The Loire river valley — the valley of Kings — was for centuries the highway of French history. Today it's a trail on which to chase royal ghosts in riverside châteaus or seek noble vintages on the Route des Vins. Or both. The lure of the Loire is that you can pursue history and lunch in equal portions, along with a very nice glass of Vouvray.

To a business journalist like me, one of the interesting side dishes on the châteaus' menus is how they were financed. It leads to the conclusion that while it's good to be the king, being the tax man isn't a bad gig, either. Consider Gilles Berthelot, a treasurer of France, who in the early 16th century built Azay-le-Rideau, a small gem on the Indre River. He put up a country palace that still reflects the access he had to lucre and power — at least until he got on the wrong side of François I and lost his chemise, not to mention his castle. In Villandry, some 10 km north of Azay, my wife and I admire the handiwork of another of François' moneymen, Jean le Breton, who sluiced enough of the royal cash stream to create a suitable château for himself. Le Breton built his estate while supervising the construction of an even grander place for the King in nearby Chambord. He knew better than to show up the boss.

After a long stroll through the intricate gardens at Villandry, we drive along the picturesque Indre until we reach the town of Montbazon and an exquisite, reasonably priced meal at La Chancelière. Wherever you dine, of course, there's plenty of superb local wine, mostly white: Vouvray, Muscadet, Sancerre and Montlouis, among others. Unfortunately, recent Loire vintages have been a little underwhelming, but there's a solution: explore the cellars of local restaurants for more complex, older whites. A 1988 Vouvray (€57) from Gaston Huet, for instance, had lost most of its sweetness and become luscious and full-bodied.

The Gallo-Roman fortress city of Chinon is known for its reds, and for being the temporary home of everyone from English knights in armor to American G.I.s. Joan of Arc got King Charles VII's blessing here, and went on to victory at Orléans. We settle for something less ambitious: lunch at Au Plaisir Gourmand. In Langeais, where a château was built to repel invading Bretons, Chef Yannick Errard welcomes all to his charming inn. Pilgrims have been coming to Tours since the 5th century to seek salvation at the tomb of St. Martin. We seek sustenance at Hotel Jean Bardet, perched on three lush hectares and patrolled by a pair of hedgehogs who show up punctually at dinnertime. You can't blame them. Chef Bardet could have cooked for Kings.

Our favorite financier is Thomas Bohier, who created the spectacular Château de Chenonceau south of Amboise. It features extensive gardens, towering trees, its own estate winery, restaurants (or try the nearby Le Bon Laboureur), rooms full of royal lure and lots of lousy art, an unavoidable feature of most châteaus. Bohier was a chef of sorts, too. After he died, the King accused him of cooking the books.