Scenes from a soft opening at the new Clayton restaurant, Louie

The DeMun Avenue restaurant is Matt McGuire's long-awaited successor to King Louie.

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If you ever get invited to a private or soft opening at a new restaurant, absolutely, positively go. It’s a rare opportunity for a sneak peek, a first glimpse, the equivalent of opening night at the theater, and you have a coveted seat—and braggin’ rights. We recently had the chance to check out Louie, veteran restaurateur Matt McGuire's new venture in Clayton.

Driving down DeMun Avenue, don’t look for landmark signage. Instead, look for a small, milk-glass protrusion lettered in plain block type—LOUIE—similar to what you’d see outside a mid-century New York City police precinct.

A wreath of fresh rosemary sprigs hangs on the breezeway door. Sprays of congratulatory flowers grace the bar and front lobby. The host stand is most unusual, a vintage teacher’s folding chalkboard complete with scrolling lessons. A reservation clipboard ciphers numbers as an abacus once did, and a score of pencils (the ones with long erasers) are at the ready for making last-minute changes.

Look around. Flatware will never be shinier, glassware never clearer, napery never crisper, the eight-burner commercial range never as spotless. In the front of the house, staffers’ smiles will never be wider; in the back, faces have never been more focused.

You half expect Jimmy Fallon to step out from behind a curtain and say, “Welcome, welcome, everybody. Welcome to Louie. This is it. You made it. You’re heere!”

The space, long and narrow, is spectacular, front to back. Above a button-tufted banquette, the main wall explodes in soft, floral fireworks that run half the length of the restaurant but never get monotonous.

The eye then moves on to the bar, a very long one, seats transitioning into the half-dozen oven-side seats, as close to the kitchen as you’ll get without clocking in. Notice the squatty white oven, being fed a constant stream of near-Neapolitan pizzas—Margherita, Diavola, Marinara, and Broccolini (the early favorite)—camouflaged by a floor-to-ceiling slabs of striated white marble.

On the opposite wall is a collection of plates and platters—autographed by friends, chefs, celebs—that bear further investigation. All of this is visible, mind you, from one step inside the 77-seat restaurant, “exactly the right size and scale” for a neighborhood restaurant, according to McGuire.

There are 21 seats at the bar, an unusually high percentage for a restaurant this size. “I designed the bar for dining, not nursing Bud Lights,”  explains McGuire, catering to the growing popularity of patrons preferring to eat at the bar.  

The visual tour ends at a bewitching piece from a Chicago-based artist and friend of McGuire’s “who’s become a big deal,” he says.

In a prior interview, McGuire described the interior as “pretty garage band.” Yeah, well, you’ll like the music.

Louie is buzzing with energy. Guests are visiting friends at other tables, which was common at McGuire’s former restaurant, the legendary King Louie, which closed in 2008. McGuire surveys the entire restaurant from a perch in the corner, sensing guests’ wants and needs. On this night, he observes almost universal satisfaction, which is admirable, considering some of the staff is borrowed. “Some of the cool kids don’t start until next week,” he says.

Laura, a Niche alumna, explains that the 16-item menu is for tonight only and that additional items will be added slowly, reaching a maximum of 25 to 30. There are no prices listed, except on the wine list, indicating that dinner is complimentary but alcohol is not, which is common at soft openings.

After the order is placed, a plate of complimentary focaccia, so light it easily pulls apart. In an era of no bread service or bread as a $5 upcharge, kudos to McGuire for the lagniappe.

The purpose of soft openings is to generate feedback. What did you like? What would you change? What was your favorite dish? On this night, the answers were the entire experience, nothing, and the Roman Gnocco—pork sugo buried under a crispy cap of semolina, béchamel, and pecorino, an exquisite variant on the more common potato gnocchi.

Louie is one of few restaurants where chicken is a standout dish. Here, an airline breast has a crispy, bronzed, almost mahogany skin (at first taste, two members of our party said the exact same thing—"Wow"). “We sear it in a steel pan, finish it in the oven, and never turn it over,” says executive chef Sean Turner, an expat whom McGuire recruited from acclaimed Italian restaurant Lincoln in NYC.

Louie has the same feel-good neighborhood vibe as Olive + Oak in Webster Groves when it opened and at a lesser price point. “We’re not going after Michelin stars,” McGuire sais in a prior interview. “We’re going after food that people like at a price that makes sense.”

Reservations will be as hard to secure as they were (and still are) at Olive + Oak. We suggest showing up when the doors open and either cut a "we'll be in and out" deal for an early table or secure one of the coveted bar seats, all of which are first come, first served.

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Photo by Gregg Goldman

Louie

706 Demun, St Louis, Missouri 63105

314-300-8188

Visit Website

Dinner: Mon - Thu: 5 p.m. - 10 p.m.; Fri - Sat: 5 p.m. - 11 p.m. Lunch: Mon - Fri: 11 a.m. - 2 p.m.

Moderate

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