When I moved to Burgundy many years ago, I befriended a young Savoyard who had recently inherited some family vineyards, and he invited me for a tour of his vines in the village of Chignin. Having never set foot in Chignin, nor ever tasted a wine from Savoie, I gladly accepted his invitation. As he picked me up at the local train station, he told me that the first thing he wanted to do was to take me to the domaine of Michel Quenard. He explained that Michel was his model, paving the way not only by making unique and delicious wines marked by their uncommon Alpine terroir, but also by championing the notion that these wines were more than mere local curiosities to drink at ski resorts over a pot of fondue.
    While Michel had long given counsel to young growers, he also had recently become president of the Savoie wine syndicate (a position he held until 2020) and was pushing to lift the region by focusing on quality and the potential locked in the terroir. Under his tenure, the appellation of Chignin cut by half the amount of acreage allowed to grow grapes (effectively eliminating any questionable terroirs), limited yields, and imposed sustainable farming practices. Thus, for my friend who wanted to introduce me to the region and its wines, it was a no-brainer to take me to Michel’s door.
    We were warmly greeted, and upon hearing my American accent, the first thing Michel did (after pouring a glass for each of us) was to bring out an old, worn scrapbook. Inside were page after page of clippings of write-ups from the KLWM newsletter, in which Kermit would muse a few lines about a new release from the estate, as well as handwritten faxes from Kermit congratulating Michel for a cuvée that was providing particular enjoyment, and even forms detailing the various orders the domaine had received and shipped around the United States. Michel absolutely beamed with pride, without the least hint of arrogance, as he showed me the scrapbook. Each page validated what he, his father André, and the generations before had always believed: that Chignin was a grand terroir capable of making grand wines, and Bergeron was its grandest grape. At the time, I knew of Kermit but had no idea I’d be working in his office in Beaune a few years later. The moment was eye-opening for me, on many levels, to say the least.
    Since that day, I have become quite fond of Savoie wines—the Quenards’ in particular—and regularly have cases sent down the mountain for my personal cellar. The Quenards are on a mission to spread the word, and they price their wines accordingly, even though demand is high. They could easily sell their production three times over to the famous ski resorts down the road, and yet they prefer to let the wines travel and be discovered and enjoyed in various corners of the world. In the years following my first visit to the estate, Michel has been joined by his son Guillaume, who talks the talk and walks the walk.