When I arrived at three that afternoon for our rendezvous, a tall stainless steel pot was already seated on the stove and the thin stream of steam told me someone was home. Louis was home. Louis Guillaume, Head Chef of Oliuu Creative Bistro. He met me downstairs for a quick smoke outside, next to the place’s olive tree and then took me upstairs to show me around.
First floor is the restaurant where you’ll see him behind the counter cooking and chatting with guests every night except Mondays. Second floor is more of the restaurant with a seating area for those who prefer somewhere a bit more quiet. Third floor is where he lives and also where the restaurant’s current resident artist lives, Laurent Judge. Oliuu is part mediterranean bistro, part art exhibition where new artists will rotate in and out showcasing their work every few weeks. When we went upstairs, Laurent was in the midst of working on a new art piece, a few actually. He rotates between them, working on a little bit here and there. Makes sense considering the exhibition one floor down is called a Symphony of Chaos and even more sense when you notice the walls from the bottom of the first floor to the top of the third floor are covered with a chaotic symphony of colors. After all, music, food, and art are all forms of chaos. They’re creative outlets. They’re universal languages. They’re vehicles for connection. They’re not just things we make—they’re the things that make us.
When Louis and I walked back downstairs, I could tell he was busy. But I could also tell he was used to being busy. Busy was normal. So is chaos. For chefs and artists and musicians alike, chaos is part of the gig. Regardless, Louis took the time to make me some coffee before we grabbed our seats to chat.
When Louis was around 18 he had a decision to make. His parents said if you study, we’ll help you — but if you walk, you’re on your own. He had been working as a pizza delivery boy while studying but he was bored senseless, sitting in class and learning through reading wasn’t for him. Thus, it wasn’t long before he made his mind up: on my own it is. He’s been walking that path ever since.
One of his first jobs in food was working at a restaurant in Lille, France where he’s from and where his friend was the manager. His friend introduced him to the owner and the owner said you start next week doing what almost everyone does in their first job in the kitchen: washing dishes. He worked there for roughly two years — washing dishes, eventually putting together small plates, and because of the bar’s extensive bar program gaining a lot of knowledge about beer and wine as well. However, as it goes, before he knew it he was out of a job. At this point, he was in early twenties and had no idea what would come next.
The following three years, he roamed around — a lot. Working a week here. A week there. Sometimes a month, maybe more. And so on and so forth. “So you must have worked like a dozen jobs or so during this period?” I ask. “No way more, like 50,” he says. Talk about your formative years, I thought. For many people such a period of life can really take it out of you. You’re young. You’re broke or most likely close to it. You’re bouncing around from one interim to the next. But, you’re also learning — a lot.
Louis’ mindset back then is one that remains with him today. Three questions always in the mix and there to self-reflect on. One, am I learning? Two, am I making enough money to support myself? Three, am I having a good time? If you got all three? Wonderful. Two? That’s great too. Only one? It’s time to walk.
As it goes, eventually Louis ended up at Felicie, a Michelin Guide restaurant in Loos, France, a suburb outside of Lille where he’s worked the majority of his jobs in the kitchen and where he lived since the age of 12 before moving to Saigon last November. But back at Felicie, where the menu changes every two weeks, is where he says he learned the most about cooking, how everything can be kept and used for flavor rather than trashed and in particular about the importance of how a chef uses color. He pulled out his phone at this point and showed me pictures of the restaurant’s dishes which made me look around again at the colorful walls plus the blue, yellow, and pink plates stacked behind the stove. “Color is important, but taste is number one” he says, “Eyes matter, smells matter. It all counts.”
Working with color is instinctual now and it’s what he feels most proud of. Being surrounded by color day and night, as well as a rotation of artists from various countries, living and working at the restaurant makes him feel happy and feeds his creativity. “He composes on the plate,” Laurent mentioned earlier when I asked him if Louis paints or makes music like him. And when you stop by Oliuu, you’ll experience what he means. Oliuu’s blue, yellow, and pink plates are Louis’ canvas. Food is his art.
Oliuu’s menu is a celebration of Mediterranean fusion featuring some local ingredients from Vietnam. Rich and savory grilled lamb chops. Slow-cooked pulled pork balls with creamy cheddar sauce. Deep-fried shrimp accra with a kick of wasabi mayo. Sweet beetroot hummus topped with feta cheese and fresh chickpeas. And of course, the main event and the one Louis’ most proud of, mille-feuille, otherwise known as “thousand layer potatoes” accompanied by white sauce, salmon roe, and dill. Everything except the ketchup is homemade and tastes and smells as good as it looks and sounds.
Beyond the delightful dippings, desserts, and drinks, besides everything cooked from the sea and the land, it’s the words and phrases on the menu that reveal the deeper story. Lightness. Playfulness. Joys of childhood. Freedom of spirit. And whimsical dreams of your younger days. Louis says a lot of the people that come to his restaurant, either in groups or alone, don’t know the behind the scenes details and all of the work that goes into running a restaurant. This is why Louis’ kitchen is open so he can be right in front of you — free to chat with guests and share the spirit behind each dish, all the while staying joyous, light on his feet, and at play with flavor and color. Everything is to be shared at Oliuu — the food, stories, time with loved ones and strangers, and even perhaps reminiscing over whimsical memories like that of making up one’s own mind to walk the road less traveled.
In the end, it all makes sense. The hum of heat. The rainbow of chaos. The symphony of color. This is where Louis feels at home — busy cooking, creating, chatting, and doing everything he can to make sure you feel at home too.
