After this we touted the long lanes of cellars, which during the war years sometimes served as a place to sleep as well as a storehouse for the thousands of bottles of Champagne. It would be an eerie place to sleep at any time, but with disturbances of war going on above. it must have been terrifying.
We motored back to Rheims and dined with André Simon, who had joined us the day before. It is always a joy to talk to André, for his enthusiasm knows few bounds, certainly not those of age, and his knowledge is tremendous.
Our last day on tour was spent in visiting the vintners of Pommery and of Moët and Chandon, through all the miles of cellars and the various stages in the preparation of Champagne. Then finally, we bussed back to Paris, much the wiser in mind on food and wine and much the rounder in girth. Is that surprising?
The following night was the climax, and a most glamorous one at that. Monsieur Vaudable of Maxim's had invited us to a farewell party and he had planned it to a fare-thee-well. He had invited a number of Parisians who have made the greater appreciation of good living one of their prime delights in life. Our dinner was beautifully planned and was served in the traditional grand manner that has come to be expected of Maxim's. We started with a Château Rayne Vigneau 1921, which was chilled to a very low temperature. With this came smoked salmon, caviar, and other bouchées. Then to table. Great plates of marennes, the best oysters in France, to my taste, and with them a beautiful 1934 Montrachet. The wine went on through the next course of rouget en papillote. The red fish made a most dramatic appearance as they were rushed in encased in their voluminous paper coverings, and the aroma was overpowering as they were torn from their sheaths before eating. Pheasant Souvaroff, with its wonderful aroma dough-sealed into the casseroles, proved to be sheer joy to eat as well as to whiff. An excellent Château Haut Brion 1919 in magnums accompanied the pheasant, and we toasted Mr. Weller of that vineyard who was one of Monsieur Vaudable's guests. Mr. Weller is one of the few Americans actively engaged in the production of French wines.
Our dessert was a refreshing pineapple sherbet served in great bowls of carved ice, which were lighted from the inside, and covered with a film of spun sugar. With this magnificent presentation there was the 1929 Moët and Chandon, Cuvée Dom Pérignon. Then came coffee and a venerable brandy, Remy Martin's Les Barbotins—truly an experience in brandy-drinking.
We were to be permitted one more gastronomic episode à la française before our feet again touched American soil, sailing home, through the waves, or as I did, through the clouds, in ships that carried France across the ocean with us. The excellence of the cuisine aboard the airliners that bear the crest of Air France is proverbial. Food, service, and wines were, as always, reminiscent of the best to be found in France, with the added charm of being specially adapted to meet the particular requirements of dining aloft. There was a split of Moët and Chandon champagne on the attractive tray which held our subtly seasoned, exquisitely prepared luncheon on board the Air France ship which carried us home, and with this we drank a last sentimental toast.
“To France, her great wines, her matchless food, her overwhelming hospitality!”
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