If you're out and about in Vancouver's gay village this weekend, don't be shocked to find a flaming drag queen in a glittery red gown stopping traffic in the middle of Davie Street.
That's the lovely Symone, host of Dressing on the Side, the fabulously fun Friday-night cabaret at the new Majestic Restaurant and Lounge. The show could more accurately be called Ladies on Top, given that the establishment's food, by comparison, falls as flat as an unpadded derriere.
Ouch, that was catty (but true).
The Majestic, which shares the same owners as the nearby PumpJack Pub, has taken up residence in the space previously occupied by Fresco's all-night diner. Too bad they didn't keep the old, fifties-era booths.
The new decor is more run-of-the-mill than regal, with its now overfamiliar layers of dark wood, stacked river-rock walls and glowing neon lights behind the bar. If it weren't for the stage, draped in red velvet, and a splash of hot-pink paint in the entrance, the Majestic would look like a homely little sister to the generically designed Moxie's Classic Grill down the road.
The uninspired surroundings only help the entertainers stand out. Not that they need much assistance. Friday's show, which started at 8:30 p.m., was a two-act set of campy frivolity during which the resplendent host really did sweep out past the patio for a sing-a-long in the street before playfully mocking the full house during an interactive game of Symone Says.
Guest performers included Vivian Von BrokenHymen, whose naughty Catholic schoolgirl routine made her family members in the audience blush; the fabulous Willie Taylor channelling Aretha Franklin, and the larger-than-life Joan-E (the restaurant's new promotions manager) pulling cantaloupes out of her décolletage and spewing cereal over the stage for a side-splitting number called It's My Life.
The queens, of course, can afford to be irreverent about food. But it would be nice if executive chef Sioux MacLennan showed a little bit more respect for her so-called "great creations," as the dinner features are delusively described on the menu.
What's so great about greasy spring rolls ($7.50) stuffed with oodles of glass noodles and barely a hint of prawn, or the not-so-dry pork ribs ($6.50) soused in a gluey five-spice honey sauce?
The scallop club sandwich ($13.95), queer as it sounds, was a bright interlude. The generous portion of lightly grilled shellfish was piled high with crisp pancetta, silky avocado and a garlicky chipotle aioli on thin slices of sweet house-made cornbread enriched with corn kernels and peppers.
But then the jumbo squash and ricotta ravioli ($13.50) landed with a plunk on the table. The gummy parcels of pasta were buried under a weighty mash of grilled vegetables and musky tomato sauce, then crowned with a cold heaping of "eggplant
caviar."
Taking a cue from the imperious entertainers, I begged of the general manager, "Please bring me something - anything - that tastes good."
He returned with grilled vegetable and parmesan pavé ($12.50), which the chef, who hails from Monk McQueens, had personally chosen for me.
Perhaps this was her idea of a joke, considering that the slices of eggplant and red pepper, layered between a creamy sludge of potato, were still as chilly as they must have been in the crisper. And the side of basil risotto was about as redundant as a French-fry sandwich.
After whisking away the half-eaten replacement dish, our server insisted on treating us to a complimentary dessert. The chocolate-caramel bombe was a muddled misfire of vanilla ice cream and three-berry compote and soupy sweetness.
Still, I do have to commend our server, Blake, who was prompt, friendly and perfectly poised no matter how many times the kitchen shot itself in the foot.
I was impressed with the decently priced selection of B.C. wines by the bottle, and delighted by a cheeky swizzle stick in the Caesar (a phallic-shaped cornichon wedged between two stuffed olives).
And the show was so deliciously funny, we decided to return on Sunday afternoon for Brunch with Queens. Unfortunately, the noon-hour show is only 60 minutes long and we arrived just as the girls were tossing off their wigs. But at least the after-lunch banter kept us amused.
"My tits are still cockeyed," one of the performers loudly joked as she readjusted her bosom and decompressed with a cocktail at the table beside us.
And we did have much better luck with a smoked turkey sandwich ($10.95) and simple omelette folded with maple-smoked ham, asparagus and brie ($9.75). Though the hash browns were disappointing little hard cubes of grease.
The Majestic is a great cabaret venue that lends Davie Street some sass, especially with its open wall of windows and everyone-is-welcome attitude. Unfortunately, the food will never outshine the entertainment.
But honestly, would any self-respecting drag queen have it any other way?
Majestic Restaurant
and Lounge, 1138 Davie St.;
604-669-2013
