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Photography by Kevin A. Roberts
A pork loin chop with grilled shishitos and chermoula pairs nicely with a glass of red wine.
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Photography by Kevin A. Roberts
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Photography by Kevin A. Roberts
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Photography by Kevin A. Roberts
The demands of publishing being what they are, we’ll admit that we didn’t eat at Louie just last week. No, we visited in January, on one of those bizarre days when the temperature skidded from the sixties to “Man, it’s cold” in the space of about 20 minutes.
In any weather, Louie is a noisy, happily convivial place with that “small neighborhood in a big city” atmosphere. It simultaneously charms with its low-key cool and excites with a tantalizing night of dining. But it was particularly enjoyable on that frigid, sleet-pelted evening.
Don’t expect the space to resemble its former incarnation, Jimmy’s on the Park, or to be a reincarnation of owner Matt McGuire’s late, still-lamented King Louie’s. The DeMun setting has a relaxed charm and distinctive urbane style, with a small, understated sign out front.
Inside, a tufted leather banquette near the entrance stretches along a wall covered with an elegant floral wallpaper by Dutch artist Ellie Cashman. Autographed plates hang on the opposite wall in the long shotgun-style dining room. At the back of the room, a white marble wall complements the bar, which wraps to join a kitchen counter with 21 stools.
The menu is modest—a dozen main dishes, including pasta and pizza, and half that many starters (in generous portions)—but the tastes are lavish. Polenta is like a bowl of smooth, savory cream, loaded with roasted shiitake mushrooms and flakes of Grana Padano cheese. A splendid presentation of carpaccio is enlivened with paper-thin slices of an exquisite Prosciutto di Parma, fat shavings of Red Cows Parmigiano Reggiano, and an excellent olive oil. On the lighter side, Sicilian Castelvetrano olives, the color of a June lawn, are so rich, they taste like macerated fruit; they’re perfectly matched with the hefty wedges of crusty focaccia that arrive after you’re seated.
With its sizable white wood-fired oven, the kitchen has an Italian vibe, so we ordered a pizza—the Margherita, the only civilized choice. (One other pie here features broccolini.) It arrived with the crust magnificently scorched, shimmering with mozzarella, perfumed with basil and sweet tomatoes—as good as any pie in town.
Photography by Kevin A. Roberts
Among the pasta options, you'll find agnolotti, ravioli’s pinched-waist cousins. At Louie, they’re stuffed with a creamy butternut squash and plated in a bowl of brown butter spiked with sage that manages to be filling and nicely composed.
Main courses demonstrate a sure hand in the kitchen. Ingredients are thoughtfully paired, with nothing overdone or fussy. A bountiful portion of mussels was ingeniously presented in a deep egg-shaped bowl with a wire grill fencing off the deep end, allowing easy dipping in a broth that tasted of wine-scented sea. The roast chicken was a trifle too salty; otherwise, it was exquisite, juicy, the skin a crisp delight. A grilled strip steak was brilliantly matched with salsa verde. Shishito peppers and a Moroccan chermoula sauce of garlic, lemon, and mint brightened a bone-in pork chop.
The vegetable sides are worthy. A mint aioli makes a fine dip for delicately fried cauliflower. Brussels sprouts and pancetta nibbles are laced with balsamic vinegar.
The wine list is a compendium of Italian vintages; both the selection and prices are superb. Servers know it well and offer good suggestions. The bar is impeccably organized—seriously. Bottles and glasses are arranged in Euclidean symmetry.
Incidentally, that bar’s seats are exclusively for dining on a first-come, first-served basis until the last hour of the evening. So though the restaurant maximizes the limited seating, there’s no dedicated place in which to casually sip a drink while waiting for a seat, which means that people crowding into the front often end up standing right next to the tables on busy nights.
(Insider tip: Call well in advance for reservations. Otherwise, consider grabbing a glass of wine at Sasha’s next door or taking a stroll across nearby Concordia Seminary’s campus while you wait.)
A few other snags: Louie is loud. A concrete floor and high ceilings with exposed HVAC ductwork make for a high school pep rally–level racket. And desserts? We heard selections offered at other tables, but we didn’t receive any options at ours. It reflected a hiccup with service during our visit; at peak times, it was slow and inattentive.
Overall, though, Louie adds much to the local dining scene. Its fare is absolutely top-notch, the setting and atmosphere appealing. Whatever the weather when you visit, you’ll likely already be planning your next trip by the time you leave.
