David called Bobby Bao at the Chinatown precinct, the Fifth, and asked if he wanted to have lunch or dinner in the next day or two.
            “Sure, as long as it’s uptown and you’re paying,” said Bao.
            “I’m paying.  Where do you want to go?”          
    "I’m feeling like French food. You know Le Périgord, on East 50th  near the U.N.?”
            David admitted he wasn’t familiar with Manhattan’s high-end French restaurants but said, fine, he’d see Bao at one o’clock the next day.
            Le Périgord was one of the last remaining bastions of classic French cuisine in New York, overseen for more than 30 years by an ebullient Swiss owner named Georges Briguet (below), who greeted Bao like an old friend and gave him a fine window table. 
      “Monsieur Bao, I know how much you like our Dover sole,” said the restaurateur, “which just came swimming through the door two hours ago.” 
            “Perfect,” said Bao, “and to start, the artichoke vinaigrette. David, what are you in the mood for?”
            Fortunately, the menu was printed in both French and English, so David was able to avoid ordering escargots or sweetbreads, in favor of the lobster bisque and a filet mignon with black truffle sauce. 
            Georges Briguet (below) leaned down towards Bao and said, “I hope, Monsieur Bao, you are not on duty today. Will you be having some wine?”
            “Don’t tell anyone, Georges,” Bao answered, “but I’m working undercover today for the Health Department, inspecting French restaurants in New York. I must see how you’re maintaining your wine cellar.”
            “Ah, then I shall choose the wine, just to make sure I am not breaking any laws.” Within moments he came back with a bottle of white Burgundy and a half-bottle of Bordeaux. Bao nodded his approval. David wondered what this was all going to cost.
            As they nibbled on the baguette and butter with the Burgundy, the two old friends caught up with each other, David withstanding the usual jibes for his leaving the force. After the Chinatown indictments, Bao had to leave undercover work but had been promoted to an NYPD  position where he coordinated with Asian mob investigators elsewhere, including Taiwan, which he’d visited several times, consulting with Taiwan’s National Police Agency.
            David filled him in on the Vermeer project, which Bao said sounded a bit out of his friend’s line after the Capone case. 
            “Hey,” said David, “I go wherever Katie Cavuto wants me to go.”
            “That good looking, huh?”
            “You could say that. So, anyway, this guy Hai Shui we’re going to see.  Do you know anything about him that will help with our interview.”
            “He’s the petro-chemicals billionaire, right? I can’t say I know a lot about him, but I’m pretty sure he’s connected with Black Gold, which is what they call corruption between gangsters and pols over there. I mean anyone who is anyone in Taiwan is. The politicians get in bed with the mobs because they can really help bring in the votes, because the gangsters always make sure they have a good, even generous relationship with the local people. Sometimes the politicians are mobsters.”
            In fact, just two years before, a former gangster turned Speaker of Parliament was shot at point blank range over a gambling dispute. “You haven’t seen anything till you watch a funeral procession for a dead mobster,” said Bao. “Thousands of people show up, weeping, throwing flowers. Oh, and the mobs also control the funeral parlor industry on the island.”
            “What are the main mobs in Taipei?”
            “Four, basically: the Bamboo Union—they’re the most powerful—the Four Seas Gang, the Celestial Path (below) and the Songlian Gang (right).”
            “They sound like Chinese tea companies.”
            Bao let that go. “Bamboo Union is most involved with construction and has international tentacles, so if Shui is involved, it’s most likely with Bamboo, which has about 10,000 members. And, by the way, they’re known for silencing journalists that get too close to them.”
            “That go for American journalists?” asked David, trying to sound nonchalant.
            “Well, I heard they murdered a Chinese-American journalist in San Francisco back in the ‘80s. Shot him in his garage. So be careful over there.”
            “And how connected are they with gangs internationally?”
          “More and more,” said Bao, sipping his wine. “They’ve had contact with the Japanese yakuza, maybe even with North Korea—and, man, that is dangerous—and of course in North America. That’s what I work on mostly.”
            Georges Briguet returned after the main courses were finished and made suggestions for dessert, then insisted he prepare a sampling of several, which included chocolate mousse, pear tart and almond cake.    
      David asked for the check and was surprised it was not nearly as much as he’d expected.
            “I think your friend sliced a little off the bill,” he said.
            “Maybe he comped us for the coffee,” said Bao, smiling.
            David told Bao how good it was to catch up with him, how much he enjoyed the meal, and thanked him for the information.
            “Be a little bit careful,” said Bao. “You don’t want anything to happen to that pretty girl you’re with.”
            “That I promise, Bao.”
            “By the way, I hope you’re not planning to bring your gun to Taiwan.  They find out you’re packing and they’ll toss your ass in a real dark cell.”
            “Won’t happen. I had to surrender my service piece back when I retired.”
            “Hm, knowing you’ve probably still got a few enemies left, I’d have thought you might have bought one since. Maybe a nice little chrome-plated Beretta?”
           “I don’t want anything to do with guns,” said David, “though I could have used one in the Capone case.”
            “I read about that. Nice going.”
            The two men parted with pats on the back, Bao hailed a cab and David drove home, wondering what to pack for Taiwan.

      On a recent trip to France, we visited four wineries in Bordeaux that varied widely in size and wine-making processes, but all focusing on the quality rather than the quantity of wine produced.  Of note, all of the wines discussed are available in the United States.

Château de Sales

      Even though it comprises the largest estate in Pomerol (220 acres), Château de Sales, since 2017 under the direction of Vincent Montiguaud (former winemaker for the Rothschild property Domaine de Baronarques), only produces about 10,000 cases of wine a year. The property is comprised mainly of gravel and sand-laden vineyards planted with 73% Merlot, 15% Cabernet Sauvignon and 12% Cabernet Franc. Following hand harvesting, the grapes are de-stemmed and, as separate lots, lightly crushed and fermented in temperature-controlled tanks over about three weeks. Next, the individual lots are aged in oak barrels for about 12 months before blending and bottling.

      The 2018 ($34) showed a ruby red color and bouquet and tasted of cassis and ripe raspberries with notes of exotic spices in its smooth finish. The 2020 ($26) had a complex bouquet and taste of cherries, blackberries and cassis with hints of orange zest in its slightly tannic finish. Both wines mated particularly well with beef carpaccio as well as tenderloin of veal. 

Château Haut Bailly

      Created in the 16th century, this property, located on the so-called left bank of the Gironde River in the eastern Pessac-Léognan region of Bordeaux, has a somewhat checkered history. Its vineyards (now planted to 65% Cabernet Sauvignon, 25% Merlot and 10% Cabernet Franc) were devastated by phylloxera at the end of the 19th century because of the then owner’s refusal to graft vines on resistant rootstock, followed by a few years of experimenting in the 1920s with  the controversial process of pasteurization of the wine just before bottling.

      However, current owners of the estate (the family of M&T bank founder Robert Wilmers) have totally modernized the winery and its winemaking practices under General Manager Véronique Sanders and technical manager Gabriel Vialard. In fact, the winery is now so up to date that visiting it is akin to a stop at NASA control facilities at Cape Canaveral—with a circular glass and steel structure housing futuristic-looking cement fermentation tanks, gravity flow wine transfer and ultra-modern areas for aging and bottling.

      Production is now up to over 12,000 cases annually, divided between 60% of its first-line Château Haut-Bailly and the remainer for its “second and third” wines, La Parade de Haut-Bailly and Pessac-Léognan by Château Haut-Bailly. Made with hand harvested grapes, vinified by individual plots with aging in 50% new French oak for 16 months, the 2015 Château Haut-Bailly ($135) showed a fragrant bouquet and concentrated taste of ripe plums and cassis, with notes of pears and exotic fruit in its soft finish, perfect to match grilled steak and roasts.

Château Cantenac

      Founded in 1870 and since 1937 owned by the family of its current proprietor, Nicole Roskam-Brunot. Often confused with the Margaux property Chateau Cantenac Brown, this 47-acre estate is situated about two miles west of the village of Saint Émilion and planted with 75% Merlot, 24% Cabernet Franc and 1 % Cabernet Sauvignon grapes.
      In addition to producing top quality wine, this facility serves as a teaching site for interns from UC Davis. In fact, three of its female interns ended up marrying the sons of the owner, with two still involved in winery operations; Adrienne Roskam, one of those former interns, took us on our tour of the winery.
      About 4,000 cases a year of the main wine (Château Cantenac), fermented in temperature-controlled cement tanks and aged for 18 months following fermentation, are produced annually, with smaller amounts of Château Cantenac (Séléction de Madame), Château Cantenac (Climat), Moulin de Grénet and Château Lauzette Déclerq also produced. The 2020 Château Cantenac ($25) showed a bouquet and taste of ripe plums and cherries with notes of pears and apricots in its finish, perfect to mate with grilled duck breasts or roast leg of lamb.

Clos des Jacobins

      Located less than a five-minute car ride from the town of Saint Émilion, this small winery annually produces about 2,500 cases of the Grand Cru Classe “Clos des Jacobins,”  which we first became acquainted with the night before our visit at nearby L’Atélier de Candale Restaurant (owned by Magali and Thibault Candale). Taking its name from the Benedictine monks baptized as Jacobins (for Saint Jacques), the 21-acre vineyard, primarily surrounding the winery, and a second smaller plot near Château Angélus, date back to the 1700s and are planted to about 80% Merlot, 18% Cabernet Franc and 2% Cabernet Sauvignon.

      The idea is to make small amounts of top-class wine that’s easy to enjoy with food, explained the son of winemaker Maxime Masset. Following harvest, the grapes undergo maceration, after which fermentation is conducted in French oak tanks with aging in French oak barrels (about 75% new) for 18 months. The 2010  showed a bouquet and taste of ripe cherries and plums with soft tannins and hint of vanilla in its memorable finish. No less wonderful, the 2016 ($35) had a bouquet and taste of raspberries and cassis with notes of wild strawberries and of brioche in its finish.