Birdhouse on Hennepin

I admit, I was crushed when Duplex closed and I was skeptical that any replacement restaurant could make me content. I probably had a socially unacceptable attachment to Duplex's ratatouille. But then I heard that the duo behind Heidi's were the masterminds behind Birdhouse on Hennepin, and I knew I had to at least give my skepticism a shot at exorcism. 

I've always loved this space on Hennepin.  Because of the homey bones of the restaurant, literally an old house, sitting down for a meal feels less like a big affair and more like the comfort one craves after a long day.  Where Heidi's is beautiful, romantic, and sexy, Birdhouse is a well-scrubbed wood floor, a checkered napkin, and a table and chair you could find tucked away at any friend's home. 

The food, however, is better than anything your friends (in all likelihood) will ever set before you. I started with the watercress salad because I've never had a watercress salad (tends to be the reason I try many things) and resolved to make watercress a bigger part of my life.  The candied cashews and citrus were perfectly tossed with something light and crisp.  I think an over-dressed salad is one of the saddest things on the planet. Birdhouse gets this. 

As I gave up meat for Lent I didn't have a huge selection, but I don't know that I've ever missed meat less than when I was eating the mushroom barley risotto.  A small pile of fried mushrooms sat on the creamiest, heartiest dish of barley I've ever had.  This was no weak-kneed vegetarian dish (one more hummus wrap and I'll implode). This was complete respect for fresh ingredients, a hearty companion for any veggie-centric patron.  As delicious as the meaty dishes my companions ordered appeared to be (the burger, the ricotta gnocchi with pork), I didn't miss meat one bit.  As I've been drooling all Lent over my friends' burgers and pizzas and chicken wings (while I've been eating aforementioned hummus), this is telling.  A perfect vegetarian dish satiates, and Birdhouse executed this beautifully.

We split the banana bread pudding and my picture turned out less-than-stellar so suffice it to say, Birdhouse knows its bread pudding.  Having moved here from New Orleans, Bread Pudding Ground Zero, I am notoriously snobby about this dessert. Some people kill the dessert with too much sugar, or too much moisture, taking the "pudding" reference way too seriously. Birdhouse, once again, knows what it's doing.  The bread pudding is dense and sticky, perfectly so, and the sweetness of the banana and side of ice cream are lovely touches. 

Having loved the restaurant that shared this space before it, I'm happy that such a delicious addition to the Minneapolis food family has taken its place. 

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