When Jude first moved to Los Angeles he lived downtown. As the son of Tom Fitzmorris he continued to live the life he knew with food and its exploration as a key element of his routine. I remember when I first started hearing about a place a few blocks away from his place called Bottega Louie. He was quite high on the place and I was curious, so the next time I was out there we went.
I was immediately smitten and my love has not waned in 18 years. Since then much has happened. He now has a family and a home far away both in distance and vibe from downtown LA. Tom’s illness made downtown very unappealing, COVID happened, and downtown is now a place I don’t even want to pass through.
About six years ago Louie opened a second location in WeHo, or West Hollywood. It’s look and vibe are very different than the original, but I’m about to declare Number 2 my favorite. One of the things that first attracted me to the original was its enormity of size and its cavernous ceilings. White everything was countered by pastel colors of tarts and packaging. Like a pleasant dream everywhere you looked.
I wasn’t crazy about the second location because it was different. Really different. Herringbone multicolored marble floors and midcentury wooden walls with leather banquets arrested your eyes. The combination of this and the colors in desserts and packaging made it busy. But glamour is glamour, and I’ve come to prefer it. The pizza oven is here too and the glass wall where you can watch food prep is all here too. Perusing endless cases of magnificent desserts is every bit as fun in WeHo.
After a 5-year absence we retuned there this weekend. WeHo is only marginally less disgusting outside than downtown, but we deal. Inside is an oasis. A feast for the eyes and spirit.
We used to have a weird thing about Louie. No matter what we ordered or how it was configured, the bill was magically $78. Now that number is over $100 but still very worth it. We don’t usually get the same things, though a pizza is likely part of it. This time we had brunch. Louie is the only place I know where a salad of Mâche can still be had. I am crazy about this tender little green known as lamb's lettuce, but I didn't remember it until we were leaving.
Louie’s brunch is large and part of a wider lunch menu, so limitations are not, well, limiting. There is a soufflé pancake on the menu which we needed to try, and there was a waffle, and my basic breakfast, and one of the kids had a Croque Madame. Also on the table was a Benedict that had Ratatouille under it and miscellaneous bacon and sausage, potatoes, toast, etc. We finished this with a gorgeous pistachio tart and assorted macarons. And a gigantic pretzel with Parmesan cheese imbedded.
The soufflé pancake was exactly that. It wasn’t especially thicker than a fluffy regular pancake, but the texture was dense and had that rich soufflé substance.
I was not expecting to like this so much. It came with assorted berries and warm syrup in a small carafe.
The Benedict was interesting. Two beautifully poached eggs sat atop a pile of sliced vegetables, like a deconstructed Ratatouille. This was thrilling to the one who ordered it, and the plate was cleared.
For some inexplicable reason I didn’t want my All-American breakfast this day, but I switched back from the breakfast sandwich to my usual. It surprised me that I have had much better versions of the American classic breakfast than this one. The eggs were done exactly as I asked, the potatoes were eclectic fingerling pieces that were overdone, as was the slice of Italian sausage. The tiny strips of red and yellow peppers were a nice touch. A slice of toasted ciabatta and soft butter completed this plate. It was all fine, but I don't usually use just that word to describe a plate of food at Louie. Unfortunately, I remember the food much more fondly than on this visit.
The waffles looked fine too but not extraordinary and were not adorned in any way, much to my surprise. These also came with assorted berries and warm syrup and were very well-received by the crowd.
The last thing on the table was the Croque Madame, which was a lovely thing served with a mixed bitter greens salad tossed in a light vinaigrette. The sandwich was rectangular and cut into two large squares, with thick slices of bread lightly spread with Dijon mustard, layered with a slice or two of country ham and melted Gruyère. The accompanying raspberry coulis was misappropriated to the waffle, and enjoyed immensely that way. The order was placed for ham and cheese, and is never eaten past a bite or two. This was considerably a more expensive waste. I took it home.
As we always do at Louie, dessert is chosen by shopping the gorgeous wares that line the counters. Today’s selections were a plethora of different macarons and one small but very shareable pistachio tart. The macarons were a delicious assortment of crunchy meringue flavors in bold colors.
The pistachio tart had a cheesecake consistency and an unmistakeable almond flavor. It was creamy and rich and tasted like almonds and pistachios. The pistachios did not lend just a beautiful pale green color but a distinct flavor as well. The crust was solid and flaky but also moist. This was a very nice mouthful of dessert.
We grabbed a gigantic pretzel with crisped Parmesan hanging off the sides like wings for snacking later. I had a bite in the car and was disappointed. The culprit was expectations. It looked sensational, but it was just a pretzel-shaped bread intermingled with Parmesan cheese.
Louie Number 2 was getting busy as the neighborhood woke up. We left happy to get reacquainted with an old friend. A classy, delicious old friend.
