Domaine du Chevsky Goes on the Road - Dinner at Rob’s

Last Sunday, Domaine du Chevsky went on the road.

For once, our regular gathering moved out of my place and across the Bay to Rob’s in San Francisco. Different kitchen, same basic idea: a table full of friends, everyone contributing something, a progression of food that gets increasingly ambitious, and enough interesting bottles to make the afternoon stretch very happily into the evening.

This one was particularly good.

We started extravagantly: four dozen oysters, four different kinds, tasted side by side in a deliberate progression.

First were Earthquakes from Tomales Bay, plump and meaty, slightly sweet with a mild briny finish. Then Dukes from the Atlantic Coast, much more saline, with a buttery, briny opening and an almost scallop-like sweetness on the finish. Back to Tomales Bay for the Sweetwaters, distinctly marine and salty up front, followed by clean sweetness and a subtly smoky, mineral finish. Finally, Highwaters from Humboldt Bay, lighter in brine, with seaweed-like umami and a gentle earthy finish.

It was a wonderful little comparative tasting in its own right.

Alongside them was a 2018 Damien Hugot Vieilles Vignes Grand Cru Blanc de Blancs, entirely Chardonnay from Chouilly, from the lieu-dit Derrière le Mont Aigu.

Hugot is a small grower based in Épernay, but the family’s roots in Champagne stretch back centuries. Damien represents the latest generation of a family that has grown grapes there since at least the 17th century, and today works roughly eight hectares, importantly including old Chardonnay vines in the Grand Cru villages of Chouilly and Cramant. The emphasis on older vines is particularly relevant here: some of the family’s Grand Cru Chardonnay parcels date back to the 1930s and 1950s.

The back label tells much of this particular wine’s story: 2018 harvest, barrel vinification, only 2 g/L dosage, disgorged in November 2024. A vinous, serious style of Champagne rather than simply an aperitif—and exactly the sort of Champagne that works beautifully with oysters.

Then came one of the great pleasures of late summer in California: Dan’s collection of heirloom tomatoes, an almost absurd range of colors, shapes and flavors.

Marcus supplied his now-legendary roasted-garlic focaccia, beautifully blistered and crisp on top with that wonderful airy, chewy interior. He also made a riff on David Lebovitz’s French tomato tart, adding eggplant to the tomatoes and goat cheese. It was essentially late summer concentrated into a tart: ripe tomato, eggplant, herbs and tangy cheese inside a crisp pastry shell.

With this course we opened the 2005 François Cotat Sancerre Les Culs de Beaujeu.

François Cotat is one of the cult figures of Sancerre, farming only about four hectares around Chavignol, including parcels in three of its most celebrated vineyards: La Grande Côte, Les Monts Damnés and Les Culs de Beaujeu. He began working alongside his father Paul in 1979 and eventually took over the family domaine. The style is distinctly traditional: steep vineyards worked by hand, late harvesting, indigenous yeasts and minimal intervention. The resulting Sauvignon Blancs can be unusually concentrated and structured when young and are famous for an ability to age that challenges the conventional idea of Sancerre as something to drink in its first few years.

And this bottle was a wonderful demonstration of why. Full-bodied and remarkably youthful at 21 years old, it was in absolutely great shape—not a hint of oxidation or tiredness. Mature, certainly, but still very much alive. Great old Sancerre can be startlingly durable.

Next came my contribution: Argentinian red shrimp in lobster, chorizo and garlic-infused oil.

I had made the lobster oil long ago and frozen it, then built it up with plenty of garlic and just enough chorizo to give the shrimp smoke, spice and richness without overwhelming their natural sweetness. But the finishing touch turned out to be the wine.

Once the shrimp were cooked, I removed them from the pan, added a splash of La Cigarrera Manzanilla to the lobster-chorizo-garlic oil and reduced it, then poured the concentrated sauce back over the shrimp and finished everything with parsley.

And, naturally, we drank the La Cigarrera Manzanilla alongside it.

La Cigarrera is not some newly fashionable sherry project. Its origins in Sanlúcar go back to 1758, and the bodega remains in its historic location in the center of town, now run by the ninth generation of the family. For much of its modern history it operated as an almacenista, aging wines that were ultimately sold to larger houses; only in the late 1990s did it begin bottling its wines under the La Cigarrera name. Its Manzanilla is matured biologically under flor through the traditional criaderas-and-solera system, typically spending roughly four to five years in the process.

Cold, saline, bone dry and slightly nutty, it already has an almost magical affinity for shellfish. Here it did double duty: its freshness and salinity cut through the richness on the plate while the same wine incorporated into the sauce tied everything together.

Sometimes the humbler bottle is the perfect bottle.

And then things got serious.

The centerpiece was a huge spread from Fikscue in San Francisco: brisket, enormous smoked beef ribs, sausages and skewers, with pickled onions and cucumbers alongside. Fikscue’s combination of Texas barbecue technique and Indonesian flavors made for an almost comically generous platter of smoke, spice, fat and char.

The first wine with it was a wonderful piece of old California history: 1990 Ridge York Creek Zinfandel.

Ridge needs little introduction, but its history makes this bottle particularly interesting. The modern winery was created by a group of Stanford Research Institute scientists who began making wine from Monte Bello in 1959 and bonded Ridge in 1962. Paul Draper arrived in 1969 and over the following decades became one of the defining figures of modern California wine—not only through Monte Bello, but by treating old-vine Zinfandel as a serious, site-specific wine capable of aging. Ridge was championing single-vineyard, minimally manipulated wines long before either idea became fashionable in California.

York Creek has its own connection to that history. High on Spring Mountain above St. Helena, the vineyard belonged to Fritz Maytag, Draper’s old Stanford friend and collaborator from their winemaking days in Chile. Ridge first came to York Creek for Petite Sirah in 1971 and began making Zinfandel from the property in 1975.

Our 1990—92% Zinfandel and 8% Petite Sirah—wasn’t some fragile old curiosity. It was in terrific shape: still fruity, vibrant and completely convincing with the barbecue. At 36 years old, it had retained enough fruit to stand up to all that smoke and meat while its maturity gave it a savory dimension that young Zinfandel simply doesn’t have.

A wonderful reminder of how well traditionally made California Zinfandel can age.

Then we moved into considerably more serious territory with the 1999 René Rostaing Côte-Rôtie La Landonne.

Rostaing occupies a fascinating place in Côte-Rôtie history. René began with barely half a hectare in 1971 and was mentored by two legendary old-school growers within his own family: his uncle Marius Gentaz and father-in-law Albert Dervieux. When their vineyards eventually passed into the domaine, Rostaing inherited extraordinary old-vine holdings in some of Côte-Rôtie’s greatest sites. The domaine remains distinctly classical in outlook, generally relying heavily on whole clusters and using little new oak.

And La Landonne is one of the great terroirs of Côte-Rôtie—a steep, dark-soiled site capable of producing some of the appellation’s deepest and longest-lived Syrah.

The 1999 was, unsurprisingly, the more serious and contemplative wine: classic mature Northern Rhône Syrah after the sheer exuberance of the Ridge and the barbecue.

Finally, cheese—and Burgundy.

We finished with a sprawling board of cheeses, figs and pear paste and moved to two very different expressions of Gevrey-Chambertin.

First, 2009 Domaine Faiveley Gevrey-Chambertin 1er Cru Les Cazetiers.

Faiveley is one of Burgundy’s historic houses, founded in Nuits-Saint-Georges in 1825 and still controlled by the family seven generations later. Unlike many large Burgundy houses, however, Faiveley is fundamentally a major vineyard owner; over generations the family accumulated an unusually extensive collection of important Côte d’Or and Côte Chalonnaise parcels, so most of its serious wines come from its own vines.

Les Cazetiers is one of the great premiers crus of Gevrey, on the upper slope near Clos Saint-Jacques, and Faiveley has long been one of the important owners there.

This 2009 was very impressive. For a ripe vintage, what struck me was how balanced it was. There was plenty of fruit and generosity, but it never came across as overripe or hot. Cazetiers has enough structure and mineral backbone to carry the richness of the vintage beautifully.

This was actually my second bottle of the 2009 Cazetiers within the past year, and it has performed extremely well both times. At 17 years old it seems to be in a terrific place.

And then the finale: 2011 Domaine Ponsot Griotte-Chambertin Grand Cru.

Ponsot is one of the historic domaines of Morey-Saint-Denis, founded in 1872, and for Burgundy lovers it has long represented a particularly traditional, individualistic approach to winemaking. The domaine has holdings across an extraordinary collection of Côte de Nuits grands crus, and its Griotte-Chambertin comes from roughly 0.9 hectare farmed under a long-standing métayage arrangement with the Mercier family.

Griotte itself is one of Burgundy’s smallest grands crus, tucked into the extraordinary cluster of vineyards around Chambertin. It tends toward fragrance and finesse rather than the sheer scale of some of its neighbors—which made the character of this bottle particularly satisfying.

The 2011 was exactly the sort of Burgundy I hoped it would be: very fine, wonderfully perfumed and beautifully expressive. Fantastic.

Not a wine about sheer power. Its appeal was fragrance, finesse and detail—a lovely contrast to everything that had preceded it and a fitting way to finish the evening.

Looking back, the progression was almost absurd: four dozen oysters and grower Champagne; heirloom tomatoes, Marcus’ focaccia and tomato-eggplant tart with mature Cotat; Argentinian red shrimp in lobster-chorizo-garlic-Manzanilla sauce; a mountain of Fikscue barbecue with 1990 Ridge and 1999 Rostaing La Landonne; and finally cheese, figs and mature Burgundy.

But the wines were really only half the point.

What makes these Domaine du Chevsky gatherings so much fun is everyone bringing something to the table—literally. Dan’s tomatoes. Marcus’ focaccia and tart. My shrimp. Rob opening his home. A ridiculous amount of barbecue. And bottles ranging from Manzanilla to old Sancerre, old California Zin, Côte-Rôtie and Griotte-Chambertin.

Domaine du Chevsky may have changed addresses for the day, but the spirit survived the move perfectly.

Fabulous!!!