Wednesday, December 15, 2010. Great Wines, Good Food At Dominique's. I wrote so long today that my eyes went haywire. The 20-20-20 rule says: every twenty minutes you spend doing close-up work, look at something twenty feet away for twenty seconds. I didn't follow the rule, and by noon I had to stop. It was lovely outside, so the dog Suzy and I took a walk on the trail in the woods.
The woods looked funny. Was it the deep layer of fallen leaves on the ground, topped by stray branches to kick out of the way? Or the annual disappearance of all the ferns? Or just that I haven't walked the trail in a couple of months? I came to a concentration of the tallest, oldest trees. Their foliage is high up, and the gaps between them are more open than among the lower trees. This area looked most peculiar of all, enough to make me stop and stare. Then I saw what was different: the angle of the sun. Low in the sky and due south, it was illuminating areas it rarely touches. Same idea as Stonehenge.
I took further notice of this once-a-year condition when I emerged from the woods. The shadows of the trees stretched all the way across the usually-sunny meadow. Shadows that long are only seen in early morning or late afternoon most of the year. But it was high noon. And the shadows ran south to north. The sun will not go much lower.
All this would be of interest to Dr. Bob DeBellevue--dermatologist, world traveler, expert on birds, oenophile, and a groomsman at my wedding. He called a couple of days ago to invite me to dinner. He's in a small club of wine-loving friends who have dinner together on the third Wednesday of every month. They pick a restaurant and a wine theme, and each member brings a bottle.
Tonight's wine theme: a bottle of Champagne, or a bottle of any wine, vintage older than 1995. The restaurant: the reborn Dominique's. Chef Dominique Macquet, who first came to town to be chef of the Bistro at the Maison De Ville in the early 1990s, later opened his own place in the Maison Dupuy Hotel. He left there two years ago, and was at large until opening here on Magazine Street between Bordeaux and Valence.
Whoever renovated the space in this former shotgun house did a good job with it. The main dining room fills the two parlors and one bedroom. (I'm assuming the original layout was like the ones I grew up in.) Dominique planted the exterior with a good deal of culinary shrubbery: basil, rosemary, lemongrass, and even a screen of sugar cane.
The dozen people in attendance clearly have good cellars. Each bottle was not only interesting to sniff and drink, but had a story behind it. For example: an emergency physician I met for the first time brought a wine that met both of tonight's criteria: Charles Heidsieck "Champagne Charlie" 1985. This was for many years the top of Charles Heidsieck's line, until replaced in the 1990s by Blanc des Millenaires. Champagne Charlie was my kind of big bubbly, and I thought I'd never taste it again. The bubbles weren't what they had been, but that's typical for older Champagnes. The flavor was all I hoped for. We New Orleanians should have a soft spot for Charles Heidsieck's wines. Champagne Charlie spent most of the Civil War in New Orleans, which is where he got his nickname.
With only one bottle of each wine and twelve people, we only got tastes of most of them. Some highlights were Dr. Bob's 1991 Penfolds Grange, the best wine from Australia. Bob has one of the world's most distinguished collections of that wine. Also from 1991 was a Chateau Rausan-Segla from This is a wine I've had only one other time. Marvelous aged Bordeaux bouquet and flavor.
Then a wine in a bag (literally) was sent around the table. It was in the same bag (figuratively) as the Rausan-Segla, but even more alluring. It was called a major Bordeaux by some at the table (including me). Wrong. It was 1985 Cain Five from Napa. The name comes from its use of the five traditional grapes used in Bordeaux. I've always loved this wine--in fact, I have a few bottles of it, from this vintage, yet. But this was the first time the earmarks of old Bordeaux turned up form me in a California wine.
I brought my last bottle of a case of Chalone Pinot Noir 1981. It and a case of the related Edna Valley Pinot Noir 1981 were lost in my closet for over a decade, and largely past their prime--although some bottles of the Chalone had held firm. It was the oldest bottle of wine on the table, and had the hardest cork to remove. It was over the hill but not terrible. Farewell to that pre-nuptial inventory!
The food was coming out in the midst of all that. I began with two appetizers, and annoyed that they brought both at the same time. One was fried chicken and fried baked macaroni. Someone at the table said she'd had it and liked it. The chicken part was boneless and formless, with a thick batter. It was Tanglewood Farms chicken (so what?), fried in duck fat--not something you could tell from the eating. Why do gourmet restaurants attempt to cook fried chicken? As for the fried macaroni and cheese, one's impression from hearing about it is accurate.
The other appetizer was shrimp remoulade atop fried green. . . ah, not tomatoes. Dominique has someone raising kohlrabi for him, and he used it. Despite the other-worldly look of the vegetable, it makes the same gross understatement that mirlitons do. The shrimp were grilled and the remoulade sauce was served warm. I liked this pretty well, and sent it around the table to make up for my taking photos of everyone else's food.
Among the better such dishes were lobster with chunks of celeriac, with a basil aioli; Morgan Ranch (so what?) Wagyu (so what?) beef, charred and made into a tartare, sort of; and a confit of duck with honey made by bees from the neighborhood (so what?).
A better duck turned up on the entree plates of several people. Half a roasted bird, prepared simply and very well. Underneath the duck was pureed parsnips, which are about 87.34 percent identical with mashed potatoes. But that 12.66 offbeat percent made the whole dish interesting. And the scallops and fettuccine looked good. Those who had the drumfish with corn and mirliton reduction thought well of it.
My entree was a wonderful plate to have with Grange, Rausan-Segla, and Cain Five at my right hand. It was leg of lamb, roasted and sliced thinly enough to roll around a stuffing of tomatoes, leeks, and tarragon. Nice natural jus.
Because a great deal of excellent wine was still on the table after the entrees were cleared, I asked for the cheese plate (cheeses from St. James Cheese Company, a few blocks away--and that really does mean something) instead of a dessert. Someone nearby had the lemongrass panna cotta, served in a martini glass. She let me have a taste--good! More dramatic was a big oval of spun sugar (cotton candy, flavored with ginger) that was passed around for the picking, compliments of the chef.
In the early years of my career, I often attended dinners by various gourmet societies, of which there are more than one might imagine. I don't get those invitations anymore. Perhaps I have been found out. But I like this little group, and unless I'm blackballed I might be asked to join them again. I hope I can find enough wine to match their cellars, which are clearly better stocked than mine. All my wine money has gone to my kids for the last twenty years.
Dominique's On Magazine. Uptown: 4729 Magazine St. 504-894-8881.
