"How do you do that?" I ask Desseauve.

"It's what we do," he says with a grin and a grand Gallic shrug.

While some speakers mourn the market opening in 2012 that allowed a peak in wine imports that year, others say the competition only made Chinese wine better.

"Eight years ago, all of the Chinese reds were too acidic, and all the whites were flat," says one French journalist on the judging panel. "Today there is much more balance, and tonight we are trying some of the best wines. The China wine story is not 'will become'. It is already."

It's no secret that most Chinese winemakers have so far seen little profit in investing time to make quality wines－they can sell cheap red grog as fast as they can make it. Why let the stuff age in casks for an extra year or so, when any consumer in China willing to pay a premium price would buy a French wine anyway?

The economics are changing slowly. And in some niche Chinese wineries, where already rich investors are more eager to make a reputation than a quick buck, more deliberate production is starting to turn heads and even win a few international prizes.

But there's a long way to go.

For example, it's too early to talk about "wine regions" in China, says Li Demei, assistant professor of food science at Beijing Agriculture College, who made a presentation on the state of the wine industry. When that term is used here, he says, it's more about administrative regions, not about terroir－the soil and climate conditions that give an area's wine a particular quality.

Grace Vineyard in Shanxi, the first boutique winery to convince many drinkers there was good wine made in China, led off the dinner pairings with its Tasya's Reserve Chardonnay 2010. Also served with the first courses (cauliflower soup with curry oil and a delicate plate of gravlax) was Helan Mountain Domaine D'Aroma 2013, a cab-sauv from that Ningxia winery.

With the main course－a seared roast pigeon with foie-gras pistachio croutons, polenta and roasted grapes－came a string of increasingly hearty reds. Zhongfei Merlot Reserve 2013 from Xinjiang was followed by a Ningxia-grape trio: Jinfulan's 2013 blend of cab-sauv, merlot and cabernet gernischt; Silver Heights' Summit 2013 and Hansen's Red Camel 2012. The last two seemed to be the favorites of the room－and not surprisingly the priciest, with the Silver Heights bottle retailing at about 2,000 yuan and the Red Camel commanding five grand.

"Incredible," says a Chinese wine critic at my table when winemaker Bruno Paumard revealed the price.

"My clients are very rich people in Inner Mongolia," he says, smiling. "They can afford this quality."

Perhaps so, I thought, quickly pouring myself another short glass before the precious stuff was gone. But couldn't I buy something even better if I aimed my 5,000 yuan at ... well, a Bordeaux?

I ask one of the French panelists, who simply smiles.

If the French know anything better than wine, it's discretion.