The Wine Spectator (Table)

A pristine bottle of 1982 Chateau Pavie Bordeaux rested in a silver cradle just inches from my anxious fingers. John Slamon, sommelier at Fifth Floor Restaurant in San Francisco, faced the daunting challenge of wresting the cork--undisturbed since Ronald Reagan was President, the Cold War loomed still in Eastern Europe, and Soft Cell's "Tainted Love" was high on the charts--from the green grip of glass. He eased a Teflon corkscrew slowly in, set the grip in place, and pulled slowly, checking for cracks, taking a full five minutes to move the cork millimeter by millimeter out of position. Finally it edged free; he gingerly wiped the neck to remove any stray crumbs, then poured the dark-ruby wine into a decanter. Five hundred dollars worth of black spice fruit gleamed under glass within arm's reach.

We were seated at table 17, a remarkable location worth requesting at the time of your booking for its proximity to the wine preparation station of a restaurant that has one of San Francisco's greatest wine lists and a star in the Guide Michelin. Here, as we stepped through an utterly relaxing evening marked by perfection in service from Scott Stuart's team in the front of the house, you can observe the on-duty sommelier, the house manager, and others set out wines just selected from the cellar, and have a front-row seat as these wines are poured for inspection by the staff, decanted, and readied for service.

Expressing interest in the process, we were thrilled with Stuart's affable attention and the remarkable knowledge of the wine list showed by him, Slamon, and others on staff. Some might consider the table's location distracting given the continuous activity at peak hours, but we were delighted when Stuart offered to us, from several bottles destined for other tables, the 1/2-ounce taste he typically pours to check for "corking" or other problems. Accompanied by Stuart's commentary on location, flavor profile, and biographical profiles of the producers, we found the table location sublime that genuinely enhanced Fifth Floor's remarkable cuisine. The bottles and information marched forth randomly: 2003 Peter Michael "Les pavots" Bordeaux blend; Freeman chardonnay; and many others, in a fascinating review of what other guests ordered, and the sommeliers' views on each.

On our plates: we began with Chef Jennie Lorenzo's signature crab cappucino, a riff on crab bisque that is more intensely flavorful and not as creamy as traditional bisque, topped with a truffle foam that provides a perfect earthy counterpoint to the crab. We followed with quail stuffed with a savory sausage filling, served with asparagus and pea succotash and garnished with an herb puree Madeira sauce that was so wonderful we resolved to attempt duplication at home. A good dark brown roasted poultry stock, fortified with just enough Madeira or late harvest wine, brewed with fresh herbs (we're thinking a pinch of fresh oregano and lemon thyme--and we may even dash in a 1/4 teaspoon of ground cumin, just because we're obsessed with it), ought to do it. We can nearly taste the roasting, caramelizing vegetables as we write; we told our server, Matthew, that Fifth Floor ought to bottle and sell that jus.

We finished our meal with coffee and doughnuts. Of course, at Fifth Floor, you don't get diner fare when you order this. Our just-fried mini doughnuts were creamy on the inside, crisp and sweet on the outside, competing with New Orleans beignets from Cafe du Monde in toasty richness. Coffee was a perfect warm, dark roast served in a French press.

We normally restrict our writing in this forum to South Bay locations, but we'll go anywhere when the opportunity to check off another Michelin-starred restaurant presents itself. And with all the action, information, and splendid bottles visible next to table 17, we're certain to return soon.