Admittedly, Luigi's Bent Noodle will never win awards for its ceci con la tempia di maiale del girono dei Morti -- in fact, it doesn't even serve the dish. But then, folks in Littleton and Aurora, where the two Luigi's are located, aren't really the type to go for pig's head boiled with dried chickpeas anyway.
Phil Anson
Luigi's Bent Noodle may not serve genuine Italian food, but the atmosphere is genuinely friendly.
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303-337-2733
Hours: 11:30 a.m.- 9 p.m. Monday-Thursday
11:30 a.m.-10 p.m. Friday
4-10 p.m. Saturday
4-9 p.m. Sunday
8130 South University Boulevard, Littleton
303-694-9357
Hours: 11:30 a.m.-9 p.m. Monday-Thursday
11:30 a.m.-10 p.m. Friday
4-10 p.m. Saturday
4-9 p.m. Sunday
Minestrone (bowl): $3.95
Calamari fritti agliati: $5.95
Gamberi fritti: $6.95
Pizza formaggio (individual): $7.95
Pizza margherita (group): $16.95
Spaghetti with meatball: $8.95
Salsiccia lasagne: $10.95
Ravioli di formaggio: $9.95
Chicken marsala: $11.95
Fettuccine Alfredo: $10.95
Cinnamon crisp: $4.25
Baba ruma: $4.25
Tiramisu: $3.95
3055 South Parker Road, Aurora
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What they want is well-priced, family-oriented fare served with a smile -- and Luigi's delivers, even if the Italian accent isn't exactly genuine.
Mark Johnson is secure enough to admit it. "We don't do things totally authentic. We do things that we think taste great," says Johnson, a native of Denver, not Brindisi. "I never want anyone to think that we're trying to make definitive Italian dishes, but we do use some of the same ingredients and have adapted many authentic recipes."
Today, all of the dishes coming out of Luigi's kitchen are Johnson's, however, it didn't start out that way. Back in 1986, when Johnson opened a restaurant known simply as the Bent Noodle, his buddy Kevin Taylor came on as a consultant; chef Thomas Tyrer, a Culinary Institute of the Arts grad, threw his ideas into the mix, too. The results weren't everything that Johnson had hoped for -- or that diners even desired, for that matter ("Oodles of Noodles," January 30, 1997). "To tell you the truth, I initially thought I needed someone with a culinary-school background," Johnson admits, "and I thought I needed other people to tell me how things should look and taste."
Which seems strange, because prior to starting his own eatery, Johnson had a long history in the biz. He started working at a Village Inn when he was fifteen, then did time at Bennigan's before moving on to manage the Paramount Cafe and then become part owner of the now-defunct Jimmy's Grille in Glendale. "After working in places where the bar dominated for so many years, I had gotten tired of trying to keep inebriated people happy," he says, "so when I saw that the culinary-school thing wasn't all it was cracked up to be, I decided to go back into the kitchen and see if I could start generating some different satisfaction levels with the food."
The food wasn't the only thing he changed. In 1999, when Johnson opened a second location in Littleton, he discovered that diners came through the door expecting Asian food -- so he added Luigi's to the name. Once you're inside either eatery, though, you can't mistake the Italian influence. The Littleton location features photos of celebs such as Marlon Brando with fake testimonials ("Your lasagne is to die for," Don Corleone wrote); shelves on the squash-yellow-and-exposed-brick walls overflow with old clocks, plastic flowers and Chianti baskets. During the day, this Luigi's is a nice, quiet spot for lunch; at night, the circular bar in the center, surrounded by high-backed red vinyl chairs, makes for a fun, people-watching fishbowl. The decor is busier at the Aurora restaurant, with more knickknacks and Italian-themed posters, and so is the bustling dining room, where tables are bunched together and almost always full. Both spots offer patio dining -- overlooking parking lots -- and the many wine bottles in the dining rooms serve as a good reminder that Luigi's has a wonderful wine list, filled with interesting picks from Italy (check out the 1997 Fontodi Chianti Classico) at prices the average family can afford.
When Tyrer left eight months after the new restaurant opened, Johnson started training the cooks himself. "I don't know that it could work for everybody, but I do know that things right now work really well for us," he says. "This isn't a chef-driven kitchen, and that's all there is to it. Instead we all kind of work as a team, with me leading. And sometimes I cook, but I don't always have to, because they know what I want."
What Johnson wants is a mix of contemporary Mediterranean dishes and Italian-American favorites with an emphasis on sausage -- a mildly spicy, pork-based creation that's made in-house -- as well as homemade red sauce; imported and domestic cheeses hold everything together. And the consistency of that fare is testament to Johnson's faith in the no-chef system. Our meals always came out in a timely manner, and with the exception of a couple of items that weren't quite what we'd expected, the dishes were all delicious and well executed.
The must-get was the minestrone, its salty tomato broth choking with tube pasta, kidney beans, zucchini, carrots and onions, all tender but not smooshy, all carrying the punch of that peppery sausage. A Best of Denver 2001 award winner, this boldly flavored minestrone was such a hearty brew that we felt invigorated just smelling it. The judicious use of salt was the driving force behind two more addictive starters: the calamari fritti agliati, squid encased in a golden shell of batter that was light but still made for crunchy munching, and the gamberi fritti, rock shrimp reminiscent of lobster-like langostinos (hence the dish's name) that had been lightly coated in batter and fried, then tossed in a tangy mixture of garlic-infused lemon juice. A spicy marinara came with both appetizers; the calamari brought the added bonus of a creamy, caper-studded aioli.
