My trip to USA has been organised in a much unexpected way. Bipin Desai organises two meals with wines of two producers, Trimbach and Lynch Bages. I would not necessarily fly 6,000 miles to taste these two wines that I can easily drink if I visit the properties, but as Bipin had been kind enough to invite me for the huge tastings of 38 years of Montrose and 22 years of Pichon Comtesse, I decided to say yes. I announced on the forum of Robert Parker that I would come to California, and immediately I received several proposals for dinners. So, seeing how enthusiast and generous people that I know only on my screen would be, people building very consistent programs, I decided to say yes to some, the only refusals being for my health, as this week will see me drinking a lot of wines.

I will describe my trip more like a diary than like wine tasting notes, but as wine is the main theme, wine will be largely concerned. To determine the wines that I would bring has not been so easy, as I wanted to adapt my wines to the general level of what would be brought, not under, not too above. I took the following wines in my cellar : Grands Echézeaux Domaine de la Romanée Conti 1974, that I wanted to taste with Californian wines of the same age, Pétrus 1959 will be brought for a dinner on which I know nothing, but organised by a man who is known to make great dinners, Potensac 1955 will be a birthday present for a friend born 51 years ago, Yquem 1953, Pichon Comtesse 1945, Yquem 1935 for some dinners. The last wine is a Canarian wine of 1828, is to make a surprise to Bipin, to thank him. I had wanted to bring for friends a Cyprus wine 1845, but due to moves from my cellar to my home, the wax had broken and there was a linkage which obliged me to keep it home. It will no be lost. French amateurs exist.

The direct trip is an eleven hours flight. I am sitting next to a man compared to whom George Foreman would be a feather weight. It makes the trip even longer. A film of Harry Potter shows the evidence that there is no limit to stupidity in using wonderful techniques for primitive emotions. To take a plane is a school for serenity. You spend your time in queues, you wait for an improbable progress in your queue, you are considered as if you were the most dangerous gangster on earth, and I must say that Hitchcock is a small kid pretending to create suspense, compared to the unparalleled stress when the rolling luggage provider stops its move when everyone has got his bag except me. The staff in charge of luggage is largely better than Mary Higgins Clark or every other best seller’s authors.

A limousine is waiting for me, which is a sign of civilisation. The Campton Place hotel is nice. This time, no queue on the registration desk. I will sleep with many stops for 16 hours, not knowing at any moment on which time table I am programmed. After a solid XXL breakfast, I go walking in town. On May 1^st, in USA, people work, when in France every pretext is good to stop working. But this day is a day of demonstration about the acceptance of illegal immigration. Some groups are formed, with the obvious pleasure to be together, smiling, singing, dancing sometimes, and delivering messages written in a way that at a small distance you cannot read any. I was in the middle of this small crowd, policemen had closed some streets. When I read the next days what was said about the importance of the demonstration, I was very astonished, because all what I had seen was extremely light when compared to what newspapers mentioned. What amazes me is the variety of faces, of people, of poverty in the streets of American cities. Paris was known for its “clochards”. I have seen today many more than in one year in Paris. One young thirty years white broke was scratching his leg of a very gray colour which has certainly never been in contact with water for the last decade. I find a café in a pedestrian street where I eat on a table outside. A woman indefinitely lifted comes with a dark dog with pink ribbons around the ears. She is exactly how American women of an indeterminated age are caricatured. The man who plays accordion goes from the Beatles to the Third Man, and from Edith Piaf to Freddy Mercury with the same constructed smile.

Ken comes to take me to Jack Falstaff, a restaurant with an external decoration of a building made of concrete after the Armageddon attack. We are not far from the Giants Stadium, and as our room is in open air inside the building, the noise of traffic could be disturbing. But in fact, passionate as we were, we will listen to nothing. I begin to open some bottles by 4 pm, as many have already been brought. I open some of them and I receive a major help by Mark, who will open a lot of them. We put all the bottles in a row, with the corks and capsules associated to them. Very frightened, I see many people coming with more than twice as many bottles as we are. Many of them bring their Riedels.

Ken is so happy with this event that he opens a half Krug Grande Cuvée, very agreeable as we work so hard to open all the bottles. Everybody is there and by 7 pm precisely, Christine, who organised everything so well declare that the tasting is opened. I say a few words to thank everyone for their generosity and I give advice on the way to approach old wines which are not familiar with many members of our group. I sit at my place, and Paul will make a very long speech to present his fabulous bottle, the Martin Ray 1953 from Saratoga, Cabernet Sauvignon. Then, when his speech is over, the glasses in front of me are poured by an army of friends wanting that I try this and that. And I think that I will never be able to remember all what is poured to me. But I am not the only one to be so generously provided with wines. All around me everyone exchanges their wines with the others. The atmosphere is highly friendly. I say to Christine that I am afraid that so many wines are drunk when the dinner has not yet begun. And I am right, as a soup will help a lot the wines, mainly the whites, to become greater. So many wines are poured in my glasses that I am unable to say which one it is and when someone asks me : “did you like it”, I say yes, not knowing which one it was. But of course, I remember some of them.

Some whites have aged very differently. A Chardonnay 1977 Stony Hill Napa Valley pleases me a lot, with a nice Burgundy smell, sweeter in mouth than Burgundy.

In all the wines that we have drunk, I do not see a real difference of aging between French and Californian wines. The proportion seems to be the same of tired wines. The Gamay 1970 Joseph Swan has surprised everyone as it was extremely young and expressive. I did not notice corked wines, and the ones who were slightly corked did not show it in mouth.

The wines that I have particularly appreciated are : Heitz cellar 1968, Ridge Montebello 1970, Beaulieu 1966, Inglenook 1965.

I have found my Grands Echézeaux Domaine de la Romanée Conti 1974 to be rather tired after the travel and the heat in different steps of the trip. But its cork was largely tired when I found unusually young the cork of the “old” Californian wines, nearly not wet with wine, just a small circle being highly invaded by an heavy sediment of a black colour.

I have loved the Yquem 1953, a very nice, subtle and elegant Yquem (I saw that many friends having not the same perspective on Yquem did not probably approach it as I did), and I saw that my American friends are real kids. While I was sipping with pleasure the Yquem, served at last, to be the last perfume of the night, I saw many of them coming back to the reds!!!!

Within the group, I saw a man whose face was known to me. He had attended already two of my dinners !

Everyone has been aware that Californian wines can age and that the slow oxygenation helped a lot the wines to perform precisely.

For me the two stars of the night are the two oldest, which will not surprise anyone : the Martin Ray 1953 was for me the most impressive red of the dinner, and the Yquem 1953 is a Yquem which is in the direct line of what Yquem should be.

The food has been extremely adequate; the service of the staff of Falstaff was highly efficient. I have really enjoyed being the excuse for this meeting and to help to see that Californian wines age well when one is prepared to drink them as they are.

And when I see their potential to age, I would really think that it is probably not necessary to push the young wines to their limits in taste, as there is a certainty that they will age wonderfully, keeping a significant harmony and subtlety.

Thanks to all for their generosity, thanks to Christine to have so well managed the event, and thanks to all the friends for their so passionate attitude towards nice wines.

One day, someone asked me to make a dinner with Jacques Le Divellec one of the greatest chef for fish, and we studied what to do with my list of wine. Jacques invited me to put everything in form, and I was happy with the cooperation.

The man who ordered the dinner had a familial problem and asked me to postpone the dinner.

Time went on, and meanwhile, we created friendly relationship with Jacques.

I kept in mind the dinner which was postponed, but the wish to do something together was still there. As I had no news from the man who had ordered a dinner, I decided that one of my next dinners would be with Jacques. He wanted that we work on a new wine list that I had prepared. So I said : you have been so nice to me, if we have lunch together, I will bring wine.

We met with his wife Marguerite for a lunch for three. As I arrived just for lunch time, none of my wines had the necessary oxygen.

What did I bring? The first bottle is Frederic Lung Royal Kebir Algerian wine 1945 that I had bought recently as a cat in a bag. Perfect fill in the neck for a bottle coming from an original case that I opened myself. The cork stuck to the glass so I had to tear the cork into pieces to pull it out.

The second bottle came from a friend whom I appreciate, who is in the wine business, who asked : could you buy some of my wines as I am short of money. He proposed a La Tache 1960 with a low fill, saying : it should be good. The cork went out very easily, and the acidic smell did not hurt me.

We began with some crevettes, some amuse-bouche on a Puligny-Montrachet les Pucelles Domaine Leflaive 2000. Very drinkable, powerful, it is very pleasant, but I must say that it is more charming than elegant. No mistake, but no thrill. Then, on a plate, I had two huge belons oysters number 0000 (four times zero), which are enormous. What a taste! Amazing. And on a Besserat de Bellefon which is an average champagne, the oysters put the champagne on a trampoline. It gained some personality. The spéciales number two were nice, but not at the level of complexity of the belons.

Then I tried “violets”. I am 63 years old. It was the first time that I tried this animal. It is so ugly that the aesthetical disturbance prevented me to try it up to now. Jacques wanted to see my reaction on the violet plus champagne. It was fantastic.

We had some crude turbot, fantastic meat. The Puligny was not appropriate, too strong, but the wine of my dinner will be.

We had some sea fruits with complicated names (I have not my dictionary), like moules, palourdes, young calamars. The recipe should be changed, but it will match perfectly the Krug Clos du Mesnil that I intend to open.

Then we had two huge langoustines with foie gras, and the Royal Kebir 1945 was fantastic. This wine appears like a burnt wine. It makes you think of Port wine, of Maury, it is torrefied. But when you look behind the curtain, it is an emotional wine that you could take for a Chambertin. All in this wine is balanced. I felt liquorice in it. It is as if a Chambertin would have grown up in Lebanon. The more it developed, the more its complex structure was brilliant.

And I must say : it is strange, but it is a great wine.

We had then lamproie, which is one of the oldest fishes living in France, created some million years before our time. The meat tastes like earth, so I thought that La Tache 1960 would be great. But, I should never trust friends. I try to emphasize a wine which was largely over the hill. No hope despite some flashes.

I tried it on a cheese and at one moment I had some memories of a good La Tache.

But the final test was definitive : on a chocolate mousse, the Royal Kebir 1945 was magnificent, and the La Tache was like a lost sponge.

We have prepared the menu for a dinner to come in May (paying), and there will be in the menu three completely forbidden animals whose hunting is forbidden. Jacques, who is 73 years old, thinks that with me he can make mad things that he would never do with other people.

Lorsque j’ai annoncé l’arrivée de Londres de la bouteille de Lafite 1865, voici ce qu’a écrit Robert Parker sur son forum :

Well a magnum of 1864 Lafite from the Glamis castle …original cork…served at the unforgettable Robuchon dinner in Tokyo in December,2004, brought me to tears….and I don’t cry easily… not with respect to wine…..I think Broadbent had called it the "greatest wine of the 19th century’…..but he couldn’t have tasted every wine made that century….as I recall…even Robuchon was misty-eyed over this amazing wine……hope your bottle is as memorable…

ça fait plaisir !

Il y a des jours où l’on se précipite dans la gueule du lion en faisant tout pour cela. Je vais livrer les vins pour deux prochains repas. Je passe au restaurant Ledoyen où Patrick Simian m’accueille. Nous avons discuté du menu, aussi je goûte la fourme, que je trouve trop forte pour un Sainte-Croix du Mont 1927, et j’essaie le dessert au pamplemousse. Patrick me dit qu’il a été fait spécialement pour Pierre Lurton pour accompagner Yquem. Malgré ce brevet, je demande qu’on supprime le sorbet qui raccourcit la bouche et qu’on augmente le volume de chair rose. Nous décidons de simplifier la recette des langoustines. Le cœur rassuré sans avoir eu la moindre crainte, je vais au restaurant Laurent où Patrick Lair reçoit les bouteilles d’un futur immense dîner, et la gueule du lion s’ouvre : « vous ne voulez pas manger un petit morceau ? ». Je savais qu’on me le demanderait. Et je savais que je cèderais. Mon épouse est encore dans le Sud. La perspective d’une carotte râpée devant un Sudoku est moins attirante que les ors et les stucs de cet élégant palais. Patrick me propose d’ouvrir pour moi un Château Margaux 1937 bouteille qui est en cave depuis toujours et dont j’ai déjà asséché quelques congénères avec des fortunes diverses. Va pour le Margaux. A une table voisine un ami amateur de vin célèbre l’anniversaire de sa fille de 12 ans. J’irai lui porter un verre du 1937 pour lequel nous aurons la même analyse.

Mon repas commence par des cuisses de grenouille dont l’accompagnement est infiniment trop épicé et typé. Je m’en ouvre à Patrick qui réagit instantanément : quelques minutes plus tard, une assiette de cuisses justes poêlées, aillées, avec un court jus de viande constitue un plat divin, à cent coudées au dessus de la précédente version.

Le Château Margaux 1937 a un nez convenable et une jolie couleur grenat qui ne trahit pas son âge. Mais le vin semble engoncé dans un habit de poussière. En bouche, c’est du savon et de la poussière qui masquent le message. Mais, par un de ces caprices irrationnels, sur la deuxième préparation des cuisses de grenouille, comme s’il avait compris mon enthousiasme, le vin s’est mis à devenir brillant, un vrai et beau Margaux.

Puis, estimant son effort suffisant, malgré le délicieux pied de porc, il retourne dans ses saveurs de grenier. Mon ami confirmera : poussiéreux, mais une lueur, l’espace d’un instant. Il est certain que le résultat eût été tout autre avec quatre heures d’oxygène de plus, tant cet adjuvant fait des miracles.

Pendant ce temps, Patrick faisait mes relations publiques auprès de Philippins qui organisent des événements d’exception. Je ne me fis pas prier quand on me demanda d’être photographié auprès d’une ravissante femme au visage de pure perfection qui semblait boire mes paroles lorsque je racontais les vins de mes dîners.

Le dessert dut pris à la table de mes amis au moment où les cadeaux se distribuaient. Un vin liquoreux allemand de 2004, perlant comme un vin de la veille est franchement trop jeune pour mon palais.

Ce Margaux 1937 ne marquera pas ma mémoire, mais la gentillesse de ce restaurant, oui.

I am in my house in the South.

I have just received my new jet ski, so it was an occasion to celebrate that.

I invite two friends with my wife and we go to a small restaurant directly on a beach.

I think that to begin with Dom Pérignon would be a bad thing as our mouth is not prepared, so I order a Champagne Mumm Cordon Rouge.

After the week-end I spent with Moët & Chandon this champagne makes me a shock : no personality.

But slowly the Mumm broadens and becomes civilised. Not to jump to the ceiling, but drinkable.

The contrast is what I wanted : the Dom Pérignon 1998 shows immediately the huge difference. A loveable champagne. Not really drinkable at this age, but already very enjoyable. A very great length and a promising complexity.

I had brought with me Chateau Lafite-Rothschild 1981, just opened when I arrived, so having only 1.5 hours of breathing, a fill in the neck, and immediately a sensual smell that I would never expect from a 1981.

There is a seriousness which belongs to Lafite, but a very deep structure, a joy of life, an expansion in the mouth that surprised me as I did not expect as much from that wine. One would have told me that it was a 1986, I would not have been too surprised.

On a fish (loup or bar in French), it was purely delicious.

Wanting to be nice, the owner of the place offered me a marc de provence.

Almost as ugly as the ugliest grappa. Something which, when you drink it, makes holes in your shoes’ soles.

A very enjoyable dinner, with a surprising Lafite 81.

With my wife, we went a week ago to Marc Veyrat in Megève.

I will make a subject about this lunch, as we explored wines of the Rhone, some of them being magnificent.

Marc Veyrat is a genius. I was wondering if a new experience would make me as happy. I was.

Then, I drove to my house in the South of France, in a lovely place on the sea. For the week, no drop of wine was on my planning.

But friends announced that they would come to visit me, and we went to a small restaurant which is one the rare places installed directly on the strand. They have put tons of white sand, so the place has an atmosphere of a small Saint-Tropez, the prices in less and the top models in less. But the place is charming. The name : “Le Day” in Hyères, near the airport, on the beach.

Last year was their first installation and they had a good idea to have Dom Pérignon and Cristal Roederer for affordable prices. They had reopened the day before, so their cellar was nearly zero.

I asked them to go and buy wine as I would come back with friends. And they promised me that they would have nice fishes.

We began with a Cristal Roederer 1999. I must say that I was very disappointed by this champagne that I found too “dosé”. Much too sweet for me. I would be happy to receive comments : am I wrong ?

Fortunately, the waiter came with huge plates of urchins (offered), and with the sweet taste and iodine taste of the urchins, it went largely better. But, I was disappointed.

Then a Blanc de Blancs Domaine d’Ott 2003. I am always hesitant when Ott is concerned, because Ott is a “must” as Dom Pérignon is a must. So, I am always cautious. But I must say that I was bluffed by this wine which was extremely intense, deep and with a great personality. I had it on a Carpaccio of salmon. I have loved this wine.

Then on a sea bream, I had ordered a Bandol, Chateau Salettes red 2003. Very nice, but largely less convincing than the white. And after that, a Chateau Jasson red Cotes de Provence 2004 was promising, but largely too young for me.

Such a lunch on the beach with a little wind but much warm sun is a promise for Summer.

I enjoyed the Ott.

A nice day.

Dans les grands retaurants, il y a le chariot du pain, le chariot du beurre, le chariot des fromages, le chariot des infusions, le chariot des chocolats, le chariot des desserts. Je fais mieux, et avec le sourire, car j’apporte un nouveau chariot, le chariot de Marc Veyrat !!!

Ma fille cadette

Ma fille cadette nous invite à dîner. Je propose d’apporter des vins, mais je sens que des choix ont déjà été faits. Je limiterai mon apport à un liquoreux. Sur une approche radicalement personnelle de la gougère, où le moindre trou d’air est exclu, comme représentatif d’une expansion inutile, un champagne Ruinart 1999 est assez aimable mais n’est pas disert. Il parle peu à nos papilles. Le carpaccio de coquille Saint-Jacques à la Granny-smith et à la betterave est délicieux. Et son association à Laville-Haut-Brion 1987 est d’une belle justesse. J’ai peur de la betterave avec le vin, mais enveloppée dans une fine tranche de coquille, elle crée un accord très intellectuel mais aussi fort bon. Nous sommes dans la délicatesse pure. Le Laville franchit une étape de plus avec les gambas caramélisées au sucre de canne et cacao. L’excitation du vin est à son paroxysme. Il devient lourd en bouche, rayonnant. Un vin déjà marqué par un vieillissement réel, que la gamba accepte totalement et que ce sucré-salé excite et provoque. Par une délicate attention mon gendre avait cherché un vin de 1966, année du mariage de sa belle-mère et moi, car cela fera dans quelques jours quarante années de vie commune. Il a déniché un Bordeaux Côtes de Francs Château Le Puy 1966 qui nous surprend tous par son excellence. Bien sûr, ce n’est pas une bombe. Bien sûr, ce n’est ni Latour ni Margaux. Mais que c’est bon ! Le nez est très expressif et puissant. En bouche, c’est frêle, mais aussi velouté, charmeur, délicat. Quel beau vin qui a su, comme notre amour, braver le temps qui passe ! Sur un mignon de veau aux morilles, il brille, et paradoxalement, beaucoup plus sur les morilles qui ont l’intelligence de parler à voix basse pour laisser entendre le message du vin. Il faudrait savoir par quel cheminement ce vin de la famille Amoreau a été étiqueté avec la mention : « expression originale du terroir ». Ce n’est pas un plaidoyer de cette époque.

Sur l’époisses, nous essayons le Domaine du Pin, Vial négociant, Premières Côtes de Bordeaux 1937 à la belle couleur et au nez racé. Mais ce liquoreux n’a pas la puissance d’un Yquem (accord essayé à Anvers). Il ne peut pas lutter à son avantage, même si l’accord se justifie. Il est beaucoup plus à l’aise sur une tarte au citron de Pierre Hermé, qui précède une fanfare ahurissante d’accords miraculeux. Les macarons de Pierre Hermé sont redoutables de perfection. C’est surtout leur texture, leur « mâche » qui impressionne. Les goûts sont compliqués car Pierre veut sans doute trop montrer. On rêve d’un macaron à une seule saveur dont celui à la rose indique la voie à suivre. Mais tous sont magnifiquement bons, et les accords avec les vins explosent de toutes parts. Le macaron à l’huile d’olive et vanille, avec le 1937, est éblouissant : le liquoreux rebondit sur l’amertume de l’olive pour offrir une palette aromatique insoupçonnée. Le macaron fruit de la passion et chocolat au lait est déjà, lui tout seul, une œuvre d’art. Mais le Domaine du Pin capte le fruit de la passion pour un accord invraisemblable.

Le macaron chocolat et caramel a une texture divine comme j’en ai rarement croquée, et un Maury Mas Amiel millésime 1980 surgi de nulle part comme le mari trompé dans une pièce de boulevard, exacerbant son coté griottes, nous a plongés dans une béatitude irréelle. Et le macaron au pur chocolat a fait ressortir la griotte et le café du Mas Amiel pour un plaisir final digne d’un feu d’artifice.

Dîner de grande joie, où un Côtes de Francs et un Premières Côtes de Bordeaux ont montré que la région de Bordeaux ne se limite pas à cinq ou six appellations. Ce dîner avait plus de trois macarons. C’est bien.