Bruno's Is Seattle's Mexitalian Stallion

The cuisine at Bruno's, a 33-year-old Old Seattle institution located in the heart of downtown, defies all convention or trends. The dining room is separated by a wall, as though connecting two separate restaurants. This turns out to be fitting, as Bruno's trades exclusively in the cuisine of two foreign countries—Italy and Mexico—you're not likely to find together in even the most adventurous of restaurants. If you're in the mood for a bowl of spaghetti flanked by a taco or two, Bruno's is not only the place for you, it's probably the only place for you—a food court without the court.

On the Mexican side of the border, Bruno's offers a $5.95 soft-taco special during lunch that is a little misleading. The taco is more like a skinny wet burrito, its shell encompassing an entire plate, folded and topped by an ample dollop of sour cream. Is it a life-changing dining experience? No. Will it get you in and out and back to the office in under a half-hour? Most likely. Is it worth $5.95? Sure.

In terms of satisfaction, the Italian Bruno offers more of the same. The garlic bread is cut into tiny triangles and rectangles, and the spaghetti is pretty watery. The pizza, however, is just fine, like a poor man's Italian Spaghetti House (i.e., a poor man's version of the best pizza in town). And each dish is so cheap that one can eat like a fat Italian gangster on a skinny miser's budget.

The main criteria by which I judge how good a Chinese restaurant might be is the number of Chinese people who actually eat there. Applying this calculus, Bruno's would seem to fail miserably; not many Mexicans or Italians seem to frequent Bruno's. Yet, given its split in allegiance (God forbid Mexico and Italy ever face off in a World Cup final), perhaps this is an improper barometer of Bruno's success. By its very nature, Bruno's is a hedged bet; it's not designed to attract the gastronomical gamblers of the world, and most people don't like gambling. Italian and Mexican are two of the more popular—if not the most popular—cuisines among Americans. If it's not quite up to the standards of the Old Country, what do we care?

mseely@seattleweekly.com