Not every restaurant has to be cutting-edge to satisfy. But what makes a restaurant a “Stone Cold Stunner” was my first thought when I read a recent Eater Maine post featuring the best restaurants of 2015 in various categories? The way it works is that Eater selects the nominees and then asks readers to rate their picks. Other categories include Hottest Restaurant, Best Chef, etcetera and etcetera.
In the category Stone Cold Stunner a very curious entry caught my attention. “Eating at the Treehouse really does feel like dining inside a giant, magical treehouse,” it said.
The bar room at The Treehouse
Huh? What’s the Treehouse? I must have missed this one in our great world of fine dining in Portland. After looking at some of the posted photos I realized this was the former Pat’s Café, the local favorite and long-running eatery ( though intermittently closing and reopening numerous times) along the little food world of Steven’s Avenue (Siano’s Pizzeria and Pat’s Meat Market) otherwise dominated by Deering High School and the Sisters of Mercy convent.
Still, there are so many new restaurants that are now part of our dining universe that could have—and should have–been nominated. The rarefied rooms of Tempo Dulu come to mind as does the swath of urbane sizzle perfected by Union at The Press Hotel. At least Evo—truly a stone cold stunner—is at this writing the front runner.
The Treehouse is now owned by its perennial chef Greg Gilman who made his mark years ago fiddling with the reliquaries of California cuisine. He succumbs not to the orthodoxy preached by Alice Waters but rather to a diluted version that gives short shrift to minimalism or local foraging. To wit: a ground swell of greens (mostly spinach) adorn each plate like too much macrame. I reviewed it in 2013 for Dine out Maine in the Portland Press Herald and wrote: Ultimately we found on our first visit that the cooking was uninspired, caught in a culinary time warp. So many dishes rely on a mix of ingredients that were considered hackneyed even 30 years ago. Sun-dried tomatoes, red grapes, vinaigrettes, nuts and fruits dominate the plates, often unnecessarily, on the various meats, fish and poultry that they’re meant to enhance.
Fast forward to 2015, nothing has changed at the Treehouse, nee The Cafe. It’s still the same second-floor rabbit warren of rooms that’s it’s always been, with Christmas lights wrapped around bouquets of dried leaves. Nor is the menu much different. Yet, it has a fiercely loyal following who flock to its chambers nightly for elaborate plates of big portions moderately priced (ah, there’s the key–Mainers love big food at good value).
The leafy, Xmas light room
The trooper that I am I had to see for myself what, if anything, had changed. I couldn’t convince anyone to join me, so I trudged there by myself, and herewith is my briefly noted review.
The restaurant, still as dark as the inside of a pocket, was packed to the timbers at 6:15. I went to the small, cozy bar where all six seats were taken by a party-tippling group of diners assembled to eat and drink. I stood there for a moment feeling like the proverbial fifth wheel until a woman in the clutch said, “Join us,” as she handed me a wedge of the wild mushroom thin-crust pizza that everyone was sharing. I hesitated at first; after all, this is flu season (though I‘ve been vaccinated) and sharing food from strangers is risky business. She insisted. I was hungry and quite touched being taken in by this affable crew.
The spread at the bar and the various rooms in which to dine
The pizza was delicious, and I ordered a drink—a very well made Negroni–to go with. Then a slice of the pizza topped with bacon and blue was offered and I had that, too.
OK, I thought, I’ll stay, but there was nowhere to sit. Then in the small room off the bar two diners who had occupied a pair of well-worn club chairs left and I cozied up to have dinner.
I ordered the restaurant’s signature dish, crispy ravioli–a fossilized preparation that’s been on the menu for a millennia. Chef Jeff Buerhaus does this dish justice at his Walter’s restaurant. Here the plate held a muddled pile of not very crisp stuffed pasta sitting in a sea of walnuts and greens. The garlicky filling, (was it ricotta?) was quite tasty.
Crispy ravioli
On to the entrée a monumental serving of grilled pork tenderloin was awash in a rum-butter spiked sauce of pear and cherry; accompaniments included a mound of mashed potatoes and a giant spear of grilled zucchini. I couldn’t tell one component from the other, but it was all was pretty tasty, the sort of dish you’d have when you’ve been invited by someone’s churlish mother to share a family dinner at home. I finished my meal with a giant slice of chocolate pudding cake, or some facsimile thereof.
Grilled tenderloin
Chocolate pudding cake
What might make this place a stone cold stunner has nothing to do with its décor. There’s not an ounce of hipster hobnobbing ogling trendy digs. (That might be its saving grace.) It couldn’t happen anyway—preening needs proper lighting. And the wait staff is exceedingly friendly and follows a certain dress code: every waitress donned knee-high boots, sort of a 1970s homage to YSL’s Russian look, I guess.
Waitress in the boot-look; camaraderie in the kitchen; the steep stairs to the street
Ultimately the Treehouse is still the friendliest place in town where locals dine when they don’t feel like cooking at home.
The Treehouse, 484 Stevens Avenue, Portland, ME 207-874-0706
Rating: 2 1/2 stars for food 5 for friendliness
Ambiance: Neighborhood “swellegance”
Tables: in every nook and cranny
Service: friendly
Bar: prettiest and nicest bartender in town who works well under pressure
Noise: can be very lively but not deafening
$$$: moderately expensive. Most entrees under $20 for big portions
