Bordeaux has seen its share of triumph and turmoil over the centuries, but last Wednesday it managed the feat of delivering both on a single day.

The turmoil erupted in Bordeaux. It was caused by the sudden refusal of the wine merchant Christian Delpeuch to serve any longer as head of the region’s most important body of wine growers and sellers, the Interprofessional Council of Bordeaux Wine. Just last month Mr. Delpeuch presided over a council-sponsored tasting, held in New York and other American cities, of 100 Bordeaux wines priced under $25. He had seemed upbeat, even ebuillient, as he spoke of the good things happening in Bordeaux, whose American sales and market share have shrunk dramatically in recent years. But that was then and this is now.

Mr. Delpeuch cast a wide net of criticism in announcing that he would quit. The government, he charged, had reneged on a promise to deliver $75 million to the wine growers as compensation for pulling up excess vineyards. And his own “Plan Bordeaux,” calling for modernized viticultural methods and a new “Vins de pays de Atlantique” appellation, as well as increased distillation of surplus wine, has gotten nowhere. In stepping down, Mr. Delpeuch charged all-around “irresponsibility” and uncontrolled in-fighting, according to the Bordeaux newspaper Sudouest. “I understand despair,” he was quoted as saying, “but not demagogery.”

Who will be the next president of Bordeaux’s central wine body? Based on his hosting of a triumphant lunch at Alain Ducasse here in New York on the same day Mr. Delpeuch announced his resignation, I’d nominate Bernard Magrez, the maverick French wine impresario. Ostensibly, the occasion marked the 700th consecutive harvest at Chateau Pape Clement, the flagship of Mr. Magrez’s flotilla of 32 wine estates. But what Mr. Magrez really wanted to do by taking over Alain Ducasse, I suspect, was to show off the quality of his newest properties. Most were acquired in the last few years after he sold off his mass-market beverage business,William Pitters, for a vast sum. By purchasing obscure vineyards, lavishing them with every care no matter how costly, and then branding the resulting wines with his own name, Mr. Magrez has set his own course in Bordeaux, where the most important brand has long been the chateau name rather than the owner standing behind it.

It’s not easy to nudge the dishes whipped up by Alain Ducasse out of the spotlight, but certain of Mr. Magrez’s wines managed to do just that. Dry white Bordeaux rarely climbs the lofty peaks staked out by its red brethren, but for complexity, intensity, texture, and regal poise, the white of Pape Clement 2004 ($75 at Zachys), was right up there. For years, even decades, to come, this wine should reveal one pleasurable facet after another. It was perfect with poached Maine lobster and English peas “a la Francaise.”

Next, served with roasted breast and confit legs of squab, came a pair of “cuvees d’exception,” a category created by Mr. Magrez. It refers to wines from obscure vineyards that give promise of quality if given the chance. Every attention, from individual grape selection to new oak barrel aging, is lavished on these wines. Production rarely reaches 500 cases. Magrez Tivoli 2002 ($31.97 at PJ Wines), a Medoc, was all finesse and freshness, with red berry flavors that wouldn’t quit. It was quite a contrast to the other wine poured beside it, Paciencia 2003 (not yet locally available), from the Toro region of Spain. Made from 100% tempranillo, known locally as tinta de Toro, this very dark wine with 15% alcohol whipcracked the palate with exceptionally concentrated, spicy purple fruit. Traditional tempranillo, as in Rioja, tends to be a gentle wine. Not Paciencia. It’s more akin to a top quality Sonoma zinfandel.

Mr. Magrez acknowledged that, given the jarringly different styles of Magrez Tivoli and Paciencia, serving them side by side was not normal protocol. “It was a deliberate choice,” he said. “I wanted to shake loose from tradition.” That’s the kind of sentiment that puts him at odds with the largely stultified Bordeaux wine establishment.

The next dish, a slice of imposingly rich truffled brie de Meaux, would have routed fainthearted wines, but the two vintages of red Chateau Pape-Clement served with them more than held their own. Vintage 1998 ($79 from Adel’s Wine Cellar, San Francisco), a year that has turned out well for the Pessac-Leognan appellation that begins in the southern suburbs of Bordeaux, was a voluminously fruity and tobacco-inflected wine. Poured from a jeroboam (equal to six regular bottles), it was an impressive example of how Bordeaux can deliver major flavor impact without the crutch of heady alcohol, which in this wine held at a modest 13%.

The final red wine to be poured, Pape Clement 1961, did not have the youthful potency of the wines that had gone before. Nor did it need to be a muscle flexer. After 45 years in bottle, this wine from an extraordinarily ripe and intense vintage had mellowed to ethereal silkiness. In place of overt fruitiness was a seamless essence of minerally soil that was weightless yet mouth-coating. It was the kind of old wine that brings tears to the eyes of tough Frenchmen (I’m not sure about French women).