This article was produced by National Geographic Traveller (UK).

Nestled in the southeast corner of France near the Swiss border, the Savoy region has a cuisine that befits its alpine location. Visitors should expect hearty dishes, such as its famous tartiflette, a creamy baked gratin of potatoes, onions, lardons and reblochon cheese; and farcement, a sweet and savoury potato cake that contains both bacon rashers and fruit such a prunes or pears. 

Savoy is also home to several signature desserts, from its beloved blueberry tarts to saint-genix brioche. But away from the mountains, the region’s gastronomy has a lighter side, especially by the shores of Lac Léman, where visitors can dine out on the tender flesh of several varieties of lake fish.

1. A feast of fish

Lac Leman
To the Swiss, as to many, it’s known as Lake Geneva. But here, in the village of Yvoire, on the French side, it’s known as Lac Léman. And, from the rooftop terrace of the restaurant Les Jardins du Léman, I can see it glistening in the mid-distance.

Although I hadn’t realised it when I first sat down, I’m here for fish — because, as it’s soon explained to me, no food-loving visitor to Yvoire should leave without trying at least one of the lake’s three most treasured specimens: fera, omble chevalier and perch.

Right now, it’s time for fera, which arrives sitting in a fragrant, buttery puddle, accompanied by a punchy bowl of thyme risotto. A type of whitefish, it’s quite tender and absorbs the sauce wonderfully, while a cluster of gingerbread croutons give occasional forkfuls some extra pizazz. And, as I work my way through a long-necked bottle of crisp Savoie Crépy, I feel like I’m getting a fix on flavours of the lake.

Everyone who lives near the shores of Lac Léman will have a view on its three prized fish. And, over the course of my stay, I get the feeling opinion is decidedly split. But my guide, Evelyne Hurtaud, is in no doubt as to her favourite. “For me, it’s the omble chevalier,” she says. “You’ve just had fera? Well, the omble is even finer, even more delicate.”

I ask her if the locals know instinctively how to prepare these fish. “Yes,” she says. “Because local people have always buy them directly from the fishermen, so they often cook them at home and know how to do it — usually quite simply: for example, just grilled, with a little sauce made of cream and lemon.”

A type of arctic char, the omble chevalier favours the colder depths of the deeper Alpine lakes. And, in the atmospheric lakeside dining room at Hotel Restaurant Du Port, I get my chance to try it. In keeping with local custom, two whole fish are presented to us in a frying pan. Then, at an adjacent table, the heads are removed, the soft cheek meat is retrieved and the fish are filleted, before being served up with waxy potatoes, vegetables, artichoke puree and pear poached in red wine. And, true to Evelyne’s words, it’s very delicate, yet also surprisingly rich — and it’s brought to life by lemon and cream sauce, served in a tiny jug.

The final act of this triple-header takes place right by the water, on the terrace of Les Pêcheurs, in the nearby commune of Sciez. There, in the shade of century-old plane trees, we’re served a large bowl of tiny, battered perch fillets, accompanied by green salad and a bowl of frites. But the real treat is the trio of sauces: tartare; white wine with shallots and cream; and lemon and cream. I dip perch after perch into each of these little pots in turn until suddenly I’ve nothing left. Sure, it’s fish and chips, but with a crisp white wine and the views of the lake, it’s distinctly elevated. And it’s clear to me that, while the fera and the omble chevalier were both delicate and delicious, if I lived on the shores of Lac Léman, I’m pretty sure I’d eat perch most days. And I would eat them here.

2. The goat

Château La Tour de Marignan 
“When you open here, you have a lot of froth,” says Olivier Canelli, gesturing to the tap at the head of a wooden barrel. “It’s why we call it ‘the goat’. Because, you know, when you milk a goat, you have a lot of froth in the milk.”

Standing, as I am, in an 11th-century wine cellar, I’m not expecting any milk to emerge from the tap. But what is in there? “Last month, we put in grape juice and apple juice,” he explains. “We put rum, we put vanilla. And we fermented it all directly in the barrel with 12 kilos of pressure. Now, take your glass. This is very special because you have to drink it very quickly. You drink the froth. Are you ready?”

I position my glass directly beneath the tap, which, when turned, explodes in a cloud of foam. Doing as I’m told, I gulp it quickly and am amazed how much flavour seems crammed into this mouthful of very little. There’s the vanilla, for sure, and perhaps the rum, but the dominant taste is something resembling blackcurrant.

Olivier runs his five-hectare family wine estate, Château La Tour de Marignan, with his brother Xavier. We arrive shortly after harvest is complete, and he admits to being tired. The brothers are fifth-generation winemakers, and their ancient cellar is thought to be the oldest in the Haute-Savoie region, yet there’s nothing musty about their methods. Production here has been completely organic since 1992, while in 2016 the brothers decided to take a biodynamic approach to their winemaking, meaning, among other things, that there are fewer sulphites and no added sugar in their wine. “There’s enough sugar in the grapes,” Olivier explains. 

Savoy is one of France’s smaller wine regions and it has historically prioritised whites. But Olivier prefers to mix things up, introducing me to an extremely drinkable young red, then a heavier one, plus some fizz, produced using the champagne method, and a sweet, fortified wine called ratafia. “We put that in the bottle two weeks ago,” he tells me.Finally, he points to a broad, champagne-style bottle, upon which the words ‘La Chèvre’ are emblazoned. Is this what we had from the barrel, I ask? “Yes” he says, smiling. “But you don’t get the froth this way.”

3. Mountain Hut

Refuge du Plan de l’Aiguille
Take the cable-car to the top of Aiguille Du Midi, and you’re in for a treat. From this lofty vantage point, 3,842m above sea level, you get a close-up view of one of the few things on Earth that’s taller: the peak of Mont Blanc. It’s a breathtaking sight — although, for me, there’s something just as memorable further down.

Return by cable-car to the mid-station, Plan de l’Aiguille, then descend further via a rocky path and, before long, you’ll find Refuge du Plan de l’Aiguille, a striking white mountain hut with red shutters that sits overlooking the Chamonix Valley.

Over winter, this refuge is simply that: an unstaffed resting spot, equipped with bedding. But from May to October, it provides much more than shelter — something evident from its small entrance hall, in which I find one table piled high with furs and another laden with cloche-covered fruit tarts, from a dense, eye-catching raspberry version to a stylish apple creation, its fruit slices arranged across its face like a tumbling trail of coins.

The menu here is mountain-hut hearty and features one of the region’s more singular specialities, farcement savoyard. Cooked in a water bath, it’s a round loaf made of grated potato and dried fruit (in this instance, raisins and prunes), draped in bacon. And it’s been on my radar since I arrived. But something draws me to the next item on the menu, la croute aux trompettes — a lake of melted cheese and cream on a submerged base of stiff bread and white ham, with an archipelago of long, black chanterelles on its surface. It feels like the right reward for my exertions; it’s also a favourite of our chef, Claude Quenot. “I adore the cheese,” he explains.

Having run the hut since 2008, Claude is the latest in a long line of custodians, dating back to 1869. As he pours me a glass of a homemade spirit, made from camomile flowers he foraged himself on the mountain, I ask him what he eats when he winters down in Chamonix. “I’ll make some choucroute [sauerkraut with sausage and salted meats], some well-cooked beef,” he says. “It’s a different diet. I don’t want la croute in winter.” I down the shot — it’s intense and suitably flowery and I feel instantly invigorated. Through the window, grey clouds are gathering both above and below the hut. It feels like a good moment to get going. Then again, perhaps there’s still time for some tart. 

4. The edible forest

Vallorcine
“This is plantain,” says Sébastien Perrier. “It’s good for when you’re lost because you find it wherever people tread. It’s also good for bee stings. And this? This is wild spinach — it’s the first plant to grow after the snows in May. I have a neighbour who always eats it then. She picks it from a field around her farm and makes it into soup with potatoes.”

We meet Sébastien in Vallorcine, by the Swiss border, and, over the course of the morning, he leads us on a spellbinding hike up the forested mountainside. Obediently, we follow him along little paths, across wooden bridges, past waterfalls and around isolated farmhouses, stopping frequently to contemplate new specimens. How wonderful, I think, as he examines a purple floret through his tiny botanist’s eyepiece, to be able to survey this woodland and not only identify nearly every plant, but to also know how best to cook them. But this is the fruit of 10 years’ study, plus a further six years’ experience as a guide.

“We call this sorbier,” he continues, having pulled a handful of red rowan berries from a mountain ash tree. Are they not poisonous, we ask? “They’re bitter, yes, but actually not toxic,” Sébastien explains. “We make alcohol with them but also marmalade.”

As the path plateaus and the tree coverage begins to thin, we find a log and take a well-earned rest. Sébastien has come prepared, treating us first to some herbal tea made from foraged meadowsweet, then to sweet clover cookies and, finally, to homemade yarrow cake. Over the past three days, I’ve eaten well, from fine-dining in Chamonix to lavish lunches in Lac Léman. But, sat here breathing mountain air, watching alpine peaks poke above the tree tops, I suspect this little packed lunch might prove to be the most memorable meal.