Several days later, weary from travel, we headed into France. This was our second trip to Europe, but our first to France. We needed to be in Frankfurt in ten days, but we had no particular destination in mind. Paris sounded nice, and Burgundy would be on the way.
As we headed north on the autoroute from Lyon, my wife noticed the town of Fuissé on an exit sign. At that time, Pouilly Fuissé was then the only French wine we had ever tried, and we thought it was fantastic. Based solely on the assumption that the town of Fuissé was where the wine came from, we exited the autoroute.
We ended up checking into a small hotel with a restaurant just outside of Cluny. Our meal was the best we had on our two European vacations: two appetizers, a main course, a selection of cheeses, and a soufflé. If this was what eating in France was like, I was sorry we hadn’t come earlier. To make matters even better, the town of Fuissé was just a short distance from where we were staying, and it was the home of the wine we loved.
Following dinner, we had a drink in the hotel’s lounge. We met the owner and told him how much we enjoyed the meal. We asked if he could recommend a restaurant for tomorrow. “There is a three star just up the road in Chagny,” he replied.
Three stars. We had heard of five star hotels, and if this was a three star restaurant, it must be pretty good. I had always wondered, however, who created the stars. This seemed the perfect opportunity to find the answer.
“What do you mean by three stars?” I asked. My simple question provided the owner with the opening to obtain a convert. He went behind the front desk and brought out a small bright red book. He then gave us a ten-minute introduction to the Michelin guide.