Rubaboo, Andrea Menard explains at the beginning of her cabaret of the same name, is the Métis word for a “clean out the bottom of the refrigerator” kind of soup. And it’s an apt description of what the production is: a little of this, a little of that, and a little of the other, but never a complete, deeply-flavoured dish.

That’s not to say that the ingredients aren’t fresh. Menard is a fine vocalist, and the three others comprising her band are talented instrumentalists and singers. She’s an engaging storyteller, especially when recounting slightly ribald trickster folklore. She and Robert Walsh have written meaningful lyrics addressing historical events with a pointed modern take. And the set backdrop by Cimmeron Meyer (based on artwork by Leah Dorion) and lighting by Kimberly Purtell are impressive and nicely complementary.

There’s no lack of subject matter, either. Menard’s Métis ancestry, and ancestors, are front and centre; her ma-mère and her ma-mère in particular are well-represented. The four elements, fire, water, wind, and earth, form a skeleton for the cabaret, as does the concept of the rubaboo itself. Menard speaks and sings new (mostly country-western and folk) and traditional songs in at least three languages. There are clarifications of and references to many colonizational terms and events, such as the Red River Resistance led by Louis Riel (styled as a rebellion by politicians, historians, and teachers until only recently). There are even audience singalongs.

And it’s that which may be the salt in the soup. There’s just too much for a ninety-minute performance, and there’s not enough of any one thing. A cabaret by its nature can’t do much more than skim the surface of its variety of elements, but here each added morsel leaves less time to savour its unique essence.

This Rubaboo is an overwhelming mixture of many intriguing flavours. Perhaps it will encourage diners to seek out some of the less familiar ones for a more substantial taste.