Romantic music and delicious Italian and Greek cuisine can be the setup for a special evening meal at Luigi's Italian restaurant on Broad Street. MICHAEL HOLAHAN/STAFF

Web posted October 30, 1998

By Tom Curran and Julie Gates
Special to The Chronicle

Walk into Luigi's on Broad Street and you think classic, cozy Mediterranean and Frank Sinatra. The waitresses have black hair and olive skin. The mural on the wall, which depicts a small, dusty Mediterranean villa filled with colorful people, still bears the textures of the painter's brush strokes.

As you flip through the selections for the jukebox you'll find Dorsey, Martin, Bennett, Sinatra, Nat King Cole, Glen Miller -- 25 cents a song to hear the needle crackling along the ridges of a 45 and the far-off sentiments of the world's finest crooners.

We fell in love with the originality, ambiance and intimacy of this little restaurant. But the atmosphere had nothing over the delicacies they serve.

TOM: OK guys, when you need to take that special lady to someplace romantic, this is your place. Luigi's also should be kept in mind when you've done something really bad. I'm talking forgetting a birthday, anniversary or that terrible calling-her-someone-else's-name type disaster. This place is so special, use it only in case of emergency.

JULIE: Well, if that's the case, then Tom needs to open up a charge account there. He is so-o-o-o right. All that was missing that night were a dozen roses and perhaps a limo. But I'll forgive him because the food more than made up for these oversights.

TOM: This is an unpretentious, understated place. When you leave Luigi's, you'll feel you've gotten the best of a wonderful bargain.

For appetizers, I had stuffed grape leaves, several small, hand-wrapped delicacies stuffed with rice and meat, and very lightly seasoned. These were wonderful -- covered with a light, lemon-butter sauce. I could have made a meal out of those.

JULIE: And I had tiropittes (cheese puffs), light, flaky fritters oozing succulent cheese. I took one nibble, sat back, and nearly pulled one of those Meg Ryan numbers from When Harry Met Sally.

Tom just stared at me, bug-eyed, and said, ``Here, have one of these,'' a stuffed grape leaf -- as if this would calm me down. It only made me more hyper. My tongue was having a veritable festival.

TOM: On to the entrees. And no, I'm not going to respond to the Meg Ryan remark. I couldn't make up my mind. So I ordered two. First, I ordered moussaka. I'm going to tell you what's in it, but don't let that stop you from ordering it. Moussaka has layers of eggplant (yes, real men eat eggplant), with wonderfully seasoned ground beef, topped with a light Bechamel. I also ordered chopped steak provolone. This thing was covered in onions, peppers, mushrooms, melted cheese and a lot of respect. Understand that these are large portions. I ate it all, and I am proud of myself.

JULIE: Not entirely true. When he wasn't looking, I scarfed down half the eggplant. Who could resist? I perused the menu: veal, lasagna, ravioli, meat sauce, homemade Italian sausage. It was difficult, but I decided to go with the spaghetti topped with homemade Italian sausage.

I will search the ends of the earth for good Italian sausage. NEVER, NEVER have I tasted sausage this good. Cut in large slivers, the delicate, subtly seasoned meat blended absolutely perfectly with the tomato sauce.

When I couldn't face another mouthful, I mopped up the sauce with Luigi's homemade garlic bread.

TOM: Penelope, our server, was very attentive and knowledgeable of the menu.

She explained the different Italian and Greek offerings. Not an easy task, given the many names and exotic ingredients. It was interesting to note that all of the wait staff stepped lively and seemed to possess an upbeat tempo.

JULIE: As a dutiful citizen, I felt obligated to finish off our romantic feast with a fitting finale, baklava -- layers of filo dough, walnuts, cinnamon and syrup. Short, sweet, simply divine. End of story.

TOM: OK guys, now remember -- Luigi's. When you need that special, romantic, get-out-of-trouble, it's-not- my-fault-and-if-it-is-my-fault-I-didn't-mean-to type of place. Also, be sure to stop by the bank for a roll of quarters -- the jukebox can set the tone.

Tom Curran and Julie Gates are proprietors of Floyd Manor Inn in Blackville, S.C. Call them at (803) 284-3736.