For a long time, we thought the gin market lacked everything except gin. Shelves full. Spectacular bottles. The same claims repeated word for word: distilled, premium, handcrafted.

And yet, tasting these gins, the same impression returned: too little soul. Twenty or so botanicals, a burnt-still finish, and the pride of being expensive. Form before flavour.

If you are just looking for another gin, the rest of the market is there. We were looking for something else.

Pablo García — a Michelin-starred chef with fifteen years in Michelin kitchens, formerly best young chef in Spain — had just opened his hotel-innovation atelier in the canton of Vaud. A wine-maker, also creator of a Cabernet Sauvignon voted best in the world, was then running a cellar in Valais.

They met around a question. Not around a business plan, nor a creative brief. A simple question:

“What if a gin could tell the story of this landscape?”

Valais is not a backdrop. It is a vertical territory: vineyards on terraces, steep slopes, pure mountain light, grapes that few people still work as single-varietals — Chasselas, Pinot Noir, Cabernet Franc, Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot.

Above the vineyards, the high plateaus. Above the plateaus, the Titlis glacier — its water filters slowly, at a rate of fifteen thousand years. It is this water that serves as the base for each of our distillations.

The terroir imposed its own logic: if we wanted to tell this landscape, we had to use its own materials. No Romanian juniper, no city water. Valais grape. Glacier water. Alpine herbs.

Technique is not a posture. It is a necessity. Hot distillation destroys the most delicate aromas — precisely those that make a gin recognisable. So we distil cold, under vacuum, on a rotovap. The aromas evaporate at low temperature. The nuances remain intact.

For fruits and grapes we use ultrasonic maceration: micro-cavitations that extract the matter with finesse, without burning it. More aromatic intensity, no heaviness.

Luxury is not a demonstration. These are tools at the service of flavour. Not a marketing argument — a condition for making what we wanted to make.

Six expressions are open to tasting: the Sommet range, the two Terroirs, the three Grand Crus. Each tells a precise fragment of Valais.

But we wanted to go further. Not just to make people drink — to allow them to become creators of their own gin. Five sensory questions, interpreted with care, and we distil your bottle to order.

That is our promise, and it fits in one sentence:

« Tell us what you like to drink. We will make your personal Swiss gin from it. »