Burgundy: The Ultimate Wine Lover's Trip
An insider's tour of France's most picturesque wine region
By David Downie

Say "French wine," and like Pavlov's dog, just about everyone will bark Bordeaux or Burgundy — the "Big B" regions. If you're into muscular Merlot and Cabernet, then Southwest France's flat, sandy Bordelais — the region surrounding the city of Bordeaux — is your ticket. Pinot Noir and Chardonnay lovers should head instead to Burgundy's suite of rolling, pocket-sized vineyards, which start about 100 miles south of Paris near Chablis and extend 150 miles or so farther south via Dijon to Mâcon in central-eastern France.


Vast and varied, the region — "Bourgogne," in French — covers most of eastern-central France. From a winegrower's perspective, it's the bridge linking Champagne to the Beaujolais. The most expensive wines being produced in the world today come from Burgundy's spectacular Domaine de la Romanée-Conti on the Côte de Nuits. Unsung, some of the most underrated, underpriced whites in France are quietly grown and bottled in the Côte Chalonnaise and southern Mâconnais.

There's more to the difference between the two Big Bs than a varietal divide. Sure, Bordeaux is an attractive city surrounded by fabulous châteaux. But even without wine, Burgundy would be wonderful, thanks to its one-of-a-kind scenery and cultural history.

This is pretty much the land of dreamy visions. Rivers run through it — big ones like the Saône, Yonne, and Loire — keeping Burgundy's uncluttered, rolling hills emerald-green year-round. More Romanesque churches, abbeys, and monasteries raise their bell towers here than in the rest of the country combined. Scores of picture-perfect stone-built villages, like Rully or Solutré, perch on vine-groomed limestone escarpments — les côtes — their glazed-tile roofs glistening and foundations set deep.

Each of Burgundy's half dozen subregions has a distinctive character arising from feudal times or as far back as the Iron Age. This was the heart of ancient Gaul, a place where locals still bemoan Julius Caesar's conquest in 52 B.C. During the French Revolution, the area was divided into four administrative départements. Taken north to south, they are Yonne, Nièvre, Côte-d'Or, and Saône-et-Loire.

Burgundians cling to their heritage, and it shows in everything from the singsong accent full of rolling Rs to the one-lane farm roads and almost obsessive way food and wine are revered. At worst, this reverence brings with it kitschy folklore, sound-and-light shows, winemakers and peasants in silly costumes, and restaurants, museums, and wineries that feel like theme parks of gastronomy. At best, it reflects Burgundy's role in defining classic French cuisine. Last century's legendary chefs built gastronomic pilgrimage sites along the Paris–Lyon highway. Today, four luxurious Michelin three-star restaurants and a constellation of prestigious but less formal hotel-restaurants and irresistible country auberges that serve food in a casual, often family setting dot the region.

Menus and Trends

Bugundians claim the trend is strictly no trends; tradition reigns. That's why Burgundy's ethereal gougère — the original cheese-puff, not cheesy junk food — is still everywhere. Favorite dishes include jambon persillé, which merges chunky cured ham and parsley in aspic. Plump escargots — raised on snail farms these days — are baked in the shell with garlicky parsley-butter. Frog's legs get the same treatment but are pan-fried. Oeufs en meurette are ultraclassic French poached eggs in a red-wine reduction sauce. Crayfish tails swim in creamy Nantua butter sauce. Pike, eel, and other river fish end up as Matelote stew or sautéed, often with Pinot Noir. There's free-range, premium-quality chicken from Bresse simply roasted or sautéed with cream. Roasted veal or sautéed rabbit come with Dijon mustard sauce. Long-cooked lièvre royale is hare simmered in rich blood-and-wine sauce. Thick-sliced bone-in baked ham is right up there in popularity and deliciousness with Charolais beef or lamb that is slow-stewed, grilled, or pan-fried with butter. And Burgundy truffles and wild mushrooms appear in dozens of recipes.

The region also boasts France's biggest herds of goats, and the phenomenal chèvre — cheese made from their milk — comes in every imaginable form. Possibly the world's most lusciously pungent cow's-milk cheese is northern Burgundy's Époises, while milder Citeaux is still made by monks at Citeaux Abbey. For dessert, mille-feuilles, fruit tarts, and chocolate confections, yes, but also sugar-sprinkled pets-de-nonne fritters, gingerbread from Dijon, aniseed bonbons from the abbey of Flavigny and marzipan "rocks" called Rochers du Morvan.

Tradition may reign, but the average calorie count has been reduced over the last 20 years, since the late, great Bernard Loiseau of La Côte d'Or restaurant in Saulieu invented what critics initially derided as "cuisine à l'eau"—water-based, low-fat cooking that's a lot more flavorful than it sounds. Traditional ingredients reappear now in novel ways, and because of huge demand, most snails and frog's legs and even some fresh-water fish come from outside the region. These days, young Burgundian chefs also serve seafood trucked in from the Mediterranean and Atlantic. Even olive oil appears on some tables. Haute cuisine of the kind found in Paris, Sydney, or San Francisco stars on marquee menus — sometimes it's great, sometimes it's just fussy and rootless.

The Wine

Like Bordeaux, Burgundy's appellations (geographic areas where grapes are grown) and rankings (by the French government) are maddeningly complex. Unlike Bordeaux, which has centuries-old ties to the merchant class, they reflect a thousand years of winegrowing begun by the monks at Cluny Abbey in the Mâconnais region. When the French Revolution came along in 1789, church properties were divvied up, resulting in today's 4,600 wineries, most with tiny vineyards five to ten acres. Burgundy's 101 appellations fall into five main wine districts called "vignobles," including Chablis, Côte de Nuits, Côte de Beaune, Côte Chalonnaise, and Mâconnais.

Rankings break down into four "crus" — growths determined by the cultural intangibles that constitute the vague French notion of "terroir." Terroir is applied liberally to food and wine and means more than "land" or "territory." It can refer to soil, climate, altitude, and a variety of geological factors. Topping the growth pyramid are Grands Crus, with Premiers Crus, Crus Communales (village appellations), and generic Crus Régionales falling one below the next. Grand Crus are subdivided into "climates" — mere parcels. Bottles thus designated are big-ticket items accounting for just one percent of white wines and two and a half percent of reds. But don't shun lesser appellations — some Communales and Régionales are as good as Premiers Crus. And a few of the region's 18 cooperative wineries make remarkable wines. It's best to read Burgundy labels carefully because Grands Crus, Premiers Crus, and Communales can all bear the same name — if they come from the same village.

Pinot Noir is the red grape of the great and good wines of Burgundy, while Gamay crops up primarily in the Mâconnais, producing quaffable bottlings — with a few exceptions. César is an ancient indigenous variety that brings body to some thin northern Burgundian wines. The region makes twice as much white as red, nearly all with the Chardonnay grape, also used in sparkling Crémant de Bourgogne, originally from the village of Rully. When too tart to drink straight, the second most common Burgundy white, Aligoté, is stirred with "cassis" black-currant syrup and served as Kir (add Champagne, and it's a Kir Royal).

The battle over oaky, high-tech wines has deeply affected Burgundy's winemaking. The big oak barrels and vats that were traditionally used are still around, but many more winemakers employ toasted new-oak casks to impart vanilla and other so-called "New World" flavors to wines. Luckily, the soil and climate mean Burgundy wines will never develop the fat of their American or Australian counterparts. The global market–chasing mania of fruit-forward bottlings hasn't really taken hold here. Burgundian Pinot Noirs are still subtle, complex, and lightly tannic, with an intense violet nose. Chardonnays range from nervy or mineral to rich and honeyed. Those with heavy vanilla overlays are usually made for export — or to please certain American critics who favor huge, flowery, fat wines. The biggest Burgundy whites and reds take time to develop, aging gracefully for 20 or 30 years.

There are more than 100 major négociants — wine wholesalers that now do everything from bottling, aging, and selling others' wines to growing and making their own, and their numbers are rising as they snap up family-run properties.

Making great wine in Burgundy is challenging — centuries of winegrowing have impoverished the soil, and the climate is tricky, with harsh winters and short summers. Small, steep vineyards are labor-intensive, which partly explains the low yields and premium prices we all pay. Reputation, quality, and increasing worldwide demand explain the rest. So while most European wine regions are battling bear markets, Burgundy is bullish.

Each subregion has its wine route — "Route des Vins" — with hundreds of wineries open to the public. They range from the ridiculous to the sublime. This isn't the Napa Valley: Many top wineries are accessible only to professionals. It's always best to make an appointment, especially at prestige properties.

Burgundy seems designed for top-to-bottom visits following the region's winemaking slopes — les Côtes — starting at Joigny on the Yonne River 90 minutes south of Paris by car. Revived in the 1980s, the area's fledgling vineyards produce pleasant-enough wines, but food is the real draw.

Jean-Michel Lorain, chef-owner of La Côte Saint-Jacques, runs one of France's archetypal three-star temples of gastronomy (and a palatial Relais et Châteaux hotel) on the banks of the Yonne River. A native son, Lorain took over from his father, Michel, becoming the youngest chef (at age 27) to get three stars. A contrarian, he sees "terroir" as outdated and misleading, and prefers mixing French and foreign ingredients. Lorain's snails aren't baked, they're sautéed, flanked by new potatoes and dressed with delicate parsley cream and garlic. The John Dory comes sauced with thyme, the rack of lamb with onion and rhubarb fondue and licorice juices. Dynamic and opinionated, Lorain has a cooking school and organizes local wine tours, too.

Half an hour south of Joigny, via the fabulous medieval Pontigny Abbey, Chablis is a handsome historic town with seven Grands Crus climates on the curving Serein River. This is white wine heaven, with wonderfully nervy but honeyed Chardonnays made by prestige houses (that you can visit if you make reservations in advance) such as Domaine William Fèvre, François & Jean-Marie Raveneau, René & Vincent Dauvissat, and Domaine Louis Michel et Fils. But don't snub La Chablisienne cooperative — it's one of Burgundy's best, with great "Vieilles Vignes" Chablis from old vines, impressive holdings, and a tasting room that's easy to find, attractive, professionally run, and welcoming. It overlooks Grands Crus vineyards including La Grenouille.

Michel Vignaud, chef-owner of upscale Hostellerie des Clos, a Chablis institution, comes from the nearby Morvan region, and it shows in his rustic, tasty traditional dishes such as a terrine made from chicken livers macerated with Chablis. Like most Michelin-starred practitioners, though, he also serves seafood, and his roasted prawns drizzled with hazelnut oil, slow-cooked spinach, and tomatoes are excellent, if totally un-Burgundian. Both restaurant and hotel have a classic country look and feel, with big bay windows, overstuffed armchairs, and floral-patterned decor. Vignaud's sommeliers offer Chablis wine tastings in the cellar.

The historic town of Chablis has seven grands crus "climats" on the curving Serein River photograph courtesy of William Fèvre

Laroche Wine Bar in Chablis is quite the opposite — young and trendy, and housed in a reconverted mustard mill, a spin-off from Domaine Laroche winery (some of its cellars are in a nearby ninth-century monastery). They serve "terroir" as it should be — snails en meurette, spicy tripe sausage, and a host of simple classics.

D ue south of Chablis is the wild and wooly Morvan, a sprawling regional park capped on the north end by the medieval cathedral of Mary Magdalene in Vézelay — a UNESCO World Heritage Site — and with stunning, walled Autun, founded by Augustus Caesar, to the south. Forested mountains, lakes, and rivers unfold between the two, offering fresh trout and beef and pork products galore.

Superchef Marc Meneau's famed l'Esperance closed for good in 2006, but Meneau was also behind the renaissance of Vézelay's vineyards. They now produce better-than-decent wines, including light and crisp Melon de Bourgogne, a curious local white utterly unlike Chardonnay, with a pale, greenish color and an almost citrus nose. Taste them at Le Saint Vincent, a great wine shop in Vézelay, or over a meal at Au Lion d'Or, a classic country hotel-restaurant that feels like a bourgeois home, with heavy curtains, wall sconces, and Louis XV–style chairs. Scrumptious regional specialties range from garlicky snails to slow-cooked pork jowl with potatoes, and the cheese platter is remarkable for its wide selection of Burgundian artisanal cheeses.

On the Morvan's eastern edge at Saulieu, the late Bernard Loiseau's dynamic wife, Dominque Loiseau, and chef Patrick Bertron uphold the tragic master's legacy — burdened by debt and afraid he was about to lose one of his stars, Loiseau committed suicide in 2003, leaving behind a stunning 22-room, three-star Michelin hotel-restaurant complex. Bertron's style is sumptuously ethereal; the saddle and chops of milk-fed lamb come with tiny spring vegetables. Bertron also makes Loiseau's signature dishes, including his legendary pike perch braised in Pinot Noir. Chestnut lovers flock to the area the last weekend of October for the Foire aux Marrons (chestnut fare).

In the southern Morvan atop Mont Beuvray, archaeologists are unearthing the "lost city" of Bibracte where Julius Caesar wrote The Conquest of Gaul. If you hanker for a dose of authentic ancient eating, reserve at the Celtic Civilization Museum, where you can taste surprisingly good Gallo-Roman food cooked in a cauldron and served at shared tables. Or try the Gallo-Roman menu at nearby Hôtel-Restaurant du Morvan, a restored vintage property in Saint-Léger-sous-Beuvray serving rustic Burgundian and revisited Gallo-Roman fare. Chef-owner Eric Mazière and his wife Laurette make tasty helixes — Latin for snails — and the kind of succulent mixed-meat stew Roman legionnaires loved. They also serve delicious Burgundian classics from more recent centuries.

At Ferme de la Chassagne, a 40-acre working farm and upscale B&B in a gorgeous circa-1600s farmhouse near Autun, Françoise, and Jacques Gorlier raise, grow, and hand-make everything they serve, including fabulous goat's cheeses, veal, poultry, exquisite pâtés, ham, fruit tarts, and jams. Burgundians born and bred, they've re-created a preindustrial paradise with modern luxuries.

East of the Morvan, Burgundy's capital, Dijon, is the region's main city, a gateway to Burgundy's premium Côte d'Or vineyards. The beaux arts museum in the rambling Palais des Ducs de Bourgogne is world-class, and surrounding streets are packed with town houses and monuments.

Facing the ducal palace is Le Pré aux Clercs in a landmark neoclassical building. For the last 35 years this has been Dijon's mothership for gastronauts. Chef Jean-Pierre Billoux and his son Alexis give a nod to Burgundian tradition and then turn out superbly inventive duck with gingerbread, pike perch in mustard sauce, and standing rib roast of veal with chicory juices and truffled potato gnocchi. The paneling and exposed ceiling beams contrast with the contemporary, almost Asian, touches.
Plan to visit Chablis on Sunday morning for the street market, when the medieval streets fill with market stands selling wine, specialty foods, kitchen tools, and clothing.

La Rose de Vergy serves perhaps Dijon's best gingerbread photograph courtesy of La Rose De Vergy

Billoux's spin-off Le Bistrot des Halles faces Dijon's bustling covered food market, with an authentic early-1900s décor and menu to match. Visit the market

Hostellerie du Chapeau Rouge is where Dijon's daring chef William Frachot fuses lacquered giant Brittany prawns with turnip chips in a menu that can only be described as unusual for its surprising combinations, including surf-and-turf items such as tripe and calamari. The food mirrors the plush setting: big old-fashioned rooms hung with startling contemporary art.

While in Dijon, be sure to visit La Rose de Vergy, the source of possibly the city's best gingerbread.

Head outside of town due south of Dijon for the Abbaye de Cîteaux. The medieval abbey is still active making fabulous cheeses and honey candies.

Forty miles northwest of Dijon is Anis de l'Abbaye de Flavigny. Here candy-maker extraordinaire Catherine Troubat carries on the centuries-old tradition of making aniseed-flavored and other sweet "bonbons" developed at the historic Flavigny abbey.

T he Burgundians probably didn't set out to confuse visitors, but the nomenclature of wines and regions is structured like Russian dolls, one hidden inside the next. Within the Côte-d'Or département is the Côte de Nuits subregion. It starts in the southern suburbs of Dijon and runs south along limestone bluffs to Beaune. Côte de Nuits is where winemaking gets seriously serious. Village and vineyard names — Gevrey-Chambertin, Morey-Saint-Denis, Vosne-Romanée — are world-renowned, usually for good reason.

Sometimes the easiest way to find a bottle you love is to ask for advice over a meal. Your first stop should be Restaurant Les Gourmets in Marsannay-la-Côte, 15 minutes south of Dijon. It sits in vineyards with a summer terrace and dining room built onto a handsome stone house. Chef Joël Perreaut and his sommelier wife Nicole have nearly 600 wines on their list — a lot for a Michelin one-star property. Okay, the scallop carpaccio with passion fruit might not work for everyone, but the oeufs en meurette with Marsannay Chardonnay flanked by garlicky snails, and the deep-dish chocolate torte are winners.


The Chevaliers du Tastevin (Brotherhood of Knights of Wine-Tasting Cups) meets inside the 12th-century Château du Clos De Vougeot. Photograph courtesy of Château du Clos de Vougeot

While in the area, pay a visit to Domaine Bart to try and buy subtle, underrated, underpriced reds redolent of violets. You'll get a friendly, warm welcome at this small, independent winery.

François Brugère, an old-fashioned winegrower, makes about 35,000 bottles a year of good-value, underrated red and white Marsannay at his small family-run winery in the northernmost vineyards of the Côte de Nuits. He and his wife, Anne, also run a simple but charming B&B set in the vineyards, serving memorable breakfasts with homemade everything.

Down the highway at Brochon, the Fromagerie Gaugry has been making all the regional specialty cheeses — Époisses, Ami du Chambertin, Plaisir au Chablis, Soumaintrain — for three generations. The factory is open for visits, and its new, ultramodern boutique on the main Route Nationale highway opened recently. Pick up specialty foods and wines here for a picnic.

Chez Guy in charming Gevrey-Chambertin is the kind of updated, hip eatery you dream of finding. Owner-chefs Eric Cherval and Yves Rebsamen did the rounds of marquee restaurant kitchens, learning the secrets of sophisticated architectural haute. Then they opened this unpretentious hot spot with a terrace on Gevrey-Chambertin's main square, reinvented regional fare, and watched the crowds arrive. The decor and food match: modern touches like blond wood and contemporary art, plus exposed ceiling beams and a big old fireplace. In other words, past and present combined. So, for example, you'll find classic snails and foie gras or jambon persillé as starters, and filet mignon of pork with old-fashioned Dijon mustard sauce as a main dish, but they're light on fat and beautifully plated. You'll also be able to order inventive dishes such as tuna tartare with pine nuts and pesto, or filet of duckling with exotic spices. The wine list is narrow but deep, the prices a giveaway.

You'll recognize the square towers, gabled roof, and 12th-century cellars of Château du Clos de Vougeot from every tour brochure you've ever seen featuring Burgundy, but don't be jaded. The château is gorgeous, open to visitors, and set among vineyards worth more than their weight in platinum. This is the HQ of the Chevaliers du Tastevin, the Grand Pooh-Bahs of Pinot Noir. They wear gold and scarlet robes and four-cornered hats, use silver tasting cups, and rate scores of Burgundy wines. There are more than 80 owners of the château's vineyards, so the quality of its branded wines varies widely, but the setting and cellar are consistent knockouts.

Nearby in Vougeot, Domaine Bertagna is increasingly recognized by wine experts as a seriously good winery making huge but still affordable wines and warmly welcoming wine lovers to its tasting room even if you haven't made an appointment. Just down the road is Domaine Alain Michelot in Nuits-Saint-Georges, a biggish, bustling town with dozens of wineries.

Hard-core lovers of black currants — a centuries-old Burgundian crop — will want to brave the tour bus crowds and explore Le Cassissium in Nuits-Saint-Georges's eastern outskirts. Two artisanal cassis makers, brothers Gilles and Jean-Baptiste Joannet, host workshops facing each other across the highway in Arcenant in the Hautes Côtes de Nuits. Like the Hautes Côtes de Beaune a few miles south, this is a relatively recent winegrowing subregion, spreading across tableland high above prime vineyards. A drive-through is scenic, and some bottlings are remarkably good values.

At the vine-covered Le Charlemagne restaurant in Pernand-Vergelesses, intrepid young chef Laurent Peugeot and his Japanese wife, Hiroko, preside over a glassed-in dining room with vineyard views decorated in a red-and-white contemporary style with bonsai on the tables. Peugeot's imaginative cooking draws on years of experience in both major Burgundian kitchens and in Japan. His snail-filled ravioli come in a frothy edamame bouillon, and he offers a prawn and nori risotto with Burgundy truffle and chunks of aged goat's cheese.

Winemaker Philippe Senard at Domaine Comte Senard in Aloxe-Corton serves a wine-tasting lunch of simple regional specialties to accompany the estate's Grand, Premier, and Communal Crus. Private wine tastings and tours of the landmark 12th-century cellars are available by reservation.

B eaune has concentric medieval streets studded with churches and monuments and ringed by ramparts. It's long been Burgundy's true wine capital, bridging Côte de Nuits and Côte de Beaune. Specialty food boutiques selling foie gras, pâtés, cheeses, jams and conserves, pastries and chocolates, plus great wine shops crowd around the famous Hospices de Beaune where the annual gala charity auction takes place. At times Beaune feels like French Disneyland; there's even an elephant train for tired tourists. The Wednesday and Saturday morning street market (where stands sell everything from mustard and wine to overalls and plants) adds color to the commotion, The art museum and cellars inside the landmark, half-timbered former Renaissance hospital are magnificent.


Some of France's greatest Chardonnays come from vineyards like these near Meursault. Alison Harris
Emmanuelle Chanliaud manages Beaune's most serious gourmet restaurant, the luxurious Le Jardin des Remparts, located in a big centuries-old house with a garden facing the city walls. Emmanuelle's husband, Roland Chanliaud, the son of a Burgundian butcher, is the chef. No surprises, given his upbringing, but Roland excels at delicately spicy, unusual meat-based recipes, such as meltingly tender pork jowls with gingerbread and fennel perfumed with tea, and roast squab with baby pea juice.
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Some of France's greatest Chardonnays come from vineyards like these near Meursault. Alison Harris
Emmanuelle Chanliaud manages Beaune's most serious gourmet restaurant, the luxurious Le Jardin des Remparts, located in a big centuries-old house with a garden facing the city walls. Emmanuelle's husband, Roland Chanliaud, the son of a Burgundian butcher, is the chef. No surprises, given his upbringing, but Roland excels at delicately spicy, unusual meat-based recipes, such as meltingly tender pork jowls with gingerbread and fennel perfumed with tea, and roast squab with baby pea juice.

While in Beaune, be sure to stop by the wine-lovers Mecca Le Comptoir Viticole, a fabulous shop selling everything from corks and racks to corkscrews and bottling machines. Shoppers will also enjoy L'Athenaeum de La Vigne et du Vin, the ultimate winelover's bookstore and wine-accessory boutique, as well as Marché aux Vins — a wine shop hosting guided tasting of 15 Burgundy crus, set in a spectacular medieval abbey's cellars and chapels.

Burgundy's only artisanal mustard-maker, Moutarderie Fallot sells local "moutarde de Dijon" inside a reconstructed medieval mustard-maker's shop. By reservation only through the Office de Tourisme de Beaune, Tel: 03-80-26-21-30; http://www.ot-beaune.fr And for more wine education, take a class at L'École des Vins de Bourgogne, which offers one- to three-day wine-tasting, enology, and wine master classes for professionals and the public.

Back in 1978, winemakers Eric and Dominique de Suremain took over the gorgeous, turreted Château de Monthélie set between Volnay and Auxey-Duresses and gradually turned it biodynamic, fully organic, and tuned to the phases of the moon. The result is today's sublime Monthélies and Rully reds and whites. By appointment the friendly Suremains will walk you through a tasting.

A few miles southeast at Puligny-Montrachet, Olivier Leflaive of the famous winemaking Leflaive family has opened a lovely, lunch-only eatery with a table d'hôtes menu (literally, "host's table" but signifying a prix-fixe meal) at his 400-year-old winery. As you savor Bresse chicken stew or similar homey dishes served up on heavy wooden tables, Pascal and Marie-Chantal help you appreciate the estate's 14 different wines, made from tiny parcels miles apart at Pommard, Chassagne-Montrachet, Saint Aubin, and Rully.

Santenay is the southernmost village of the Côte de Beaune, and it's here, in a picture-postcard château, that affable Yvette and Jean-François Chapelle of Domaine Chapelle make excellent, underrated white Santenay from mostly organic vineyards. They also turn out bigger, pricier wines — such as Corton Rouge Grand Cru and Charmes Chambertin Grand Cru — for a total of about 120,000 bottles per year.

On Santenay's main square is the wonderfully old-fashioned family-run Restaurant L'Ouillette, the kind of French country place where winemakers take their families to celebrate. Settle into a comfortable armchair and enjoy snails with a creamy nettle-tip sauce in puff pastry or juicy pan-fried Charolais rib eye with earthy morel mushrooms.

T he villages of Rully and Bouzeron — where the best Aligoté (a type of white wine) is made — top the Côte Chalonnaise, home to softer wines and greener, gentler scenery. Perched amid walled vineyards, the Château de Rully has been in the hands of the De Ternay family since it was built 800 years ago. Countess Brigitte de Ternay farms out the heavy lifting to pros at négociant-winemakers Antonin Rodet, who produce the estate's fine Rully Premiers Crus "Les Molesmes" and single-vineyard "La Bressande Monopole." But Countess Ternay or a caretaker-guide will cheerfully tour you around the property, starting with the pair of turreted, walled courtyards and a kitchen the size of a barn, equipped with a circa-1500s oak table and tools from centuries past.


The commune of Mercurey is known for its earthy red wines and upscale, cozy, Michelin-starred Hôtellerie du Val d'Or. Alison Harris


Go to Rully's pretty village square, where Hôtel-Restaurant Le Vendangerot has been located for decades, and you'll get a sampling of old-world charm. The terrace faces a splashing fountain, the lamps in the cavernous dining room have shades with fringes, the chair frames are vaudeville red, and the waiters look like penguins in black-and-white outfits. Owner-maître d' Marie-Laurence Lollini has such a powerful voice and stage presence that she could have been an opera singer — don't worry, she doesn't sing in the restaurant. Her husband, chef Armand Lollini, makes all the regional classics plus to-die-for filet of lamb in a pastry shell with a totally un-Burgundian chorizo sausage–based sauce. The cheeses are exceptional, from the Pommard with mustard seeds to the Époisses with marc de Bourgogne — the region's high-octane distillate (i.e., eau-de-vie or moonshine).

Little-visited Mercurey was named for the ancient temple that once stood here (dedicated to the Roman god Mercury). It's known today for its earthy red wines and the upscale, cozy, Michelin-starred Hôtellerie du Val d'Or in a historic roadside inn, run by the mild-mannered Dominique Jayet. His perennial house specialties are succulent smoked eel and torpedo fish terrine and meltingly tender Bresse chicken cooked and plated in its own juices.

At the opposite end of the spectrum, Auberge Le Petit Blanc in Charrecey, just east of Mercurey, is simplicity distilled — red-and-white-checked tablecloths, charming, unpretentious service, and food prepared by chef Jean-Paul Prost and served by his daughter, Florent Prost. On the menu: fricasséed chicken oysters and chicken livers in flavorful mushroom sauce, "terroir" boeuf à la bourguignonne, coq au vin delicious enough to make you weep, and profiteroles with homemade chocolate sauce — all for less than you'd spend on a starter at a pricey starred joint.

Winemaker Bertrand Devillard and his family own the picture-book Château de Chamirey, Mercurey's prestige property. Devillard is quietly passionate about wine, and while he's not afraid of using new oak casks, his bottlings manage to capture the meat and muscle of Chardonnay without too much of the fat.

Visit Chalon-sur-Saône for the wonderful street market and to go to the Maison des Vins de la Côte Chalonnaise, where you can taste dozens of local wines sold at estate prices. There's also a regional restaurant upstairs from the shop.

Givry ranks among the most atmospheric Côte Chalonnaise towns, with impressive 18th-century city gates and a stunning main square centered on a rotunda that's now a wine- and tourism-information center. Givry's wines are incredibly good values, and possibly the area's best producer is Ludovic du Gardin de Séveirac and his partner, Fabrice Perrotto of Clos Salomon, a 17.5-acre single-vineyard estate that's been in the same hands for 300 years. The cellars go back to the 1300s. No herbicides here — the family believes in preserving healthy soil. The name and pedigree are grand, but Ludovic and Fabrice are thrilled to taste with serious wine lovers, by appointment only, of course. While in the town, also visit Halle Ronde de Givry a wine info center, which holds an annual wine market — Marché aux Vins — in early April.

Lesser-known Buxy is an oval medieval fortress-village once surrounded by a moat. Built into the ramparts, Restaurant Aux Années Vin has a cavernous dining room with a fireplace big enough for roasting sides of beef. Ambitious restaurateur Céline Queneau and her chef husband, Philippe, favor outsized wine glasses, big plates, amply spaced tables, and a double-decker cheese trolley. Philippe's reinterpretations of regional fare are excellent: The escargots are skewered and grilled and then served bedded on pig's-trotter stew sauced with reduced chicken stock and Montagny white wine. Most of the wines on the restaurant's list come from the Cave des Vignerons de Buxy, a good co-op winery with branches here and in another nearby medieval town, Saint-Gengoux-le-National. Both co-op branches are modern and user-friendly, with some good wines at the top of the scale, especially the Montagny Premier Cru.

A trip to Côte Chalonnaise would not be complete without a meal at Lameloise in Chagny. Chef-owner Jacques Lameloise's perennial Michelin three-star temple of gastronomy offers refined, updated Burgundian classics, impeccable service, and a mile-long wine list.

I n the northeast corner of this huge subregion of Burgundy, Tournus is a handsome small town that was founded by the ancient Celts on the banks of the Saône River. It has an exquisite tenth-century abbey and a museum dedicated to 18th-century court painter Jean-Baptiste Greuze. For something like 60 years, Restaurant Greuze was the town's real claim to fame. Fabulously fuddy-duddy, it was the haunt of arch-traditionalist two-star Michelin chef Jean Ducloux. When Ducloux retired in 2003, local hero Laurent Couturier bought the place, redecorated with classic-contemporary flair, and started to build his own reputation. Couturier worked under superstars Guy Savoy and Michel Rostang and knows how to wow. But he's wisely opted to merge creative-global with native Burgundian cuisine, and still makes Ducloux's impossibly luscious pâté en croute, a recipe Ducloux himself inherited from his teacher, prewar chef Alexandre Dumaine. Couturier's spin on escargots is snail-filled cannelloni. His artichoke and Jerusalem artichoke mousse with Burgundy truffles is divine.


The hogback Roche de Solutreé has Pouiilly-Fuissé vineyards at its base. Alison Harris

Tournus may be small but it boasts another Michelin-starred destination, the ultraclassic Aux Terrasses, where chef Jean-Michel Carrette and wife Henriette receive guests in what looks and feels like a bourgeois country house of decades past — wood paneling, glass-fronted cabinets, mahogany furniture, and lots of oil paintings with heavy wooden frames. The jambon persillé and pike perch with Nantua sauce, and the veal kidneys with Dijon mustard sauce are fantastic.

The Mâconnais has always been alluring for its beautiful hill country, forests, and pasturelands, and the excellence of its Charolais beef. But it was long ruled by mediocre co-op wineries, and its reputation as a wine region suffered. The co-ops are now better than ever, and a host of independent winemakers and big-name Côte d'Or colonists like Domaine des Comtes Lafon from Meursault and Domaine Leflaive from Puligny-Montrachet are turning things around.

For one thing, the Mâconnais is the cradle of French organic winemaking. In the vine-covered hills north of Mâcon at Cruzille en Mâconnais, the Guillot family of Domaine des Vignes du Maynes began hand-making pure, natural wine without pesticides or chemical fertilizers way back in 1954. Their estate's foundations actually go back a thousand years, to the monks of Cluny Abbey. Idealistic winemakers Alain Guillot and his son Julien produce wonderfully minerallike, floral whites and what might be the region's premier red made with Gamay: spicy Mâcon Cruzille Rouge Cuvée Manganite.

The Guillots' cousin and fellow winemaker Jean-Gérard Guillot-Broux at nearby Domaine Guillot-Broux — also organic — makes remarkable flowery, fruity Mâcon Cruzille Blanc La Croix and peppery reds with both Pinot Noir and Gamay.

More than mere château, Brancion is a fortified village atop hills overlooking Mâconnais vineyards. An organic food market (Marché Biologique) is held at the foot of Brancion the first and third Sunday of each month.

Medieval streets, slumping stone houses, and sections of a ruined Romanesque abbey — once the biggest in Christendom outside Rome — lend charm to Cluny. Visit on Saturday morning for the colorful outdoor market, and you'll find luscious local goat's milk cheeses, homemade pâtés, organic fruit and vegetables, crusty local breads and delicious gingerbread, and wines, of course, plus baskets and wickerwork items, clothes, and even furniture. Visit any day for chocolates and pastries at one of Burgundy's great chocolateries, Germain-Au Pêché Mignon, family-run since 1978. Denise and Daniel Germain, and their son Nicolas, have gradually transformed a century-old cake shop into a sparkling boutique with exquisite handmade chocolates. There's also a tea room and outdoor café perfect for sampling pastries.

Selling a selection of upmarket specialty foods, wine accessories and the best wines from across Burgundy — including prized bottles of Domaine de la Romanée-Conti — is what transplanted American wine-seller Alice Brinton, of Le Cellier de l'Abbaye, loves to do. This is the Mâconnais's premier bottle shop, facing the Cluny Abbey. By reservation, Brinton hosts thematic tastings — the organic wines of Burgundy, for instance, or a comparative tasting of Mâconnais versus Côte Chalonnaise or Côte d'Or whites — and sets up cellar tours. She is a mine of information — in English — about the region and its food and wines. Also nearby is the Hotel de Bourgogne, a comfortable hotel-restaurant serving classic regional food.

Perched over steep vineyards halfway between Cluny and Mâcon, Berzé-le-Châtel is a 1,100-year-old château boasting 13 towers. You visit for the atmosphere, not the wine. In adjacent Berzé-la-Ville, the Chapelle des Moines (Monk's Chapel) has startling 11th-century religious frescos in near-perfect condition. About a quarter of a mile from the chateau and Monk's Chapel at the bottom of the valley is Le Relais du Mâconnais. Here chef Artaud Lannuel took over a few years ago from his father, Christian, redecorated in a classic contemporary style and revamped the menu to reflect his time in kitchens across France. The big plates and artistically arranged seafood may seem familiar from starched, starred restaurants, but Lannuel is still rooted to his native soil. The family has been buying local Charolais beef, often bearing the "Agriculture Biologique" certified organic label, for more than 20 years. Two remarkably mouthwatering selections are the traditional slow-cooked Charolais braised in red Mâcon wine, and the thick filet of Charolais wrapped in lard, seared in a frying pan with its own marrow, then finished in the oven.

In Mâcon, swing by La Maison Mâconnaise des Vins. Half a dozen co-ops and a handful of independent wineries sell through this clearinghouse and the restaurant upstairs serves regional specialties. Then head just a few miles out of town to Le Saint-Laurent, three-star chef Georges Blanc's spin-off riverside bistro with a big terrace on the Saône facing central Mâcon.

Set in a secluded valley, Château de Pierreclos is yet another picture-postcard medieval landmark with brilliant glazed-tile roofs, towers, turrets, and a Romanesque garden-chapel. The owners have transformed this listed monument into a venue for weddings and conventions. The medieval kitchen is huge, and the 12th-century barrel-vaulted cellar is now the tasting room for the château's drinkable wines.

The sunny villages of Solutré, Pouilly, and Fuissé cling to dramatic slopes between soaring limestone ridges with steeply sloping sides colonized in Paleolithic times — Solutré gave its name to the Solutrean Age of prehistory. The choicest vineyards here belong to the Vincent family, owners of handsome Château de Fuissé...but only since 1852. When the smiling scion of the dynasty Jean-Jacques Vincent took over in 1966, he soon became the region's most dynamic winemaker. Jean-Jacques and his children carry on the tradition of intelligent innovation, patiently making what are some of the southern Mâconnais's richest, most buttery "Vieilles Vignes" white wines from vines 50 to 80 years old, plus leaner single-vineyard bottlings that show off the mineral qualities of the soil.

Au Pouilly-Fuissé is a favorite upscale restaurant of local gourmets, with an outdoor terrace and delicious regional specialties.

A few miles south, at Domaine de la Soufrandière in tiny Vinzelles, young brothers Jean-Guillaume and Jean-Philippe Bret apprenticed themselves to prestigious enologists in the Côte d'Or, Bordeaux and California, and then took over their grandfather's traditional Mâconnais winery. In a matter of years they've turned most of its vineyards into models of biodynamic, organic grape-growing and winemaking. The Brets also buy organic grapes from other growers to produce over a dozen startlingly excellent whites, some from vines over 70 years old. From their estate you can see the swelling hills of the Beaujolais a few miles south marking the boundaries of Burgundy.

Take a trip through six delicious regions of Portugal, sampling custard, sausages, seafood, and the country's namesake wine

It used to be that the most travelers saw of Portugal was what they glimpsed out of an airplane window or a rearview mirror as they skittered across tarmacs or caromed down mountain roads on their way to their final vacation destinations in the Mediterranean or northern Africa. For years, Portugal was Europe's great refueling station. But during the past two decades, foreigners, especially those with gastronomic inclinations, have been lingering, extending vacations, sometimes even canceling plans, to stay within Portugal's borders.
And for good reason.


Ever since the recent Spanish culinary explosion, led by the lionized Ferran Adrià (chef and wizard of El Bulli on the Catalan coast), eyes have been trained on Iberia. It was only a matter of time, the Portuguese knew, before glances would start wandering over the border to discover the pleasures of comida Portuguesa. One perk of Portugal's becoming a card-carrying EU member was that highways were built to connect remote regions and treacherous dirt roads were paved, creating an infrastructure that welcomes tourists without spoiling the country's natural beauty. As travelers wander into Portugal's 11 historical mainland regions—along with Madeira and the Azorean islands—they discover a country no bigger than the state of Indiana that nonetheless encompasses a staggering number of microclimates and terrains. These conditions conspire to create some of Iberia's finest artisanal foods and regional specialties. Add to this mix a coterie of talented young chefs and restaurateurs, and you've got a country that's ready to steal the spotlight.

Trends and Ingredients

Portuguese staples include New World imports such as corn, tomatoes, potatoes, chiles, and peppers. Other key ingredients in Portuguese cuisine include the ubiquitous bacalhau (dried salt cod), which the Portuguese are said to have 365 ways of preparing, plus fresh fish and seafood—from swordfish and lamprey to caracois (snails) and perceves (gooseneck barnacles). Musky black olives are served as snacks and feature prominently in oil-based dishes. Rice, too, is important, and the Portuguese eat more of it than do the citizens of any other European country.

Pork also plays a sizable role in the Portuguese diet, even more so than beef. At the top of the pork pyramid is the prized porco preto (black pig) of the Alentejo, which grazes on fallen acorns from cork trees, which some say makes for its sweet taste. Following right behind porco preto is presunto (ham that has been dry-cured in a coating of salt, paprika, garlic, and red or white wine, and then deeply smoked) and a dizzying collection of dry-cured, smoked sausages that include chouriço, made from pork, red-pepper paste, wine, garlic, and herbs; linguica (a thinner version of chouriço); the squat, lean salpiçao (a smoked sausage made from pork tenderloin that's been marinated in white wine, garlic, and spices); morcela (blood sausage); farinheira (made from pork, wine, garlic, orange juice, and flour); and the lighter alheira, a variety that was originally made from only game and poultry but now occasionally contains some pork.

Rarely is a Portuguese home without some sort of cheese, whether it be the simple queijo fresco, a soft, white creamy cheese that nearly every cook makes, or one of the world-class varieties such as Beira Alta's Queijo de Serra, the Alentejo's luscious Serpa, buttery Beja or piquant Évora, or the Azores' Cheddar-like São Jorge. And nothing goes better with Portuguese cheese than Portuguese wine, from the Minho's red and white vinho verdes, or "green wines," to Douro's ports.

No ingredient is more prized or more pressed into service in Portugal than the egg. It appears in nearly every course but shines in desserts. Sometimes literally. The product of monasteries and convents, egg and egg-yolk desserts are a hallmark of Portuguese cuisine.

Making Your Way through Portugal

While Portugal may seem small compared to some of the big European countries, it is full of diverse subcuisines and cultures. The six regional breakdowns outlined here offer enough information to explore just one area or to string together several for a more comprehensive trip. We've chosen only those regions that are neither overly touristy nor too remote, so you can make the most of your visit.

Tucked away in the northwest corner of the country is the Minho, one of the country's most traditional regions. Even though iPods and Prada shoes are becoming a more frequent sight, it's still possible to see cattle grazing in wide-open pastures and children being picked up from school in ox-drawn carts. Because of favorable weather and plenty of rainfall, the area is lushly green. Some say all this greenery is why the famous local wine was christened vinho verde, or "green wine." But the moniker has more to do with the youth and slight effervescence of the wine, which is meant to be quaffed cold. The citrus, grassy notes of white vinho verde (there are also red and rosé counterparts) pair beautifully with another specialty of the region, caldo verde (green soup), a concoction of whisker-thin slices of vibrant Galician kale stirred into a puréed base of potatoes and onions, all topped with the customary single slice of spicy, deeply smoked chouriço sausage.


Pousada de Santa Marinha, a restored monastery, serves local specialties such as salt cod and rich, eggy custards. Photograph courtesy of Pousada de Santa Marinha

The restaurant Solar do Arco, in the center of the historic city Guimarães, offers an excellent version of caldo verde along with other Minho specialties, including the slippery arroz de lampreia (lamprey and rice stew) made with chouriço, vinho verde, and onions, all freckled with parsley and served over rice. Because the rice is so deeply flavored, wet, and slurpingly luscious, it's been nicknamed arroz maroto (naughty rice). Another must-order here is the restaurant's take on the classic rojões à Minhota, a mix of garlicky pork ribs, farinheira (sausage stuffed with a peppery flour-and-pork filling), roasted potatoes, and chestnuts.

Beware: In Portugal, family wars have been waged over the correct way to prepare a recipe. To many in the Minho, and other parts of the country, rojões is perfectly fried chunks of pork seasoned with nothing more than salt and pepper. Try both versions, but keep your opinion to yourself.

On the outskirts of Guimarães is the Pousada de Santa Marinha, a restored monastery, whose local specialties include bacalhau com broa (salt cod with earthy cornmeal bread crumbs pressed on top) and the fancifully named toucinho do céu (bacon from heaven), one of Portugal's rich egg-yolk custards laced with sweet pumpkin, ground almonds, and fragrant cinnamon. The porcine reference is believed to come from a time when lard or bacon was used in the dish.

In Braga, the city of churches and pastries, food and architecture jockey for supremacy. A Brasileira, cousin to the café of the same name in Lisbon, is an ideal spot to people-watch while munching on a pastel de nata, a brown-freckled baked custard in a pastry cup. To drink, ask for um café (a small shot of eye-popping coffee) served with a cinnamon stick meant for stirring, or uma galão (a shot of coffee topped off with a generous pour of full-fat milk).

The pastelaria Frigideiradas do Cantinho combines antiquities and classic baked goods in one storefront: The floor is made of glass in spots to reveal preserved Roman ruins below cases heavy with fresh pastries.

For a more substantial meal, try Bem-me-Quer, a local favorite a few blocks from one of the city's original six gates. House specialties include tender polvo grelhado (grilled octopus); crispy cabrito assado no forno (roasted kid); the indulgent arroz de pato (duck with rice, smoked sausage, sweet carrots, and onions); and frigideira de carne (shredded beef, minced onions, red peppers, and spices in an earthenware dish topped with puff pastry). If you have the fortitude, try the pudim do abade de priscos, a custard made with 48 egg yolks, 24 eggs, sugar, port wine, and cinnamon. To add to the confusing lexicon of Portuguese sweets, this dessert, unlike "bacon from heaven," does contain rendered lard.

Cut off from the warm Atlantic breezes is the northeastern region of Trás-os-Montes and the more fertile Alto Douro that rubs up against Spain. At first glance, Trás-os-Montes (literally "beyond the mountains") may seem inhospitable, especially in winter, which was exactly why many Jews who were fleeing the Inquisition settled here. But they were confronted with a crisis of faith: Now a part of a pork-loving Catholic country, these cristãos novos had to find a way around kosher dietary laws in order to practice Judaism in secret without raising the suspicions of neighbors and hawkeyed priests. Their solution was ingenious: Create sausages made from meats such as rabbit, chicken, and partridge as well as fillers including bread or flour, heavily flavor them with garlic and spices, and then hang the links in the fireplace to smoke. As a result, lives were saved, because these Jews were able to escape notice, and a new food staple—alheira—was born.


Fresh seasonal produce from the farmers' market, such as this shredded kale, is key to Portugal's cuisine. Photograph by Emily Sandor

Today, many would argue that Tràs-os-Montes is the unofficial pork capital of Portugal (rivaled only by the Alentejo and its porco preto), with two municipalities claiming supremacy: Chaves and Murça. Both produce sublime presunto. To taste just how silky and salty-sweet the ham is, plan to be in Murça on the 13th or 28th of any month, the town's market days, and you can pick up a few perfectly cured slices along with equally praiseworthy honey and goat cheese. While there, catch a glimpse of the Porca de Murça, a giant granite pig from the Iron Age, thought to have been used in Celtic fertility rituals — that gives you an idea of how long and how much the locals have relied on the pig for sustenance.

The Dishes

Two knockout dishes that show off porcine pride are lusty feijoada and cozido à portuguesa. Unlike the Brazilian feijoada, which commonly uses black beans and is served with farofa (seasoned toasted manioc flour), the Transmontana version is made with white, kidney, or butter beans and plenty of cuts of local meats—from smoked pig's ear to trotters to presunto ham. Carnaval, which is celebrated all over the country, demands the Transmontana specialty of cozido à portuguesa. Similar to a New England boiled dinner, the dish is a mix of beef, pork, chicken, sausage, carrots, cabbage, and Portugal's impossibly yellow potatoes, all tossed in a panela, or pot, covered with water, and simmered until the meats are fork tender and the broth is heady with the smoky scent of the sausage.

South of Trás-os-Montes is Alto Douro, home to mountains whose sides are carved into narrow, hair-raising terraces to accommodate the grapes that will become port, Portugal's famous fortified wine. And far below, gliding silently along the valley's basin, is the Douro River, famed for its role in transporting barrels of port from the quintas (wine estates) downriver to the port lodges in Vila Nova de Gaia, where the wine is blended and aged.

The area is all about journeys, which are best made by car. But be warned: The combination of Portuguese drivers with a death wish and the area's panic-inducing switchbacks can make for a harrowing ride. Nonetheless, the area is lined with wine estates that you can string together for an afternoon of tasting and dining.

The Wines

The most exciting wineries in the area are those owned by Portugal's innovative media darlings, the Douro Boys. Following the footsteps of some early pioneers who created the legendary table wine Barca Velha, these five men—Dirk Van der Niepoort, Francisco Olazabal, Cristano van Zeller, Tomás Roquette, and Francisco Ferreira—all of whom are from port-making families, bucked tradition by creating wines from the same varietals used for port. Each of their quintas has produced wines that have topped the charts in Europe and in the States.

To sample some of the Boys' prize-winning wines, start at Quinta do Vallado, perched above the Corgo River. If it's harvest time (usually between early September and early October, depending on the weather) and you can't wait to kick off your shoes and stomp some grapes in one of the stone lagares, consider a stay at the estate. The manor house has five bedrooms with en suite baths, and breakfast is included. Dinner, which is cooked by the wife of one of the farmers, can be arranged.

Next thread your way to Quinta de Nápoles, home to Niepoort wines. With prior arrangements, you can dine privately in the old stone dining room. A recent autumn menu included sopa de abóbora (pumpkin soup rich with roasted garlic and sweet sautéed onions), cabrito assado (roast kid) rubbed with olive oil and dotted with garlic, bowls of those marvelous roasted yellow potatoes, and for dessert, pudim de laranja, a firm, dense custard suffused with sweet orange juice and topped with caramel sauce.

From there, head over to Quinta do Vale Dona Maria. Here Van Zeller, who in 1993 sold his esteemed Quinta do Noval — another worthy stop on your wine-soaked journey — has restored the three-bedroom farmhouse and is welcoming small groups for tasting, tours, and dinner.

After that, cross the Douro to the most dramatic of the five estates, Quinta do Crasto. Perched high atop a peak in the valley, the quinta has a bird's-eye view up and down the river. From this vantage point, history buffs will enjoy seeing one of the original stone markers the 18th-century statesman Marquis de Pombal had erected to delimit the port region, which, in 1756, was the first wine region in the world to be demarcated. The Roquette family is in the planning stages of restoring an 18th-century guesthouse on the property. Sitting even higher on the hill, it has a breathtaking view of the vineyards, which during harvest are speckled with workers carrying baskets of grapes back and forth to trucks perched along alarmingly shallow steps.

If you're still game, the last stop on the wine tour is Olazabal's formidable Quinta do Vale Meão, in the lovely town of Vila Nova de Foz Côa.

If merely the idea of driving those roads exhausts you, you can enjoy most all of the Douro Boys' wines in Pinhão and Peso da Régua, two towns in the western part of the region. The best way to visit, sans car, is on the antique steam locomotive that runs from Régua through Pinhão to Tua.

The center of the Douro Litoral, the coastal region that's edged by the Douro River to the south, is Porto, the country's second-largest city. And as the city's name suggests, most everything here is related to Portugal's famous fortified wine—from the local economy, to the cuisine, to the pageantry of the barcos rabelos, the boats that once transported barrels of port downriver, gliding by outside the port lodges in Vila Nova de Gaia.

The Dishes

The dish most often associated with the region is tripas à moda do Porto, or tripe Porto-style. It's so woven into the fabric of the city's history that residents of Porto are called tripeiros, or tripe eaters. According to legend, when Henry the Navigator sailed to points south in the 1400s, his supporters gave all their choice meats to feed his sailors, leaving nothing but tripe for themselves. True or not, the story points up the insatiable Portuguese appetite for the dish, a slowly simmered casserole of tripe, pigs' feet, chicken, smoky sausages, white beans, and a good dose of warm spices including cumin, curry, and clove.

Dining at a restaurant billed as "an institution," "legendary," or "iconic" is, frankly, often a disappointment. Reality clashes with years of florid reviews. Not so at O Restaurante Tripeiro. Since the early '40s, this haven, owned by José Manuel Pinto, has been serving what has been considered by local gourmands to be the best tripas à moda do Porto. If tripe isn't your thing, consider this: The chef made headlines by winning a competition in Bordeaux, France, with his tripe recipe. Sure, that may have been in 1957, but the recipe is the same and is still packing in diners.

Porto's famous barcos rabelos on Vila Nova de Gaia's riverside. Photograph by David Leite

Bacalhau (salt cod) has been synonymous with the Portuguese ever since they were among the first Europeans to fish Newfoundland's Grand Banks in the late 15th century. Stuck with boatloads of cod and no way to preserve it, the fishermen devised a way of salting and sun-drying it on the decks of their ships, turning the fish into easy-to-handle, hard planks. Perhaps the quintessential dish made from salt cod is bacalhau à Gomes de Sá. Created by José Luiz Gomes de Sá Jr., the early-20th-century restaurateur and chef at the now-closed Restaurante Lisbonese in Porto, the casserole consists of layers of golden fried potatoes, sautéed onions, and bacalhau garnished with slices of hard-boiled eggs and black olives, all drizzled with olive oil.

Another salt-cod favorite is the bite-size hors d'oeuvre pastéis de bacalhau (salt-cod fritters). Although eaten throughout the country, these fritters are associated with the Douro region, perhaps because the region's prized potatoes, a prime ingredient, are unsurpassed. Earthy, sweet, and deeply yellow, Douro potatoes are served roasted, boiled, stewed, and, most delicious of all, fried. When dining out, it takes Herculean strength to pass up a plate of batatas fritas.

As with the pigs of Trás-os-Montes, the potatoes of the Douro are put to use in every course, including dessert. They make a stunning appearance in the bolo de amêndoa, an almond cake made from flour, sugar, eggs, cold mashed potatoes, and almonds — one of Portugal's many products that carry the Denominacão de Origem Protegida (DOP) certification, an identification that guarantees foods come from specific locations and assures their quality and characteristics. It's topped with ovos moles (sweetened egg yolks slowly cooked until thick and luscious) and a crystalline layer of almond praline. The moisture of the potatoes lends the cake a heft and texture similar to an old-fashioned American pound cake.

Mercado do Bolhão, the imposing open-air market in the center of Porto, is the place to go for a firsthand look at Portuguese ingredients and how the Portuguese shop. The ground floor and upper arcade are lined with vendors selling vegetables — look for monstrous creaking machines that slice kale into filament-thin slivers for caldo verde (green soup), as well as flowers, fish (including the briny, slippery, wildly expensive perceves or gooseneck barnacles), dried beans, and live fowl, among other foods. While you're looking around, nibble on tremoços, or brined lupini beans. The market is also a terrific place for a laugh: Brawling fishwives and bawdy vegetable women, who enjoy shocking tourists by creating X-rated shapes with their bounty, make for a good show. Sadly, the building is crumbling and is shored up by scaffolding. Government officials assure the market will go on; let's only hope it doesn't go the way of Les Halles in Paris.

After the Bolhão, head over to Café Majestic, a Belle Époque beauty just a few blocks southeast. Opened in 1921 as the Café Elite (rechristened Café Majestic six months later), this hub of society hosted Porto's burgeoning bourgeoisie, politicians, performers, and artists. Under its ornate vaulted ceilings, history was made. The café eventually fell into disrepair but was saved by its current owners, who restored it (after an almost decade-long bureaucratic delay) and reopened it in 1994. While there are better places, such as those mentioned above, for almoço (lunch) or jantar (dinner), few spots can compete for breakfast or a midday refueling of Portugal's strong, dark-roast coffee and a pastry or six.

The Wines

Considering Porto is the bull's-eye of the country's port production, it would be foolhardy to leave without at least an introduction to one of the world's finest fortified wines. And there's no better place to bone up than the city of Vila Nova de Gaia, just across the Douro from Porto's Ribeira (riverside). Nearly every street, alley, and travessa is lined with armazéns (lodges), where you can get free tastes of the great wine. Although there are more than 50 armazéns, three top the must-see-must-drink list.

Ramos Pinto, founded in 1880 and one of the most iconic port houses, offers tastings as well as tours through the small 19th-century exhibits in its cellar museum. But the big attractions are the historical archives and library filled with scandalous port advertisements, ingenious marketing materials, and, perhaps, one of the most beautiful stained-glass windows ever devoted to a commercial product.

More commercial than the Ramos Pinto experience but worth the price of admission (which is reimbursed if a purchase is made) is the one offered by Sandeman, one of the oldest port lodges. For no charge you can visit the reception center to view the permanent display on port production as well as the nearby museum, which chronicles the history of Sandeman. But to get the complete experience, opt for the full tour, which includes a visit to the cellars, filled with 196-year-old casks, and a two-port tasting.

Perhaps the best tour comes from Taylor, Fladgate & Yeatman, set in a beautiful lodge built in 1692. The company is responsible for some of Portugal's finest vintage brands, two of which are available for tasting in its stately library after the gratis tour. While there, you can also sample some of the exquisite olive oil produced in the Quinta de Vargellas vineyard, one of the many small-production estate oils now on the market. If all that tippling makes you hungry, you can also reserve a seat at the lodge's award-winning Restaurant Barão de Fladgate, overlooking Porto, during the warmer months.

The Cutting Edge

Besides being the home of centuries-old dishes and port producers, the Douro Litoral is a springboard for modern Portuguese cuisine. In the past several years, Porto has seen an explosion in contemporary restaurants and glowing, sexy hotels — there was massive preparation for the 250th anniversary of the demarcation of the Port region in 2006.

Two chefs leading the culinary charge are Miguel Castro e Silva of the sleek Bull & Bear and Marco Gômes of Foz Velha. Both are fiercely dedicated to using fresh, local ingredients, reconceptualizing the Portuguese dining experience, and pushing the boundaries of their cuisine to striking effect. Proof: Castro e Silva serves an excellent grilled bacalhau alongside slowly simmered repolho (cabbage) doused with a house blend of fiery spices. Also on the plate is a nod to French quenelles — instead of using fish, he riffs on the classic Portuguese recheio (savory bread pudding), studding the quenelles with ripe tomatoes, cilantro, and oil-cured olives and forming them into the familiar oval shape. More unusual are slices of darkly smoked blood sausage served with a napoleon of wafer-thin layers of sweet baked Douro apples and caramelized onions, all topped with shredded, creamy salt cod that's been crisped and blotched brown under the broiler. He also has a generous hand with spices, turning to former Portuguese colonies, including Macau, Goa, and São Tome, for inspiration. He's been so successful that The London Times named Bull & Bear one of the top 25 places to eat in Europe.

Not to be outdone, Gômes turns out equally exquisite dishes, including steamed fillets of wild sea bass with an "à Brás" of vegetables and a drizzle of unctuous curry sauce. À Brás is a classic preparation of deep-frying matchstick potatoes and mixing them into scrambled eggs. Traditionally, the concoction is tossed with salt cod, creating bacalhau à Brás, a hallmark of Lisbonese dining. With this dish, Gômes winks at the classic preparation while poking fun at Porto's rival city, by making an à Brás filling of deep-fried julienne of Douro vegetables and pillow-soft eggs.

There are countless reasons to visit Beira Litoral: the cacophonous Mercado do Peixe (fish market) in Aveiro; the indulgent ovos moles de Aveiro (sweetened cooked egg yolks oozing from casings shaped into barrels or boats); or the Escher-esque Coimbra, a city of crooked stairways, zigzagging hills, and the seat of Portugal's oldest and finest university.

But none compares to the luscious leitao assado (roast suckling pig). The competition for bragging rights as the finest leitao restaurant is so fierce that it resembles the fetishistic idolization of barbecue in the United States.


The wonderful Mercado do Peixe (fish market) in Aveiro is one reason to visit Beira Litoral — roast pig is another. Photograph by Emily Sandor

The geographic and culinary epicenter for leitao is the town of Mealhada. And not just anywhere in Mealhada, but along one section of highway EN-1. At last count there were more than three dozen restaurants specializing in leitao in the area, about 20 on the highway alone.
Arguably the best, and to say the "best" here is to risk bodily harm, is served at Pedro dos Leitões. The recipe is simple: The milk-fed piglets are stuffed with garlic, lard, and a sprinkling of salt and pepper, then sewn up and roasted on a skewer in a baker's wood-fired oven (not a sight for the squeamish). The pigs can be served whole to large groups or in portions for smaller gatherings. The secret to perfection, the owners say, lies in the technique of juggling the heat, time, and skewer. The method renders the meat smoky, sweet, and extraordinarily moist; the skin is deeply burnished and ultracrunchy. It's no wonder that torresmos (pork cracklings) are also so popular in the area. The crisp, salty strips, served as a snack or a starter to a more substantial meal, are best paired with an ice-cold beer.

Portuguese for "extreme boundary," Estremadura was for years the southern-most region that was recaptured from the Moors. It is home to a string of quaint fishing villages, soaring castles, and some of the region's most revered dishes and stylish restaurants, especially in the capital city of Lisbon.

Two mother dishes of the region are sopa de mariscos (shellfish stew) and caldeirada de peixe (fish stew). If you're Portuguese, and especially Estremaduran, there is no such thing as a recipe for these local stews. It's just water or broth, onions, garlic, tomatoes, chiles, a handful of herbs from the garden outside the back door, and the catch of the day. A version particularly popular with the shellfish-crazed Portuguese is amêijoas à bulhão pato, tiny clams in a briny broth of white wine and garlic topped with chopped cilantro. A favorite side dish is batatas à murro, small potatoes bem salgado (well salted) that are smashed with the palm of the hand, drizzled with fragrant olive oil, and sprinkled with chopped raw garlic.


Pragma chef Fausto Airoldi's foie gras duo comes with fresh pineapple chutney and dried fruit brioche. Photograph Courtesy of Pragma

A local recipe that goes head-to-head with Porto's bacalhau à Gomes da Sá as the most-loved fish dish in the country is bacalhau à Brás. It brings together three favorite foods of the Portuguese: salt cod, potatoes, and eggs. Sometimes called bacalhau dourada, or golden cod, the dish is a pile of clouds of softly scrambled eggs mixed with bits of salt cod and crispy matchstick potatoes.

Chicken, beef, goat, and lamb round out the majority of menus in Estremadura. Two favorite local preparations are the African frango à piri-piri — grilled chicken doused with Portugal's incendiary hot sauce made from peppers brought to the mainland by both sailors and émigrés from Angola and Mozambique — and bife com ovo a a cavalo (beef with eggs on horseback), steak in a mustard-cream sauce, topped with a fried egg, and served with batatas fritas.

It's impossible to walk through Lisbon without tripping over a great place to eat. Literally. Restaurants push the boundary of their leased space, often thrusting tables far into cobbled ruas and travessas. Ground zero for dining is Bairro Alto, a trendy district of Lisbon, which climbs up the hill from the low center of the city and crests at the Miradouro do São Pedro de Alcântara, a promontory and garden. From here, you'll have a panoramic view of Alfama, the city's oldest neighborhood, and the looming Castelo de São Jorge, Lisbon's onetime fortress. Hint: Try to get there at dusk, when the sun paints the city a luminous gold.

At the restaurant Pap'Açorda, a perennially hip crowd sups on cutting-edge versions of Portuguese classics under baroque chandeliers. Taking center stage is açorda de mariscos, an unusual soup made with seafood, eggs, garlic, and bread soaked with a cilantro-perfumed broth. But the chic menu still leaves room for favorites such as perfectly crisped slices of musky morcela (blood sausage) along with its traditional accompaniment: sautéed young turnip greens, and a tangle of peixinhos da horta (these "little fish from the garden" are thin green beans that are batter-dipped and deep fried), all served by spiffily dressed waiters. Some people think the waitstaff has grown snarky lately, but the food excuses their cheekiness.

Not too far away is Olivier, a restaurant opened by the talented Olivier da Costa, who effortlessly mixes ingredients and cooking styles from Portugal, Spain, and France. The room is long, clubby, and immediately welcoming, with black wainscoting that's dotted with paintings and political sketches. Eating here is a marathon event if you choose the 12-course menu dégustation. And you should. Standouts include the silky, cold foie gras on a bed of onion confit drizzled with a port reduction and sprinkled with Portuguese flor de sal; the hot alheira de caça (sausage made from wild fowl) rolled in turnip greens and topped with a quail egg; and puff pastry filled with tart local goat cheese, rosemary honey, and crushed walnuts. Da Costa also opened Olivier Café, which features playful riffs on Portuguese ingredients. Two dishes worth tucking into are salt cod–and-cornbread ravioli with a tomato and black-olive sauce and a loin of porco preto with a mango chutney and raspberry vinaigrette.

The most recent dazzler is Flores, the restaurant of the Bairro Alto Hotel, the first contemporary boutique hotel to open in the reinvigorated neighborhood. Flores specializes in the cuisine of Portugal's former colonies punctuated with Asian and other international accents, such as grouper fillets in a potato crust with chouriço, Italian eggplant caviar, and olive confit, as well as cannelloni of seafood açorda with cilantro oil.

Down the hill in the massive Praça do Comércio, the huge open square that faces the mighty Tagus River, is Terreiro do Paço. Executive chef Vitor Sobral heads up the kitchen in this duplex restaurant housed in an 18th-century building, which is part of the royal-yellow arcade of the praça. On the lower level is a bar and restaurant that offers "snacks" or light fare, while the restaurant above serves dishes featuring DOP-certified meats, cheese, and olives from Portugal's most important gastronomic regions — part of Sobral's commitment to furthering the cuisine of the country. Some suggestions: For an appetizer, try the pineapple-and-goat-cheese ravioli drizzled with a cherry-cardamom cream. Granted, at first blush, it doesn't look particularly Portuguese, but the island of São Miguel in the Azores has some of the world's finest pineapples; they're so good, in fact, they carry DOP protection. For a main course, opt for lamb — presented in thin carpaccio slices as well as minced — served with Algarvian orange chutney and a mix of field greens.

In the new sleek, sci-fi-modern Casino Lisboa is Pragma, the long-awaited restaurant from Fausto Airoldi, formerly of Bica do Sapato, and one of the most heralded chefs in Portugal. Tucked away in a jewel box of a room, Pragma is Airoldi's dream project. His menu is divided into three sections: clássico (his signature dishes that he's become famous for throughout his career), memória (dishes that revive beloved flavors and textures of Portuguese cuisine), and ensaio (experimental dishes that go out on a limb with unusual combinations and preparations). Airoldi is a cooking shark—constantly in motion—and he changes the menu often and on a whim, so any recommendations would be moot.

No trip to Lisbon would be complete without a pilgrimage to the holiest of pastry shops, the Antigua Confeitaria de Belém, on the fringes of the city. Once a sundries shop, the confeitaria was converted to a bakery in the early 1800s where pastry has been made ever since. The pastéis, luscious custard in crisp pastry cups, are served warm with a generous sprinkling of powdered sugar and cinnamon. These treats are so sought after that it is illegal for any other shop to sell anything called pastéis de Belém; pretenders to the throne must call theirs pastéis de nata. How popular are they? The confeitaria shapes, fills, and bakes more than 10,000 a day, but topped the 25,000 mark when the Pope visited the city in 2000.

It's surprising when any Portuguese passes up a sweet dessert, but when they do, there's always the luscious Queijo de Azeitão, from the Setúbal Peninsula. Made from raw sheep's milk, Azeitão has a semisoft texture with buttery overtones and a slight bite, depending on its age. Ask for a bit of marmelada when ordering. It's not, as the word suggests, marmalade, but rather a firm quince paste. The British, longtime Lusophiles, appropriated the name to christen an entire category of preserves.

If it's comida tipica you're looking for in Lisbon, consider Bota Alta in Bairro Alto (for some of the best bacalhau à Brás), A Charcutaria in Chiado (for some of the best Alentejan food outside of the region, including coelho em vinho (rabbit simmered in a rich, garlicky red-wine sauce) and porco à alentejana (pork shoulder and clams cooked in a shell-shaped copper pan called a cataplana), and O Mercado do Peixe (for the freshest fish possible, because you pick your dinner from the surrounding aquariums).

The Lavender Fields and Luminous Meals of Provence
Touring the markets, restaurants, and vineyards of France's sunny southeast
By Julie Mautner


The people of Provence see themselves as uniquely blessed: by their brilliant sunlight and Mediterranean climate; by the beauty of their landscape, captured on the canvases of Cézanne and Van Gogh. And most of all, by the flavor and freshness of their sun-drenched cuisine.

The Provençals are crazy about food. They're serious gardeners and knowledgeable and passionate eaters. It's the rare Provençal that doesn't have grapevines on the terrace, an olive tree in the garden, or a chicken in the yard. Foraging, whether for wild mushrooms, fresh herbs, or truffles, is a cherished pastime. The France we see in movies — where huge families gather at long garden tables for copious meals — is visible daily all over Provence. If you're invited to Sunday lunch here, you can kiss your afternoon good-bye.


The Place

Asking someone to geographically define Provence is like asking for a recipe for "real" bouillabaisse: Everyone's got an opinion. It has six distinct departments: the Bouches-du-Rhône, the Vaucluse, the Var, the Alpes de Haute-Provence, the Hautes-Alpes, and the Alpes-Maritimes. Within each department are specific regions: The Vaucluse has the Luberon, for instance.



Provence is in full glory in summer, of course, when it seems that all of France (and Europe) descends. Spring and fall are perfect for leisurely food-fueled touring, particularly during the vendange (grape harvest), which starts in early September. Winters are mild, but many places close between November and March. Yet, no matter when you come, you'll find the Provençals are virtuosos in the fine art of food.

The Ingredients

In Provence the idea of terroir — roughly translated as "a sense of place" — is a foregone conclusion. The closer to home something comes from, the better it is. And knowing who raised your lamb or pressed your olives makes it better still. Homemade olive oil, wine, and confiture are cherished holiday gifts.


Provençal meals are planned around the changing seasons. The arrival of the first spring asparagus results in a burst of celebratory cooking. A Provençal would no sooner bake a peach tart in winter than he would grab a Napa Valley Chardonnay from the supermarket shelves. Just about anywhere you go, you can experience food and wine at its source. Bakers will invite you back to see crusty country breads being pulled from the oven; chefs will gesture you into the kitchen to sniff a dirt-caked truffle. Food festivals abound, celebrating all the important products of the region, including melons, truffles, lemons, garlic, lavender, and wines of every type. At village fund-raisers, local favorites such as bouillabaisse, paella, daube (beef stew), and aïoli are dished out in vast quantities, along with plastic cups of local vin du table.


The Dishes

Provence has its share of Michelin-starred chefs, of course, but great food is by no means the preserve of the rich. The true cuisine is rustic: soupe au pistou, rabbit, brandade (salt cod), sweetbreads, pig's feet, tripe, and stews made from beef, wild boar (sanglier), or bull (taureau) have their roots in peasant cooking. Chefs here tend to dream not of luxurious dining rooms but rather of having a small personal restaurant in a mas (stone farmhouse), with fruit trees and a garden. Many grow much of what they need themselves. "The new ideal is rustic refinement, and the young chefs of Provence are virtuosi in the genre," says Louisa Jones, coauthor of Provence Harvest. Meals often begin with pastis, an anise-flavored liquor diluted with water. The aperitif is served with olives or with inky tapenade, a spread of anchovies and black olives. Then come the vegetable tarts, pizzas, daube (the red-wine-spiked meat stew), simply prepared Mediterranean and Alpine fish, and soups — especially aigo-boulido (garlic), fish soup, and pistou, a hearty vegetable soup flavored with basil and garlic — that have won Provence admirers around the world.

One of the greatest dishes in southern French cooking is also the most typical sauce of the region: the garlicky mayonnaise known as aïoli that becomes a whole meal when served with boiled carrots and potatoes, hard-boiled eggs, cod, and snails.

Cooking styles depend on the season. In winter, locals favor slow-cooked stews and roasts and cook in the fireplace. In summer, meats and vegetables are wood-grilled, with grapevine cuttings or rosemary branches tossed onto the fire. Red-wine reductions and seasoned herb butters let the flavors of the fresh ingredients shine through.

The Wine

Provence seems like one great vineyard, and every region has its own wines (Les Coteaux des Baux, Côtes du Luberon, etc.). The Southern Rhône is home to some of the finest wines in the world, including Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Vacqueras, and Gigondas, along with the lesser-known Tavel and Lirac. East of Orange you'll find fortified wines such as Muscat de Beaumes-de-Venise.

With harsh winters and strong winds, the remote and rugged Hautes-Alpes and Alpes-de-Haute-Provence are Provence's most undiscovered areas. Thanks to the colder climes, the food tends to be heavier—butter nudges aside olive oil and cheese is prevalent in Savoie-inspired dishes such as fondue, tartiflette (a creamy baked casserole of potato, cheese, onion, crème fraîche, white wine, and lardons), and potatoes topped with Reblochon. Locals love the deep-fried tourtons, small square fritters filled with spinach, potatoes, prunes, or apples. Ravioles du Champsaur are filled with wild spinach in spring, trout or nettles in summer, foie gras and chestnuts in winter months. The tarte du Champsaur, a thin pastry tart made with raspberry, blueberry, or apricot marmalade that kids beg for after school, is popular year-round. Banon cheese and Sisteron lamb are the most famous spring foodstuffs. In summer, everyone sips aperitifs infused with aromatic plants such as tilleul (lime blossom). In fall, the region turns to gathering apples, almonds, chestnuts, and, in southern locales, grapes. Throughout the winter, you'll find local épeautre, or spelt (served in place of rice), and truffles galore. The huge Monday morning market in Forcalquier and the Saturday morning market in Gap are considered the best for food, along with tableware and linens. In the Alpes de Haute-Provence (and also the Var), the term "bistrot de pays" designates a bar or café offering local specialties at lunch and sometimes dinner, with a homey atmosphere and friendly service (for a list, go to http://www.bistrotdepays.com).


A basketful of tourtons, deep-fried fritters filled with spinach, potatoes, prunes, or apples.
Alain Ducasse discovered the Alpes de Haute-Provence while motorcycling, and fell head over heels with the town of Moustiers-Sainte-Marie. In 1994, he purchased a 17th-century building and set out to transform it into the 12-room Bastide de Moustiers. In the kitchen, chef Eric Santalucia creates a daily-changing menu featuring traditional local dishes heavy on local produce, some of which comes from the Bastide's five gardens. According to Georgeanne Brennan, author of The Food and Flavors of Haute Provence, "After seven years, Bastide de Moustiers is still at the top of my list. It offers the rustic cooking of Haute Provence, using the finest, freshest local ingredients, with the sure hand of a brilliant chef, in a gorgeous and welcoming setting."


Culinary Highlights

La Bastide de Moustiers
Chemin de Quinson
04360 Moustiers-Sainte-Marie
04-92-70-47-47
http://www.bastide-moustiers.com

Restaurant L'Antidote
11 rue de L'Ecole
Serre-Chevalier 1500
05220 Mônetier-Les-Bains
04-92-44-09-74

Villa Morelia
Le Château
04850 Jausiers
04-92-84-67-78
http://www.villa-morelia.com

La Bonne Etape
Chemin du Lac
04160 Château-Arnoux
04-92-64-00-09
http://www.bonneetape.com

Domaine La Blaque
Route de la Bastide des Jourdans
04860 Pierrevert
04-92-72-39-71
http://www.domainelablaque.fr

Le Domaine de Régusse
Route de la Bastide des Jourdans
04860 Pierrevert
04-92-72-30-44
http://www.domaine-de-regusse.net

After nine years in the three-star kitchen of chef Marc Veyrat in Annecy, chef Stéphane Froidevaux — and his wife Léa — opened the 30-seat Restaurant L'Antidote in the Alliey Hotel in Mênetier les Bains. They received their first Michelin star in less than a year. Froidevaux celebrates the fresh flavors of his mountain setting in dishes such as foie gras with dandelion jam and wild red currant jelly or truffle and cèpe soup flaked with almonds and truffles, which pair well with the 7,000-bottle cellar of 160 vineyards.

One of the newest Michelin stars in France, Villa Morelia is a ten-room inn and 35-seat restaurant in a 19th-century hotel ten minutes from Barcelonette. Chef Vincent Lucas hails from Nice and worked in England and the Caribbean before returning to what he says is "the best and most discriminating market: Provence." The moderately priced six-course menu changes daily, illustrating Lucas's sure hand and vast repertoire: wild spinach salad with grilled almonds and sheep's cheese, red tuna with wild rhubarb and hazelnut oil, and braised squid "Neapolitan-style" with saffron risotto and dried cèpes are three exemplary dishes. "My food is modern Provençal," the chef says, "with all the perfumes of the Mediterranean basin."

Chef Jany Gleize trained with some of the top names in France (Troisgros, Chapel, Rostang, Guérard) before coming home to Château-Arnoux to take over the kitchen at La Bonne Etape, which has been in the family for generations. He does a warm shrimp salad with chickpeas and caviar, dorade with fresh tomato sauce and stuffed Swiss chard, and a dish that says "South of France" if ever there was one: herb-roasted local lamb with a vegetable ragoût and wild-herb sauce.

The vineyards of Hautes-Alpes produce mostly table wines, but in the Alpes de Hautes-Provence you'll find some highly regarded wines, particularly the Coteaux de Pierrevert, which comes from France's least-known French wine-producing regions. At the highly rated Domaine La Blaque, 15 kilometers south of Manosque, Gilles and Laurence Delsuc produce Rhône-style reds, whites, and rosés. Their best bottle is the Rouge Reserve, but the rosé "Tradition" is also hugely popular. Another vineyard worth a visit is Domaine de Régusse, which offers Rhône-style blends, an excellent Viognier, and a fine Cabernet. There is a small but charming tasting room, surrounded by vineyards, just below the owners' château.

The Vaucluse

Sometimes called The Napa Valley of France, the Vaucluse is a land of heart-stopping views, with vineyards, olive groves, and lavender stretching as far as the eye can see. This is where Picasso spent his later years, where Peter Mayle penned A Year in Provence and all the books that followed. In the Luberon region, you'll find the medieval hill towns of Gordes, Ménerbes, Bonnieux, and Roussillon. Vaucluse vineyards are famous for Beaumes-de-Venise, Vacqueras, Gigondas, Châteauneuf-du-Pape and, of course, Côtes du Rhône and Côtes du Rhône Villages. The Vaucluse is also the country's top black truffle region: They're harvested November to March and sold in markets, the largest of which are at Carpentras (Friday mornings, mid-November through February), Aups (Thursday mornings), and Richerenches (Saturday mornings). White truffles from the Vaucluse, gathered in June, July, and August, have a much subtler taste than black truffles and are not cooked. Chefs love them for their delicate, nutty flavor with earthy hints of the land; they make a perfect spring and summer appetizer. The Carpentras Tourist Office has a list of truffiers who welcome the public on truffle-hunting trips. Eric Jaumard, for example, will take you over the river and through the woods on a 90-minute hunt, followed by a tasting that might include pumpkin soup with truffled cream, cheese, and even ice cream.

The jewel of the Vaucluse is Avignon, home to the popes during the 14th century and nowadays many wonderful restaurants. One of the finest is the Michelin one-star Christian Etienne, built on a rocky outcrop inhabited since prehistoric times. Along with its 700-year-old frescoes, timbered ceiling, and terrace overlooking the Palais des Papes, Etienne offers menus that often focus on one ingredient such as lobster, tomatoes, truffles, or pork. Signatures include lamb cooked rosé with garlic jus, and filet of red mullet in a coulis of black olives. The wine list has a large number of organic and hard-to-get labels.

Chef Robert Brunel has two highly regarded restaurants in Avignon, Brunel and Numero 75. While the one-star Brunel, opened in 1980, has long been a local favorite, many prefer the more casual Numero 75, opened three years ago in the former home of the Pernod family. Here, Brunel himself does much of the cooking, which, while deeply rooted in Southern France, has many North African and Italian touches such as lamb confit in Moroccan spices with apricots and couscous and grilled scallops with risotto.


Culinary Highlights

Tourist Office Carpentras (for truffle trips)
04-90-63-00-78
office@carpentras.fr

Dominique Jaumard, Truffier
Le Truffe du Ventoux
La Quinsonne
84170 Monteaux
04-90-66-82-21
http://www.truffes-ventoux.com

Christian Etienne
10 rue de Mons
84000 Avignon
04-90-86-16-50
http://www.christian-etienne.fr

Restaurant Brunel
46 rue de la Balance
84000 Avignon
04-90-85-24-83

Numero 75
75 rue Guillaume Puy
84000 Avignon
04-90-27-16-00

La Mirande
4 place de la Mirande
84000 Avignon
04-90-14-20-20
http://www.la-mirande.fr

Bastide de Capelongue
84480 Bonnieux
04-90-75-89-78
http://www.capelongue.com

Le Jardin du Quai
91 avenue Julien Guigue
84800 L'Isle-Sur-La-Sorgue
04-90-20-14-98

Maison Gouin
44 Route d'Apt
84660 Maubec (Coustellet)
04-90-76-90-18

Chez Serge
90 rue Cottier
84200 Carpentras
04-90-63-21-24
http://www.chez-serge.com

Château La Canorgue
Route du Pont Julien
84480 Bonnieux
04-90-75-81-01

At La Mirande, nestled near the Palais des Papes, chef Sébastien Aminot (an Alain Ducasse alum) puts a refined spin on the southern French classics. Sweetbreads are normally panfried, but Aminot roasts them, serves them with homemade farfalle, and dresses them up with truffles. Dine in the tapestry-hung dining room, in the rose-filled garden, or in the 19th-century basement kitchen, where a special menu is served at a large communal table on Tuesday and Wednesday. La Mirande holds its wildly popular cooking classes at its wood-fired cast-iron oven.

Last year, chef Edouard Loubet moved his Michelin two-star restaurant to the 31-room Bastide de Capelongue, a hotel with postcard-perfect views of the town of Bonnieux. The youngest chef to ever earn a Michelin star (he was 26), Loubet is known for wonderfully inventive food that draws heavily on obscure ingredients such as rumex (also known as sorrel) and tétragone (New Zealand spinach). In his 12-acre garden, Loubet grows much of his own produce, such as the sunflowers he uses for his signature sunflower hearts with sweet vinaigrette, grated-potato fritters, and chanterelles. "I definitely take risks in the kitchen," he says. "At first I like to shock people by mixing flavors, but then I like to harmonize and balance. But the taste must be strong, pure, and clear." Don't miss the signature drink: Champagne mixed with truffles macerated in honey and white wine.

Known as the center of the antiques trade in the South of France, pretty L'Isle sur la Sorgue is jammed on Sundays, when the village holds its weekly market and then all gather at Le Jardin du Quai for the tranquil setting, fair prices, and outstanding food. Chef-owner Daniel Hebet offers set menus of items like grilled asparagus with garlic and Parmesan, cod with tomato "stew" and green beans, and strawberry soup.

In the same family since 1928, the upscale bistro Maison Gouin in Coustellet, with its own "mostly organic" butcher and gourmet grocery, is a local hangout with a traditional timbered ceiling and large, open kitchen. In the basement cave, you pick your own wine from a reasonably priced selection including many Luberon labels. At dinner, when the boucherie closes down, the chef offers a very good and reasonably priced set menu posted on a large blackboard at the front door.

At Chez Serge, chef Philippe Lemaître whips up light beignets stuffed with cheeses and spices, beef medallions in red-wine sauce, and roasted chicken with ratatouille and the signature appetizer, white truffles sliced razor-thin, sprinkled with sea salt, and drizzled with truffle oil. Owner Serge Ghoukassian calls his cellar "a treasure trove of the famous and the obscure," and if you find a label you love, he'll sell you a bottle (or case) to take home.

After scouting locations all over the Luberon for his film A Good Year, based on the Peter Mayle book of the same name, director Sir Ridley Scott found the perfect setting at Château La Canorgue, an organic domaine just outside Bonnieux. Scott loved the gorgeous 17th-century house and sparkling pool, sweeping views, and row after graceful row of ripening vines producing highly rated reds, whites, and rosés. See the movie, then tour the vineyard where 70 percent of it was filmed.


The bouches-du-rhône


One of the oldest inhabited regions of Provence, the Bouches-du-Rhône inspired artists such as Cézanne and Van Gogh and writers like Marcel Pagnol. Culinary life here centers around the local outdoor produce markets: Every village has one. Provence's most famous dish is bouillabaisse, and Marseille, with its large port, is considered ground zero for the legendary dish. (Scores of restaurants here — including Chez Fonfon, Miramar, and Michel Brasserie des Catalans — boast of serving the best, most-traditional version.) You should also try the bourride, a thicker, more-velvety fish soup. From the marshy triangle called the Camargue — home to pink flamingos, white horses, cowboys, and gypsies who play their fiery flamenco guitars in cafés — come rice, the famous Fleur de Sel, and the tiny sweet clams known as tellines. The Valley of Les Baux is famous for split olives and virgin oils. Further inland, cities such as Aix, Arles, and Nîmes are awash with ancient architecture. Throughout the Bouches-du-Rhône you'll find vast fields of sunflowers and orchards of every stripe. The Wednesday morning market in St. Rémy, the Saturday morning market in Arles, and the Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday market in Aix are all heavy on food and other local products.


L'Atelier's butternut squash-filled phyllo tubes served with a shot glass of coconut milk mousse.
The paint on the walls had barely dried when I visited L'Atelier, chef Jean-Luc Rabanel's new restaurant in Arles. The striking room, with its colorful glassware and semi-open kitchen, is the perfect spot to fall into when you've had one côte d'agneau too many. Order the set menu, and Rabanel may send out as many as 14 small creative courses: The creamy bite of the red pepper soup with balsamic caramel, served in an espresso cup with a Parmesan and tomato grissini, was worth the trip alone. The butternut squash-filled phyllo tubes served with a shot glass of coconut milk mousse sealed the deal: This is one of the finest restaurants in Provence. Save room for the onslaught of petite but powerful desserts, including a warm beignet filled with oozing chocolate.

Culinary Highlights
L'Atelier de Jean-Luc Rabanel
7 rue des Carmes
13200 Arles
04-90-91-07-69
http://www.rabanel.com

Le Petit Nice Passédat
Anse de Maldormé
Corniche J.F.Kennedy
13007 Marseille
04-91-59-25-92
http://www.passedat.fr

Le Petit Duc
7 boulevard Victor Hugo
13210 St. Remy
04-90-92-08-31
http://www.petit-duc.com

Joël Durand
3 boulevard Victor Hugo
13210 St. Remy
04-90-92-38-25
http://www.chocolat-durand.com

Moulin du Calanquet
Vieux Chemin d'Arles
13210 St. Remy
04-32-60-09-50
http://www.moulin-du-calanquet.fr

After working for such legends as the Troisgros brothers and Michel Guérard, Gérald Passédat came home to Marseille to take over the family restaurant Le Petit Nice Passédat (in business since 1917). Passédat, who calls himself "a passionate and rebellious cook," has retained the two Michelin stars earned by his father with a cuisine "rooted firmly in the South" and, not surprisingly, heavy on fresh Mediterranean fish, which he prepares using reductions and vegetable jus like the steamed sea bass, decorated with zucchini and truffle. "It's simple, pared-down cooking," he says, "with a loving respect for nature."

In St. Rémy, an ancient village filled with scattered Roman ruins, it seems only fitting that some of the finest cookies in town come from a bakery devoted to preserving the recipes of centuries past. Le Petit Duc co-owner Anne Daguin might take a Roman porridge recipe from 200 or 300 BC (almonds, walnuts, olive oil, red wine, cumin, pepper, honey, eggs) and, by adding flour and a little sugar, turn it into a thick, spicy cookie called "The Ears of the Good Goddess." Other best sellers include the 19th-century caramel-flavored walkyries (with chocolate, almonds, and brown sugar) and the 14th-century saffron-tinged coeurs du Petit-Albert.

In St. Rémy, Joël Durand handcrafts chocolates infused with herb, fruit, and flower flavors. In a country crazy for chocolate, it's not easy to capture the hearts of connoisseurs, but Durand has done it with his Alphabet des Saveurs. Pick any one of 32 flavors and bite gently through the coating: You'll find a rich, velvety truffle-type ganache, shot through with the essence of Earl Grey, rosemary, or jasmine.

Just over five years ago, brother and sister Gilles and Anne Brun, the fifth generation of a St. Rémy farming family, opened Moulin du Calanquet, where they press olives from 1,200 different producers and make six highly regarded olive oils from 5,000 trees of their own. In just a few short years, Calanquet oil has found its way into the kitchens of many of the country's top chefs. All are extra-virgin, first cold pressings, which gives them a fruity green taste. Visit in November to watch the pressing through large glass windows; the rest of the year the place is open for tours, tasting, and sales of olive and other local products. In January, the Bruns unveiled a stunning professional kitchen where top chefs lead cooking classes throughout the year.

The alpes-maritimes


The French Riviera refers to Monte Carlo, Nice, and Cannes, but also to dozens of quiet villages wedged tightly between mountains and sea. In rustic bistros with timbered ceilings, fresh fish and meats are sizzled in olive oil or seared simply over wood or charcoal, while Michelin-starred chefs toiling in ritzy kitchens turn out the sophisticated cooking that's now a hallmark of the French Riviera. Traditional dishes include pissaladiere (an olive and onion tart), salad Niçoise, tourte de blette, pan-bagnat (a sandwich of tuna and anchovy salad), gnocchi, sardines stuffed with mussels and eggs, anchovies, and tiny fried fish known as petite friture. Sample the region's fare by packing a picnic from the market stalls on the Cours Saleya in Nice (Tuesday to Sunday). Don't miss the deep-fried zucchini blossoms (in the market and on restaurant menus in spring and early summer) and Nice's best-known nosh, the chickpea-flour pancakes known as socca.


Monaco, with its air of limitless luxury, is home to the only Michelin three-star in all of Provence: Alain Ducasse's gilded Le Louis XV. Here you'll find a mirrored Versailles-style dining room, an astounding cellar of 400,000 bottles, and a kitchen, under the longtime direction of chef Franck Cerutti, that sets the standard up and down the entire Côte d'Azur. Cerutti, like Ducasse, is all about the quality of ingredients and, thanks to his reputation, the best growers in Europe vie to sell to him. On the menu you'll find elegant dishes such as pan-sautéed turbot with chicory and crayfish, and braised veal in a vinegar glaze with orange-zested Swiss chard. The cheese trolley is extraordinary, with about 25 varieties depending on the season. Luxury comes at a cost, but lunch offers decadence at a deliciously accessible price.

When the 146-room Hotel Metropole announced a partnership with legendary chef Joël Robuchon, no one really expected that Robuchon himself would be sautéeing their sea bass. But the famed chef does come down from Paris a few days each month to check in with his capable protégé, Christophe Cussac. Together they dream up stellar dishes such as spiced tuna with broccoli cream, John Dory topped with diced tomato and lemon, and a dessert of creamy Araguani chocolate with Oreo cookie ice cream. Eat in the Jacques Garcia-designed dining room or on the terrace with its sea views.


Culinary Highlights

Le Louis XV
Hôtel de Paris
Place du Casino
98000 Monaco
377-98-06-88-64
http://www.alain-ducasse.com

Restaurant Joël Robuchon Monte-Carlo
Hotel Metropole
4 avenue de la Madone
377-93-15-15-10
http://www.metropole.com

Hostellerie Jérôme
20 rue du Comte de Cessole
06320 La Turbie
04-92-41-51-51
http://www.hostelleriejerome.com

Mantel
22 rue St. Antoine
06400 Cannes
04-93-39-13-10

Simplicité
5 rue Jean Daumas
06400 Cannes
04-93-68-27-40

La Palme d' Or
Hotel Martinez
73 La Croisette
06000 Cannes
04-92-98-74-14

New Monaco
15 rue de 24 Août
06000 Cannes
04-93-38-37-76

Le Moulins de Mougins
Avenue Notre Dame de Vie
06250 Mougins
04-93-75-78-24
http://www.moulin-mougins.com

L'Escalinada
22 rue Pairoliére
06300 Nice
04-93-62-11-71
http://www.escalinada.fr

La Bastide Saint Antoine
48 avenue Henri-Dunant
06130 Grasse
04-93-70-94-94
http://www.jacques-chibois.com

In La Turbie, a few miles above Monte Carlo, Bruno and Marion Cirino run Michelin-starred Hostellerie Jérôme, and a meal in this vaulted 13th-century room, in a former monastery, is the best deal around. What you'll eat depends on what Cirino fancied at the market that morning, and he loves to run over to Italy to see what's on offer there as well. Typical dishes include truffled risotto with lobster and cèpes, roasted cuttlefish with cannellini (white kidney) beans, and lamb in tarragon sauce. Cirino adores the lemons from the nearby town of Menton: Try his lemon tart wi