I have fond memories of going to this place with my parents. Pretty sure I even wore a jacket. The Great Caruso opened in Houston in 1977 as a supper club offering dining with live entertainment. Located at 10001 Westheimer Road, it was owned by Spero Criezis and was described by the Zagat Guide as one of Houston's ten most beautiful restaurants. Nobody—performers, staff or patrons—thought of this as “just dinner theater.” These were top-level entertainers and they gave it their all every time. In 2000, the Houston Press awarded the Great Caruso its "Best Show You Can Chew Over" honor for its production of Ain't Misbehavin'.

This is an original paper menu from the restaurant. I have no idea of its provenance but it’s an amazing survivor—in very good condition considering it was never meant to last decades. It’s wonderfully oversized and feels substantial.

The front showcases a photo of Enrico Caruso, the legendary Italian tenor for whom the restaurant is named. The menu is actually cut along the left side of his figure, opening up to his right. The first thing you see is a collection of blurbs from various notables stating how much they love the restaurant: a few media outlets, as well as Andy Warhol, Walter Cronkite, Farrah Fawcett and Houston’s own beloved Marvin Zindler—who said “It has one of Houston’s cleanest kitchens!” Because I guess you can’t hit those high notes if you’ve been sipping on a drink with slimy ice.

The inside of the menu showcases not just entrees but also a variety of vintage photos of Caruso—including this one in which he’s leaning out the window of a car smoking a cigarette from a cigarette holder like a f’g boss.

It’s kind of a quirky menu that would make an art director order a hearty Chianti and drink the whole bottle—with random font sizes and bolded menu selections and, well, I guess Italy itself feels charmingly haphazard so I guess it fits.

The back of the menu is, I feel, a bit of a shout-out to Houston and the Astrodome’s Eighth Wonder of the World. It features “The Eight Wonders of the Great Caruso.” These are all highlights of the space itself, and feature custom line illustrations and little write-ups of things like the chandelier in the restaurant that once hung in the ballroom of the “Luxembourg Theatre de Arts” and the back bar, which was built in New York in 1894 and stood in an old turn-of-the-century apothecary house in Lower Manhattan. I actually don’t remember noticing any of those architectural or design details all the times I ate there, and that makes me sad.

Not only do I wish this place was still around so we could have a fun show over our Veal Contessa, but I wish you could still get dinner and a show for these prices. Prime Filet Mignon au Jus for $16.75? Greek Islands Mixed Seafood Platter $16.25? Man, those were the days.

The printing remains sharp and the paper has developed a sort of yellowing-edge patina that somehow makes it seem more like a classic collectible. It’s holding together strong, though, even at the folds, with no sign of giving way any time soon. A few stains are evident here and there on the cover and insides, come by honestly over plates of lamb and pasta and salad and high notes and, probably, a bit of family gossip as well between shows.

On December 10, 2006, an early morning three-alarm fire destroyed the Great Caruso Dinner Theater. The Houston Fire Department classified the fire as suspicious, and the theater never reopened. The fire marked the end of a Houston venue that had offered dining and live entertainment for nearly 30 years. What a terrible shame; another great loss for the Carillon Center over the years. But by making this menu a part of your collection, you can still own a small part of it—and help the show to go on.

Details

• Original Great Caruso paper menu

• Good overall condition

• Charming patina

• Great display piece

• Garlic breath not included

I have never seen one of these for sale, and this menu is putting off serious time capsule vibes. I was tempted to have it framed and hung in my office but I just don’t have the space; don’t let this wonderful piece of Houstoniana get away.