Sunday morning starts with a loud knock at the chateau door. Etienne’s neighbors awoke to discover something that might interest us—Hector, Hubert’s Labrador, sitting in their courtyard. In the midst of last night’s revelry, we apparently forgot about the dog.

Etienne returns Hector to Hubert, while the rest of us head off to Michael’s in-laws. Paul, the family patriarch, makes several wines from Puligny-Montrachet, and one red, a Santenay Gravieres. He once made his living as one of Burgundy’s pre-eminent oenologists. At one point or another, he worked with almost every significant domaine in the region.

We taste through all of his 2008s, 2007, and 2006s. Lunch follows. Thankfully, Michael passed on my request for vegetables. Christianne, Paul’s daughter, has prepared at least five different salads, in addition to charcuterie. As we sit down to eat, Justin tells Paul about the 1966 Chapelle Santenay that we drank a few nights earlier at Ma Cuisine. We assure him that the wine showed surprisingly well, and he laughs. Back before regulations were more strictly enforced, some vignerons blended grapes other than Pinot Noir into their wines. “Who knows what was in it?!” He opens Meursault and Santennay, both from 1976. Both show surprising freshness and precision

It’s almost 4:00 PM when we depart. Justin and I pester Michael to drive us through the vineyards, so that we may make sense of the countless parcels that comprise this region. A few hours and countless photos later, we arrive back at the Etienne’s, ready to taste the 2007 wines of Chateau de Puligny Montrachet, as well as a few more 2006 Deux Montille wines. Etienne tells us that he and Alix will no longer make St.-Aubin rouge and Monthelie Duresses rouge; they have grafted those vineyards over to Chardonnay. Etienne’s whites for Chateau de Puligny-Montrachet range from Bourgogne blanc to Montrachet. At the entry level, they show beautiful, broad-textured fruit. At the highest end, the wines deliver lean, minerally, compacted flavors and bracing acidity; they will need at least a decade for their complexity to fully develop and unwind.

We’ve lost track of time. We’re well overdue for our dinner at Lameloise, twenty minutes away, in Chagny. I panic; I’m still in my muddy boots and khakis. Etienne calls the restaurant, while I rush to change into a dress and heels. Michael dons the only buttoned shirt he claims to own. Justin opts for a sport coat, dress shirt and matching pocket square. Etienne goes as-is, in sweater and work pants.

My first three-star experience fails to proceed exactly as planned. I’ve saved up, and I’m ready to go big, but the wine list offers almost no depth. The best options prove to be a 1998 Billecart-Salmon brut, a 2002 Trimbach Cuvee Emile Riesling, and a 2003 Clos Rougeard Saumur-Champigny. These last two humble wines complement the food better than anybody expects. The Riesling elevates the lobster salad in tomato coulis to another level, and the earthy Cabernet Franc finds perfect parallels in the sweet, yet gamey flesh of the lamb and squab dishes that we share. Justin starts to order dessert, but I assure him that this won’t be necessary. His eyes light up at the dozens of mignardises that flow from the kitchen as we finish our coffee. He pockets a few as snacks for tomorrow’s drive..

Back at the Chateau, I’m about to head to bed when Etienne asks me if I prefer red, or white. In spite of my less than-sober-state, my strategic instincts kick in. Over the past several days, we’ve collected a bottle each of 1998 Gevrey-Chambertin from Yves Confuron and 1999 Volnay Santenots from Dominique Lafon, as well as three magnums of Chablis from Herve Azo. I groggily calculate that the balance currently favors white, so I answer “Red!” He returns from his cellar with a 1985 Pommard Rugiens, a “gift for the road,” and we say goodnight.