Translation help please: "gout de roi"?

In a letter from 1873, the writer describes a corked wine, but is told by the waiter that the peculiar taste is a requisite property of the wine -- 'It was the "gout de roi" that was in it.'

I make this literally as "the taste of the king" -- but wonder if "gout de roi" had a specific meaning at that time in France.

Before checking with the butler, the waiter had agreed that the wine was corked -- "un coup de bouchon".

The wine, by the way, was a Lafitte, vintage not given.

Thanks, Bob

It has ominous potential implications about the fate of Louis XVI after his appointment with M. Guillotine's patented "machine for decollation."

A positive tasting note in a Lafitte, Max?

Bob, I posted an inquiry in the forum at wordreference.com. Maybe some native speaker will react.

But, to be honest, I imagine it means "salty." You know ... if the king has the gout.

It has ominous potential implications about the fate of Louis XVI after his appointment with M. Guillotine's patented "machine for decollation."

Indeed, the use of the article "de" makes it sound quite a bit more ominous than "goût du Roi" would, at least to my ignorant ears[1].

Mark Lipton

[1] For explanation: the distinction between "carte du vin" and "carte de vin" is that the list isn't made of wine.

I've got a long way to go with French grammar, but as I understand it some words force the use of de regardless of male/female. (pas de vin, un verre de vin for example) and I think gout is one of them. Coup seems to work that way also--Mark's distinction may explain why it works that way for some words. But then again do the French need a reason? The pronunciation variants are driving me crazy.

A google search came up with a French Restaurant which seemed to feature a lot of rabbit, but I'm not sure what that has to do with the phrase.

goüt- taste; flavor; liking; style.

Salute

Hey Roy, me beege toe hurts.

Well, Bob, I believe I have managed to confuse the folks over at WordReference.com. No one so far, and all of them French, could come up with a non-literal translation of goût de roi. And, since my Petit Robert and Larousse are buried under my collection of Hummel figurines in the garage, I can't poke around myself. But barring any further info to the contrary, my gut as a former translator suggests that the waiter was just pulling the guest's leg, not unlike your burnt garlic episode. Maybe more context would reveal more.

The pronunciation variants are driving me crazy.

And if you don't nail it perfectly they won't understand you, no matter how close you are!

Thanks for checking, Gary. Here is a relevant extract from the article:

"New York Times", June 6, 1873, Page 1. From a Special Correspondent: HIGH LIFE IN VIENNA.; Distinguished Visitors and Antecedent Troubles--The Status of English and American Visitors. A PRINCE'S HOUSEHOLD. THE COURT AND SOCIETY. THE AMERICAN STATUS. THE EXHIBITION. METROPOLITAN PRICES. THE SEASON--THE PANIC.

My neighbors, who indulged in a poulet and asperges and soi-disant Lafitte at $6 a bottle, paid $20 apiece for their dinner. The Lafitte was corked. The head waiter was called, smelt the wine, turned it round in a glass, tasted it, and admitted "qui oui -- c'est vrai, un coup de bouchon." He carried it off, but returned with a triumphant air after an interview with the butler, to announce that he was wrong -- the wine was not corked at all, and the peculiar flavor we perceived was in fact a requisite property. It was the "gout de roi" that was in it; whereupon I could not help saying that in the matter of wines I was a republican, but that produced no effect in diminishing the severity of the bill.