from a trip to Burgundy and environs in 2004:
Did I want to eat at another Michelin three star restaurant? It didn’t take much arm-twisting to convince me to join my small Burgundy group for a trip to Troisgros, a little more than 2 hours from where we were staying in the premier cru vineyards of Beaune. Originally opened by three brothers, it’s now in the capable hands of the son of one the three—and has maintained its three stars. So seven of us loaded into two taxis and made the long drive for a 1:00 p.m. lunch on a Sunday. They reputedly had a great wine list and that was at least half the reason for heading there.
We were warmly greeted and seated quickly at a large round table. Several of us asked for and received wine lists and warmed up with the 1990 Bollinger, a fine bubbly with a long life ahead of it, but a little lean and yeasty for my liking. When we started ordering wines—and made it evident that considerable Euros were going to change hands at this meal—suddenly the level of attention perked up and the chef came out to greet us and discuss the cuisine and wines. He recommended that the kitchen prepare cuisine not generally on the menu to go with our wines and we selected the next eight wines so that he could decide what culinary routes to travel. We discussed a few options, changed a couple of courses, and then sat back as we were feted for the next 6 hours.
A couple amuse bouche dishes were served as we waited and then we started on the white wine flight—93 Meursault Perrières from Coche-Dury, 93 Bienvenue Batard from Carillon and 86 Batard Montrachet from Leflaive. This round went hands-down to the Carillon—full of finesse, nervosité and elegant fruit, the oak and acids were in the background allowing the fine fruit to shine. By comparison the Coche was a bit clumsy and later fell apart into an oaky mess, but initially it was, by itself, a fine wine. Leflaive’s Batard was a lovely wine, still full of life with years to go, but not likely to get much better than it is. The fruit was aristocratic and refined; we enjoyed the wine very much.
The wine list had many jewels with prices listed with an unremembered French term that I think meant “dare to ask.” One of the members of the group was a well-known gourmand who evidently doesn’t mind going the extra mile for rare wines, but we convinced him there would be many extra miles—he’d have to walk home—if we gave him free rein over the wine list. He had the sommelier bring out the 1929 Romanee Conti Romanee Conti and de Vogue Musigny. They had never been moved from the cellar and had fills that were unbelievable, matched only by the prices—12,000 and 8,000 Euros. That translates to approximately $15,000 and $10,400, respectively. Our (unmarried and childless and therefore rich) gourmand was willing to go for the wines, but we restrained him—by gagging and tying him with the lovely napkins we had been provided. We calmed him down and decided to do a 1993 horizontal. While the wine list had some great younger vintages, vintages before 1993 were lacking—until one reached back to the 20s. We ordered 93 Rousseau Chambertin Clos de Beze, 93 Rousseau Chambertin, 93 H. Jayer Cros Parantoux and 93 Méo-Camuzet Richebourg. For the cheese dish, we asked for the 78 de Montille Volnay Taillepieds.
The cuisine was gorgeous and tasty, very refined and technically demanding. In order, the dishes were Saumon marine Yuzu-kosho; melba de coquilles Saint Jacques and wakamé; queue de langoustine poire, poireau, truffe; pigeonneau and foie gras frits a la Kiev; lièvre en effilochade, le rable rosé, griottes piquantes; fromages fermiers, frais & affine, followed by le grand dessert which included a plate of 4 separate desserts. Finally, the customary fines bouches were served, about a dozen types of delicious cookies and chocolates. The pigeonneau and foie gras dish was incredible; I can’t imagine how difficult it was to prepare this “half sphere” with perfectly rare-cooked pigeon next to foie gras, encased in a crust a la Kiev, with tiny mushrooms around the dish—how it could be fried to create the crust without melting the foie gras or overcooking the pigeon remains a mystery. I wish I could (and I will eventually) figure out how to link my digital photos to this text. Suffice it to say this food rocked. The chef came by the table several times and we shared with him the wine and our enthusiasm for his culinary talents!
The wines weren’t bad either. The Chambertin never really came out of its shell and showed poorly for those more familiar with this bottling than I. However, the Beze was fabulous, very approachable and deep and multi-layered. The Cros Parantoux was everything one would hope for and, for me, was the wine of the flight. The wine is young, multi-layered and very textural, super Burgundy. The Méo-Camuzet was a very good wine, but didn’t open up to show its class; I think it’s just too young.
After “lunch,” while we relaxed with coffee in a nearby foyer, we were presented with the laminated labels of all the wines we had ordered as well as a custom-designed menu listing the wines and the courses. The coffee was served with a set of 6 sugar cubes in a custom rack, all with a “T” for Troisgros branded on them, ranging in color from white to dark caramel—beautifully presented. Senior Mssr. Troisgros—obviously called by his son–had made a rare appearance during the meal to see who the crazy Americans were who had ransacked the wine list and Allen Meadows spoke with him, having met him years before at another engagement. We looked at the various shelves of Troisgros memorabilia for sale (glasses, cutlery, cookbooks, candles, everything but the kitchen sink), as we enjoyed what was a rare excellent French coffee. The bill was 530 Euros (about $700) each for the six hours of entertainment and there were certainly no complaints. This was a great experience. I didn’t even mind the two hour taxi trip back to Beaune.
![[cheers.gif]](/uploads/db3686/original/2X/0/0ff9bfcdb0964982cd3240b6159868fbdf215b1a.gif "cheers"){kind=small}