Monbazillac is really the great foie gras wine. Neighboring Sauternes (you know it, Château d’Yquem from Bordeaux) is usually regarded as holding this position, but Monbazillac is indeed from the same region as the French home of foie gras, the Dordogne. This region is well-known by foie gras lovers — producing 90% of all foie consumed in France — as well as wine lovers, as it’s Bordeaux’s thoroughly respectable wine-neighbor. This means high-quality wines from down-to-earth wine makers in a range of easy-to-palate prices.

Monbazillac is the gem of Bergerac (yes, the town from which the famous writer and lover Cyrano came) and is made from mostly the same grapes ( Sémillon, Sauvignon Blanc, and Muscadelle) plus noble rot as Sauternes. The major difference is that Muscadelle does particularly well in this region, making these wines somewhat lighter and full of life, as well as nuttier.

This wine goes well with rich French cheeses, fresh fruit tarts, nutty desserts, and also works as an aperitif in the garden before dinner. And, of course, with foie gras. There couldn’t have been a better wine than Château Montdoyen Monbazillac on my Day of Foie (5 kinds of foie gras in one day!) in this most delicious French region; it shone sweetly, like the French spring sun, rounding out a perfect day of wine and foie.

Ace, my super-business-consultant boyfriend, was reclining on the couch with a strange but calm look on his face. It was gray and dismal outside the small window in our apartment, but he had a small ray of sun shining in his eyes. In his hand was a dark amber-colored liquid in a tiny wine glass, and he was swirling and sniffing it.

“It tastes just like autumn in a glass,” he sighed.

Before long it was down the hatch and the glass was refilled. I tried the rich-colored late-harvest sauvignon blanc. Visions of tall trees with multi-colored leaves, damp earth and crisp air filled my head as the sweet fruit hit my tongue.

“Mmm, autumn,” I agreed. We had gotten the small bottle when visiting Lafond Winery (in the Santa Rita Hills near Santa Ynez Valley) over New Year’s Eve weekend, and had forgotten about it until now.

The next time we visited the area, the bottle was long gone, and Ace insisted we get back to Lafond to pick up another bottle on our way out of town. We turned off the 101 and drove the quiet road through vineyards and fields to get there. We tasted all the wines (still loved them all) and were distressed to see the late-harvest sauvignon blanc was no longer on the tasting list.

“We’d like a bottle of the late-harvest sauvignon blanc please,” we blurted quickly at the nearest pourer.

“Oh, we sold out of that, and we’re not making it anymore. We don’t even plant sauvignon grapes anymore.”

Ace’s eyes grew wide. “They’re not even making it anymore,” he breathed. This made the wine even more valuable in his eyes. He asked if they could find any bottles in the back, or perhaps in someone’s shipment that hadn’t yet gone out.

The answer was no. We mournfully looked around the tasting room, trying to decide if we wanted to buy anything else. We loved their wines, but nothing was as special as that dessert wine.

Suddenly we saw it! A double-magnum of late harvest sauvignon blanc: eight times the amount we had bought the first time (and eight times the price). He seized the huge bottle and I scurried to fill out the membership paperwork, giving us a sizeable new member discount.

Ace was smiling as we got in the car…we were taking Autumn home with us.