Article on closure: http://insidescoopsf.sfgate.com/blog/2014/12/31/etoile-at-domaine-chandon-to-close-tonight-after-37-years

Etoile @Domaine Chandon in Rutherford, CA - update, lunch  	  CLOSED Jan 2015
August 2014

Darn it. Lightning did not strike three times. I guess I could describe this as an impressive thunderstorm, but Etoile did not quite reach Jovian heights this time. 

It was good, don't get us wrong; but it fell a half-level below Auberge's lunch on this trip.

Our first meal at Etoile was an April 2013 lunch, on a lovely early summer day. The patio was half-empty, the pace was relaxed, and we had an absolutely spectacular multi-course lunch, complete with lovely amuse-bouches. We were wowed, and vowed to return for dinner. I hadn't had French food this good since La Bourgogne/SF closed up (which sadly, Carlos never got to try).

Dinner here two days ago was just as exquisite as that first lunch. The food was perhaps a little fussier, but Hoffman's talent for balancing flavors remains unsurpassed. Even dishes with many different elements were carefully balanced, not only in terms of flavor but in proportionate amount on the plate, as well.

We decided to end our trip by returning to Etoile for lunch before leaving the Napa Valley. Surprisingly, they don't do Sunday brunch. Instead, they're open only Wed-Sun, so they retain the same menus all week long. 

We expected it to be crowded on the patio, but the earthquake really did hold down the number of visitors. There were a fair number of people tasting wines, but the patio, which isn't large, still had a few tables remaining empty even when we left.

Both the receptionist, the manager, and our previous waiter recognized and greeted us with a "Welcome back again!" We had a different waiter this time, who was reasonably good, proving to be well-trained when a problem was reported, as detailed below.

We both decided to have two starters and an entrée. There is a tasting menu at lunch, but like many restaurants the entire table has to participate. Unlike dinner, there is no limit on courses; all the dishes are priced à la carte. 

Our first course surprised us – really surprised us. Remember, we had lunch here just over a year ago. At that time, the courses were the same size as the ones we had at dinner two days ago. 

But ordering the same duck liver paté got us a slightly larger plate. There were Modernist fromage blanc crumbs, lightly pickled onions, and baby frisée fronds propped on end, in addition to more strawberries and bigger brioche triangles. It was good, but it was easily enough to be a starter for two people, which at this price level is a shock. One does not go to places like La Folie or Gary Danko to split plates.

The second plate continued the super-sizing. It was a tomato salad plate, with big thick slices of heirloom tomatoes creating their own dressing with a little EVOO and salt. There was a smudge of super-soft fresh burrata. A generous scoop of cous-cous mixed with super-fine diced pluot and diced cucumber added some heft, along with dabs of mashed avocado and good-sized balls of slightly bitter cucumber. This was a dish that started off so mild it was almost bland...but every successive bite became more seductive until at the end, I was sorry there wasn't more.

Carlos and I exchanged plates halfway though. We both agreed the paté seemed a little overwrought. He doesn't care for couscous, but did love the other ingredients; I loved everything about the tomato salad.

For our second course, we ordered the octopus, which was a complex plate of sliced grilled tentacles on a plate crowded with different elements. There was a celeriac purée as the base, roasted halved fingerlings, a bit of mixed greens, a fair amount of black-eyed peas, and eggplant – both roasted slices as well as a pickle of cooked diced eggplant and root vegetables. There was a strong taste of thyme in the dish, an herb that, like rosemary or sage, is easy to use too much of. Carlos liked this dish, I thought it was a mish-mash and needed pruning down to no more than five elements.

I was very happy to see they still had the egg and caviar dish, which apparently only appears at lunch. This is a sous-vide egg and caviar, formerly with melted leeks but this time with a less successful pairing of crème fraiche and way too many pickled onions. It wasn't inedible, but despite the still-marvelous blini, those pickled onions were just too much for one little egg to overcome. The caviar was lost completely under the onslaught of vinegared onions shreds.

It didn't help that somehow the kitchen had done the impossible, even with sous vide –  the egg had a runny white but an overcooked yolk! Although runny in the center (which was why I didn't send it back, although I should have), the outside of the yolk had cooked to a definite yellow shell. Neither the waiter nor manager could explain this, and I frankly would have thought it impossible. 

Once the dishes were cleared, we called the waiter over and told him of our impressions. First, we mentioned the size of the courses, which were substantially larger and heartier than we'd seen before. He replied that they've found most of their lunch trade comes in to have only one course, so the kitchen adapted to make the dishes more substantial, even the salads.

Then we told him how disappointed I was with the egg/caviar entrée. He apologized and asked what he could do to make it up to us, and I replied that I wasn't looking for a comp on it. I merely wanted to let the kitchen know we thought the concept of this should be re-thought; it was badly out of balance compared to the first time I had it. Being their most expensive starter (it costs as much or more as an entrée), I felt the chef should seriously consider making some changes to it.

The waiter left and we gave it no more thought, outside of wondering if we were going to have enough room in our stomachs to eat an entrée after such substantial starters! But a few moments later one of the managers showed up to discuss our concerns. We chatted with her, saying that we liked the food, but were very surprised how different lunch was from dinner. It seemed to us there was a different chef in charge, and the lunch chef, although talented, was not quite as accomplished as the dinner chef. The flavors were good, we said, but they were more aggressive and less balanced than our previous meals. 

She thanked us for the feedback and once again offered to comp us. We declined the offer again, and shortly thereafter the entrées showed up.

Once more we were able to do a direct comparison between lunch and dinner. Carlos had just eaten the rib-eye at dinner two days ago – two slices of truly superior quality beef. This time, he got two massive slices – each one was as large or even bigger than the two he'd gotten at dinner put together. But the beef seemed inferior – tasty, but from the grain it looked more like top sirloin than rib-eye. There were more tomatoes (good), some fingerling potatoes, and croutons which now had a marrow filling (bad). We love marrow, but prefer it by itself. Used as an ingredient, all it contributes is melted grease. Sure enough, the croutons tasted like a crisp breading containing only creamy hot butter – too rich, and neither of us liked them.

I ordered the pork, which came terrine style. Shreds of delicious tender pork were wrapped in bacon and heated until the bacon is crisp and the inside is hot. A substantial slab was on the plate, along with little curls of crisped bacon, couscous with diced cucumbers, slices of plum, and too big a spoonful of agrodulce onions. Made of both white and green onions, it was the usual aggressively flavored sweet-sour pickle. But there was just too much of it. The pork was already seasoned before being formed into the terrine, and with the plums and couscous one only needed a little bit of something acidic to perk up each bite. I pushed most of the onions to the side, and enjoyed the rest.

Dessert was out of the question after five substantial dishes (the egg/caviar is always small, although we knocked off two plates of blini). I finished with coffee, Carlos stayed with his iced tea. 

Although we hadn't liked lunch this time as much as before, we both agreed it was more a matter of degree than that anything was drastically wrong. The basic concept was good, and the flavors were properly executed. It was more the fault of what felt like youthful enthusiasm. There was definitely talent, but it lacked discipline and restraint. 

Cooking is truly an art. And like painting, it's tempting to keep adding a stroke here, an extra fillip there, to strive for that ephemeral state of perfection. It takes experience before one realizes that less truly is more. Excess isn't perfect and never can be. 

Although the lunch was not what we expected, we have to agree that making the dishes more substantial makes a lot of sense. The tomato salad or the pork makes a good sized but not overly heavy lunch. You could do a two-course lunch and enjoy Etoile for the bargain price of around $40-50/pp not including alcohol. 

But we think we'll stick to dinner. Carlos thought the portions were just a little too small at dinner, which is why he pushed the waiter to have Etoile think about a five-course option. But after this lunch, he changed his mind. Dinner was so much superior to lunch this time, he agreed with me that Etoile shows best in the evening. 

Lunch was easily 4.5 stars except for the egg dish, which drags it down to 4 stars. But dinner – ah, that was 5+ stars all the way. We call Etoile "in a class by itself". We love La Folie/SF and Bouchee/Carmel, and Spoonbar/Healdsburg really impressed us a couple of months ago. 

But until that lunch cook learns some restraint, we'll do what we did on the first day of this trip: Auberge for lunch, Etoile for dinner…giving us the best of both worlds. 

Etoile got around our refusal to be comped in an admirably sneaky manner: they gave us the Champagne Club member discount, which dropped our bill 20%, or $33.60. As the egg dish is $35, it pretty much evened out. 

Two people, lunch (and that was enough food for five, easily – we didn't eat dinner that night!): four starters, two entrées, two beverages (we actually had three, but they comped us the coffee as well). With the 20% discount (we tipped on the full amount) the total was $204.

Etoile @Domaine Chandon in Yountville, CA – update, dinner
Review date: August 2014

Perfection.

We could leave Etoile at that, so this would be the shortest review I've ever written. 

There are so many great restaurants in Northern California, past and present. We've been fortunate to eat at a good number of them, too many of which no longer exist except in memory. In the five years since Carlos retired, we have embarked on an orgy of culinary adventuring, for a total of well over 500 (new to us) restaurants, not counting any of the repeat visits.

A number of restaurants were good one time, yet a repeat visit disappointed us. Whether it's a chef or owner change, or just an off-night for one of the staff, consistency in the restaurant business is an elusive quality. 

The emphasis on seasonal and creative menu changes is both a positive and negative. On one hand, the diner has to approach the menu as an unknown. The ingredients are listed, but in what proportions or how prepared, is up to the chef's imagination. But many chefs lack the discipline and training to create well-balanced combinations, leading me to rail against the "kitchen sink" syndrome afflicting any number of celebrated new restaurants. 

We first ate at Etoile in April 2013, before the summer rush started. I waxed lyrical over one of the very best meals we'd ever had, with absolutely no flaws and the joy of brilliant, unexpected combinations. The egg with caviar, the duck pate salad, the rabbit roulade, the filet – it was stunning start to finish, the best meal we had that year.

This time we decided to try dinner. We would save a return lunch for a couple of days hence, at the end of our trip. As it turns out, dinner is quite a different experience than lunch. They are both equally good in ambiance, but this is one of those restaurants where the difference between inside and outside is not just a matter of which side of the windows you're on.

At night Etoile closes its modest patio (unless you request it specifically for a group). The spacious, high-ceilinged main dining room is filled first, although I personally have always wanted to eat instead in the auxiliary dining room with the fireplace, which I think is by far more attractive at night. We had one of the tables right by the window looking onto the patio and lawn. It's pleasant, if not up to competitor Auberge's scenic standards. The trees are underlit to make it a nice outlook even at night. The lighting inside is just right: bright enough to see comfortably, without any glare or harshness.

Although tempted by the six-course tasting menu, there were so many interesting choices on the regular four-course menu that we agreed to do the latter. Etoile doesn't follow what many restaurants do. You either do a four course prix fixe or the six course tasting, no other options are available. We find that disappointing, as offering a five-course would allow us to cover most of the regular menu. We knew already Etoile's plates are small, too. There are so many dishes that sound wonderful but if one can only have three courses plus dessert, it's frustrating.

But that frustration is merely because the food is so phenomenal, you can't help wondering whether "the ones that got away" would be equally as good or maybe even better.  We love Bouchee/Carmel, Spoonbar/Healdsburg, La Folie/SF – but we worship at Perry Hoffman's feet. 

Wowie, can this man cook!

No, we're not stupid enough to believe Hoffman personally manned the tweezers or squeezed the sauce bottle. But a great chef makes a difference – witness the bland innocuousness of Brix/Napa in the period after Chris Jones left but before his replacement Robert Hohmann came on-board.

If the exec chef doesn't care, then you have the fad-oriented soullessness of Michael Mina's twenty-odd restaurants, where a chef de cuisine or sous chef takes ownership solely to plump up their resume for future solo stardom. There's a definite difference between the personal passion driving Tom Douglas's mini-empire of PNW eateries versus Michael Mina's fad-seeking corporate juggernaut.

When a chef cares, you can taste the passion, the risk-taking, the creative fire. Once encountered, you never forget it or mistake it for anything else, any more than you forget your first taste of Copper River salmon or a perfect Brie Fermier. It has nothing to do with money but everything in regards to intent. A great chef wants to take your breath away, not necessarily empty your wallet.

As the website has only sample menus, we spent some time discussing what we would order. After considerable thought, we narrowed down to our four choices (each). But first there were a couple of amuse-bouches:

Potato-onion frittata with housemade smoked salmon and herbed crème fraiche. It was more of a potato pancake than a frittata, with a nice pan-fried crustiness. The salmon was rich and beautifully cold-smoked, with the crème fraiche adding just the right touch. A single mouthful, it was like the perfect Jewish breakfast bite.

Squash soup with diced pickled sweet onions, vadouvan curry foam and puffy little potato chips. I liked this better than Carlos; he's decided he just doesn't care for vadouvan. But he loved all the other ingredients.

First course:
(Carlos) Duck paté with marinated strawberries, brown butter crumbles of fresh bread, small rectangles of toasted brioche and baby dill fronds. The paté was slightly foamed, as it was the first time Carlos had it. But this prep was more complex, and after he finished it he stated flatly it was even better. The duck liver foam was creamier than before, literally melting in the mouth in the most seductive way while retaining an intense flavor. The finely diced marinated strawberries had an added depth from a touch of sweet balsamic vinegar. Although we're not overfond of fruit and offal, this dish was perfectly balanced. After Carlos gave me a taste, I had a hard time not to keep reaching over and stealing more of it.

(Jean) I ordered the rabbit, a meat I'm not usually fond of. But I loved it the first time we were here, and once again Etoile created the perfect rabbit dish. The roulade was like the best rabbit sausage ever, slightly sweet from what I think was fruit added in. There was the tiniest, daintiest rack of rabbit chop one could imagine – it looked like we'd been given one of Disney's little baby bunnies to eat! Each bone was no thicker than a toothpick, yet the interior was juicy and flavorful while the exterior was crusty and salted just right. 

The rabbit was served with a variety of vegetable accompaniments, all of which were amazing singly or together in any combination. There was a finely shredded pan sauté of soft celery and cabbage shreds, rich with scallions. There were black-eyed peas. There was a wonderful mild green olive tapenade. Scattered around were individual zucchini blossom petals. A lovely red bell pepper cream sauce that held a bit of spiciness underpinned everything. Nothing was overseasoned, nothing oversalted or undersalted. 

Second course:
(Carlos) Black cod with uni (sea urchin) sabayon, matsutake mushrooms, and baby turnip slices. This is Carlos' favorite fish, and the uni sabayon, slightly foamed, was magnificent with the cod. The mushrooms were roasted and flavorful, the turnips perfect. He remarked as good as the cod was, the accompaniments made it even better.

(Jean) Dayboat seared scallop. It sat on a kale roulade, which in turn sat on thin slices of three different heirloom tomatoes, all dead ripe and stunningly sweet. The scallop was large but intensely flavorful, a veritable essence of sweet ocean. There were poufs of 'marrow butter' – cooked marrow, butter, maybe a touch of crème fraiche – again slightly foamed. We really liked how Etoile is using foam to lighten a rich sauce so it's not cloying or heavy. The tomatoes were dressed in a vinaigrette so light it was ethereal, with just a touch of lemon, the lightest drizzle of EVOO, a slight scattering of fresh herbs. It was mostly tomato juices, and topping everything were puffy scallion chips. Package these and they would knock potato chips down to a distant second place; they were simply addictive.

Entrées:
(Carlos) Rib-eye, heirloom tomatoes, roasted cherry tomatoes, cheese 'croutons', sautéed lobster mushrooms both diced and sliced, with a mild mustard-crème fraiche sauce. The beef was superb, easily the equal of the phenomenal filet mignon at Fleur de Lys/SF on May 2011. Carlos loves beef, and was in bliss with this dish. This is beef the way it should taste: two slices of meaty perfection, totally satisfying. The heirloom and cherry tomatoes had great acid/sweet balance, the creamy-centered croutons were delicious; the lobster mushrooms excellent.

(Jean) Veal tenderloin, sweetbread patty, sweet corn purée, corn and baby spinach, maitake mushrooms. An excellent dish if you're not comparing it to that rib-eye, LOL. The veal was a little more baby beef than I like to see, but it was beautifully prepared and succulent. The tiny sweetbread patty had a perfect crust, and the vegetables were summer perfection. My only complaint would be using the corn purée as a sauce – I always prefer a savory sauce to a sweet one. I love veal and I love corn, but although this entrée was excellent, Carlos' beef stole the show. 

I noticed a touch of smokiness in several dishes – the scallop, the rib-eye, the veal. Carlos, who doesn't like smoke flavor, said it was so subtle he missed it entirely. It enhanced the flavors without overpowering any.

Jaime, our waiter, brought out the dessert menu. Etoile has a substantial dessert list to choose from, which includes a cheese selection of five different cheeses. Confusingly, the cheeses are priced for one, three, or all five selections – but if you're getting the regular four-course prix fixe, they allow you two cheeses in place of dessert.

I don't often get the cheese course for dessert but they had the Brillat-Savarin. This made it impossible for me to refuse; it's my favorite cheese. Etoile's slab was as runny as thick cream, and luscious eaten alone, on a paper-thin, perfectly toasted croute, or with the lovely strawberry-plum compote they brought. The compote was also excellent with the sweet sliced Bosc pear half, which I think was lightly marinated in sweet dessert wine. 

Brillat-Savarin is a cow's milk French cheese. I also picked the Fat Bottom Girl, a sheep's cheese from Tomales, CA, which we hadn't tried before. This semi-hard cheese has a slight saltiness which contrasted well with the fruits. The croutes were precisely calculated for the amount of cheese, and everything was very satisfying.

Carlos opted for the Black Mission Fig cake, which was listed as coming with 'fig leaf ice cream' and candied walnuts. For the ice cream alone we would have gotten this. His family used to make a fig leaf syrup concentrate that was amazing in summer, even better than lemonade. We asked the waiter how the fig syrup was made, so he went back to the chef to ask. Turns out they make it the same way Carlos' father and aunts did – fig leaves steeped in hot simple syrup, strained and bottled. 

We hadn't had it in years but one taste and we agreed, this was exactly the same except it was in ice cream (we only used the syrup for drinks, diluting it with water or club soda). The cake itself was an upside-down cake with slices of sweet soft figs over a thin, tender cake layer. There was a fig caramel sauce as well, adding yet another element to it. The balance of this dessert was very good. Figs can make a dessert too sweet, but this was just right, not even the caramel sauce went over the line into over-sugared.

I asked the waiter if the tasting area still sold the Chandon brandy, which I enjoyed last year. To my shock, he replied that it's no longer sold, and in fact the restaurant itself is running out of it. Chandon has not made any in decades, so what they have, is all there is. It was never going to be profitable, as the "cheap" version was aged 18 years, and the top version (the one I like) was aged 24 years. 

I really regret not picking some up last year, so I settled for a snifter after dinner. The first time I drank it, I was eating Etoile's pear-caramel mille feuille which had a touch of the Chandon brandy in the caramel. The brandy picked up all those butterscotch/caramel notes and was beautiful with the dessert.

This time I didn't have the dessert (there's still a slightly different version on the menu) and it was fascinating to taste the difference. Drunk alone it seemed less sweet but still beautiful: rich, powerful, yet smooth and well-rounded. It's better than a lot of French cognacs at two or three times the price.

As usual, the meal ends not with your chosen dessert and/or coffee, but with free confections. There was a pair of firm, slightly tart strawberry jellies, mercifully unsugared; two Kahlua truffles; two miniature pecan sandies and a lemon-vanilla cream puff that would have been much better without the awful confectioner's sugar frosting on top. Everything was one-bite sized, and fine.

Words can't describe how much better we think Etoile is than any other restaurant we currently eat at. As Carlos says, it is in a class by itself. The food has all the passion of a great chef and yet the exquisite restraint and delicacy of execution that only discipline gives, along with eagle-eyed supervision of the line staff. 

This is a level at which nothing can be left to chance: once a dish is refined, the line cooks do not deviate a milligram. Freedom to express yourself is admirable theory in art; but it's a disaster in a professional kitchen. Discerning diners do not want to pay for your chemistry experiments, thank you very much.

We don't much like Napa. It's a boring place when you don't drink. But for Etoile, we'll put up with it. This is one of the great restaurants of Northern California, all the more so because so many people overlook it. 

Is it better than Meadowood or French Laundry? I can't say, as we haven't eaten at either one. But we can eat at Etoile for less than half the cost of either of the above, and it's hard to imagine they are twice as good as Etoile. We're honestly not sure that's humanly possible. 

This is the kind of restaurant that really satisfies us. It is brilliant, professional, responsive and creative. We can't make food better than this – we can't even conceive of how much work goes into Hoffman's creations. 

At the end of the dinner, Carlos remarked, "I hate to say this, but Etoile is even better than La Folie. I love La Folie, they certainly give you five times the amount of food Etoile does. But the food here has no flaws. The consistency, and the balance of complex flavors, is amazing." 

We'll be back for lunch again on Sunday before we leave. Yes, we're hoping that lightning will strike the magical third time in our gastronomic history.

Two people, two four-course meals, one after dinner liqueur (the Chandon brandy is $18), three beverages, with tip was $305.

Etoile @Domaine Chandon Winery
1 California Drive, Yountville, CA
http://www.chandon.com/etoile-restaurant/visiting-etoile-restaurant.html  
Review date: April 2013

Ahhh....French food! We love it, and will travel long miles to eat it. Well, maybe not so much when it comes to Modernist cuisine or ridiculous marathon tasting menus. But a comforting cassoulet on a cold rainy evening? Or a refreshing frisee-bacon salad with poached egg dressing on a summertime patio? 

We'll be there with forks in hand, you betcha. 

Great ingredients from around the globe are now only a Fedex delivery away. And this is California, the agricultural capital of the U.S. Without the bounty from this state, America wouldn't be able to feed half the world. The biggest trend for chefs here is to have their own garden, not just for herbs but year-long produce. 

So all these trained chefs should be able to whip out a great meal on literally a moment's notice. 

Honestly, how can one go wrong?

But considering some of the travesties we've encountered at a wide range of Cal-French restaurants, a whole lot of things "gang aft agley", as poet Robert Burns so cogently phrased it. We've encountered Gallic indignities ranging from stale puff pastry in a vol-au-vent to a hideously deconstructed cassoulet, with dozens of horrors in-between. 

It's a toss-up which cuisine has had more crimes committed against it, Chinese or French. I'll vote for the French, because Chinese food can be two-star but still satisfactory. After all, we're Asian; a decent plate of Hong Kong-style chow mein can make us happy. 

But good French cooking is barely tolerable at two stars; adequate but not exciting at three. Not until a Gallic restaurant hits the four star mark is it memorable, and very few can reach the swoon-worthy five star level on a consistent basis. Even thrifty French country cooking is expensive to do in America (witness Cypress's/Walnut Creek hideous chewy grilled chop atop crunchy half-cooked beans as their version of cassoulet). Shortcuts all too often cut short the complex flavors needed.

Great French cooking is a triumph of philosophy over conceptualization. An impressive chopping technique is useless if you don't understand why a particular step-by-step process is important – nay, crucial – for the end result. Great raw ingredients can't be transformed into the best of how they can taste, if the other elements aren't in the proper balance. 

Like a Cirque du Soleil act, every ingredient is a performer with a job to do, and must be in the right place at the right time, or the whole thing wobbles and falls apart.

If it were only a matter of ingredients and a bit of skill, every home cook could whip out a perfect Poulet Basquaise or Bœuf Bourguignon without ever looking at a recipe. Great cooks know that it takes a considerable amount of time, energy, experimentation, skill, and expense to make something complex seem simple.

Simple, not plain. Not obvious, never careless. In this very French view of creating great food, a whisper is more effective than a shout. If one is going to err, it is better to err on the side of understatement than overstatement. It is, in fact, closer to the Japanese concept of shibui than most Japanese restaurants manage to achieve.

If Etoile were a dress, it would be the soigné elegance of Audrey Hepburn's classic "little black dress" in the movie "Breakfast at Tiffany's", compared to the over-ruffled, clown-worthy prints of today's Giambattista Valli.

If anyone is going to uphold the standards of modernized French haute cuisine in California, there may be no better choice than Domaine Chandon. In 1973 Moet et Chandon was the first French winery to establish a branch in California. Although others have followed them, Chandon (better known as LVMH, the largest luxury group in the world, Moët-Hennessy • Louis Vuitton) remains the biggest landowner in Napa Valley. 

In 1977 Moet et Chandon sent Chef Philippe Jeanty from his position at Moet's private dining kitchen to open their new Domaine Chandon restaurant. Jeanty stayed for twenty years, until deciding to strike out on his own in 1998 with his Bistro Jeanty, located just down the road (and where we dined on March 2011).

Their restaurant's reputation had faded somewhat over the years, so Chandon closed it for remodeling, then reopened in 2006 with the new name of Etoile. Perry Hoffman joined the kitchen in 2007, and by 2010 was the youngest American chef to be awarded a Michelin star. His reputation received a nice boost when Thomas Keller, celebrated chef of the French Laundry and its assorted empire, included Hoffman and Etoile as one of his five favorite places to dine in the Napa Valley.

This is a big, showy winery with a big, expensive restaurant. You'll find both Etoile and the wine-tasting area at the Visitor's Center. This is a nice stroll uphill from the parking lot, unless you're handicapped. On the way out, we encountered two wheelchair-pushing couples who were staring in dismay at the considerable distance uphill they would have to push their elderly relatives. We reassured them there was a wheelchair ramp, but nonetheless that distance is something of an obstacle for the idea of universal access.

The entrance to Etoile is centered on the patio, which leads to the left-hand wing of the building. Double doors allow direct entry to/from the wine bar which is on the right-hand side. The restaurant's dining rooms (there's several, all connected with short flights of stairs) are located well away from the noise and music of the wine bar, culminating in a surprisingly modest rectangular patio. This patio overlooks a pleasant but uninspired professional landscape of mostly green lawn surrounded by hedges and small trees.

The weather was so warm and sunny I agreed to Carlos' inclination to eat outside. Once again we found that eating lunch at noon copped a prime table, because most people don't arrive until at least 12:30 p.m. or even later. The staff is numerous and well-trained, although young. 

Even at Etoile you're not going to find career waitstaff, so you have to forgive them the opening statement of "Everything is good; you'll like anything you pick."  I cringe when I hear this anywhere, but at Etoile they do know what they're serving. There is no wandering around the premises without looking over the tables to see if anyone needs service. If anything needs doing, it gets done, and fast. At this price level, you do not ever have to ask for water refills...not that you ever should anyway, but it's an imperfect world we live in.

We asked a couple of questions about the menu, then chose. Carlos began with the duck paté salad, which wasn't a salad in any traditional sense. It was a long straight piped line of slightly foamed duck liver mousse, sectioned with three thin baguette toasts that were full of airy holes, toasted to the golden brown of Melba toast. Colorful segments of barely cooked kumquats were sprinkled over the plate. This was rich yet airy, and Carlos loved it. He said it was a perfect starter for a day that felt like summer.

I briefly considered the clam nage (pronounced "nahj"), but this wasn't the traditional technique of poaching. Instead, it was a foam, so I nixed that idea and chose the poached egg with caviar. This is the priciest starter on the menu, as much or more than some of the entrees. But I love caviar, although I rarely indulge.

I forgot to ask what type of caviar it was, although from the look and taste it was either good-quality White Sturgeon (which my money is on), or Ossetra. The underpinning was a bed of melted leeks, which are leeks diced and sautéed in a pool of butter. The egg is poached and the caviar sprinkled generously on top. On the side, in a napkin to keep them hot, were six fluffy blini, so good that Carlos kept urging me to request more blini so he could eat them himself!

When you break the egg yolk, you get a wonderful soup of egg, leeks, butter and caviar to eat with the blini. It was a luscious, amazing dish. As good as is James Syhabout's egg in onion cream dish at Commis, if you love caviar this creation betters it. But you must be a caviar fan to appreciate this dish; otherwise the little bursts of fishy egg flavor won't please you. Me, I adored it!

Carlos ordered the tenderloin, which came with an intense red wine reduction, as well as fava beans, a fava purée, and wilted mixed greens. As with our meal at Brix, even though he is not a pea/bean lover as I am, he considered this to be an outstanding combination of flavors. These were fresh fava beans, only in season for a short time. He ate them all, and even liked the bitterness of the cooked greens, saying it added just the right dimension to the overall flavors. Although the sauce was intense, he said it worked because there were only two modest swaths of it on the plate. Had there been a teaspoonful more, it would have been too much.

Yes, we fervently wish more cooks would learn restraint when saucing a dish. Nobody likes gravy and starch more than we do, but at the upper levels of cooking, too much is a bad thing, not made better by quantity.

When Carlos and I discuss five-star food, one of its defining hallmarks is how satisfying it is. It is food with passion but also balance, a deliberate holistic composition which makes you feel that for a little while, the world is exactly where and what it should be. For those of you who have dined with Carlos, who has been known on more than one occasion to demolish a 24-oz prime rib single-handed – it says a lot when he has three small slices of filet mignon on a dish and calls it both perfect and satisfying, with no need for anything bigger.

I chose the rabbit dish as my entree. I don't normally enjoy lapin, but it came with breaded sweetbreads, which will lure me in every time. I loved what Hoffman did with this dish. Rabbit is like duck – little meat, mostly bone. He boned out all the meat and chunked it, cooking it with the skin as a roulade. There were two slices of mixed light and dark meat, tender and flavorful. A small breadcrusted round of sweetbreads sat on top, which I devoured, sweetbreads being one of my childhood favorite foods. 

There was an assortment of vegetables as accompaniments. There were purées of carrots and peas in swirls. There were delicious chanterelles, quite unlike their tasteless  twins in Redd's risotto just down the road, and a slice of well-roasted fennel. A wonderful reduced au jus was on the plate; neither too much nor too salty. There were bright bursts of flavor from two pickled vegetables: well pickled sweet pink pearl onion wedges, and a lighter pickle of crunchy raw batons, which I thought might be parsnips. It was a finely judged combination of flavors and textures, with no one flavor overwhelming another, no matter how you combined them together.

If rabbit entrées always tasted like this, I'd order it more often!

There were no obvious herbal flavors in Etoile's dishes. They use herbs and spices but very, very gently, and do the same with the salt and pepper. All you notice is that everything simply tastes good – really, really good.

We ordered dessert – even when the food is rich, it's sized so that a three-course meal isn't overwhelming. Before the dessert came, however, we were given two demitasse cups of a palate refresher. It had concentrated hibiscus juice on the bottom, a tart-sweet citrus sorbet in the middle, and an apricot purée on top. 

The hibiscus was deep pink and tart. The sorbet was sweeter only by contrast. Both flavors were pointed up by the purée on top, which tasted of absolutely ripe apricots and nothing else. This fruit isn't in season yet so I have no idea where they got them, but the combination was terrific. Carlos and I couldn't wait for the sorbet, soft as it was, to melt, so we dug in with a teaspoon and enjoyed every creamy-tangy bite.

Then dessert came. Carlos ordered the cappuccino soufflé, with hot Kahlua and hazelnut financier. The cappuccino soufflé was a triple layer molded cream: a slender, dark chocolate molded cup, cappuccino mousse, Kahlua-flavored whipped cream. The hot Kahlua was a demitasse of milk and Kahlua, enough to color it to the creamy beige of a latte. 

Instead of the hazelnut financier listed on the menu, the kitchen subbed a dab of housemade strawberry preserves with three long, thin spears of crispy sugar cookies. Carlos preferred to dunk the cookies in the hot Kahlua, and said it was a great dessert.

I chose the caramelized pear mille-feuille, with almond toffee and brandied butterscotch.  I have never been overly fond of the mille-feuille, also known as a Napoleon, but I figured that if anyone could get me to like it, it would be Etoile.

I wouldn't say they've turned me into a convert, but they certainly came closer to making this a dessert worth choosing than anyone else has managed so far. Etoile's pastry chef Francisco Enriquez used just a few sheets of shatteringly crisp puff pastry. Very thin layers form the bottom. A tender yet firm custard sits atop. Another few paper-thin pastry sheets, and then a layer of whipped heavy cream. 

The top puff pastry layer is merely sprinkled with confectioner's sugar, instead of coated with the usual oversweet thick shiny icing. A quarter of a broiled glazed Seckel pear on the side, and a few dabs of a really fine butterscotch sauce with enough brandy to offset the usual cloying caramel. The puff pastry layers were sweeter than I expected, however. I found the dessert just over the sweetness quotient for me. 

Fortunately, inspired by the menu's description of the brandied butterscotch sauce, I had ordered a glass of the Chandon 24-yr old brandy, with coffee afterwards. I've never been a brandy fan; usually I prefer cognac. 

Chandon's brandy was ideal for this dessert. The brandy has such rich vanilla and caramel notes that it was an amazing match for the custard and the sauce. Its hot alcohol bite cut through the sugar in the dessert, making for an incredible combination.

Our meal finally ended with another round of dessert amuse-bouches, which seems to have become the "in" thing with higher-end restaurants like Cyrus and Etoile. The hazelnut financiers finally made their appearance, served warm and dusted with powdered sugar. Although not quite up to the superlative version served by Melissa Chou at Aziza/SF, these were nice little spongecakes with definite brown butter flavor, tender and not oversweet. 

There were triangles of tangelo jelly that were superb – barely sweetened, barely coated with sugar. The taste was as close to the sweet-tart citrus fruit as one could get in a jelly. I didn't think these were gelatin-based; they seemed to have the less-rubbery, cleaner texture of the Chinese agar-agar. 

The last of the trio were four heavily glazed walnut halves. Carlos wasn't in the mood for anything sweet any longer, and he isn't as fond of nuts as I am. He was willing to leave them all to me. I ate one, and discovered it wasn't sweet at all. Despite the glaze, it was just crispy and toasted, a good ending that cleared the palate. I told him to try them, and he liked them as much as I did.

The coffee, of course, was excellent. He did have to ask for refills, but not many people drink four cups of coffee after lunch, so I think he just caught them by surprise! After the second cup they started coming around with the coffee pot and asking if he wanted a refill.

Although the Domain Chandon grounds are a pleasant setting, this isn't the most beautiful place in Napa, in our minds. Auberge has the best view, hand's down, in the Wine Country. Solbar is coolly European modern yet has a more casual, friendly, vineyard chic. La Toque has the best combination of comfortable booths, massive fireplace and peek-a-boo windows into the kitchen. 

And speaking as a gardener, I couldn't stand Domaine Chandon's landscaping; it was hideously ill-conceived (why would you plant shrubs that flower in March alongside an outdoor patio that can't be reliably used until May?) and large stretches of water-wasting lawn (with big "DON'T WALK ON THE GRASS" signs). Don't even get me started on the "green meatballs" they clip five different types of shrubs into, on the long walkway leading up to the Visitor's Center! 

We do have extremely talented xeric landscape architects in Northern CA, y'know. Can the French stop making cheese and wine long enough to Google "David Feix San Jose CA"? Sheesh. 

But the food...yum, yum! It's wonderful. This was our final lunch in Napa, and what a great way to end. Etoile has one Michelin star, and as far as we're concerned, it deserved that and more. This isn't the kind of food you can eat all the time – it is rich, although it's so well-balanced it's not heavy. 

When I ate at Cyrus for the first time soon after it opened, my family and I really enjoyed the meal. It was high-end, but it was also accessible and friendly, with wonderful food and creative choices. Etoile reminds me of what Cyrus was in the early days, before the latter became tasting menu-only and fusion-happy, and its service started to feel as much pretentious as professional. 

I hope Chef Hoffman stays at Etoile, because it seems perfectly matched to his own style. For everyday French, we still love Bouchee/Carmel or Bistro 29/Santa Rosa. Etoile is more upscale and although welcoming and friendly, there is no mistaking it for anything but high-dollar, special occasion territory. LVMH positions this restaurant as worthy of their flagship Dom Perignon champagne, so it is at best a twice-a-year destination, and for most, more likely an annual or biennial meal. 

And who knows...a return visit could disillusion us, as it sadly did with La Toque and Bouchon. But we plan to return to try dinner on our next visit. This was the strongest representation we've found of traditional haute cuisine, modernized and attuned to Napa's true Mediterranean climate. If our next meal here is as good as this lunch was, Etoile will be the replacement for La Bourgogne I've been seeking for the past thirty years. 

Two people, lunch: two starters, two entrees, two desserts, three beverages, one after-meal brandy, with tip was $234.