On our third day, we drive just five minutes north of the Chateau to the village of Meursault, for an appointment with Dominique Lafon. For many Burgundy enthusiasts, Dominique’s wines need no introduction. He produces some of the region’s finest whites, and several of its most sought-after reds. Cigarette in hand, he greets me with a smile and several kisses on the cheek. He leads us to the cellar to taste, and we begin with the 2007 Pinots, from barrel. These strike me as the silkiest, most complete reds that we’ve tried thus far. Dominique tells us that, in 2007, most of his best red grapes came from his share of the Champans vineyard, and some from Santenots. Declassified Santenots makes up the majority of his village-level Volnay.

In 2008, crops sizes plummeted. Dominique’s strip of Santenots and Champans acted like a “hail magnet”. Foul weather, rot and sorting left him with just 15 hectoliters per hectare—his lowest crop in 20 years. He de-stemmed all of his Santenots, and fifty per cent of his Champans—of which he made just two barrels.

We move on to the 2007 and 2008 whites, beginning with Dominique’s value-oriented Maconnais wines. He started this line about ten years ago, when supplies of his domaine bottlings could not match demand. At that time, many winemakers looked to the southern France for adjunct properties. Dominique bucked the trend by choosing the Maconnais. Just one hour south of Beaune, this expanse of verdant rolling hills captivated him with its rural beauty and its potential for yielding stellar Chardonnay. Along with his brand pedigree, Dominique brings biodynamic and organic farming practices to a region that traditionally utilized harsh chemical methods. He owns some vines, and leases others. In 2007, his favorite fruit came from his Clos du Four parcel.

We taste through the premier and grand cru whites. All show beautifully. Michael and I slightly favor the 2007s over the 2006s. They show a touch less fat, and a bit more precision.

Talk turns to lunch, and what we’re going to drink. Dominique needs to choose two bottles for a vigneron gathering later that night, and he’d like to do a test run. The theme for this evening’s selection is “the wine that would you would use as your business card.” He chooses his 1989 Meursault “Clos de la Barre” and the 2000 Meursault “Charmes.” We drive into Beaune, for our meal Caveaux des Arches.

Stefan, the domaine’s manager, has reserved the chef’s table in the subterranean kitchen. We open the ’89, a year known for soft, golden fruit, and Dominique brings up the hot topic of premature oxidation. The best white Burgundies used to age gracefully for at least a decade, often two. In the mid-nineties, something happened. Wines made after that point show less consistency as far as going the distance in the cellar. Worse yet, some fall apart after just a few years in bottle. Nobody knows exactly what causes this problem; we’re likely dealing with a confluence of culprits. Changes in cork types and coatings, lower sulfur additions, irregularities in glass production, the position of the bottle after corking, etc…

Luckily, the Clos de la Barre drinks flawlessly, like “nectar with nerves.” Although he acknowledges its antioxidative properties, Dominque detests the addition of SO2, which he calls “the devil.” He declares that many producers use it to effect faux minerality, rather than picking appropriately early and relying on the expression of terroir. Nonetheless, he has boosted his application in recent years. In 2002, he aimed for twenty parts per million; now, he looks for at least thirty. Stefan pours the 2000, which shows equally well. These rich, seamless whites provide the ideal complement to my plate of plump, deep-fried langoustines in cream sauce.

As our entrees arrive, another vigneron, Robert Jayer-Gilles, and his friend join our table. He lights a cigarette, and jumps right into the conversation. We open two reds, an Arnoux Vosne-Romanee “Suchots” and a Jayer-Gilles Nuits-Saint-Georges “Les Hauts Poirets.” Both are from 2003, the infamously hot vintage that produced many overripe, low-acid wines. The Arnoux falls short, with its top-heavy fruit, but the Jayer-Gilles delivers excellent balance. Michael teases Robert, exclaiming with feigned surprise, “Ce n’est pas confit!” (It’s not cooked!) We laugh, and I comment on the wine’s excellent acidity. Dominique continues the ribbing; he wants to know if his friend added “tartaric, o calcaire?” to achieve such freshness. Robert dodges the question with a shrug as he lights another Camel. Justin asks his opinion of the 2008 vintage. Robert believes that “it’s very good, as the malos are perfect, and the fruit is very pretty.” I dig into the pile of veal kidneys before me. They cover the entire plate, and I begin to regret letting Dominique order for me. I usually love this dish—just not in such large quantity.

Lunch draws to a close almost three hours after our arrival at Caveaux des Arches. Justin and I rush up the stairs, out into the sweet, fresh air. A few minutes longer in that smoke-filled kitchen, and we wouldn’t have made it. We decide to swing by the Chateau. Still, no sign of Etienne. His office managers wonder if we’ve seen him, or perhaps know when he’ll return. Their guess is as good as ours.

We make our way to an evening tasting and dinner at Chandon de Briailles, in Savigny-les-Beaune. As I’ve mentioned, I adore the more affordable reds from this village and its environs. Led by sister-and-brother team Claude Drouhin and Francois de Nicolay, the domaine owns fourteen hectares in Savigny, Pernand-Vergelesses, Aloxe-Corton, Corton and Corton-Charlemagne. They farm organically and biodynamically. Claude believes that such practices elevate the natural acidity of their grapes; they have not added acid to their wines since 2000.

We gather in the family’s formal dining room, where the very civilized discourse focuses on “La Crise” (the world’s economic crisis) and the policies of the new U.S. president. I tell Claude how much I love older bottlings of wines from “lesser” villages like Savigny and Pernand, and she pours two wines from the domaine, a 1998 Ile-de-Vergelesses and a 1991 Corton-Bressandes. The ’98 is just beginning to evolve, or “crack,” as Michael puts it. The ’91 offers up aromas and flavors of dried cherries, tobacco, and freshly turned topsoil. Its silky minerality stuns all of us into silence. I am in heaven, but another night, another chateau, and a few more bottles of amazing old wine still await us.