canyonwalker: Cheers! (wine tasting)
[personal profile] canyonwalker
A few days ago I wrote about our resolution to try new restaurants. We actually made that resolution a few months ago. And even that wasn't the first time we've made such a resolution. Like widely unkept New Year resolutions to visit the gym twice a week it was made with good intentions but poor follow-through. A few of the failed starts for our try-new-restaurants resolution were understandable because Covid. Now that we're sort of past that* it's time it's time to stop make excuses.

The first new* restaurant I'll write about is Gumba's, an Italian restaurant right here in Sunnyvale, a fixture on Murphy Street downtown for... I don't know how many years. It seemed to be a local fixture already when I visited it on my first trip to Sunnyvale, a few months before moving here, in 1996.

That's right, Gumba's is not literally new to us. We've eaten there before. That's why I put a star next to "new" in the previous paragraph. But that's totally fair to our resolution. When I write "We're going to visit new restaurants" that's a short-hand for our actual resolution, which was "We're going to visit restaurants that are new to us or that we visited so long ago they might as well be new to us."

How might-as-well-be-new to us is Gumba's? I ate there several times in the late 1990s. I don't think I've eaten there since the early 00s, though— about 20 years now. Maybe we ate there last around 2005-2006? Either way, it's been a while.

So. We went again. We ate. How was it?

My first impression of Gumba's on our recent visit was "broken down and over the hill".

Gumba's Then & Now

Gumba's has always been a cramped restaurant on a historic street with old buildings. Years ago is was almost always a bustling restaurant. Whether you sat in the tiny main dining room, the slightly larger back dining room, or the al fresco tables on the sidewalk, it was crowded.

When a restaurant is bustling it's like the field of view narrows around you. The full tables halfway across the room blur into the background as you focus on what's in front of you: good food and good friends. Good times. That's how I remember Gumba's from 20+ years ago.

On the night we visited there were maybe 5 tables in play at the whole restaurant. The sparsity revealed how the Gumba's is only a dusty shell of its former self.

Instead of the dining area feeling excitedly cramped with the hustle and bustle of full tables and waiters dodging every which way, it just felt cluttered. There was too much kitsch everywhere, like the restaurant was run not by a person wanting to convey a theme as much as by a hoarder. And so much of the dining area was taken up by overflowing crap such as extra chairs, stools, storage racks, etc. Really, the whole place screamed "hoarder".... or at least, "Grandma and Grandpa who can't throw anything away."

🎵 SIgn, Sign, Everywhere a Sign 🎵

Then there were the signs. There were signs everywhere. Signs with directions. And by "directions" I don't mean signs like "Venice 30km" to set the mood in an Italian restaurant. Gumba's is full of signs giving instructions to customers. ...Not just instructions but admonishments. ...Admonishments like, "If you do this thing we don't like, this is the consequence." There's a minimum order per person. Limit 1 refill on sodas and iced team. A limit on how long you can stay. Limits on other stuff, too. While many of these things, individually, are sensible business, putting them on signs sends a peculiar message. The message is that the owners view their customers with deep suspicion, that customers would all cheat them given any chance and so ground rules must be clearly established.

I don't feel like eating again at a restaurant where the owners regard me as a likely nuisance.

And the Food?

The food, by the time it came, was frankly beside the point. We were all but certain not to come back. Not to a trying-too-hard Italian restaurant full of clutter, crap, and written warnings.

It helped, though, that the food was... fair. Just fair. It was middle-of-the-road, standard fare for an Italian-American restaurant.

FWIW our waiter offered to sneak us an unpermitted extra refill on our glasses of iced tea. We turned him down, not wanting to get in trouble— or him get in trouble— in case the senile paranoid owner was watching on a hidden spycam or something.



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canyonwalker

May 2025

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