While I've never embarked upon such a singularly significant culinary memory quest, I can, like most food lovers, conjure up a handful of fond food memories. Thinking hard enough about them, I am able to return to those rare and special tables of my past, remembering not as much one dominant flavor as I do all-around exceptional meals where flavors collided harmoniously. People love Louie's.
Proof is that the restaurant has been around a while, a thriving downtown address for many years.
Louie's signature Mediterranean fare claims a strong spot in the city's collective gustatory memory. Oddly enough, in my six-year stint as a Chronicle restaurant reviewer, I've slipped behind Louie's dense, red velvet curtain only a handful of times, each time to share a quick plate or two of tapas, then linger over a glass or two of wine. So having a couple of meals to look forward to in the restaurant's soaring dining room was something I was happy about. My first full meal at Louie's, a dinner with friends, began slowly. We labored over the restaurant's long, relatively expensive wine list, ultimately settling on an excellent Oregon pinot noir before turning our attention to the menu.