By Heather Hoch
By Eric Schaefer
By New Times
By Rachel Miller
By Eric Schaefer
By Heather Hoch and Lauren Saria
By Robrt L. Pela
By Heather Hoch
The gluttonous display is partly gross, partly charming. And it's entirely what Broadway Palm Dinner Theatre -- West is all about: an orgy of entertainment, glitter and mass quantities of food, all at rock-bottom prices. In fact, a large part of the theater's come-on is in its value, proudly promoted as the Valley's unbeatable dinner deal.
Do I like it? The food -- god, no. This is an embarrassment to cafeteria cuisine, stuff that would be hard to appreciate even if were given away for free. But the experience as a whole is relatively satisfying, the food's failings glossed over by feel-good service, a comfortable setting and topnotch, Broadway-style productions.
Children 12 and under: $18
480-325-6700. 2001-2002 season: open through December 31, January 4 to February 23, February 28 to April 20, April 25 to June 8, June 13 to July 13, July 18 to August 31, September 5 to October 5; Evening performances: Tuesday through Saturday, 6 p.m.; Matinee performances, Wednesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday, 11:45 a.m.; Twilight performances, Sunday, 5:30 p.m.
And more important, there's unquestionably a need for this type of feed. My gleefully groaning dinner companions are proof that for many, quantity is just as good, if not better, than quality.
Who these companions are, I don't actually know. Given the choice between a private table for two in the back of the theater and communal seating for eight mere feet from the stage, I opted for the latter. It makes for enjoyable eavesdropping, sitting awash in a sea of primarily silver-haired patrons, some 500 geriatrics with heads glittering like diamonds under the warm theater lights. Since Broadway Palm opened in November, it's been playing to full houses, primarily stocked by what appears to be a 50-plus crowd.
The crowd is half the fun of dining at Broadway Palm, truth be told. This is a crew that remembers and respects the days of style. Dinner out means dressing to the nines, dusting off the sequined frocks and smart suits, wide-lapeled though they may be. It's fun to absorb their energy, soak up their sheer delight at the bountiful buffet tucked into a room next to the purple-curtained stage set with sparkling lights.
Most of the guests have been seated since 6 p.m., a good two hours before show time. And they've put the time to fruitful use, packing away plate after plate after plate, determined to wring every penny's worth from their $37 ticket.
"The ice cream bar is all you can eat," marvels one gentleman, balancing a second helping of vanilla scoops ladled with chocolate fudge sauce (Hershey, by all bets), aerosol whipped cream and M&M's. "I don't think they have any idea how much I can eat."
Likely management has a pretty good guess -- the owners, the Prather family consisting of Tom, Deborah and Will, have been in the dinner theater business for more than 35 years. Besides Broadway Palm, the Prathers run the Dutch Apple Dinner Theatre in Pennsylvania and the Broadway Palm Dinner Theatre in Florida. Their newest operation is in a former grocery store in Mesa.
The renovation is all-encompassing, beginning with a grand lobby fronted by the Playbill Bar, serving cocktails before and after the show (specialties of Manhattans and martinis, no surprise). A gift shop helps kill time, and a compact art gallery showcases works by regional artists.
There's nothing entirely elaborate about the theater, with its blue walls, dark ceilings, red-orange-blue carpeting and blue vinyl chairs packed tightly against long, slender tables set sideways to the stage. Know your neighbor? No doubt -- at one point I find myself engaged in deep discussion with a seatmate over the fluffy qualities of the packaged whipped butter that comes with the dinner rolls. Such cozy seating is a good icebreaker; I've come too close to spreading my neighbor's shirtsleeve instead of my bread.
Broadway Palm's chef has a challenge. Cranking out food for audiences of up to 1,000 a day is difficult enough; keeping it interesting but not too offbeat is doubly hard. Sure, catering to a crowd that seems to seek out Luby's and Landmark restaurant-style comestibles has its limitations, but a real failing here is due to plain sloppiness. Executive chef and Scottsdale Culinary Institute graduate Clifton Weir has a strong background in feeding the masses, with a decade of experience at places like local retirement communities, theme parks, casinos and convention hotels. But surely he can do better with the presentation -- lose the bargain-basement cafeteria plates and plastic ice cream dishes, for example. And a bizarre "signaling" routine of tipping our coffee cups in various positions to indicate whether we'd like regular or decaffeinated brew is almost funny.
A salad bar is suitable, offering tubs of utilitarian favorites. There are no surprises among the basic garden-green toss, or the toppings of radish, cucumber, celery, carrot, cauliflower, sliced mushroom and cherry tomatoes. Tubs of prepared salads are typical, the potato salad, the coleslaw, the pasta blend and a vinegary multi-bean blend. A better bet is to fill up on a truly good Caesar, sparked with fresh-shaved Parmesan.
Main-dish descriptions read pretty well, printed on placards for diners being herded through serpentine stanchions. Menus change from show to show, and periodically Weir throws in specialty dishes to complement a production (Southern-style for a Civil War staging, sliders and corn dogs for a kids' matinee of Cinderella).