Folks tell me about the days when the Frontier Room was a First Avenue dive—crackheads in the bathroom, stiff $3 cocktails till 2 a.m. Those legends abound when locals discuss “the old days” (actually, the “old Frontier Room” only closed in 2001, but this city ain’t very old, thus history is defined a bit differently). These days, that stretch of Belltown is a bona fide meat market—a parade of silk shirts, gelled hair, and high heels. And the Frontier Room is owned and operated by the folks from the fancy-schmancy joint next door, the Queen City Grill. It’s dubbed a “casual barbecue” restaurant, which is always a risky affair in this city. But when a friend of mine from the South (note to natives: When I say “the South” I mean Florida, not California) swore by it and suggested we stop there before seeing the Cave Singers at the Moore last weekend, well, I had to check it out. The interior was about what I expected: Northwestern logging camp meets downtown bistro with a dash of classic diner. And though I often loathe such blatant aesthetics pandering to nostalgia freaks, it’s fair to say the vibe ain’t bad for Belltown. As a non-BBQ eater, I was wholly satisfied with the sides of greens, gooey mac ‘n’ cheese, and hushpuppies, the latter making my Southern friend pine for his home state. I noticed the clientele was a bit older (early 40s), but then realized it was only 7 p.m. The “club” crowd wouldn’t really be out on the prowl for another few hours. Luckily, the Cave Singers went on at 8 p.m., and we, like those middle-agers, would miss that whole depraved scene completely.