In Search of Crab Louie
Before we get down to the business of today’s post, a few words about the upcoming second anniversary of The Mix on Friday, Jan. 19. (These are actually the same words I posted last week, but I am reposting them here in case any of you missed them. If you didn't miss them, feel free to scroll down to the Crab Louie section.)
Many of you reading this generously signed up for annual subscriptions and as Bar Regulars to The Mix on that day back in January of 2022. That means your re-up is approaching in 4 days time.
If you wish to remain an annual subscriber—and we certainly hope you do! We’d miss you terribly if you left and need your support!—you don’t need to do anything. You will receive an email alerting you to the upcoming re-subscription and your credit card will be automatically charged. (Be sure to check if your credit card information is current. Otherwise the charge will not go through and the subscription will be cancelled.)
Annual paid subscribers and Bar Regulars will continue to reap advantages and access that are not available to free subscribers. These include:
Access to ALL posts. That means every single article, audio field report, essay, opinion piece, “In Seach Of…” feature (like this one!), “Postcards” feature and lots and lots of recipes. There is nothing you’ll miss. Free subscribers can eyeball less than 33% of this content. (Note: if you prefer to go the Monthly Subscriber route, you’ll also have access to everything. But, really, you should go annual. It’s a bargain and will cost you 30% less.)
Access to all “On a Toot!” features, which run on Fridays and can only be seen by paid subscribers. As requested by one subscriber, going forward we will conclude each “On a Toot!” with a handy list of all the bars and restaurants mentioned, complete with links.
In addition to having your name proudly displayed in an engraved virtual plaque on the virtual The Mix bar wall (see above):
Since I do not have a new book coming out in 2024 and therefore cannot offer you an advance, signed copy of a new volume. What I can offer, as soon you renew your current subscription, is a signed copy of any book in my catalog. That includes The Old-Fashioned, A Proper Drink, 3-Ingredient Cocktails, The Martini Cocktail and Mezcal and Tequila Cocktails. Or, you can have an additional signed copy of Modern Classic Cocktails or The Encyclopedia of Cocktails, if you like. And you don’t have to wait for the release date. You can ask for your book as soon as you renew!
Also there will be a new feature in 2024 called “Regular Recipes.” These will be cocktail recipes only accessible to Bar Regulars. The recipes will be for new, original cocktails drawn from the best bars in the world. In all or most cases, they will be appearing for the first time ever in The Mix. “Regularly Recipes” will appear randomly, but at least 12 times a year. The first one will post early next week.
At a pre-arranged date in 2024, there will be a live Bar Regular get-together, where Bar Regulars are invited to join me for cocktail hour at a bar to be named later. I will give you plenty of advance notice of this, just in case any Bar Regulars who live outside the New York area want to make the trip in for the event.
Last fall, I started looking into the origins of Crab Louie salad. Initial research indicated a dispute as to whether the iconic dish had come from Washington State or San Francisco. As chance would have it, the first two stops on my autumn book tour took me to Seattle and San Francisco. So it seemed my assignment was clear.
“Would you say Crab Louie was a Washington or a San Francisco dish?” I asked Lara Hamilton, the owner of Book Larder, where I held my first book event.
“I’d say that’s a San Francisco thing,” she said.
That said, I found Crab Louie on the menu at one of Seattle’s most famous eating destinations, the Athenian Seafood Restaurant & Bar, which has been slinging food in Pike’s Place Market since 1909. Like every other Crab Louie salad I was going to encounter in the next few days, it was expensive: $38. By contrast, the house salad was $17 and the bay shrimp Louie salad was $24. That’s what happens when you’re dealing with large amounts of lump crab meat.
Moreover, Crab Louie is almost never a small-scale affair. My salad came on a large oval plate that could have easily held an order of Steak Frites with room to spare. The lettuce was topped with a large amount of crab meat and was circled by slices of tomato, avocado and boiled eggs cut into quarters, as well as lemon wedges. A small bowl of dressing sat at one end. It was a pretty arrangement, but, practically speaking, a DIY affair. But, then, that is the way with all Crab Louie. It is not a mixed salad. You are provided with all the working parts. The order and manner in which you choose to eat the ingredients is up to you.
I opted to alternate bites of salad and crab with their circling garnishes. The eggs and avocado were fine. I could have done without the tomatoes, which were out of season and flavorless. The dressing tasted like Thousand Island and was on the sweet side. I got about halfway through before I cried “uncle.” It was too much.
The origin story of Crab Louie is murky. All that can be said with any certainly is that the so-called “King of Salads” began life on the west coast of the United States in the early years of the 20th century. That makes sense, given the abundance of Dungeness crab in the area at that time. The Dungeness crab remains closely associated with the dish.
Washington State’s main claims to the dish are Seattle’s Olympic Club, where an apocryphal story has tenor Enrico Caruso eating the kitchen out of every ounce of Crab Louie in 1904; and the Davenport Hotel in Spokane, which claims the dish was named after founder and owner Louis Davenport. (In the past, the name of the salad was alternately spelled as both “Louis” and “Louie.” But today it is almost always listed as “Louie.”) The Davenport opened in 1914. It still stands and they still sell their famous salad. It costs $35.
A top San Francisco claimant to the dish is Solari’s Grill, which, like The Davenport, opened in 1914. Both Davenport and Solari, however, are wrong, as written recipes for the salad, in both books and newspapers, exist prior to 1914.
Yet another candidate for inventing the salad was the ridiculously named Bergez-Frank's Old Poodle Dog restaurant, an opulent palace of gluttony and indulgence that shone brightly during Gilded Age-era San Francisco, eventually being felled by Prohibition. There they served a dish called Crab Leg à la Louis, named for partner, French chef Louis Coutard, who died in 1908 at the young age of 43. But that dish appears to have been a crab leg entree covered in sauce, as opposed to a salad. In 1914, a San Francisco Chronicle article attributed “Crab a la Louis” to the late chef. Again, the name leaves you to wonder if it was a salad at all or something else. Moreover, that dish didn’t get its name until after Coutard died. So it was named in tribute to the chef, as opposed to being christened by the chef himself as a sign of authorship.
San Francisco columnist Herb Caen was fond of pushing the Coutard/Crab Louie theory. And why wouldn’t he? Caen was a one-man San Francisco publicity machine. If he had written for a Spokane paper, he probably would have backed the Davenport story.
(Just for fun, here’s a 1917 description of Coutard: “Clad in a dashing bolero, a ruff around his neck, his carving knife and gun swung gaily about his waist, while both hands hold aloft a silver boar’s head in garniture.” No wonder the guy died at 43. He lived large.)
Regardless, by 1917, the salad was famous. It was advertised prominently as being served at restaurants in San Franciso, Portland, Seattle and Vancouver. By the 1930s, Crab Louie was so popular in Seattle that an article in the Seattle Post-Intelligencer stated, “A trip to Seattle without a feast of crab a la Louis is like Paris without the Eiffel Tower.”
Fun Fact: The biggest hit of The Kingsman, a rock outfit out of Portland, Oregon, was their iconic 1963 cover of “Louie, Louie.” Once you learn that, trying getting that song out of your head whenever ordering a Crab Louie salad.
The Palace Hotel in San Francisco doesn’t claim to have invented Crab Louie, but some sources say this lodging house helped to make the salad famous. We stayed at the Palace during our tour. I poked my head in the Garden Court Restaurant but didn’t see the Crab Louie salad on the menu. Instead there was a Green Goddess Crab Salad. That made sense; the Palace claims to have invented Green Goddess dressing in 1923 and is obviously proud of that achievement.
The Palace may not have had a Crab Louie on the menu, but Tadich Grill, a five minute walk from the hotel, did.
Tadich Grill is the oldest continually operating restaurant in San Francisco, and one of the oldest in the United States. It was opened in 1849 on Long Wharf as a coffee stand by three Croatian immigrants. Subsequent locations included the corner of Kearny and Commercials Streets; 221 Leidesdorff; 417 Pine Street (where it moved after the 1906 earthquake destroyed the restaurant); 411 Pine Street; and 545 Clay Street. In 1967, it relocated to its present location at 240 California Street and has been there ever since. It is the longest the restaurant has stayed in one place. The address may be newish, but the trappings inside are old, having been rescued from the previous location.
The current name came from John Tadich, another Croatian immigrant, who began working there in the 1870s and bought the place in 1887. The Buich family, who once worked for Tadich, have owned the business since 1934.
Tadich is the sort of place that cherishes old favorites like pan-fried Sand Dabs and Seafood Cioppino, so Crab Louie retains a place on the menu.
We sat at the long bar instead of asking for a table. The servers at Tadich tend to stay on for decades. Our waiter/bartender said he had been there “only for 10 years.” Prior to that, he spent 25 years at a restaurant on Fisherman’s Wharf, and only left because it closed.
After a Sidecar and a couple flawless Martinis and some gratis sourdough bread, our salad arrived. It was served on an oval plate, as all Crab Louies seem to be. The lettuce was shredded Iceberg. The tomatoes were blessedly only two slices in number. There were boiled eggs, olives, radish and cucumber. The dressing was on the side.
This was a more manageable salad than that at Athena, something one person could eat. Moreover, it was simply better on all fronts. The crab was fresher and more flavorful and the dressing had more kick and personality. It was fun to eat and evenly balanced in its components. It wasn’t just a dish of crab-flavored lettuce.
I personally believe that the key to Crab Louie’s enduring popularity is, well, the crab. Who among shellfish eaters doesn’t relish piles and piles of fresh crab? You could put a pile of fresh crab on a piece of cardboard and sell it as Crab Cardboard and it would probably catch on.
But some insist (including Mary Kate) that the crucial ingredient to the salad is the dressing. But what that dressing actually is remains a matter of some dispute. To the naked eye and naked tongue, the thick pink stuff is no different than Thousand Island dressing. How Louie dressing differs from Thousand Island is confusing, but the main argument I’ve read time and again is that Louie dressing should have more heat and spice to it.
This confusion is not new. Indeed, it seems to have always been an issue. A reader writing into the San Francisco Chronicle in 1920 asking for the recipe for Louie dressing received two formulas in answer. One called for cream, catsup, Worcestershire sauce, tabasco, salt and lemon juice. The other called for mayonnaise, chili sauce, vinegar, salt, onion, bell pepper, chives and parsley. Other recipes I’ve seen call for paprika, olive oil, mustard, horseradish and cayenne pepper. In short, there is no standard recipe for Louis dressing.
James Beard—who grew up in Oregon and recalled the Louie he ate at the Bohemian Restaurant in Portland as the best he’d ever had—offered this recipe for the dressing: mayonnaise, chili sauce, onion, parsley, cayenne and heavy cream, the last being folded in after the first five ingredients had melded.
Our next stop was Scoma’s, an Italian institution on Fisherman’s Wharf. Their Crab Louis is listed under “Scoma Classics” on the menu, which said it had been served since the restaurant opened in 1965.
The salad, served again on an oval plate, was the most expensive we encountered ($59!) and very big. There was no way a single person could have polished off the mountain of seafood and roughage—though our waiter told us that is exactly what many people do.
Scoma’s doesn’t muck about with Louie dressing; they plainly state that they use Thousand Island, and a tame blend at that. The salad featured a half pound of crabmeat (flown in from Oregon; it was not yet crab season in San Francisco). That said, the crab was still overwhelmed by the amount of lettuce. The crab-lettuce ratio is critical to the success of any Louie and Scoma’s failed on that account. Playing supporting roles were lemon slices, olives, boiled eggs, yellow tomatoes and, for some reason, red and yellow beets.
Swan Oyster Depot arguably sells the most famous Crab Louie in San Francisco. And it isn’t even Crab Louie.
Rather, as the menu states, it’s “crab salad” which can be served with “Louie sauce.” The dish is simply crab meat and lettuce in equal proportions, with sauce on the side. There are no tomatoes, no eggs, no nothing. That’s it. It’s very good in its straightforward simplicity. But I questioned whether it was actually a Crab Louie salad.
While I walked away from Swan more confused than ever about the true nature of Crab Louie, I did leave knowing exactly what was in their Louie sauce, because the counterman told me: mayo, ketchup, relish, black olives and hard-boiled egg. So I guess eggs were in the salad in a way.
The crab, I was told, was not local. Like Scoma’s, they had it flown in from up north, this time from Washington State.
I didn’t expect to do any more searching once we returned home to Brooklyn. New York is not a Crab Louie city. We’re happy with our Caesars and Little Gems and whatnot.
But soon our attention was alerted to Swooney’s, a new Brooklyn restaurant from the team at Cafe Spaghetti, a favorite Italian eatery of ours. Crab Louie had made a surprise appearance on its opening menu. So, in the name of due diligence, we had to check it out.
Swooney’s Crab Louie is billed as an appetizer. Compared to its west coast counterparts, it was a minimalist affair. A few lumps of crabmeat sat on a tidy bed of finely shredded lettuce. This was neatly framed by a trimming of cucumbers, sliced cherry tomatoes, a single half of a “jammy” boiled egg and three spears of asparagus.
There was no dressing on the side as is usually the case. Instead, the sauce was applied in modest amounts onto the crab alone. Nonetheless, it was a perfect little salad with no weak links. Every ingredient was toothsome and delicious.(Swooney’s Crab Louie dressing, I was told, is made up of mayo, mustard, white vinegar, ketchup, paprika, Worcestershire, garlic powder, onion powder, salt and pepper.)
Swooney’s version re-emphasized the fact that Crab Louie is very much a salad that is open for interpretation. But, then, perhaps I have come to overthink the matter. Really, when you think about it, the essence of the Crab Louie salad is right there in the name. It’s got crab; it’s got Louie dressing (whatever you consider that to be); and it’s a salad. Beyond that, the world’s your oyster. Or, rather, crab.
If you enjoyed this feature, please check out other articles in the “In Search of…” series on regional foods, including ones on Hot Pie, City Chicken, Tavern-Style Pizza, North Shore Beef and Michigans.
J.J. Hat Center, the preeminent haberdashery in New York City, has new signage. The 112-year-old business recently replaces its old neon “Stetson” sign with one that actually says the name of the shop. In the past, most hat store signage was sponsored by major hat manufacturers like Stetson, Dobb’s and Knox…. Crif Dogs, the hot dog joint long joined at the hip with New York cocktail bar PDT, has launched a line of RTDs cocktails. The assortment of highballs includes a Moscow Mule (made with Absolut vodka), Paloma (made with Altos Tequila) and Gin & Tonic (made with Beefeater gin). They are available for purchase at Crif Dogs in the East Village. Cocktails and hot dogs together? You twisted my arm!… The Swooney’s Burger at Swooney’s, the new Brooklyn bistro from the team at Cafe Spaghetti, is instantly one of the best burgers in the city. A double smash cheeseburger with Thousand Island dressing, it has single-handedly convinced me that a burger on an English muffin is a good idea—a notion I had been dead-set against until now… Contrary to rumor, Le Grenouille, the classic French restaurant in midtown Manhattan, is open for business. Reservations are available beginning on Jan. 24… Library By The Sea, the noted cocktail bar in Grand Cayman, will be hosting Julie Reiner and her teams from Milady’s and Clover Club for a New York City takeover on Saturday, Jan. 20. Milady’s hosted Library By the Sea back in early 2023… French fries are back on the menu at Dog Day Afternoon in Windsor Terrace, Brooklyn!… Jim Meehan will be putting out his third book, The Bartender's Pantry: A Beverage Handbook for the Universal Bar, on June 11. The volume is described as “A professional guide that surveys and celebrates the culinary ingredients in mixed drinks, with more than 100 recipes from the world’s most creative bartenders” Co-authors are Bart Sasso and Emma Janzen… The Food Section, the award-winning newsletter about Southern food culture headed up by food writer Hanna Raskin, is leaving Substack and transitioning into an independent online publication. Be sure to keep following it. We will be!
ncG1vNJzZmiqn5eys8DSoqSopqOku2%2B%2F1JuqrZmToHuku8xop2ihnmLApq3RnJ9mp5ZisLOtwWajqK2Zmg%3D%3D