Keeping the lights on

The Farmhouse Inn and Restaurant in Forestville, Cal., still had their lights on after the winding roads of west Sonoma country had got lonely and dark. I had gotten something wrong, and we weren't on the list for 7:30. But, never mind---can we take your coats, here's a table with a view, still or sparkling, and the wine list.

We asked for a Riesling. (There were twenty-four: 12 dry, 12 off-dry.) "How about something with some age on it: a 1995 J. J. Prum from Mosel." Round in the mouth, with raisins and caramel. Heavy, balanced. Possibly a little too one-note. But why quibble when it's a delicious one?

We had a really nice salad of butter lettuce, pear, manchego, maracona almonds. And then...seared foie gras that was still plump from the heat. I did not chew, I suckled. Burnt butter and caramel, a firm, savory custard. It was so good I forgot to take a picture. It was without question the best thing I ate on this trip to California. Perhaps it's cheating to compete with goose NASH. I don't care.

The signature dish of the chef at the Farmhouse Inn is Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit: roasted rack of rabbit (bottom right), applewood-smoked-bacon wrapped loin (left), and confit leg in whole grain mustard sauce. I felt I had to get it. I have not had too much rabbit, but I can guess it is a tricky beast to cook. There can't be that many lazy rabbits, meaning that the meat is liable to be lean and very easy to dry. The loin (surrounded by bacon) had the mouth-feel of perfectly cooked pork tenderloin. The rack, with its ribs like fork tines, a bit more moist and savory, and delicious in its simple unadorned preparation. The confit leg, well, I mean it as a compliment when I say it reminded me of perfectly cooked duck. All in all I am glad we had this; next time we'll feel free to try the rest of the gorgeous, local, slow-food menu.

My wife chose the blue nose sea bass with chanterelles, celeriac, apple, and potato puree. This dish was something really extraordinary. Where the Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit struck three clear notes with the same instrument, all of the components here, though quite distinct in texture and flavor, cohered into a singular, sublime, lush and buttery liquor of flavor. And I was happy with how the Riesling was able to support the many disparate elements of the meal: the robust savoriness of the rabbit, the rich creaminess of the fish. We spoke little, until it was all done.

For desert, a superb chocolate souffle (imagine a chocolate marshmallow perfectly browned on a camp fire), and then this, figs served atop pedestals of chocolate and caramel, in a strip of caramel sauce that is studded with port-fig reduction, alongside a lemon granita with chocolate fondant. All those words are not adequate to the task of supporting the flavors in this desert. There was enough flavor here to stop a steam engine.

We bid adieu to wine country. We look forward to returning.