Tree House Dinners are Truly a Movable Feast

Words by Adam Saake – Photos by Debbie Cunningham

The sun went low, and at a touch before seven, a light breeze swept over the Midtown Victorian porch, cooling guests from the belated summer heat. Small, natural artifacts of sticks, kumquats, found rocks and candles were scattered on overhangs and railings. On a table in the corner, a bottle of Sommariva Prosecco was submerged in an ice-packed watering can and flutes were filled at leisure while brown paper bags of popcorn with fresh dill were passed around. A total of seven guests, strangers, were quickly sharing stories and salutations over ceviche and cucumber. This was the beginning of chef Kevin O’Connor’s underground dinner he whimsically calls Tree House.

“The name Tree House came to me at 4 a.m.,” says O’Connor. “Tree House evokes juvenile thoughts and I aim to do the same with my style of cooking.”

O’Connor himself might be the only thing juvenile about what goes on at Tree House (which by the way is at a table in his dining room). The talented young chef of Ella, and most recently its sister restaurant, The Kitchen, is a mere 22 years old. A clean-cut red head who looks more relaxed in a cut-off Iron Maiden t-shirt than he does in a chef’s coat, this cooking star in the making worked his way from dishwasher up–sans culinary school. As a teen, he hopped around different restaurants like Masque and Bistro 33, but things took a sharper turn when he moved downtown and began cooking at Mason’s, now Cafeteria 15L.

“I helped open MiX and shortly after the opening I moved to the South of France for a few months,” says O’Connor. “After culinary enlightenment dans la sud, I came back home to Sac and joined Kelly McCown at Ella shortly after he came.”

It was this trip to the South of France that would later become the inspiration for his monthly underground dinners.

“Tree House began after I moved home from France. Every Sunday for a month and a half I would make dinner for my host family and their friends while I was in France,” O’Connor remembers. “These dinners were coursed out and showcased my creativity that was flowing while I was exploring food Mecca. I used produce from the farm, the town market, neighboring farms, hunting, foraging, and wine from their winery.”

The Tree House dinners are something to that effect, except O’Connor doesn’t have France or a farm–in spirit, sure, but he did have the winery this time. Craig Haarmeyer of Revolution Wines supplied all the wine pairings for the latest dinner, including the current vintage of their award-winning port.

Guests were leisurely enticed inside to sit at the table, well lubricated with Prosecco and conversation and ready for what O’Connor had up his sleeve. Once seated the night began with an amuse bouche, a small introductory appetizer that literally translates to “mouth amuser,” which consisted of prosciutto, pan-fried quail egg and a house-made hollandaise sauce. It was served simple and elegant in a Chinese ceramic soup spoon. Down the hatch. This single bite immediately excited the table and was a clear window into O’Connor’s cooking philosophy; one in which breakfast was clearly fair game for his introduction. Revolution’s Verdelho port, a sweeter white, paired beautifully, and we were on our way.

O’Connor’s plates have a touch of seriousness mixed with a pinch of brilliance and are lathered thick with humor. He grinned as he described courses like the pistachio encrusted foie gras with roasted peaches, calling his concoction “a foie gras candy bar.” His time in France came out in this dish too. He explained to the table one of the first and most memorable meals he had that was simply a bowl of pistachios, some peaches and a bit of foie gras. This was his translation–and what made each course so fantastic. He cooks off the pure joy of his memories with a little help from random musings.

“I’m inspired by the strangest things sometimes. A walk by the river, a 2 a.m. junk food binge, my food-filled childhood,” says O’Connor.

That “food-filled childhood” that O’Connor attributes to his father introduced a standout dish that was a play on mustard chicken. O’Connor’s father would make him a comforting plate of mustard chicken with a panko crust when he was a kid. To do honor, the most visually attractive plate of the evening arrived. Chicken rillettes with a half-moon toast was presented on a square, gray stone slab, dusted with an orderly stripe of honey mustard pretzels and garnished with a circle of pepper and mustard flowers. Rillettes is like a pate where the meat is slowly cooked in fat, duck fat in this case, and then is cooled and served like a spread. O’Connor “marinated the chicken, cured it for a day and braised it for about four hours,” to give it the texture and consistency he desired. This plate stood out the most and really showcased O’Connor’s creativity and technical execution.

An eight-hour sous-vide pork belly with barbeque beans, compressed watermelon and a salad of pickled watermelon rind (an ode to summer, perhaps) was followed by a simple offering of local goat’s milk cheese, Bing cherries and thyme flowers. Simple and to the point; elegant and delicious. Each course offered a new idea, an interesting thought or an adventurous leap to take (O’Connor encouraged guests to suck the brains from a fried prawn head during one course). The Tree House dinner finished with a mind blowing dessert course of cinnamon sugar toast, maple blueberries and a cereal milk anglaise for dipping that was inside of a hollowed-out egg shell. Guests enjoyed port to pair and moments of silence swept over the table as plates were literally licked clean.

A satisfied Tree House assembly took refuge on the porch, enticed by 15-year aged Glenlivet scotch being poured from a transparent globe decanter. O’Connor emerged from the house, sans chef coat and ready to be part of the conversation. His left arm is tattooed with a crude chef hat, crossbones and knives with the mantra, “Cook to Live, Live to Cook.” “It’s being covered soon,” he said. But, there’s no hiding his passion for food and for the people he cooks it for. And as hidden as the underground dinners might seem, there is a Facebook page and O’Connor has special wording that keeps him out of trouble–for now.

“We aren’t a real underground restaurant…we are a ‘private dining cooperative’ where like-minded foodies pitch in for dinner that happens to be at a residence,” says O’Connor.

Where he takes these dinners is up in the air for now, but there’s talk of catering, pop-up events and cocktails in alleyways. Ideas are flowing and O’Connor’s love of Sacramento will keep him right here for those adventures.

“I’m inspired by the people that say Sacramento sucks and by the people that have faith in it becoming a food city at the same time. I want to start forming a Sacramento cuisine,” says O’Connor.

One Tree House at a time.

Tree House dinners happen once month at an undisclosed location in Midtown. For information on how to register, visit Facebook.com/treehousesacramento or Treehousesacramento.blogspot.com

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