Our journey begins auspiciously with bubbly. A 110km drive takes us east, from Paris to the rolling hills of Champagne. We stop first in the Grand Cru village of Ambonnay, to visit R. H. Coutier. Michael added this producer to his portfolio late last year. Their non-vintage brut debuted at VVW this past holiday season. We sold thirty cases in just a few weeks time. Given this huge initial success, I am very anxious to taste their other bottlings.

Consumers associate the wines with festivity, but the climate itself is not hospitable—especially in January. Constant drizzle and crisp winds threaten to chill us to the bone. It is only 3:00 PM, yet the sky is as dark as dusk, providing a stark contrast to the white chalk soils of the vineyards. The grapes that produce Champagne’s lean, acidic, minerally base wines require this sort of marginal environment. I shiver, my teeth chatter, and I cannot help but wonder how hard these conditions must be on those who look after the vines, day after day, for the better part of a lifetime. In spite of the weather, workers in heavy coats, hats and gloves move slowly among the rows, tending to the winter pruning.

Natalie Coutier, the proprietress, greets us warmly, then quickly ushers us downstairs, to the caves. Ten meters deep into the limestone and clay, we enjoy the relative comfort of a constant 10° C. Natalie explains that these tunnels hold 100,000 bottles. An impressive amount by some standards, their stock pales in comparison to the holdings of the major houses, whose bottles number in the millions. Natalie plucks five from the stacks and suggests that we taste inside the house.

Once indoors, we head to the dining room. Dozens of framed labels, many over a century old, cover the walls. Antique bottles, stems and books fill the shelves. The family purchased the property in 1896. Justin Gallen, Michael’s southern California distributor, has joined us. We quietly revel in the historical ambience. Detecting our amazement, Natalie proudly tells us that the fifth generation of Coutiers will soon graduate from oenology school. I think back to my childhood on a ranch in southern California. We grew avocados and bred horses. Although by no means as exciting as Champagne, our crops did teach me what it meant to be tied to the earth. Natalie’s pride awakens old emotions. By no means easy, their agricultural lifestyle is admirably honest.

We taste five wines. All are excellent examples, broad and rich, true to Ambonnay character, where the soil yields some of the region’s most weighty wines. Pinot Noir dominates the blends, and accounts for the majority of this village’s plantings. However, the Coutiers do also own some Chardonnay, which contributes a touch of lightness and finesse to their cuvées.

A somewhat worn, pastel green cloth covers the old, thick oak table at which we sit. The family gathers here for dinner every night. This is where the children did their homework. Although we are here on business, I am struck by the sense that our tasting feels less like a meeting, and more like a casual afternoon stop at a friend’s home for a glass of wine and conversation.

Michael has made our second appointment at Agrapart. Located in Avize, which is also classified as a Grand Cru village, this producer provides an excellent counterpoint to Coutier. Here, Chardonnay dominates the blends. The wines are typically crisp, clean and mineral-driven. Pascal Agrapart waves us into the barrel room. His eyes shine, and deep creases form around them when he smiles, which he does quite often. Wine thief and glass in hand, he scales a stack of barriques to retrieve a sample for us, descends, and pours. The unfinished Chardonnay sears the corners of my mouth, and I wince. Pascal chuckles and shakes his head. This is my first taste of Champagne base wine. For the amateur, these wines seem impossible to read beyond their bracing acidity and gripping minerality. I am in awe of experienced vignerons like Pascal, who develop a nuanced understanding of how these wines, with time, will yield a complex, delicate and elegant bubbly.

I sense a mischievous streak in Pascal’s personality. Feeling a bit provocative, I ask his opinion of the Syndicat’s recent expansion of the Champagne AOC. His brow furrows, and his posture shifts from relaxed to defiant. I’ve touched a nerve. He explains that enlarging the approved vineyard region undermines the efforts of producers like him, who aim to create terroir-driven wines. The majority of Champagne is a brand-driven product, churned out in massive volumes and blended across both vintage and village to achieve innocuous consistency from bottle to bottle. Pascal crafts wines that speak to particular plots and specific years. The names of his bottlings reflect his ethos: “Terroirs,” “Les Sept Crus,” and “Minérals”… He also believes that all Champagne should eventually be vintage-dated. In a boldly experimental move, he recently replanted a vineyard with a number of the region’s historic, “lost” varieties: Pinot Meslier, Arban and Pinot Blanc. Alongside the usual Chardonnay, Pinot Noir and Pinot Meunier, these grapes, he hopes, will yield a field blend that more aptly expresses the distinct character of the site. (He will pick all of the varieties at the same time, vinify them together, and offer only vintage bottlings.) Of course, the Syndicat does not approve of these varieties, and has denied Pascal the right to label this wine “Grand Cru,” even though the vineyard is so classified. I admire his willingness to sacrifice status for the sake of transparency. Yet, I must also point out that his decision may make this wine more difficult to sell at the price that its quality otherwise demands. He shrugs, raises his palms, and scoffs, “I don’t care!”

To reward us for surviving countless more tank and barrel samples, Pascal brings our visit to a close with a bottle of 1988 Agrapart. Although twenty years old, the wine stuns us with freshness and precision. This is the first vintage of Agrapart that Michael imported to the U.S. The four of us finish the bottle, and head to dinner at a hotel bistro in Epernay. A meal of braised pork cheeks in heavy sauce caps the evening. The unnamed vin de table served alongside expresses intense, yet simple red fruit, and almost sweet cocoa flavors. This “international” style seems soulless and clumsy after our intimate and inspiring afternoon with Natalie and Pascal.