Mulvaney’s Building and Loan

Before dining at Mulvaney’s B&L on Wednesday night, I knew the following things: 1) “Mulvaney’s Building & Loan” is a charming name dreamt up by owner Patrick Mulvaney inspired by the name of Jimmy Stewart’s little bank in “It’s a Wonderful Life.”
2) Mulvaney adheres to the “what’s good today” style of chefery using local, in season ingredients and changing the menu on an almost daily basis.
3) Mulvaney’s was opened in a beautiful old firehouse on 19th St. former home of many a failed gastronomic enterprise.
4) Haggar slacks are not “fashion forward.”

So, it was with great anticipation that I, with a number of coworkers in from Ohio, ventured into Mulvaney’s. First of all, I was charmed by the interior. Rather than go with the predictable firehouse memorabilia like bronzed Dalmatians and antique stripper poles, the one large room was speckled with autumnal flares and gastronomical delights. In fact, a good deal of the kitchen was on full display, only minimally sectioned off from the rest of the room with bookcases and prep tables. Our table was nestled up against a large bookcase overflowing with cookbooks, which only lent more credence to Mulvaney’s “what’s good today” approach.

Staring at the large bookcase through most of the meal I conjured up images in my mind of Patrick Mulvaney, hours earlier, walking in the front door with a grocer’s crate held in front of him and saying to himself, “Hmmm, what am I going to do with all these turnips? They were the only fresh vegetable at the organic, hydroponic, analgesic, hypo-allergenic farmers market I frequent in Autumn.” Then he walks to the bookcase and opens one of the creaking doors and finds some traditional Flemish country recipe book from the turn of the century and leafs through the dusty, browned pages before his eye falls on just the right mashed turnip recipe to inspire him. Oh, he won’t use the recipe as-is. Really, what would be the point of that? No, you don’t get the reputation he’s gotten by just rehashing old country dishes that any down and out serf could come up with. You take that simple recipe and turn it into something memorable. And that, in its simplest form is what Mulvaney brings to Sacramento, memorable dining.

What was memorable about this particular evening, you ask? Well, I’m glad you asked; I’ll tell you. First, the amuse bouche (a French term which, when literally translated, means “clown fellatio”) was brought to the table. An amuse bouche is usually a small bite served as you sit at your table meant to tease the palate and excite the senses. That night’s bite was a dollop of mashed turnip with a topping of goat cheese and one perfect chive. Simple, unique, delicious. Most folks at the table admitted that it had been more than 20 years since they’d had a turnip. Of course, they were from Ohio, so it had probably been more than 20 years since they’d eaten anything that wasn’t deep fried in pancake batter. (I kid. I like Ohio and its warm people. The folks with me that night were from Columbus, which, if you haven’t been there, is just like Sacramento with fewer avocadoes.)

After the turnips we had to wait a few minutes for the menus, since, as the server told us, they were still being printed. This little conversation itself was enough to let us know how fresh and spontaneous that night’s feast was. You could cut the excitement with a Santuko. Finally menus were offered, and I quickly noted that the description of most dishes included the names of the region or even of the specific farm from which the ingredients came. And, there was no shortage of ingredients, so many in fact that by the time I actually ate my dinner 30-45 minutes later, I had no idea what ingredients were in any dish.

Since the finer subtleties of ingredients were lost to the fuzziness of memory, here’s the dinner in broad strokes. The first course was squash and caramelized onion soup, a strange combination, I grant you, but a wonderfully successful one. Pureed and perfectly warmed, the flavors of the two main ingredients were fantastically complimentary. All I can say is “Yay soup!” Next was the entree of duck breast with prune sauce, a savory rice pudding and spinach. Two of us at the table ordered this as our entree, and while my dining companion said his breast was prepared perfectly, mine came with a good half inch ring of fat around the actual meat so that I had to hack away at this moderate obstruction to get to the, admittedly, perfectly cooked breast meat. The prune sauce was wonderful and the pudding was unlike anything I’ve had, diverse flavors, subtle spices and a creamy texture. Other than the minor liposuction I had to perform on my duck, the meal was delicious.

The highlight of the meal, without a doubt, was dessert. Three at our table ordered the “Ho-Ho” which was the pastry chef’s version of the Hostess classic, using devil’s food cake, ganache and mousse. I went for the plum sorbet and another went for the apple pastry. All of the desserts were fantastic, but the Ho-Ho was the easy winner in the “Who has the best dessert” contest despite the fact that the chef had mislabled his piece. His creation resembled a tall chocolate hockey puck and not the log-like structure one would associate with a Ho-Ho. I believe the item should have been listed on the menu as a Ding-Dong. I’m not going to quibble however. The meal was memorable, the service, formal and polite and the atmosphere charming. So, when Christmas comes next month, maybe a memorable evening with your spouse or your folks or your brother or sister or children is exactly what Santa should offer. It’s either that or another pair of slacks. Tough choice, I know.

Mulvaney’s Building & Loan
1215 19th St, Sacramento
Food ***1/2 Service*** Atmosphere****