WINE & SPIRITS

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"People come here especially to drink older vintages," he said. "I set the price based on how long the wine has been sitting in my cellar. Though many of his oldest bottles, he confided, he actually has no desire to sell. "They're like paintings to me," he said, "part of my collection."

The 1,200-label wine list is, of course, only half the picture. The food and magnificent country-inn setting are also well worth the detour. Loupiac's chef, fellow Frenchman Jean-Marc Cabirol, offered me a tasting menu featuring contemporary riffs on classic French dishes with Asian touches thrown in. My meal began with a lovely amuse bouche, a refreshing shot of chilled gazpacho topped with tomato sorbet. Then the real feasting began. Raw fish slices topped with a dressing of citrus and ginger lay out on a plate in the shape of a wave along with canapés of jumbo lump crabmeat served with sweet turnips. With Cabirol's seafood, Loupiac paired a spectacular white Bordeaux, Chateau Smith Haut-Lafitte.

Escargots followed, updated by being folded into a flan, and then seared foie gras in a bubbly emulsion. With these rich dishes Loupiac poured Sharpe Hill Late Harvest, a Sauternes-style wine made right here in Connecticut.

The entrees veered more aggressively into Asian territory. There was a seared striped bass filet in a carrot-ginger sauce and a Nobu-style miso-glazed black cod. A Russian River Valley Sonoma-Cutrer Chardonnay was the perfect match, with its aromas of ginger, citrus and melon.

The meal seemed to stretch on, gloriously, forever. We returned to the French classics with veal cheeks and duck breast, both expertly sauced. They were paired with two wines, a Cotes du Rhone and a Medoc. In true French style, cheese preceded dessert. To my delight Loupiac poured a sweet Greek wine, Maurodaphne of Patras, with my rum raisin and roasted banana tatin.

"And would you like a pousse-café?" he asked, as I lingered over the last few bites. Out came the list of fine Cognacs and rare Armagnacs. He had verticals of Chateau Laubade Bas Armagnac stretching back to 1904. Tempted as I was, I had reached my indulgence threshold. The meal had been a revelation on par with some of the best I've eaten in Loupiac's native Provence, and the wines selected among the most spectacular. Lucky for me, Loupiac parked his cellar not in Marseille, but just outside New York.