All good things must come to an end.
Campo Verde, a long-time local and personal Tex-Mex favorite known for its year-round Christmas decorations, unexpectedly closed earlier this year. Many wondered if the closure was permanent until a surprising announcement promised their return: a revamped menu and an update on an old favorite, focusing on quality over quantity. Folks were excited and buzzing.
When it reopened in June, many saw it as a new beginning. However, the newness quickly wore off, and the changes may have ultimately led to its demise. Campo Verde recently announced they were closing, for good this time, on December 24th. After our most recent visit, I hope they last that long.
My wife wanted to go to Campo Verde for her birthday, so twelve of us met up there around 6:15 on a Sunday evening.
When we arrived, I wondered aloud if they were even open. To my surprise, they were, though that doesn’t bode well when you have to question a restaurant’s status upon arrival. Indeed, there were only a handful of cars in the parking lot, and the place looked like a ghost town.
There were maybe five or six tables with diners, including ours—around 30 people on a Sunday night, with our group making up almost half of them. The dining area is huge and could probably seat 300, but when a tiny percentage is being used and everyone is crammed into one section, it feels weird. Perhaps we just went on a slow night, yet it also felt like the writing was on the wall.
The worst part was walking to the restrooms across the building, and not just because plumbing issues had caused an unpleasant stench in the men’s room. Along the way were dozens of empty tables with silverware and condiments neatly arranged, just waiting for someone to sit down. Adding to the depressive scene, imagine an overflow of festive and cheerful Christmas decorations in an eerily quiet, dimly lit, and empty area. It felt like spending Christmas alone, and I tried not to look around too much or dwell on it.
The iconic train had, apparently, broken recently, with the person who could fix it being out of town. (There was also speculation that it was turned off to save electricity costs.) The disappointments kept coming.
The current menu seems even slimmer than it was when they reopened, and the options were quite limited. I ordered the flautas: two small chicken flautas, served with beans and rice, for $18. (I realize prices have gone up and running a restaurant is expensive, but that was wildly overpriced, especially compared to the old menu.) While the food was decent, the portions were too small and too expensive.
It pains me to write something negative about a beloved place, but that last visit was disappointing. Reading online reviews confirmed many others had a similar experience. It’s just not the same. Had it stayed exactly the same, though, it probably would have run itself out of business. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.
We used to love Campo Verde as it was a special place for us. On the way to dinner, my wife and I talked of returning again, just the two of us, for one last visit before the final closure. Unfortunately, I don’t see that happening now. The magic isn’t there anymore.
It’s the end of an era. I didn’t take any photos that night, as I’d rather remember it the way it was:
Wildly over-the-top year-round Christmas decorations. A huge, eclectic menu with exotic meats like rattlesnake, elk, and buffalo, that few people seemed to order. Chips heaped with mystic seasoning, served with spicy salsa and unnaturally bright orange cheese sauce. The magnificent chimichanga that was as delicious as it was filling. Cheap tacos. Little margaritas. The click-clack of the train as it dashed overhead through the restaurant, with everyone watching in delight. Kitschy 1980s furniture and decor, including the Spud McKenzie beer posters in the restroom—well, much of that is still there, actually, but trying to coexist with more contemporary efforts.
Nonetheless, it’s time to say adiós.
Blog post by Jason S. Sullivan, 10-15-25
Jason S. Sullivan 