In 1962, our grandfather brought a small herd up to a patch of mountain pasture in Savoie and never really stopped. More than sixty years on, we're still here — same fifty hectares, same herd bloodline, same twice-daily rhythm.

Every summer, the herd makes the climb to high alpine meadow, the way farms across this region have done for generations — a slower, older kind of grazing that gives the milk its character. Every winter, they come back down to sheltered valley barns. It's more work than keeping cattle in one flat field year-round. We think it's worth it.

Every bottle comes from this one herd — we don't buy in milk from anywhere else to hit volume. We don't blend batches to smooth out variation. We don't add anything to make the process faster or the shelf life longer. What you get is what the mountain gave us that morning — bottled the same day, delivered cold.

We're not trying to be everywhere. We're trying to still be here — on the same alpine pasture our grandfather worked, doing the same quiet work he did.