La Louisiane | SA Weekend restaurant review

In July, a jazzy French tavern opened underneath King William Street – and our reviewer is head-over-heels with nearly everything.

Inside the Adelaide French restaurant La Louisiane. Picture: Supplied

Between the gruesome scalpings and outrageous cinema finale, one of the tensest scenes of Quentin Tarantino’s film Inglourious Basterds is set in a fictitious basement tavern named La Louisiane. It is a dank, desperate place, as you might expect in wartime Paris.

The city brasserie and bar that has adopted this name is also in a basement – but that is where the similarities end. Adelaide’s La Louisiane is overflowing with joie de vivre. A jazz band’s double bass rhythm echoes from bare brick walls and floors made for toe-tapping. Lights glow softly and the crowd is as effervescent as a flute of Veuve. Empty wine bottles are scattered about as though the party is never-ending. Which isn’t far from the truth.

That’s how it has been since this former bank, stockbrokers’ bolthole and grungy American diner below the footpath in King William St was reopened at the beginning of July.

Co-owners the Big Easy Group have form with the Tarantino references, most notably at Prospect pizzeria Anchovy Bandit. But it was during a guest stint at another of their restaurants, Yiasou George, that they were introduced to French born/trained chef, Alexis Besseau, from celebrated Sydney brasserie Restaurant Hubert. The stars aligned.

Alexis Besseau at La Louisiane. Picture: Supplied

The bar of La Louisiane, Adelaide. Picture Jack Fenby

The initial plan was to create a pop-up and, while this is under review, perhaps the short tenure prompted the unusual “no bookings” rule for dinner. Our group of six gets around this by gathering early on a Friday evening in one of the dining chambers tucked away to the side. Separated from the main bar by red velvet drapes, the rooms have table lamps, framed oil paintings and whimsical wallpaper murals.

While I’m head-over-heels for most aspects of La Louisiane, the caveat is it can be expensive. Bottle prices on the wine list start at $70 and the comparatively “affordable” French pinot we take a shine to turns up on a Google search at a major retailer for less than a third of the price.

From the food side, it isn’t the $50-plus mains that are a problem – they can be shared – but charging $10 for six slices of baguette seems excessive, even if the butter from The Barossa Dairyman is superb. A tartare of hand-chopped rump from Mayura Station wagyu is also exceptional, the meat retaining a pleasing soupcon of bite, the egg yolk stirred through for even coverage, and the seasoning perfect.

Food at La Louisiane. Picture: Supplied

Some of the dishes at La Louisiane. Picture: Supplied

Tracking down ingredients such as this and using them to elevate bistro classics is Besseau’s trademark. Stracciatella (from Vannella, NSW) beneath a trio of roasted heritage beetroots is a dairy-fresh dream. Double-baked souffle sings a serenade of nutty gruyere. Ocean trout is given the full day-spa treatment – soaking with juniper, an olive oil bath and a 54C woodchip smoking – before serving with dressed fennel.

Steak frites is a 300g scotch fillet, grilled medium rare, sliced and topped with a disc of compound butter that marries the standard Café de Paris with a Bordelaise-style reduction of red wine and marrow.

Steak frites at La Louisiane. Picture: Supplied

A medley of sauteed mushrooms including oyster, shimeji and lion’s mane gets funky with the sweet earthiness of parsnip done three ways – puree, fried cubes and strips of dried skin.

The only question mark comes with the fish. Two pieces of snapper fillet, one a slimmer cut from closer to the tail, are both marginally overdone. And the “beurre blanc” sauce is a lightened version, based on fish stock, that doesn’t compare to the original.

It does, however, leave capacity to enjoy something sweet, particularly a benchmark crème brulee whose toffee lid cracks like frost on a winter morning.

Creme brulee at La Louisiane, Adelaide. Picture Duy Dash

The off-menu canelé is also a special in every sense, the single batter magically creating a moulded cake-meets-pudding that is dark and crisp on the outside and a lightly boozy custard in the middle.

Even Tarantino’s fearsome Colonel Landa would be impressed, I fancy.