"Exceeding the customer's expectation" is a phrase that I hear often in the service industry, but The French Gourmet truly takes this policy to heart. The Opus One wine dinner on March 10 was a hedonist's delight, offering sensuous dishes paired with five vintages of what may be Napa Valley's most prestigious wine.

Following scrumptious hors d'oeuvres and champagne, the extravaganza started with venison carpaccio, artfully presented, bright red and sliced paper thin, with a rim of cracked pepper. The flavor was delicate and sweet, nicely complemented by the mellow earthy and woodsy tones of the 1998 Opus.

A purple-stained smile came across my face repeatedly through the evening as the sommelier gave me generous 3 ounce (at least) pours of each Opus -in contrast to other restaurants that interpret the phrase "wine tasting" too literally.

Next came a rectangular plate with, from left to right, a rainbow of flavors and textures. On the left was an arrangement of sardine and capers, offering piquant flavors of salt and vinegar to get the juices flowing. Baby field greens in the center of the plate provided mild, pleasantly bitter crunchiness on the way to the beef tartar on the right of the plate, a savory delight that made me want to ask for seconds. The 2000 Opus was refined and smooth -an elegant match for all the flavors in the dish, not just the beef.

I had not tasted rabbit before this dinner. Anyone who is lucky enough to try roasted rabbit at The French Gourmet will understand that it does not taste "just like chicken". Once again, the silky smooth Opus (2001 this time) paired with the dish beautifully. It is said that Opus One is so smooth that it can be served with dishes that normally require a white wine. This seemed to be true tonight.

The fourth course, wild boar, was served with the 1996 Opus, my favorite wine of the night. A delightful nose of blackberries, toasty oak, with an edge of menthol, led to a clean, fresh palate of black fruit and minerals.

Michel likes to include a generous intermission when planning a wine dinner, in order to increase enjoyment of the wine and food, and to avoid any sense of being rushed. The salad course featured a prosciutto-wrapped quail egg. Another first for me -the first time I ever gulped a whole raw egg. (Granted, it was only the size of a thimble.) Then came an intermezzo of melon granite, with a flavor so intense and fresh that, for all I know, it may have been a scoop of solid frozen melon.

Then it was time for the "Main Course", which I place in quotation marks, because any of the previous courses could have made a respectable main course. The salmon fillet was strikingly presented, skin side up. The French would probably eat the skin. I'm not French, so I didn't. Under the salmon was a heavenly risotto. The texture was a perfect balance between creamy and al dente -a balance that I always strive for with my own risotto, and never quite achieve. If The French Gourmet continues to make risotto this good, it may have to change its name to The French-Italian Gourmet. Or just The Gourmet. The quietly elegant 1994 Opus, with its notes of cassis, cloves, and cedar, proved a worthy accompaniment to the dish.

A decadent dessert of chocolate, with a 1975 Dow Vintage Port, was the grand finale to an evening of fireworks.

They say you can learn a lot about a man by the way he treats the waiter at a restaurant. I believe this is even more true if the man happens to be the owner of the restaurant. Once or twice during the evening, I saw Michel correct a minor detail -the proper fill level of the water glass, that sort of thing- by one of his young waiters. Michel spoke respectfully with the young waiter, without embarrassing him, as if they were fellow team members, or even family members. Michel, by his own example, teaches his staff a great passion for French cuisine and fine dining, justifiably a source of national pride, and for which all the world is the beneficiary.