A drink to Louis

I was looking through the wine rack at Fausto's and saw a newcomer: Egribi- kaver, a Hungarian red that's rich, full, strong -- just what you'd expect from a word that translates as "bull's blood."

I went straight to the freezer case and got some Stouffer's mac and cheese. Louis Szathmary, after all, introduced me to the wine, and was the consulting chef for Stouffer's on the mac.

(It's a gastronomic canvas: Add: Onions? Sliced sausages? Fresh peas? Asiago? Layer with provolone? Dust with the best parmigiano?)

Louis was the legendary chef of The Bakery, on Lincoln, in Chicago (and more briefly The Bowl and Roll, a dive on Wells Street, with his wife, Sadako, whose bean-and-sausage soup I still dream about), and one of the kindest men I know. What I didn't know was that he was a Ph.D. in psychology, a world-class bibliophile and one of the best-selling cookbook authors in history.

When I was taking home $75 a week, I saved up to beat a path to The Bakery for flavors I'd only read about. The place was always 5 degrees too warm, but it swam with scents of pastry, roasts, herbs, sauces.

He strode up to me in the dining room one night, asked me what I was ordering -- his Szekely goulash, flavored in heaven -- and sent over a bottle of Egri to do fair battle.

A year or two later, but still steeped in poverty, I took a bride- and groom-to-be to The Bakery as a gift on the eve of their wedding, bringing a bottle of champagne.

"Hoo brrodt diss into my reztaurant?" Louis thundered into the dining room, chilled bottle in hand, as we waited for his souffle.

It was Dom Perignon, and I was afraid he'd call me gauche, but meekly offered myself up as the wine-picker.

"'Oh, Chon. Sair [his eyebrows and moustaches twitching] . . . you heff . . . supairp tast." He broke into one of the biggest smiles I've seen. He sat down to take a glass with us, and there was no check for anything that night, as much as I protested.

I cried when he died a decade ago. Tonight, sipping Egribikaver, recalling improbable moustaches and eyebrows and toque, and his etterem, I shed a tear as well. It's another thing Louis taught me:

Savor it.