The 311th lunch of wine-dinners takes place at restaurant Plénitude. I had met Chef Arnaud Donckele on April 22 to create the menu, together with his executive chef Clément and head sommelier Emmanuel. I returned on May 22 to taste several dishes and refine certain recipes and presentations before the lunch held on June 5.

I arrive at 9:30 a.m. at the Cheval Blanc Paris hotel, where Chloé welcomes me and assists with the opening of the wines. I do not believe I have ever experienced such a demanding opening session. Many corks prove extremely difficult to extract, especially that of the first wine I intend to open: Château Mouton Rothschild 1928.

The cork clings to the neck with such determination that removing it in one piece is virtually impossible. I have to proceed fragment by fragment, with infinite patience. When the operation is nearly complete, my friend Wong, who has come from Singapore, carefully removes the last tiny particles of cork remaining in the neck of the bottle.

The moment the wine finally reveals itself, I smell it and am struck by the most extraordinary aroma one could imagine from a great Bordeaux. I immediately go in the kitchen and ask Clément to smell it. Like me, he feels that we are facing an expression close to absolute perfection. It is one of the greatest wine aromas either of us has ever encountered.

I then open the remaining bottles. Overall, the olfactory impressions are highly positive, and the pleasant surprises far outweigh any reservations.

One memorable incident occurs while opening La Tâche, Domaine de la Romanée-Conti 1960. Without the slightest effort on my part, the cork simply drops into the wine. Once retrieved, we observe that it is complete and perfectly cylindrical, but has shrunk dramatically. Rarely have I seen a cork contract to such an extent over the decades.

Apart from this episode, the openings proceed satisfactorily. The most impressive aromas are those of Mouton Rothschild 1928 and Malaga 1872. The former displays remarkable nobility and perfection, while the latter releases a literally explosive bouquet of extraordinary aromatic power.

The guests then begin to arrive and lunch can begin.

The meal takes place in the main dining room of Plénitude. We sit at what is now known as the “François Audouze Table”, a table designed at my request for the occasions when I privatize the restaurant for my wine-dinners.

We are fourteen guests, which is unusual. Originally, we were expected to be thirteen, but one participant cancelled. I contacted several friends and, amusingly enough, two of them accepted at exactly the same moment. I therefore decided to welcome both of them and added two further wines to the programme, both from the 1923 vintage. Of the fourteen participants, thirteen had already attended at least one of my wine-dinners. Only one guest was discovering this universe for the first time.

A Champagne Dom Pérignon magnum 1988 is served while I present the customary remarks and suggestions that precede our meals. We take our places at the table and the amuse-bouches, including an exceptional oyster, accompany this solid and serene Dom Pérignon 1988, an obvious partner for gastronomy.

The menu created by Arnaud Donckele is: Amuse-bouches and oyster au gratin / Langoustine, sea apple and seaweed “for” an ephemeral Champagne-inspired sauce / Pike-perch, artichoke and lovage “for” the “Carciofi” sauce / Red Mullet “Audouze” / Snail, young garlic and basil “for” the “Cansoun” broth / Sweetbreads, morels and walnut wine “for” the “Sotolon” jus / Pigeon, almond cream and herbs “for” the “Féral” salmigondis / Comté vapeur / Cherished Memory “for” the “Crocus d’Orient” double sauce / François Audouze financiers.

I particularly enjoy Arnaud Donckele’s use of the word “for”, which suggests that the dish is created for the sauce rather than the sauce being created for the dish.

The next course features two wines served side by side: Château Laville Haut-Brion 1947 and Montrachet Domaine Ramonet 1978. These wines possess radically different personalities.

The Montrachet charms through its moving grace, displaying a youthfulness that remains radiant, supported by considerable power. Everything about it is harmony, balance and refined fruit expression.

The Laville Haut-Brion 1947 is of a completely different nature. Despite its venerable age, it appears astonishingly young. It displays overflowing vitality and almost insolent energy, as though the passing decades have left no mark upon it. Its freshness and dynamism impress every guest. Its finish seems endless.

The two white wines served together are particularly inspiring and pair beautifully with the perfectly cooked langoustine.

Then comes Château Mouton Rothschild 1928. The previous day, while tasting Pétrus 1959, I had experienced an almost physical emotion. With this Mouton, the same sensation returns. I have the feeling of touching the absolute perfection of Bordeaux wine. The emotion is intense. I keep returning to my glass and, with every sip, experience the same thrill in front of a wine of such power, such harmony and such complete fulfilment.

I have always considered the greatest vintages of Mouton Rothschild to be 1945 and 1900. I am inclined to believe that this 1928 belongs in the same league.

Alongside it is served Château Lafite Rothschild 1945. Taken on its own, this wine would unanimously be regarded as exceptional. Yet the proximity of Mouton Rothschild 1928 makes comparison difficult. The Lafite is great, very great indeed, but the Mouton operates at a level that seems almost unattainable. The depth of the Lafite is remarkable.

The two red wines also accompany the Red Mullet “Audouze”, the fish that the chef kindly associates with my name because of my fondness for the pairings that can be achieved with Pétrus and equally with the powerful Lafite.

The Champagne Moët & Chandon 1914 is intended as a pause between the Bordeaux reds and the Burgundies red. I must be going through a particularly emotional period, because I experience with this Champagne the same physical emotion that I had just felt with the Mouton 1928.

I have always considered 1914 to be the greatest Moët vintage, ahead even of the legendary 1911, and this bottle fully confirms my preference. Everything in this Champagne is dreamlike. The only word capable of describing its flavours is “dream”. Its pairing with the snail course is simply mythical.

The next service brings together La Tâche Domaine de la Romanée-Conti 1960, and Grand Musigny Domaine Faiveley 1906. La Tâche has suffered absolutely no consequence from the incident of the cork falling into the bottle. It offers a noble, aristocratic and perfectly accomplished expression of this exceptional Grand Cru.

The true shock, however, comes from the Musigny 1906. To drink today a wine that is one hundred and twenty years old and still retains such expressive fruit is profoundly moving. For me, it is undoubtedly the greatest surprise of the meal, second only to the dazzling experience of Mouton Rothschild 1928. Encountering a wine of such age that remains so vigorous, so youthful in appearance and so complete in its expression is an exceedingly rare privilege.

The two wines accompany the sweetbreads and then the pigeon, both exceptional dishes.

The Hermitage La Chapelle Blanc Paul Jaboulet Aîné 1923 would have created a powerful emotion had it been served on its own. Yet after such an extraordinary succession of red wines, it appears almost discreet. Nevertheless, it remains a wine of great quality which, like the Moët 1914, explores flavours that can be found nowhere else.

Alongside it, the Château-Chalon Bourdy 1921 immediately asserts itself. It is an emblematic, almost archetypal Château-Chalon, expressing with conviction everything one expects from this blessed appellation of the Jura. Its power is remarkable.

The Château d’Yquem 1898 belongs to an entirely different register. It is a delicate Yquem, full of finesse and subtlety. Its expression is discreet yet highly seductive. It charms more than it impresses, which does not prevent it from receiving a first-place vote from one of the participants.

The Massandra Collection Sotheby’s Madeira 1923 reveals remarkable elegance. It is a subtle, fresh and almost feminine Madeira, refined in every one of its rose-tinted nuances. Its charm is undeniable.

Then comes the Malaga 1872. Here, everything moves onto another scale. Its aroma bursts forth with irresistible force, filling both the room and the palate with spectacular intensity. The wine itself is a conqueror. It advances with confidence, imposing its personality upon all the others. Its aromatic richness, density and energy are breathtaking. Quite simply, it is a monumental wine.

As I had done once before, I ask Arnaud Donckele if his entire team can join us in our dining room so that we may applaud the extraordinary work they have accomplished. It is always a moving moment. Arnaud, in a playful mood, places his hands on my shoulders while I remain seated and says:

“In fact, every time we host a dinner with François, François makes us revisit our recipes again and again, until eventually we realise that we have simply become François’s apprentices.”

What kindness, what humility and what wonderful complicity.

It is then time to vote. Fourteen of us vote for their five favourite wines. All thirteen wines receive at least one vote, which is always gratifying. Six wines are awarded first-place votes. Mouton Rothschild 1928 receives five first-place votes. Moët & Chandon 1914 receives three first-place votes. Montrachet Ramonet 1978 and Grand Musigny Faiveley 1906 each receive two. Château d’Yquem 1898 receives one.

The overall ranking of the table is: 1 – Château Mouton Rothschild 1928, 2 – Champagne Moët & Chandon 1914, 3 – Grand Musigny Domaine Faiveley 1906, 4 – Montrachet Domaine Ramonet 1978, 5 – Malaga 1872, 6 – Château Lafite Rothschild 1945.

My personal ranking is: 1 – Château Mouton Rothschild 1928, 2 – Champagne Moët & Chandon 1914, 3 – Grand Musigny Domaine Faiveley 1906, 4 – Hermitage La Chapelle Blanc, Paul Jaboulet Aîné 1923, 5 – Malaga 1872.

Once the voting is completed, we go up to the seventh floor of the Cheval Blanc hotel, onto the terrace overlooking Paris. I had planned this moment so that those who wished could enjoy the open air and smoke fine cigars.

I had brought with me a Saint James rum from the 1910s or 1920s. It is absolutely extraordinary. One finds all the power and intensity expected from a great old rum, but also a rare charm and seductiveness.

Although I have not smoked for thirty-five years, I light a Cohiba cigar dating from the time when I was still a smoker. Time has not altered it in the slightest. The pairing of this perfectly preserved cigar with that majestic rum provides a rare pleasure and constitutes the ideal conclusion to an exceptional day.

A small anecdote: on the neck of the bottle of the rum, the original price is still marked: “21.25 francs, glass included.” These are old French francs, equivalent to 0.21 new francs, or approximately 0.03 euro. It is a striking illustration of the decline in the value of our currency.

That observation does not prevent us from considering this meal as one of the greatest — perhaps the greatest — of the 311 wine-dinners I have organized, such is the sublime quality of the food and wine pairings.