.
Taking the "Pint-sized" Lesson Home
You don't have to be a multi-million dollar ice cream company to use this logic. Whether you're a writer, a coder, or just someone trying to live a life, you're going to have "retired" versions of yourself. You’re going to have projects that failed.
Instead of hiding them, acknowledge them.
The Ben and Jerry's Flavor Graveyard works because it’s a physical manifestation of a "fail forward" mentality. It turns the sting of rejection into a celebration of creativity.
Next time your favorite flavor disappears, don't be too mad. Just know that it's probably getting a nice spot on a hill in Vermont, right next to the others that were just too beautiful—or too weird—for this world.
Actionable Insights for the Ice Cream Obsessed:
- Check the Graveyard Website: If you’re craving a lost flavor, go to the official Ben & Jerry’s "Flavor Graveyard" page and cast a vote for its return. They actually look at these numbers.
- Plan Your Visit: The Waterbury factory is at 1281 Waterbury-Stowe Rd, Waterbury, VT 05676. It’s open year-round, but the graveyard is best viewed when it’s not buried in three feet of snow.
- Look for "Limited Batches": Many "dead" flavors reappear in the Scoop Shops before they ever hit grocery store shelves again. If you’re near a physical Ben & Jerry’s shop, check their rotating taps for "vault" flavors.
- DIY Resurrections: If your favorite is gone, look up the "De-Pinted" ingredient lists. Most of the time, you can recreate a similar vibe by mixing existing flavors or adding your own mix-ins to a pint of Vanilla or Chocolate.