In September 1952, the impeccably English Michael Broadbent started writing notes in a little red book on the wines he tasted. He's now on book No. 134 - "I've used the same sort of book for 50 years," he says - in a lifelong journey that has taken him from the frigid cellars of Scottish castles to the blazing-hot auction tents of the Napa Valley in a career devoted to fine wine.

More than 85,000 tasting notes have gone into those books, which have in turn produced books of their own. They include the quasi-biblical The Great Vintage Wine Book, one of the most successful wine books of all time. Since then, Maryland's Robert M. Parker Jr. may have surpassed him in the sheer number of wines tasted, but it's still safe to say that no human being alive or dead can match Broadbent's track record in tasting rare old vintages of the world's great wines. Certainly no future wine writer is ever likely to spend as much time retrieving bottles from the cellars of castles and country estates.

"They don't exist now," he says. "They've been explored like the Pyramids or the tombs of the Nile. They've all been desecrated by me."

Broadbent brought his experiences, and the good humor nurtured by a life of making a living from tasting great wines, to Baltimore last month as he toured the United States to promote his newest book.

Vintage Wine: Fifty Years of Tasting Three Centuries of Wines (Harcourt Inc., 2002, $50) is the third in its line of vintage guides. The concept has aged gracefully, developing more richness and depth - much like its vigorous 75-year-old author, a walking advertisement for the healthful properties of fine wine.

Broadbent, along with his wine importer son, Bartholemew, joined me for lunch at Aida, a Howard County restaurant, to talk about wine.

And to taste, of course. If there should be a fourth book - Broadbent won't commit to one but is still taking notes - it would be a thrill to see a wine from one's own cellar reviewed and rated favorably on his five-star scale. (To some wine producers, a ***** from Broadbent is more cherished than a 100 from Parker.)

I decided to start the lunch with a 1989 Chateau Haut Brion blanc, which the author had given four stars ("lovely, creamy on the nose but, I felt, a bit austere") in 1997. Would five more years have pushed this dry white Bordeaux into the five-star range?

Broadbent dutifully set to work - if you can call it that - assessing the color, aroma and flavors. Color good for its age. Not very distinctive on the nose. Fine length and acidity.

After several minutes of unrelated chat, Broadbent glances at his watch. He's not bored, he explains; he's recording how many minutes have passed before he takes a second go at the Haut Brion. All these details go into the little red book.

"It's now turned into an elegant wine. It's not an obvious wine - anymore than Lafite [Chateau Lafite-Rothschild] is an obvious wine," he says. "It's not the kind of wine you should waste on people who just taste chardonnay."

And he's off. Notwithstanding the five stars he gives an 1864 Montrachet, Broadbent is a passionate sympathizer with the ABC (Anything But Chardonnay) movement in wine circles. He says he tells wine producers in Germany, whose wines he adores, that they'd be crazy to plant chardonnay.

"You've got the greatest white-wine grape in the world - riesling," he says.

And the Haut Brion? he is asked. Lovely, can last another 10 years - but "still four stars."

Broadbent was trained as an architect, but Frank Lloyd Wright he wasn't. After a stint in Army service, he failed to pass the architecture exam and, with a push from his mother, entered the wine trade. "I've been at it ever since," he says.

As a red wine is poured, Broadbent says he doesn't agonize much over scoring wines. Sometimes he doesn't even bother to score until long after the tasting, when he's writing up his notes.

Broadbent's speciality is the classic wine regions of Europe. Bordeaux, the Loire and Germany are his special passions. The wine on the table, though, is from California - a Stag's Leap Cask 23 Cabernet Sauvignon from the five-star 1997 vintage. It's a well-known wine that fetches more than $100 a bottle from well-heeled collectors of California wine.

Broadbent's new book includes an expanded chapter on California, but he says he's lost some of the enthusiasm he had for the state in the 1970s and 1980s as producers have vied to produce bigger and bigger fruit bombs.

"It's not part of my scene. I drink more Bordeaux because I just find it more suitable with food," he said.

The Stag's Leap, he says, has all the component parts of great wine but lacks a certain "distinctiveness of character."

"For the same price in Bordeaux, you can get a much classier wine." The ultimate verdict: "a four-star with potential."

Broadbent says he has to be careful not to give the impression he's a snob. The fact is, he says, he can't afford many of the wines he writes about so reverently.

As dedicated as he is to the classics, Broadbent says he's always excited to hear about emerging wine regions. His contribution to the dinner: a 2000 Shelton Viognier from Georgia, which he pronounces quite good. He's just arrived from a visit to Charlottesville, Va., where he was impressed by the quality of Virginia cabernet franc.

Broadbent says he still tastes with the same enthusiasm he did in his youth. He continues to work at Christie's on a part-time basis, tasting the wines and writing the catalogs when important cellars come on the market.

After his first book was published in 1980, Broadbent was not surprised that people in the wine trade found it useful. What he didn't realize, he says, is that people who would never pay for expensive wine would read his tasting notes for the vicarious thrill.

Broadbent says there are changes in the wine industry that dismay him. "It bugs me that people are making wines that are so similar," he says. There used to be a time, he grouses, when it was easy to tell the difference between a St. Estephe and a St. Julien (two famous wine villages of Bordeaux).

A traditionalist, he's perturbed that so much attention is lavished on wildly expensive wines from Pomerol, from the "Right Bank" of Bordeaux.

"They don't have the subtlety and nuance of the wines from the Left Bank," he says. "There are some very good wines made in Pomerol. I don't find them very interesting after the second sip."

Broadbent suspects that some European producers are making wines in styles they think will win high rankings from Parker. But unlike many European wine authorities, he doesn't see that as Parker's fault.

"He's very honest. His opinions are to be respected," Broadbent says. "The positive thing about Parker is he's shocked some producers out of their lethargy because they were underperforming."

On the other hand, Broadbent says, Parker never did understand Burgundy.

By this time, the food is gone and there's only the dessert wine to pour: a fully mature 1989 Maximin Grunhauser Herrenberg Riesling Auslese No. 173.

Broadbent swirls the glass, sniffs and smiles. "It could only be riesling - that kerosene."

Fine German wines, he recalls, used to be more expensive than Bordeaux or Burgundy. Now, he says, they're a relative bargain. Buy them for their quality, he advises, not for speculation.

He drinks, savors the bracing acidity, notes the "extraordinary" hint of spearmint in the finish.

"That's lovely. I would drink that wine anytime," he says. "It's basically a five-star wine. It's drying out a little bit."

Before we leave the restaurant, a woman in her 20s asks how a younger person can get into wine.

You've got to read about it, he says, every article you can lay your hands on. Find a good wine shop, buy a range of wines and "take the retailer's advice."

"The wine you like the best is the best wine," he says.