The Treehouse only takes reservations for parties of four or more. Even so, when we called several days in advance, we practically had to beg the receptionist to shoehorn our quartet into her book on a crowded Thursday night.
And while we were grateful to get seats in what just might be Nashville's most low-profile and high-energy neighborhood eatery, we weren't thrilled to learn that our foursome would have to share a six-top with another couple. That kind of intimacy can make for an awkward evening when your mission is to opine on every bite. (Haven't we all been taught not to criticize something that someone else might be enjoying?) So we were beyond fortunate that the random couple seated with us was none other than Scene reporter Steven Hale and his lovely wife. Lucky, not only because Mr. and Mrs. @iamstevenhale understand the indelicate realities of reviewing a restaurant, but also because we needed more stomachs to share in the bounty of Treehouse's dazzling menu. Before we could place an order for high-gravity beers, kalimotxos (red wine and Coke) or Milk Mustaches (rum, molasses, bitters, brandy and cream), our parties merged into a table for six, and we embarked on a feast that was simultaneously exotic and accessible.
If you've talked to someone who has been to The Treehouse, you may have heard words such as "Spanish," "tapas" and "family-style" applied to the experience. Come to think of it, our server described the menu as "Spanish family-style." But before you head to Five Points expecting to find the culinary midpoint between, say, Monell's and Catalonia's erstwhile landmark El Bulli, keep in mind that Corey Ladd, who co-owns Treehouse with his uncle Matt Spicher, rejects the "tapas" label. Treehouse's servings are larger than traditional tapas; the bread pudding was larger than my car.
Labels aside, Ladd encourages sharing. And in our experience, it would be a shame not to share, because there's so much creativity, freshness and flavor on the table.
If you log a lot of meals at Noshville or Ted's Montana Grill, Treehouse's pickle plate will not be what you expect. In lieu of chunky dills, chef Todd Alan Martin and his team deliver a varied assortment of vinegared vegetables. On our visit, a sliver of fennel, radish wedges and pickled beets accented with mustard and grated horseradish set a creative tone for dishes to come. Next came a hearty spin on the classic patatas bravas, a rustic crockery bowl of home fries topped with tomato-mint crema. We balanced the savory starters with a gorgeous plate of pineapple, drizzled with lime and molasses and presented like a sliced tenderloin or sushi roll.
On our visit, ceviche was unavailable, which meant that vegan and vegetarian choices — including beets and blackberries (with hazelnut and thyme) and anticuchos (garlic and herb puree) — outnumbered flesh-based choices among the second plates. Kale-and-quinoa was a hearty but delicate medley of ruffled greens tossed with citrus pulp and Marcona almonds, laced with sweet vinaigrette.
Only two complaints emerged at our table. The first was directed at the creamy-mayonnaisey texture of the Dijon vinaigrette on the salad of frisée tossed with soft-poached egg and lardons of lamb sausage. It drew an unflattering comparison to overdressed slaw.
The second gripe was that we neglected to order the Frito pie. The playful pile-on of Fritos, beef chili, cheese, onion and crema was a favorite at the table next to us.
Among the larger-than-tapas appetizers, the surprise favorite was the humbly named queso, which was a molten medley of cheeses inside half a roasted acorn squash, served with grilled bread.
Moving onto the entrees, pan-seared trout looked positively sharklike, plated with two silver-skinned triangles of delicately seared fish among purple potatoes and salsa verde like a rough-cut tapenade of olives, tomatoes and herbs.
The so-called cauliflower steak — a grilled wedge of cauliflower on a grainy bed of spelt, barley and rye berries, topped with lemony sorrel, Marcona almonds, crema and green onions — brought unexpected depth of flavor, smoke and texture to a meatless meal, thereby entering the ongoing race for best vegetarian entrée in town.
Meanwhile, short ribs slathered in chocolate and dusted with chili powder and sesame seeds recalled the Mexican labor of love that is mole, but leaned more toward a meat-fudge sundae. Consensus at the table was that the sauce overwhelmed the tender beef. Next time we'll opt for steak (flank or sirloin) with bacon, serrano and onion jam.
That is, of course, if we can find a seat in the intimate dining room (42 seats), which occupies a house owned by Ladd's grandfather. And who knows if the steak will remain on the deciduous menu, which drops and adds items as the seasons change. Either way, we'll be back. Often. Patio weather will open up a few new spots out front, and a little bird says there might be an actual dining room among the branches before too long. (The colorful treehouse out back, built long ago by Ladd's grandfather, is not open to patrons.)
If our winter visit is any indication of what future seasons might bring, we'll look forward to watching The Treehouse turn over a new leaf.
The Treehouse serves dinner Monday through Saturday.
Email arts@nashvillescene.com.
