michel richard headshot (article published in Capitol File Magazine)The difference is in the details. Imagine drinking Chateau Margaux from paper cups. Now, imagine clinking crystal goblets before the first sip. Apply this consideration to opening the bottle, and a cheap piece of plastic-and-metal from the corner store simply will not do.Nobody knows exactly when the corkscrew was invented, only that in 1795, England issued the first patent for one. Today, collectors scour the world for the oldest and rarest. Celebrity Chef Michel Richard ix one of those connoisseurs, and several of his best adorn the walls of his famed eatery, Citronelle. Some pieces in his collection boast a refined elegance and some, quite frankly, resemble medieval torture devices. Either way, these examples of functional art excite the collector. Says Richard, “When you’re ready to use one, you know it will lead to a good time. Corkscrews are fun!”Many of his favorites come from Frank Milwee Antiques, a block from his famous Georgetown restaurant, and Chef Richard cannot resist eyeing the store’s corkscrew display when heading off on his daily walks. When asked about this curious habit, he replies, “I pass in front of the window everyday. I am like a kid - I look in, and see them, and want a new toy.”I’ve been a regular tag along on Chef Richard’s promenades and continue to marvel at the ritual leading up to each one. They begin with morning coffee ‘round the Chef’s Table, where Michel is both Monarch and Jester, planning menus, making wisecracks and inquiring after VIP guests dining in the restaurant the night before, (“Wasn’t Maureen Dowd in last night?”). When he’s ready to walk, he snaps his iPod into his coat pocket, loaded with French music and, in a whirlwind, is up the stairs and on the street.The walks are more then merely exercise. There is often a but, the French word for "purpose" or "goal." One particular jaunt, a tour of Georgetown shops, I’ve nicknamed “The Corkscrew Hunt.”With Frank Milwee not yet open, we head in the opposite direction. Michel excitedly popping into his neighboring shops' wares. At a toiletry store he marvels, “These soaps look like fromage, and ice cream. I want to eat them but I’d have bubbles coming out of my mouth!” Pottery Barn (where he found the silver penguins upon which he serves caviar at Citronelle) draws us across the street. Inspecting new merchandise he declares, “I love this store! It changes all the time.” However, we see no corkscrews of note.Up Wisconsin Avenue, at Smith & Hawken, Michel confides, “I would love to have a restaurant in this space. It’s tres European. And, the views!” Turning a hollowed-rock candleholder in his hand, he reflects, “I think about the restaurant too much. It’s like giving birth. I push and oup, here’s the new born!”Next we meander into Dean & Deluca studying its beautiful array of produce. Willing to share with an eager ear, Chef Richard explains the uses for various apples. “When cooked, Fuji apples keep their shape. Red are for baking. Granny Smith is a pomme couteau, meaning you eat it with a knife.” Passing through the back of the store, however, Michel despondently looks over the book section. With a new cookbook out this fall he worries, “That bookshelf looks miserable. I hope my book won’t end up like that.”On the next shelf over, he spots a substantial modern corkscrew called ‘Maximus’ and forgets his temporary chagrin stating, “That’s a good one! Something a sommelier would use.” Still, it doesn’t fit the bill for Chef Richard’s collection of antiques.Back outside, Michel dreamily shares his sentimentality toward aged tir-bouchons. “I wonder about the story behind each one. How many bottles it has opened, who the people were, what celebrations they were having...” he says as his voice trails off. (Ah, the French gift for waxing poetic.)Perusing pastries at Leopold’s, tucked into a corner of the European-style Cady's Ally, Richard reminisces, “In France, there are bakeries on every corner. My mom sent me to buy bread when we smelled it cooking.” Overcome with the moment, Michel exclaims the mantra of a true gourmand, “Café, chocolate mousse, wine!” and we pick out a tasty and colorful little delice. With appreciation for all things aesthetically pleasing, Michel nods with approval as we exit past three elegantly dressed older women, “Very nice vintage ladies! Like wine they get better.”Yes, wine. Corkscrews. That’s right! It’s not easy to stay focused when wandering Georgetown with a bon vivant whose childlike fascination with the world easily charms me off-topic.Winding back to Frank Milwee Antiques, we are, disappointedly, still too early. Gazing through the window together, Michel’s enthusiasm rubs off on me. I’m starting to feel “corkscrew fever.” He points to one with a handle fashioned to look like two lady’s legs, kicked out to either side, as if performing a jig. Delightedly, he exclaims, “Look! It’s dancing!’Suddenly, I very much want to go inside and hold the dancing-lady-legs corkscrew in my hand. I want to transport myself back to the celebrations in which it has taken part. I yearn to pull corks from priceless bottles of wine.Bidding adieu to Chef Richard, I scribble down a few notes and head toward the metro. Visions of corkscrews dance in my head, and I feel a sentimental rush. Corkscrews are the stuff of romance, after all. Now, if only I could get my hands on some Chateau Margaux… Byline: Natalie Bovis writes regularly about restaurants, cocktails and celebrities on TheLiquidMuse.com