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Buca Di Beppo Italian Restaurant Brea Ca

So you’re curious about Buca di Beppo in Brea, California. Maybe you remember the towering plates of pasta. Or maybe you drove past the spot on Imperial Highway and wondered, what happened?

Well, grab your coffee. The Brea location has closed its doors. Yep, the giant fork is gone.

The Short, Saucy History of Buca in Brea

For years, Buca di Beppo sat at 1600 W Imperial Hwy. It didn’t do anything small—not the portions, not the décor, not the noise level.

You walked in and landed in a chaotic Italian-American family reunion. Vintage photos covered every wall. Frank Sinatra played overhead.

Did you ever eat there? If so, you remember the family-style servings. That’s corporate speak for “take home a week’s worth of lasagna.”

The Food: Where “Small” Is a Lie

The Garlic Bread Situation

Buca’s “small” spaghetti marinara could feed a soccer team. The “large” could feed both teams—and the refs.

The chicken parm was the size of a hubcap. The garlic bread chunks worked as doorstops. The tiramisu was a coffee-flavored pillow.

Was it authentic Italian? Eh. It was Italian-American comfort food on steroids, and that was the point.

You didn’t go to Buca for delicate handmade pasta. You went for the experience.

The Pope Room and Other Quirky Corners

Oh, the Pope Room. If you know, you know. It had a bust of the Pope on a lazy Susan.

Yes, a rotating Pope. You’d spin it, someone would make a joke, and you’d pass the giant meatball.

Other rooms had themes too—the kitchen table, the wine room, the cluttered bar. Every corner felt like a sitcom set.

Brea Italian Restaurant and Family-Style Food - Buca di BeppoBrea Italian Restaurant and Family-Style Food - Buca di Beppo

The bar area was tiny but mighty. You could order a giant Italian margarita while waiting for your table. It helped pass the time.

Why the Brea Location Was Special

Brea isn’t tiny, but the Buca there felt like a neighborhood spot. It sat near the mall and the freeway. Easy to forget, easy to rediscover.

Birthday dinners happened there. Awkward first dates happened there. Post-shopping carb-loading happened there, too.

You’d leave smelling like garlic and needing a nap. The staff put up with singing “Happy Birthday” fifty times a night. True heroes.

The parking situation? A little chaotic. But that’s true for any place worth its weight in mozzarella.

So, What Happened?

Like many chains, Buca di Beppo hit hard times. The parent company filed for bankruptcy in 2024. A bunch of locations closed, including Brea.

Other California spots got the ax too—Anaheim, Burbank, Pasadena. It was a rough year for fans of giant pasta bowls.

Could it come back? Maybe. For now, the Brea Buca is a delicious, carb-heavy memory.

Some fans hoped for a last-minute rescue. It didn’t happen. The Brea Buca officially became a memory.

What to Do If You’re Craving That Buca Vibe

First, mourn. Light a candle. Or eat a whole loaf of garlic bread in its honor.

Brea Italian Restaurant and Family-Style Food - Buca di BeppoBrea Italian Restaurant and Family-Style Food - Buca di Beppo

Second, try other Italian-American spots in Brea. You won’t find a rotating Pope. But you might find good red sauce and heart.

Third, check other Buca locations if you really need it. Just call ahead. Don’t drive to Brea expecting a giant meatball.

A Few More Buca Memories

Remember Saturday night waits? They were legendary. You’d wander the shopping center and return ready to eat your own arm.

The leftovers were a triumph. You’d leave with three boxes and a carb-based lottery win.

You could also buy Buca’s giant meatballs by the pound. Okay, not really. But it felt that way.

Even the bathrooms were weirdly themed. I won’t go into detail. Just trust me.

Final Bite

Buca di Beppo in Brea was never fancy. It was loud, kitschy, and unapologetically excessive. That’s why people loved it.

Here’s to the Pope Room. Here’s to leftovers lasting until Tuesday. And here’s to more garlic always being the answer.

So next time you’re near Imperial Highway, give a little nod. The building might be different now. But the garlic ghost lingers.

If you never went, you missed a wild ride. If you did, you probably still have a doggy bag in your freezer. Just kidding. Maybe.