DINING : ‘The Simple Joys of Wines and Foods’

As he slowly twirled the bowl of his wine glass, Robert, the 11th Marquis de Goulaine of Nantes, smiled. Our luncheon in his majestic medieval castle was nearly over; we had already enjoyed the 1984 Muscadet from his Loire Valley estate, a clean, fragrant, crisp-yet-round golden wine, along with freshly caught Atlantic bar that had been grilled to perfection. With succulent canard a l’orange , Robert had chosen to serve a mellow claret from Moulis-en-Medoc, Chateau Chasse-Spleen of the memorable 1975 vintage.

“Even with a fat checkbook,” Robert said, measuring his words, “it is difficult to find simple joys of wines and foods.”

He followed that observation with one perhaps even more startling, especially for a French wine maker. “I have 300 California wines in my cellar, and I believe, on a comparison-value scale, that your good, classic California red wine is the best wine in the world. I continue to taste it and my belief stays.”

The ring of confidence heard in his words arose from his position as a member of the oldest wine-making family in the world, currently celebrating its 1,000th anniversary.

The truths contained in the reflections of the Marquis de Goulaine underscore the significance of good food and wine when traveling--locally or internationally. How many of your own excursions have been plotted around an itinerary involving lunches and / or dinners in famous restaurants? In Michelin’s own terms, a three-star restaurant is “worth a special journey.”

The sommelier’s assignment of choosing wines for strangers is not an easy one. Not all linen-tablecloth restaurants can afford a sommelier; even some of the most famous restaurants in New York--such as the Four Seasons, Lutece and Le Cirque--handle the challenge of wine without a conspicuous wine steward.

At the Four Seasons, not only are all the waiters well versed in wines, but owners Paul Kovi and Tom Margittai also may be classed as articulate authorities, ever anxious to share their latest discoveries with their guests.

“If you put a sommelier in here,” Sirio Maccioni of Le Cirque said, “he’d get lost. I have five captains in the dining room who know their wines and our list. Every week we have a class just to taste and learn about these wines. It keeps their level of excitement high.”

Bostonians in the know, especially wine mavens, never have qualms about wine selection when they go to Anthony’s Pier 4 for a lobster or seafood dinner, because owner Tony Athanas is there to help in the selection. The list has 33 California chardonnays from which to choose. There is even a Louis Latour 1976 Corton Charlemagne for a bargain $35.

Fortunately, the days of intimidating sommeliers, who covered abysmal ignorance with insufferable snobbery, are over. Such individuals are of a dying species.

As Ted Balestreri, owner of the award-winning Sardine Factory in Monterey, said: “We’re in the hospitality business. You must love your customers.” With wine sales now approaching the $1 million mark and with many other dinner houses crying the blues, Balestreri’s gospel creates friends who return again and again. But his is far from a one-man show. Eight years ago, a tall, slender pre-law student on vacation from Georgetown University applied for a clerical job with Balestreri. Now 32, Fred Dame is the only American-trained master sommelier to have passed the rigorous three-part examination of the London Guild of Sommeliers. That was big news not only in Monterey but for the whole wine world, because his was the highest score in the history of the academy. (The three top-scoring candidates today, by the way, are women).

Being the sommelier (or cellar master) at Windows on the World in New York was a springboard to a teaching career for Kevin Zraly, who buys the wines for that multimillion-dollar restaurant complex and is program director of the California Wine Experience in San Francisco.

Ray Wellington is now the friendly cellar master at Windows on the World, having learned his role as a wine steward under Zraly. No fear here, no stuffy, pretentious wine ritual. The Cellar in the Sky in Windows on the World is one of the most romantic, spectacular values for dining and wining in America.

Mark Esakoff, 29, sommelier for Sir Winston’s, the Continental-cuisine restaurant on the Queen Mary in Long Beach, says: “When guests ask for my assistance, I never attempt to influence their taste or decision. If it’s a large group, I suggest several wines so that many tastes can be satisfied.”

Meanwhile, in Hawaii, vacationers are invariably shocked by the price of wines. A few wine lists have a footnote explaining that the prices reflect the local state tax, a hefty 20%. But on a holiday, what’s a couple of dollars more on the tab for a memorable experience?

Sailing from Honolulu to Kauai, Maui and the Big Island of Hawaii are two more once-proud trans-Atlantic liners--the Constitution and the Independence. On both, I’ve found the sommeliers extremely enthusiastic about wines, particularly California wines, and anxious to share the pleasures of the vine.

One who draws together all the elements of the romantic adventures in wine is the personable sommelier d’ hotel , Eric Hansen, of the Kapalua Bay Hotel on the island of Maui. Hansen reigns easily as America’s No. 1 sommelier, a man of professional knowledge, experience and charm to whom many younger sommeliers look as their role model.

And then you think of Gaddi’s in The Peninsula in Hong Kong, and the Regent International, where the sommeliers who arrive with their leather-bound lists have an almost formidable mien, but who can be brought to human levels in friendly discourse.

Paris is a top destination on almost every tourist’s agenda, and the Tour d’Argent with its view of the Seine and the towers of Notre Dame is a top dining experience, fully meriting its Michelin three-star rating. Here is perhaps the most glamorous wine cellar in the world, with an inventory of more than 200,000 bottles worth zillions of francs. Nor does the world have a more zealous, dynamic host than Claude Terrail, a third-generation descendant of founder Frederic Terrail, who began the counting of his justly celebrated canards, Caneton Tour d’Argent, in 1890.

I never cease to be amazed by Terrail’s energy and charm as he glides through the almost theatrically appointed dining room, stopping by every table, perhaps sitting to converse momentarily with guests who are flattered by the attention.

On one visit there, we began with a kir royale while contemplating the menu. The tall flute, threading with bubbles fragrant of framboise , was quickly complemented with a superb amuse gueule , loose scrambled eggs (baveux) with caviar, replaced in the open shell, resting on coarse salt crystals. It was an easy decision to have the Corton Charlemagne of Louis Latour 1979 with foie gras trois empereurs, egg-shape rounds of truffled foie gras garnished with wine gelatins of sauterne, sherry and port to dabble onto hot brioche-truffe. A golden wonder-wine, redolent of Chardonnay grapes and discreet Limousin oak in fine balance, its elegance matched the setting. If I have but one day in Paris, one meal must be at the Tour d’Argent.

Visitors to the cellars of the Tour d’Argent are given a small souvenir leaflet, authored by Claude Terrail, which begins: “Silence, my friends, silence. I am going to sing the praises of wine. Age-old cellars! Sturdy vaults of stone that have edified the centuries! More than 400 years ago, a watchtower was built on this very spot and its name has endured: The Tour d’Argent.” The lyrical text runs through illustrious titles: Chambertin 1865, Clos Vougeot 1870 and Romanee 1874--wines that once rested here. It tells anecdotes about J. Pierpont Morgan and the piracy of a not-for-sale Napoleon Cognac and concludes with words about sommeliers and their knowledge . . . “to serve you, to recommend to you your bottle and for the sole pleasure of hearing you say ‘Ah! . . .’ ”

To tens of thousands of tourists to France, dining with Paul Bocuse in his restaurant at Collonge au Mont d’Or above Lyon is a gastronomic objective of the first order. Do not be put off by what anyone tells you about whether or not the globe-circling Bocuse is there. The restaurant runs just as well when he is in Japan or Miami or Los Angeles. Through the glass walls of the kitchen, you can see for yourself how it works--at each station, the men in white performing, several wearing their own ribbons of honor.

My other priority on every visit to Paris is a rendezvous with my lifelong friend, Olivia de Havilland, who lives in the French capital. We always have an extended catch-up, nonstop dialogue at L’Archestrate (only recently moved to the former locale of Lucas-Carton at 9 Place Madeleine), Lasserre, or the Tour d’Argent. The last time she was full of enthusiasm for the new Hotel Plaza Athenee in Manhattan, and most especially about the sumptuous La Regence restaurant: “It looks like the mirrored halls of Versailles!”

I asked about the sommelier. “He was young, with blue eyes, and he came from Grenoble. He recommended two wonderful wines that I’d never heard of before, a white Burgundy at lunch and a claret the next night at dinner.”

A month later I met Olivia’s well-remembered young sommelier, Thierry Reynaud, 25, born in Grenoble, who had attended hotel and restaurant school in Thonon-les-Bains near Geneva when he was 17. Later, he worked at the Veronique restaurant in Pico Rivera in California, after that at La Caravelle in New York and then as a captain at Le Perigord, from where he was hired as the sommelier at the Plaza Athenee.

With Burgess Meredith as my guest for dinner in La Regence that night, I took young Reynaud’s suggestion and ordered two wines from Alexander Valley Vineyards--the 1982 Chardonnay and the 1981 Cabernet Sauvignon ($23). Even before tasting the wine, Burgess sniffed the bouquet, put down the glass, drew back from the table and said: “Wow!” He sipped it and declared: “I think that’s one of the best clarets I ever tasted.”

When I was asked to write about some of my wine experiences on my rambles around the globe, my mind immediately jumped back to the Chateau Haut-Brion 1929, which a sommelier at the Cafe Royal in London recommended to me in 1936. I remember the bouquet of that wine as though I had discovered it this very moment--redolent of wood violets, with a ruby-jewel color and silky, velvet, wraparound taste.

The Cafe Royal on Regent Street is still my first choice for dining in London. There are more “in” places on the gourmet trail, but the Cafe Royal, now owned by Trust House Forte, is nostalgically regal. In the almost baroque splendor of gilt mirrors, huge fresh flower arrangements and fine linen and silver, one can almost imagine Prince Edward discreetly dining in an alcove with Lily Langtry, or Oscar Wilde wittily holding forth.

It is still a fashionable restaurant, impeccably maintained. When I asked the sommelier if he had California wines, he replied: “Certainly, sir,” and he poured me a bottle of Robert Mon- davi’s Napa Valley Fume Blanc for less than I would have paid for it at home--a benefit of the strong dollar.

You may ask whether I ever send back a bottle of wine. The answer is, very seldom. Only if it is flawed, which the sommelier is equally anxious to discover. The inventory of wines is his domain, one in which he lives to share its pleasures with you. So how could he be anything but friendly?