Reviews for Bombay Junction

08/24/2013 - Mary H
The Bombay Junction...Ah, what a dining experience...

First, the appearance. Close your eyes and imagine an older Greek restaurant that maybe crossed over at some point to an Italian restaurant, but then another owner got it somewhat cheap and decided to open up an Indian place. See how it's a bit worn, and the lighting isn't quite right, and there's a slight dullness to the tables?

Now, imagine that there are tables throughout the space--with too much empty space between them (like they didn't have enough tables to actually fill the restaurant), and the odd Asian screen perched along the back wall where it unsuccessfully attempts to hide the extra silverware and pitchers for water.

Bingo, you've now hit on how the Bombay Junction looks.

Let's move to the service. Now, imagine you're there one Saturday afternoon, enough before the dinner rush so that there are other patrons at at least six other tables, waiting for their food, but close enough to have staff ready to take orders, fill glasses with water, and serve food. Scratch that. There's ONE server, and he's running his -ss off throughout the restaurant, trying in vain to fulfill his role that he was hired to do.

There's another person there, but it's likely she's the owner's wife, and she takes orders--which she conveys to the kitchen, but not necessarily to the server, so while the food may be cooking, the drinks go unfilled, until she snaps at him in front of customers. Sometimes, she just disappears into a back room somewhere, most likely after you've requested your check at the end of a very long wait for your dinner. The kitchen, which you can see from where you're sitting, has one guy who is cooking meals, while another two guys are shifting around in the kitchen, doing who knows what. You can't really tell from your spot at the table. Finally, another guy comes into the kitchen and takes his place at the stove, and you have a wild moment of hope where you think, "FINALLY--we might get out meal"--especially since you've waited until the end of time to actually place your order.

When you food does come, well, you didn't think you'd get to actually EAT it, did you? After all, that might require utensils, like a fork or something, which you don't have (nor do other tables, who are also waiting for their food), or you may need a napkin, which you don't have (and it's hit-or-miss with the other tables). But, hey, you FINALLY got a glass of water...which is more than the sorry schmucks at the table next to you can say.

The food....well, at this point, you're so hungry you could rip the carpeting off the floor and eat it, so the most you can say is that it's edible. Maybe it's good, maybe it isn't, but you're so hungry, you aren't sure. Your dining mate says that hers is good, and you're willing to take her word for it. There isn't a lot of food, so you're really not willing to share. Rice, it seems, is worth more than gold, as evidenced by the small bowl that accompanied your meal.

Now, you've scarfed down your food and wait for your check. And wait. And wait. The lady walks by and you specifically request your check. Still you wait. Finally, you get up and walk to the front of the restaurant to wait there. But, yet you still wait. Why? Because another customer is there, requesting water for the glasses on his table. Finally, you're presented with an amount--not a bill--but an amount.

And you pay this amount because you're simply glad to have an end to this experience known as the Bombay Junction.