Let me preface this article by saying I am not a big fan of trendy new joints or theme restaurants. Trendy spots are generally over-hyped and packed full of people eager to get a slice of the latest-and-greatest while theme restaurants remind me of Disney’s Epcot center — too much attention to decor, attire and “authenticity” and almost no emphasis on the quality of the food. I intended to write this as review of Prohibition, which is still fairly new — primarily to share with SideDish readers the experience of the burlesque show.
In this case, a few friends and I decided to break our rules and do something silly and fun in honor of another friend’s birthday. A close friend of mine was turning 30 — and he has a great sense of humor.
We booked a table for four for a Saturday evening at Prohibition, the craft cocktail (ah, so trendy!) bar and restaurant that has a … wait for it … speakeasy theme. What we were primarily interested in was seeing the 9:30 show of the Moonlight Dolls, the burlesque group that performs at Prohibition twice on Saturday evenings, at 7:30 and 9:30. Guests need to book their reservations a few weeks in advance, since seating is limited. We paid $20 each for our seats at the time of making the reservation, and there is also a requirement to spend a minimum of $20 per guest during the show on food and drinks. Before even arriving that evening, our group of four had committed to spending $160. This is not a place that serves $2 Bud Light.
When we arrived at 9:15 this past Saturday evening, we were told by the hostesses that it would be just a few moments before we were seated. (The tables were being reset from the 7:30 show.) I politely shoved and maneuvered my way up to the bar, dragging my more refined friends with me, and we waited patiently while Rusty, our bearded bartender, finished three or four other orders before he took our requests.
At this point Rusty is already winning me over because he greets guests as they move up to the coin-covered bar; he doesn’t ignore you as some other bartenders do at bars all over Houston, leaving you to wonder if the staff can see you since they avoid all eye contact. We don’t mind waiting. Our group often frequents Anvil, where we wait patiently while another friendly bearded bartender, Terry Williams, always greets us while we wait for patrons ahead of us to be served. Craft cocktails, when done right, are totally worth the wait.
Rusty is donning some gear that resembles costuming from A River Runs Through It (movie still, below), and he’s shaking, pouring and skinning citrus garnishes at top speed. I can’t recall now if he was wearing a vest or suspenders. Apparently the Prohibition group takes bartending mixology really seriously. Sporting a vest means you’re an apprentice, while barsmiths wear suspenders. Bar chefs (yes, bar chefs) wear bar chef suspenders, and top dogs known as mixologists wear all black as well as mixologist suspenders, not to be confused with bar chef suspenders. With so many gentlemen donning mustaches and caps, bowties and other accessories, I can’t remember exactly what my friendly server was wearing. Two Prohibited Mules ($10 each) and a Perfect 10 ($11) later, we were elbowing our way back towards the hostess stand, waiting just a few more moments to be seated for the show. (One of our friends had to cancel, but we had to pay her cover charge anyway.)
Our waiter seemed at first a little flustered with the full tables that filled the small room, but soon the lights dimmed. The emcee, Miss Kaleena Sue, prepped us for the show, asked us not to use flash photography (hence the lack of photos of our dinner) and the show was shortly underway.
This birthday celebration reminded us of a now-defunct Houston restaurant, the Old San Francisco Steakhouse, where there were saloon girls who swung from a swing, and sometimes kids could get on the swing too, or at least that is how we remembered it. Neckties were cut off, too, and tacked to the wall. Know what we loved most as children from that Gold Rush-era themed restaurant on Westheimer? Those huge blocks of cheese and warm loaves of bread. If you’ve been missing the Old San Francisco Steakhouse, there is one still operating in San Antonio.
I already had the mindset that the food at Prohibition was going to be average, at best. The cocktails are the main focus of the establishment, and the entertainment is a close second — and I had never recalled hearing or reading anything positive about the food, period. I wasn’t too worried about the food, but the pricing on the menu stunned me for a moment. Prohibition has a pretty large selection (one-third of the menu) devoted to tapas-style food described as plates intended “to share” with your fellow tablemates, and it should be noted that dinner is served until midnight on weeknights and to 2 am on weekends.
After the burlesque show got started, we ordered another round of cocktails as well as the truffle mac ‘n crab ($16), lamb lollipops ($21, although their online menu lists it at $18) and the Mediterranean chicken and hummus ($16, not listed online) for three of us to share.
The first plate to arrive were the tiny lamb lollipops; five were grouped on the plate, to be specific. And while I found them to be overdone and kind of tough, they weren’t terrible — our group’s general feeling was that they were perfectly average. (These pops could have used some of the seasoning TLC that Cru uses on their own lamb lollipops.) What I found to be a pleasant surprise was the macaroni and cheese that arrived with an ample amount of crab. The little skillet was piled high with rich macaroni and cheese and flakes of crab. A light touch of truffle oil made the nostalgic dish just a little bit upscale.
During this time, the dancers were executing flirty routines involving hoop swings and over-sized powder puffs, dancing and singing and being entirely adorable. The show was truly burlesque, sexy without hinting at sleazy.
What disappointed us most was the Mediterranean chicken, the final “shareable” to hit our table. Described as seasoned chicken with hummus, the actual plate that arrived included three quarter-sized pieces of rubbery chicken along with a schmear of chunky, tasteless hummus. The Moonlight Dolls were wearing more in their skimpy costumes than there was food on this plate. Three of us stared at the plate for a few seconds, then stabbed at the coins of chicken, dipping it into the drizzle of hummus. And chewed, and chewed, and chewed. My girlfriend grimaced.
“Are you kidding me?” I said out loud. “This is $16? This is literally three bites of chicken. Where is the pita, or is it supposed to come with crudites?” Our attentive waiter must have sensed my irritability, because he came right over to our table, asking if our food was okay. I usually wear a poker face, but I wasn’t going to hold back in this situation. “It wasn’t good,” said one of our group. “This is really not okay, actually,” I replied. “This plate of food is supposed to be shared? It doesn’t even come with anything to eat the hummus with, pita bread — is it supposed to come with pita bread?” He apologized profusely, nodding, and I could tell this is something he had heard before. He explained that this new menu item was plated exactly the way the new chef had designed it. He apologized again and offered to express my feelings to the manager. I emphasized that I didn’t want the plate comped, that our other food had been plentiful and good, that our service was great — but that $16 for three small morsels of overcooked chicken and less than two tablespoons of thick, chunky, tasteless hummus was absurd, and perhaps they should reevaluate the portion or the price, if not both.
Soon after our poor waiter left to attend to another table, the manager approached us and I restated to him my feelings about the chicken. He just stared at us, emotionless and glassy-eyed, and more or less said that they were very comfortable with the price and portion size, and could he recommend something else for us to order. We declined.
When we received our check, the chicken had been removed from the bill, which we didn’t ask for or expect, but it was a gracious gesture on behalf of the restaurant. The birthday boy had waited an excruciating long time (perhaps 25 minutes) for one of his drinks, which our waiter had noticed and pointed out himself, but we weren’t surprised and hadn’t mentioned it — for craft cocktails on a busy Saturday night anywhere, a patron can expect to wait up to 15 minutes, in my personal experience. Our waiter did not charge us for that specific cocktail, since he felt the wait was far too long. Our group was grateful, but nevertheless our two hours at Prohibition cost us just over $250.
It is funny what people will take away from an experience. While waiting for the valet to bring around the car and leaving The Galleria area, we all started raging about the $16 chicken. It was one of those moments when we were all talking at the same time, griping in disbelief that the worst chicken any of us had ever eaten (I personally trilled on about the tragic hummus, while the others clung to the chicken) came in a jokingly small portion. “What is this, chicken and hummus for ants?!” one friend shouted, a reference to Ben Stiller’s baffled Zoolander character when he sees the miniscule model for the Derek Zoolader Center For Kids Who Can’t Read Good. The pendulum of incredulousness then swung the opposite direction, and we exclaimed that our waiter — or the manager, whoever decided to adjust our bill — was nice enough to comp the chicken and the cocktail.
As if that weren’t enough excitement for one evening, our group made a sudden decision to check out Local Pour in the River Oaks Shopping Center, which was just as packed as Prohibition had been. Again I had low expectations — the Sherlock’s that had been in the Local Pour spot was where my mid-20s were served on the rocks, and the Sherlock’s prior location across the street behind the California Pizza Kitchen was a place where I spent many of my college years. I didn’t know who this Local Pour thought it was, trying to erase my memories of sorority sisters and 21st birthdays, Bad Boyfriend playing on Thursdays and $1 drinks.
I’ll spare you the details of our Fosse-style dancing and synchronized Motown moves, but we had a hell of a good time at Local Pour and the live band (we paid no cover at the door) played until after 1 am, and they played pretty hard. I tweeted that “All the cool kids over 35 are here!” when I checked-in at Local Pour on Foursquare, but after another miniature bottle of Champagne, I noticed Houstonians of all ethnicities and all ages were there, grooving and having a great time. Our tiny waitress with the over-sized glasses made sure we were well taken care of, even though it was a packed house and she was dodging flying elbows and two-steppers. Our tab for our two and a half hours at Local Pour? $75. Local Pour doesn’t have a theme, but they offer a bundle of good times.
If you’re looking for theme entertainment in Houston — or just want something different to do on a date or with a group of friends, here are some other spots that serve food and/or drinks along with live music and dancing that I would recommend. You know it’s fun.
PROHIBITION 5175 Westheimer, 713-940-4636 prohibitionhouston.com
Photos by Taylor Dodge, Sony Pictures
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