Late last week, workers were still touching up Adour, Alain Ducasse’s new restaurant at the St. Regis Hotel, launching on January 28. With his galaxy of Michelin stars in Europe, as well as a previous — perhaps too fussy — three-star incarnation at Essex House that was never embraced by New Yorkers, Mr. Ducasse is all about haute food, of course. Wine has played only a supporting role. But upon entering Adour’s richly appointed, yet lighthearted space (the former home of Lespinasse), designed by Rockwell Associates, you’ll immediately sense how brightly the wine star is set to shine here.

In Adour’s leather-enrobed vestibule is the last word in wine bars: an intimate four-seater, its free-form base made of glowing bronze, its counter made of flawless white goat skin parchment, onto which overhead projectors will beam down an interactive wine menu. Straight ahead, a sculpture of floating, hand-blown glass globes evokes champagne bubbles. The four corners of the compact, 88-seat dining room are anchored by wine-tending stations with built-in coolers. Wherever you sit, you’ll be flanked by see-through, temperature-controlled wine armoires. In the rear, a 20-seat, semi-private room is fitted out with 50 mini wine vaults, each holding a dozen bottles, to be allotted to favored customers for their personal treasures — although, with 1,800 of Adour’s own selections at hand, no one need feel wine-deprived.

So much for appearances: But what will be the true core values of this proclaimed partnership, between what’s on the plate and what’s in the bottle? Adour’s trim, young wine director, Thomas Combescot-Lepère, interviewed at Adour last week, met that question squarely.

“The romantic view is that in a wine-friendly kitchen, there is discussion between the chef and sommelier during the designing of a dish,” he said. “But the truth is that the chef first delivers the dish. Only then does somebody figure out what to do about the wine match.”

In working out Adour’s menu, though, Mr. Ducasse decreed that there would be a rare parity between chef and sommelier. “It was his idea from the beginning, of course,” Mr. Combescot-Lepère said, with a deferential nod to the hierarchical French kitchen. “I could never come to Mr. Ducasse and say, ‘You have to listen to me.’ And so, it’s the first time in my life that a chef asks, ‘Does anything in my dish not go with the wine?'”

Consider a dish that started out as a lobster salad with fennel and fresh orange segments. “For me, the orange was so powerful that it became the enemy of wine,” Mr. Combescot-Lepère said. “So we tried grapefruit instead. It’s more delicate, and its flavor is softer than orange. With wine, it worked better, yet we kept the citrus concept.”

Say “lobster,” and most wine lovers think first of a buttery chardonnay to partner the crustacean’s rich flavor. But taste trials conducted by Mr. Ducasse, Adour’s chef, Tony Esnault, and Mr. Combescot-Lepère, turned up unexpected wine synergies that will be proposed to diners. One was a Sigalas Assyrtiko 2006, a zippy white wine from the Greek island of Santorini. Even more surprising were the good lobster vibes delivered by an intense Spanish red wine, Ventura’s Vina Caneiro, from the obscure Ribeira Sacra appellation. “In a dish that has some raw as well as cooked fennel, and olive oil, this wine offered wonderful acidity and a nice spiciness,” Mr. Combescot-Lepère said. “The great thing about these marathon tastings is that you can find these magic combinations.”

Not every dish under development required a change of a key ingredient to get wine to cozy up to it. In the southwest French spirit, there was a lamb dish with two kinds of peppers and lemon confit. “The lemon chunks refreshed the whole creation, but they were too big, so they made the palate too lemony for red wine,” Mr. Combescot-Lepère said. “They made the tannins become more pronounced and harsh, so we asked Tony to reduce the size of the lemon chunks, and that made all the difference.” The wine of choice? “It’s a dish with a lot of sun in it, so we’re using a warm, Rhone-style blend from California made by Terry Hoage Vineyards in Paso Robles.” (Note to sports buffs: Yes, Mr. Hoage had a great football career, long ago.)

Nothing is more ritualistic, or more foreboding, in a high-end French restaurant than the approach of the sommelier carrying — or rather lugging — the imposing, leather-jacketed wine list. Even Mr. Combescot-Lepère admits, “I’m not a person who likes to spend 20 minutes turning the pages when some guy plops down this bible with a thump.” Adour has its bible, but you’ll only get it upon request. Otherwise, you’ll be handed the short version of what’s in Adour’s spacious cellar deep within the St. Regis.

But even this 33-page, 600-bottle selection (less than a third of the full cellar) needn’t be pored over. Rather than sift through dozens of burgundy appellations, for example, the list will feature a few seasonal offerings. “We’ll start off with Gevrey Chambertin, Vosne-Romanée, and Givry,” said Mr. Combescot-Lepère, who grew up in Burgundy, where his mother not only cooked, but also hunted for worthy wines for the family table. “A modest wine like Givry is completely lost on a big list.”

Modest wines, at least in price, are refreshingly evident on the still un-finalized opening wine list. How nice, in such a lofty environ, to find a white wine gem such as Navarro Vineyards’ Edelzwicker 2006 for $40, or Ravine’s Finger Lakes dry Riesling for $35. Should you choose to celebrate with the likes of Chateau Cheval Blanc 1982, in its fulsome prime, it’s there, too — at $2,265.

One category that peeves Mr. Combescot-Lepère is wine in half bottles. “If you’re with your wife or girlfriend, you don’t want this tiny bottle brought to your table,” he said. His solution will be to offer half the contents of a full bottle in a handsome decanter. Adour’s selections of wines by the glass, on the other hand, are extensive, even imaginative. From the “exploration” category, for example, you might have a flute of an intense “Granit” ($17) pear sparkler from Normandy’s Eric Bordelet. Or, combining Bordeaux classicism with showmanship, your server will pour a glass of Talbot 2003 ($36) direct from an imperial (equivalent to six regular bottles). Won’t the pouring process from that giant bottle be a somewhat perilous? “Oh, there’s a little bit of risk,” Mr. Combescot-Lepère said. “But it’s like a game of throwing fish from one to another — it’s part of the fun we want to have.”

Fun. It’s a welcome word in high-end French wine service — and much preferred to a game of throwing fish.