Avocado’s, a Redding restaurant that served soups, sandwiches and salads for about eight months at 1970 Eureka Way, is closed. An email to owner Cory Bonner was unanswered. Repeated phone calls to Avocado’s were met with a recording saying that due to telephone company trouble the call could not be completed at this time.
But a sign on the door confirmed it: Avocado’s is closed. Another one bites the dust.
You know how when a business closes and everyone expresses shock? In my opinion, this is not one of those cases. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
You read when Avocado’s opened in February.
You read when Avocado’s received national attention for asking people to volunteer until the restaurant got on its feet.
Now you’re reading that Avocado’s is kaput.
If Avocado’s management blames its closure on the economy, I have this to say about that:
Sometimes it’s not the economy that kills a business. Sometimes customers quickly figure out a place isn’t worth a return visit. I ate at the place twice – and never returned a third time.
I’m not completely negative about Avocado’s. I liked the guy who played the guitar. That was a nice touch. And I liked the dancing avocado guy outside. And the restaurant’s interior was totally redone with painted concrete floors, interesting wood trims and counter tops and bold, beautiful colors.
But a restaurant that hopes to survive must offer more than dancing produce, live music and a pretty face. It must consistently serve good food at reasonable prices. It must consistently offer good service.
IMHO, Avocado’s never mastered either.
Alert readers noticed a glaring omission in February when I first wrote about Avocado’s opening: I didn’t say what I’d eaten, nor did I say what I thought about the food. I really hoped nobody would ask, because at the time, I thought the food was horrible disappointing. But here’s why I didn’t write that: Avocado’s had only been opened a short while. I wanted to give the place a fighting chance at survival. I wanted to give it the benefit of the doubt that perhaps, with time, it would work out the kinks.
What kind of kinks?
Here’s one example: Avocado’s owners bragged that “everything” was made from scratch, just like Grandma made it. Soups were made from scratch, they said … not even canned broths would be used. All homemade stocks.
Impressive, I thought.
I quickly found a fly in the ointment of Avocado’s claim … unless, of course, the grandma to whom they refer is Grandma Stouffer’s or Grandma Sysco Foods.
I asked different Avocado’s employees about that made-from-scratch claim. Is that bread made here …? “uh, no” — Those desserts? “no …” and so on.
I tried the potato soup, only after I’d first ordered a different soup (can’t remember what) at the owner’s recommendation. But when I placed my order, the young woman behind the counter wrinkled her nose and suggested I not buy that soup. She said it wasn’t very good. I appreciated her honesty, and ordered the potato soup, which turned out to be awful, gloppy and tasteless.
But maybe it was better than what I’d almost ordered. Hard to believe.
Then there was Avocado’s ordering system … so confusing, so plodding. Customers lined up like cattle and shuffled along in front of the sneeze screen and pointed to this or that at the salad station, or sandwich station, or soup station. It was sort of like they do at Subway, which, by the way, is right next door (and still in business).
I zipped my lip about all that because I wanted people to make up their own minds.
So now Avocado’s closed, but I’m not surprised.
Even so, my heart sincerely goes out to the people who worked there, all of whom are now without jobs. I wish them the best of luck.
The good news is there’s a nicely remodeled vacant restaurant available on Eureka Way.
