And a pretty perfect one too. Started off Saturday with an early ocean swim at Bronte before the crowds arrived; the water a translucent aqua and as fizzy as champagne. Breakfasted on Eggs Benedict facing the beach at the good-looking Swell Bar while flicking through upmarket travel magazines, then took a 2-hour mysore class (and got into my first Bhujapidasana since returning from Ann Arbor!). Had time for a quick nap before Gerard took me to Claude's for the most sublime dining experience I can remember.
Being a Saturday night the tasting menu was compulsory, and we opted for the wine flight to maximise the experience. The whole event lasted four hours, although there was no sensation of time passing at any stage of the night. We felt cosseted and pampered throughout, with the unexpected amusement from eavesdropping on the Tory couple beside us and their pompous pronouncements on "raging socialists" and the shortfalls of The Sydney Morning Herald. Quote of the night? "Here's the thing boys, nobody gets paid in Australian dollars". But I digress: back to the food, which we enjoyed beneath the wall-mounted Limoges porcelain (soup tureen, egg cups and all), featuring Napoleon's crest.
Appetisers were balls of choux pastry filled with truffled hare rillette, and were gobbled pretty quickly with the sparkling water. The first wine of the night arrived as we dabbed cultured butter onto the small dinner rolls: a 2004 Rieflé Côte de Rouffach from Alsace. It was served cool, rather than cold, and tasted sweeter and pleasantly "mouldier" than any Australian riesling. A bit of toasty character came out of the glass when the elegant smoked salmon consommé arrived in little espresso cups, a clear, silky liquid with a bit of creamy foam. But it was the second dish, the abalone & tomato en cocotte, which brought out all of the acid in the wine. It loved the buttery abalone juices pooled in the lidded cooking dish and the roasted ripe sweetness of the tomato flesh.
The next glass to come out was a 2004 Moreau-Naudet Chablis 1er Cru 'Fôrets', served colder than the riesling and beautifully flinty. A bit of buttery flavours came up with the grilled freshwater Kangaroo Island marron with scallops and bechamel. I'm a sucker for a Chablis - it makes such a nice change to the Australian chardonnays. Full-flavoured, and cleared the palate for what came next.
I've been wanting to try a Bandol rosé for quite a while, and was surprised to see how very pale the 2005 Domaine du Gros'Noré was. A watery copper colour. Nicely savoury blend grenache, cinsault and mourvedre. Gerard says it reminded him of a Rolf Binder rosé. I thought it tasted like a rose petal. Was matched with an incredible dish of ocean trout cooked over cardamom leaf - a slab of richly dense flesh thanks to smoking over cardamom and then slowly oven-roasted so as not to add any colour. Had retained its oils in the process, contributing to the opulent flavour. A real hit.
Gerard was pretty excited by the next wine to arrive at the table: a 2001 Château Laulerie Bergerac. "Now, this is my kind of wine" he said, his eyes shining and his nose sinking into the deep glass. 80% of poor, maligned merlot and 20% cabernet, smelling of pepper and tasting of chocolate. Was gentle enough to accompany the breast of duck, crisped zucchini blossom & runner bean - very pink, very tender, with its strip of white fat intact - although the flavour of the wine began to dissipate by the end of the glass.
Then the Gigondas arrived: a 2003 Domaine Santa Duc. Gerard hurriedly claimed this one as his favourite wine of the night. I guess he's a shiraz boy after all. Blackberry, velvet and violets. Big wow. Brought the big biodynamic Castagna wines to mind. Teamed with a fillet of aged angus which was rolled around strips of cucumber and foie gras, with a puree of potato, cauliflower and horseradish spooned from small copper saucepans. By now we'd submitted ourselves entirely to the process and were in ecstasy. The adjacent couple had become a bit louder and we were sneaking more glances at them. The table on the other side of us had also loosened up a little - two amiable couples in their 60s who had been waiting outside with us while we rang the doorbell - and had the happy glow only an evening of good wines and excellent food could bring.
There was a sorbet of pink grapefruit and gin, before it happened. The tears. Yes, the soufflé of blood plum was so startling, I teared up. I hadn't been aware until now that food could be so remarkable. I was not prepared for the effect of its texture on my tongue, or its delicate taste. It looked so perfect billowing over the copper pot it was almost a shame when the waiter made us break open the surface so he could pour in the brandy cream (he left behind the jug "just in case"). I was utterly overwhelmed. Thankfully we had a glass of pale and viscous 2003 Avarus Muscat de Frontignan to ease the pain once it was gone.
After a final plate of chocolate-filled chewy macaroons the awesome meal was over, but it left behind some very potent flavour memories.
And incredibly, Sunday managed to live up to it when Sandra took me to the day spa at the Observatory Hotel (swanning around by the pool in robes sipping herbal tea, then off to a massage in a candle-lit room) and then their high tea with a glass of rosé Moet. I was spoiled rotten.
