The Hidden Kitchen

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from my first experience at an “underground” restaurant. Ok, I’m lying, I’ll tell you exactly what I was expecting: passwords, dead-drops, eye patches, a husky voiced madam with arm garters and fake moles, a guy playing ragtime on the upright piano, veiled threats on my life, legally dubious foods, and more eye patches (I was expecting a lot of eye patches). The Hidden Kitchen is not really a restaurant, you see, but rather one of a number of subterranean eating spots popping up all over the country. Existing just below the surface of every day commerce, it’s a different kind of dining experience.

I first heard about The Hidden Kitchen from my friend Garrett, a fine food writer in his own right, who told me about his fantastic experience there. I asked him how one would get a reservation and he said, “Well, you get an email…” An email? You can’t just call?

“No,” Garrett said, “you have to be invited.”

Invited? This had my attention. I wondered what you had to do to be invited. I expected some kind of Masonic chain of recommendation would be necessary to get me on the waiting list, maybe some kind of blood oath even, or a credit check and resume with references at the least.

“You just have to add your address to their email list,” Garrett told me. Ok then, this might not be as dangerous as I thought. That night, I sent an email with my info to The Hidden Kitchen and waited…

Fast forward about three months. Three of us stood on the front doorstep of a pretty Sacramento home, with no idea what we’d find inside. I had responded to an email about a month earlier reserving our place at the table and had been sent a really lovely note discussing the menu, price ($60 per person suggested), and wine pairing suggestions. All email communications had been friendly, well-written, spell-checked. They had not the least note of villainy about them. But now, as we stood on that doorstep, we were about to see the true sinister underbelly of underground dining.

We knocked. The door opened, without a password, and we were greeted warmly by Dennis and Mary, our hosts. Their home was bright and warm with a crackling fire. The other guests had already arrived, and while Dennis introduced everyone, I was just a little disappointed to see that no one had an eye patch, or even a monocle. After introductions, it was also readily apparent that no one had a creepy Peter Lorre accent or even a good scar. It was obviously not going to be evening during which I rubbed shoulders with vile characters. It was, however, an evening that was charming, relaxing, and culinarily memorable.

After introductions and a brief champagne toast, we were seated at a large table (there were twelve of us altogether) and served the first course of tuna and salmon tartare. The raw fish was chopped finely, seasoned well, and served with wasabi roe, pickled ginger, and fried wontons. The preparation, while fairly standard Asian-fusion, was bright, tasty and the perfect way to start a meal.

The next course, a “Bird’s Nest Salad” with lemon vinaigrette, was spectacular. The bird’s nest was actually an herbed cracker dough wrapped around a ramekin and baked, creating a crispy herbed cup for the fine salad greens with breaded goat cheese “eggs” and a divine meyer lemon dressing.

With each course, Dennis would come out and give us a quick walk through of the ingredients and the preparation. After the salad came a life-changing mussel soup, creamy, indulgent and full of fresh mussels perfectly prepared. Next was the main course of blue-nosed sea bass on a bed of pureed cauliflower with an insanely good roasted lemon sauce and a side of morels and asparagus tips.

Each guest was encouraged to bring their own wine or selected beverage, and our table’s selections varied from Sauvignon Blanc to San Pellegrino to Vitamin Water. I opted for beer, and at the suggestion of Brent over at Manderes, brought with me a few bottles of La Merle, a Belgian style saison from North Coast Brewing company. Thanks to Brent’s expertise, the pairing was perfect, and the meal was that much better.

Like all good showmen, though, Dennis saved the best for last. Dessert was a meyer lemon soufflé with a strawberry sauce that was so light and flavorful and decadent and otherworldly that one of my dining companions actually asked, “Is this real? Am I actually eating this?”

We finished off the evening with Dennis’ homemade cream liqueurs, lemon, strawberry and almond. Each sip was fantastic, but most of us stopped at just a sip since a little went a long way. The strawberry selection especially, tasted like the most dangerous strawberry shake ever made and could easily be attributable to sweet dreams and dangerous hangovers.

So at the end of our three hour meal we were all left with an overwhelming feeling of calm and well-being. The food had been spectacular, the company delightful, and the hospitality unmatched. I would encourage anyone who is interested to check out thehiddenkitchen.net for more details. You won’t find a more unique, rewarding, or delicious dining experience in all of Sacramento. But, there is one thing that might improve the whole experience a just a smidge. Maybe next time, Dennis can wear an eye patch.