the ultimate WEEKEND ESCAPE

“This little elf wishes you a fine, fine day,” reads the card tucked into the freshly shined shoes left at our doorstep. The elf has hand-colored a cheerful self-portrait and signed the message with a heart.

“Elves?” Jonathan asks. “You didn’t tell me this place would have elves.”

When we came to stay at the Chateau du Sureau, a nine-room inn hidden in the foothills of the Sierra about halfway between Fresno and Yosemite, we didn’t expect a trip to fairyland. We just wanted dinner.

Even before we were married, from about the mid-’80s, Jonathan and I had heard about Erna’s Elderberry House, the Oakhurst restaurant run by Erna Kubin-Clanin. Craig Claiborne once called it “one of the most stylish restaurants in the nation,” and Wolfgang Puck has bestowed high praise on the cooking of Kubin-Clanin, a fellow Austrian. As the restaurant accumulated awards and high guidebook rankings, it seemed that Kubin-Clanin’s ambition was to create a place that not only exceeded local meat-and-potato mountain standards but reached for the very heights of a French three-star country restaurant.

In 1991, Kubin-Clanin moved closer to her French three-star ideal. As her self-penned brochure “The Enchanted Story of the Estate by the Elderberries” puts it, she opened the Chateau du Sureau, just a winding garden path away from her restaurant, because she didn’t want her customers to stay in ordinary motels after eating her extraordinary food. Well, if that’s the way she thinks about us, we decided now that we were finally making the schlep, we might as well go for the total Erna’s experience.

Of course, Erna’s world is not cheap: Rooms at the Chateau du Sureau are $310 to $410 per night, with a two-night minimum on weekends. There goes a piece of the real world right there. (One-night weekend stays may be arranged if the room can be filled the rest of the weekend.)

In California, only a handful of other lodgings would compare with Cha^teau du Sureau for price tag, pampering, food and romantic setting: Auberge du Soleil in Rutherford (starting at $350 a night weekends), Montecito’s San Ysidro Ranch ($325), Meadowood in St. Helena ($375) and the Ritz-Carlton, Laguna Niguel ($325), to name a few.

When we call for reservations, a very pleasant discussion ensues about whether we’d like to stay in the Thyme Room, or perhaps the Rosehips Room. We decide on a Friday-night stay in the Rosemary Room. It’s got a double-size bathtub and a four-poster bed with curtains that, as the lovely woman on the other end of the line discreetly says, can be closed for privacy. I hang up feeling as if I’ve just arranged a weekend at the home of a generous new friend. One thing about paying luxury prices (unless you’re in certain clothing stores) is that people tend to be really, really nice to you.

We make the drive up California 99 and northeast on California 41, the road to Yosemite, in almost exactly four hours. Turning up the drive to the Estate by the Elderberries, we leave behind our fellow travelers, the bass-boat-towing station wagons and kid-packed sport utility vehicles, and encounter a closed iron gate. It’s not possible to just drop in at the chateau, or even to drive by. We press the speaker button by the gate, and only after checking our name on the list of reservations does the voice on the other end turn syrupy sweet. The gate sweeps open and we drive up a hill to the front door of the red-tile-roofed chateau, which looks like some investment banker’s retreat, part Italian villa, part French castle and a bit of Swiss chalet.

To greet us are two young men who take our car and our bags. Momentary panic sets in. To tip or not to tip? The answer is not to tip. The idea is to leave your cares behind and your wallet in the room--until it’s time to pay the bill. Be assured that gratuities will be added then (10% service charge), and you can always leave something extra.

*

There is no front desk, no place to check in or say, “Hi, we’re here.” Instead, we meet Mamie Whitlock (just Mamie, she tells us), who emerges from the back wearing the chateau uniform--crisp white apron over a simple black dress that is embroidered on one sleeve with the insignia of approval from the Relais & Chateaux group, like the racing logo of some Team Erna sponsor. Her hair is neatly pulled back, and her skin is clear and porcelain. For a moment we wonder if this is Erna herself. But Erna sightings, we will discover, at least this weekend, are rare.

With the sounds of Beethoven playing softly in the background, Mamie leads us on a tour of the public rooms of the chateau and briefs us on how things work.

We are to treat the chateau as if it is our own home, a very large home that happens to have a staff at our disposal 24 hours a day. A grand piano, which Mamie encourages us to play if we like, is set on a small stage above the expansive high-beamed parlor, which holds an impressive bookcase full of the usual class and trash novels plus some photography books and guides to the area.

A TV is hidden behind cabinet doors and, as Mamie explains, there are no televisions in the rooms, though the staff will gladly bring a TV to you if you want a private media fix. Still, you get the sense that if Erna had her way--and fewer Hollywood guests--the cha^teau would be a white-noise-free zone.

Certainly, Erna is in love with the past. Though it was built from the ground up in 1991, the place feels as if it’s been around much longer. Only when you take a closer look do you notice that the antiques are reproductions and the French windows are weather-proofed.

As Mamie shows us the kitchen and a light-filled breakfast room, she reminds us that breakfast is included with the cost of our room--think of Cha^teau du Sureau as the world’s most luxurious B&B.;

Mamie seems eager to give us something to eat or drink. Perhaps a glass of wine in our room to relax after our drive? On our way upstairs, she points out the glass-domed tray of cookies and a still-life-perfect bowl of fruit. “Are you hungry?” Mamie asks. “Please, take a cookie. They are here for our guests to enjoy.”

So far, we have seen no guests. We’re starting to feel as if we’ve been left alone in the mansion of an eccentric millionaire, one who is perhaps watching from some unseen post, making sure the staff fulfills our every need. This is a trick not even the grandest luxury hotel could pull off.

Mamie’s parting words after showing us our room and promising to bring a trayful of appetizers as a light snack: “Please let us know how we may pamper you.” Jonathan whispers: “Does that mean if I want a muffin at 3 in the morning, she’ll get up and bake me one?”

The four-poster bed is curtain-draped, as described, and huge. It dominates the room like a veritable Astrodome of romance. The fireplace awaits a snuggling couple; the forested view out the windows invites a dreamy gaze. Vivaldi--why is it always Vivaldi?--plays quietly on the hidden CD player.

Nearly as large as the bedroom is the bathroom, and here the double bathtub takes charge, with candles and several kinds of bath crystals ready for use.

“I’ve always dreamed of being a princess, and this weekend my dream became a reality!” reads an entry in the guest book left on the desk. It’s signed, “Princess Juliana of Fresno.” Other entries: “This is indeed heaven on Earth . . . especially after our horrible honeymoon in Northern Wisconsin.” “This bed is dreamy! Now we know how to decorate our master bedroom in Sacramento.” “Thank you for a fairy-tale-type weekend.”

After reading the thoughts of our predecessors--and ignoring the guy who thanked the staff for bringing up a TV so he could catch the final game of the NBA playoffs--I had to ask myself: Am I fit for the job of fairy princess? Do I really want to star in my own Harlequin romance? After all, it’s not all bonbons and bubble baths. OK, as dreamed up by Erna and her elves, it’s a lot of that. But there are responsibilities too. You must exude the calm confidence that says: Yes, I am relaxing. Yes, I have wants that will fulfill the potential of the staff. No, I won’t demand muffins at 3 a.m.

I decide to stop worrying and get with the program. A long bubble bath later, I feel like--and indeed exude the bath crystal perfume of--a princess bride.

Still, as Byron wrote, much depends on dinner. We take a walk through the chateau’s herb garden and pass a spotlighted fountain on the path to the fabled Elderberry House.

Here, we finally encounter a few of our fellow guests, as well as well-dressed locals and casually dressed travelers on their way to Yosemite. Several early diners in the restaurant’s two dining rooms are already nearly finished with their meals when we sit down just after 7 o’clock.

The dining room, like the chateau, has large high windows, beamed ceilings and a forest-filtered view of the McDonald’s just down the hill. (Even fairy princesses need an occasional reality check.)

As the last rays of sun fall behind the trees, we sip aperitifs (stick with the house Champagne and resist the impulse to try the elderberry-flavored champagne) and nibble on an artichoke gratin, served as an amuse-bouche.

You should know that Erna doesn’t cook here anymore. The chef is James Overbaugh, who trained at the Culinary Institute of America and brings a sheen of fussy professionalism to the place. The set dinner menu changes nightly (the restaurant is open for lunch and dinner daily except Mondays and, during winter, Tuesdays) and highlights seasonal produce.

The best of tonight’s seasonal dishes is a frothy zucchini soup with thin slices of radish and a mound of lemon-spiked quinoa, which gives the dish a bright, fresh flavor. The first course is pan-seared Angus tenderloin over a good ratatouille-like assortment of vegetables, portobello mushrooms and melted Cambozola (a cheese designed to imitate Camembert and Gorgonzola).

The main course, however, has too much on the plate. Here’s the menu description: vermouth-marinated halibut with roasted corn and saffron glace with grilled fennel, basil-grilled heirloom tomatoes and morel risotto. It’s the risotto that pushes the dish over the edge.

Still, the chef is clearly talented, and the menu posted for the next night’s meal looked so tempting we almost stayed another night just to try it.

Even so, we can’t help wondering what the restaurant was like when Erna cooked, when the kitchen first battled its way into the ranks of the Relais & Chateaux elite. We imagine that like a beloved French two-star restaurant transformed when it acquires three-star status, Erna’s in the ‘80s was more quirky and less polished but more lovable than the Elderberry House today.

*

Perhaps when the chateau opened and guests started paying big money to come to the Estate by the Elderberries, a decision was made that consistency and professionalism were more important than an individual voice. The chateau became an AAA five-diamond lodging in 1995 and this year acquired a five-star rating in the Mobil Travel Guide; it’s not inconceivable that the restaurant wants to elevate its current four-star status to five to match the chateau. (Only one California restaurant, L’Orangerie in Los Angeles, has five Mobil stars.)

We have our coffee and dessert on the patio and make a mental note to skip the cheese course next time; the selection is ordinary and sets us back $20. Pass up the after-dinner drink too. Back at the chateau you can have a sherry on the house.

In our room we find chocolates, fresh bottled water and a hand-colored and calligraphy note that reads: “May your dreams be filled with magic.” On the back are instructions for bringing forth the elves: “If you so like, please leave your shoes out by the door and our little elves will shine them up.”

In the morning, we rise early, admire our elf-shined shoes and head down to the chateau’s breakfast room. We’d telephoned the kitchen half an hour before descending (as Mamie instructed the day before) but encounter our first rough spot of the stay. After having the place to ourselves until now, everyone, it seems, has emerged from the chateau’s nine rooms for breakfast at the same time. And there are only four tables.

It’s not really a big deal. We have coffee and juice on the patio by the herb garden, and a table clears quickly. Just as we enter the clay-tile-floored breakfast room, we bump into a sophisticated-looking dark-haired woman and suddenly realize this is Erna in the flesh. She smiles, wishes us a good morning and disappears down the hall.

Breakfast is huge: excellent croissants, fresh fruit in creme anglaise, spinach crepes, juice, coffee. It’s a meal as elaborate as a pricey hotel brunch, but more focused.

Our time here is running out, and we want to take advantage of everything the estate has to offer. Alone again, we take a walk around the duck pond and try out the “Alice in Wonderland”-like chessboard where the pieces are as tall as a child. I win the game with just minutes to spare before checkout. We grab a cookie on the way out the door and reenter the world of crowds and tourists: We head to Yosemite.

A stay in the tent cabins at Curry Village and an outdoor steak cookout with the families on the lawn of the Wawona Hotel actually form a good antidote to the luxury overload at the Elderberry estate. Still, when Jonathan loses his wallet outside an ATM machine, we’re ready to curse the real world and run back to Erna. Then Jonathan checks the lost-and-found in the general store and discovers that good Samaritans still do exist. The wallet is returned with not a dollar missing. Maybe the real world isn’t so bad.

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Budget for Two

Cha^teau du Sureau, 1 night: $487.90

Dinner, Elderberry House: 296.44

Yosemite Park fee: 20.00

Curry Village, 1 night: 44.83

Wawona Barbecue Cookout: 29.49

Brunch, Ahwahnee Hotel: 49.83

Gasoline: 52.24

FINAL TAB: $980.73

Cha^teau du Sureau/Erna’s Elderberry House, 48688 Victoria Lane, P.O. Box 577, Oakhurst, CA 93644; Cha^teau telephone (209) 683-6860, Elderberry House tel. (209) 683-6800, fax (209) 683-0800.