The sun was setting when my wife and I were greeted by Monsieur Escoffier at the bistro’s front door. He escorted us to the raised seating area at the back of the restaurant. The only other table in this area was filled by two men and a woman. The carte de vin was presented to me and the stressful challenge of selecting the perfect wine from the massive list began. Actually, it was not that hard. I knew that I wanted to drink something from the superstar Coche-Dury and we started with the 2004 Bourgogne blanc. The nose revealed a subtle dose of spicy oak, but I have heard that disappears after some years in the bottle. In the mouth, the Coche was very elegant and pure. As our first course was served, I heard a familiar voice directly behind me. My spine froze and a tingling sensation shot across my scalp. “Meadows is behind me,” I whispered to my wife.
I had imagined this scenario this playing out, but I was not prepared for it. When planning the trip to Burgundy, my wife and I decided that it would be best to stay in Beaune, which is the main town of the wine region. The other option was staying in a village amongst vineyards, but that would mean having to drive each night to a restaurant. Spending time in a French jail for drunk driving did not seem appealing, nor did a reduction in my daily wine consumption. One does not go to Burgundy to get sober. Beaune is packed with good restaurants and can be crossed by foot in half an hour. Ma Cuisine is my favorite restaurant in the city and I booked a reservation for several evenings during our stay. The cozy restaurant has very simple, but excellent food and an exceptional wine list. It also happens to be the preferred hangout for members of the wine trade. On most evenings, the restaurant is packed with vignerons, wine writers, importers and enthusiasts. Before leaving for France, when daydreaming about the great meals and wines that I would encounter on the trip, the possibility of bumping into Allen Meadows, a.k.a. the Burghound crossed my mind. I had met Mr. Meadows a couple years before in New York after he had given a lecture at the Burgundy Wine Company. It was an intimidating experience. Meadows is the most respected authority on the wines of Burgundy and very serious about the subject. I could not think of anyone cooler to bump into while in the region. Of course, I never really thought it would happen.
“How do you know,” my wife replied, glancing over my shoulder.
“I recognize his voice.”
A trip to the toilette was in order. I rose from my seat and shot a quick glance at the neighboring table. Never before had I seen the gentleman on the right, but across from him was a man who bore some resemblance to Mr. Meadows. However, this man had a full head of air. When I met Mr. Meadows in New York he sported a crew cut, which gave him the appearance of a Marine. Perhaps I had already had too much wine and not enough food. I washed my hands and took a deep breath. Loud, jumbled voices smacked me in the face as the door opened and I headed towards the rear of the packed restaurant. Half consumed bottles of Burgundy with famous labels sat atop each table and Mr. Escoffier was busy at the bar pulling the corks out of several more. Three small steps leading to the raised seating area, that I barely noticeable earlier, now seemed insurmountable. I felt like I had suddenly been transported to the base of a great Aztac temple and been told to climb to the top. The gentleman turned towards me as my wobbly legs moved past his table and our eyes locked. Time froze. A look of puzzlement washed over his face.
“Mr. Meadows, I met you last summer at……”
The gentleman acknowledged that I looked familiar and we began a slow dance of small talk. Indeed, this man was the ‘Burghound’. I spent the next hour and a half trying not to embarrass myself, which became more difficult as we consumed our second bottle (a terrific 2000 Henri Gouges, Nuits-St.-Georges, 1er Cru, Les St-Georges). The hardest part about meeting someone you admire is acting like the encounter is no big deal. Combine that task with alcohol consumption and you have a challenge worthy of an Oscar. After washing down the last of the Gouges, my wife and I said goodbye and wandered back to the hotel. The ‘Burghound’ and I may never again meet face to face, but at least we will always have Beaune.