THE SUN SHINES even in winter, and from the decks of the Restaurant at Auberge du Soleil, the view is splendid even on an unseasonably cloudy – yes, a wintry – June day. One naturally resents clouds as usurpers of the crown of summertime's sun king, but despite their uncouth timing and occasional incontinence, we found the clouds' interloping presence to be beautiful: cottony tongues and tumbles and pewter-blue smears on an ethereal canvas stretched above a green land of olive groves descending to the floor of the Napa Valley.

Beauty is so often deceptive: Clouds don't necessarily mean chill, at least in early summer. It was warm enough to eat outside, and other sections of the deck were indeed full, but having drunk the view to the dregs, we trooped back inside, past the crackling, softly scented fire in the hearth, past the huge upright log that might or might not have been holding up part of the roof but certainly gave us the sense of being in a treehouse (or possibly the treetop palace of Galadriel and Celeborn in Lorién) to a windowside table comfortably remote from other tables.

The restaurant, which opened in 1981 (the rest of the hotel followed four years later), was one of the first high-end dining spots in the wine country, and though it was recently renovated and a new chef, Robert Curry, brought in, the graces of a somewhat less crowded and noisy time are still perceptible. The widely spaced tables float on a placid sea of cinnamon-colored carpeting, which brings a soundless warmth conducive to conversation. The rest of the decor strikes a similarly muted tone of monied rusticity; the colors are light but earthy and are joined to the outdoor palette by a vanishing seam of window glass. Whether you are in the dining room or somewhere on the meandering deck, you will be in the presence and embrace of the valley.

And when you are eating Curry's food, you will know you're in the presence of a master. The chef's pedigree is formidable: His mentors include Wolfgang Puck, Michel Richard, and Alain Ducasse, and more recently he spent a number of years in the kitchen of nearby rival Domaine Chandon. A blend of California roots and French training would well serve any chef in the wine country, but nowhere more so than at Auberge du Soleil, which was intended to capture the sense of a Provençal inn and whose menu reflects a skillful union of old and new worlds.

Although the occasional nonoccidental ingredient sometimes turns up – as an emulsion, say, of yuzu (an Asian citrus fruit) in an intense tomato-and-basil risotto ($19) – the cooking on the whole reflects a European heritage as seen from a sunlit California garden where everything grows. The menu is, in a sense, an exhibition of produce, and that produce is quietly stunning in its flawlessness and variety. Shrimp and avocado ($14), for instance, is a classic pairing, but Curry adds shaved fennel root and arugula to the plump, shelled prawns and glistening slices of perfectly ripe avocado. Seared sea scallops ($15 for three) are served in a broad, shallow bowl with a heap of slightly sweet white-corn mousse, a tossing of sugar snap peas, and a reflecting pool of leek nage (a broth of gentle oniony flavor).

While the produce is spectacular, Curry's cooking style is tempered with Gallic discipline and understatement. Gorgeously jewelly oven-roasted beets ($12) of red and gold are tossed with candied walnuts and goat cheese in a discreet citrus vinaigrette. A tomato gazpacho ($12) the color of cooling lava gets a gentle tweak of rock-crab meat and a few frisée feathers, arranged in the center of the bowl like an edible island in a red sea. And slices of Napa lamb leg ($23) so thoroughly conceal their accompaniments – buttery polenta and braised chard in a black-olive jus – that you don't even begin to find the latter until you've eaten away for a bit at the meat.

The pastry chef, Paul Lemieux, is as exuberant as Curry is restrained, to judge by his elaborate and often witty productions. Lemieux likes his ice creams to have curious flavors; hence the lemon verbena-scented pat beside a fromage blanc pavé ($8) – a species of cheesecake – and the tarragon blob escorting the fabulous phyllo dumplings wrapped around warm liquid cores of sensationally rich dark chocolate. (Chilling seems to intensify tarragon's licorice personality; I guessed the ice cream was fennel but luckily glanced at the menu one last time on the way out.) It did seem to me that the yogurt panna cotta ($8), a preparation one would not suppose to be in need of much embellishment, got lost in a Waterworld of ancillary effects, mainly an inundating pool of cider caramel, with a plop of Granny Smith sorbet on the side adding to the whiteout look. Less soggy, and more overtly seasonal, were the bing-cherry fritters ($8), served with a cherry sabayon sundae and a gastrique of Banyuls (a red dessert wine) – but they were across the table, and I had trouble getting at them to make a comprehensive assessment, especially as their keeper (a cherry-lover) seemed quite territorial about them.

We spent much of the ride home listening to 46-year-old recordings of Beethoven's piano concertos (the Fourth, which opens with moody lyricism, being a particular favorite) and watching the weather slowly break into smile. One loves Beethoven because he is spectacular, yes – "at the end of a performance, his piano would have so many broken strings, it looked like a bowl of spaghetti," one of my companions noted – but also young at heart, a fund of joy, a ray of sun beaming slyly through cloud onto the warming land below, in June, always.

The Restaurant at Auberge du Soleil. 770 Rutherford Hill Road (at Silverado Trail), Rutherford. 1-800-348-5406. Breakfast: daily, 7-11 a.m. Lunch: daily, 11:30 a.m.-2:30 p.m. Dinner: daily, 6-9:30 p.m. Full bar. American Express, Carte Blanche, Diners Club, Discover, MasterCard, Visa. Not noisy. Wheelchair accessible.