50-year-old Gamay vines sitting atop blue granite at 1800 feet elevation. Extreme sorting, whole cluster ferment, 50% stainless, 50% neutral demi-muid. Smoky raspberry, black cherry, kirsch on palate with real precision on the palate and a peppery finish. The tete-de-cuvee here.

Leave Christophe Lapierre's driveway in Chénas headed towards Yves Cuilleron's quilt of Northern Rhone lieu dits, and you'll cross a tiny AOC... They call it the Coteaux de Lyonnais.

There is a reason for that - Very little wine is made in the Lyonnais, and much of what goes into bottle is treasured by those who live locally. It is not an exaggeration to claim that nearly every bottle produced here is gleefully scooped up, vintage after vintage, for use in the nearby restaurants and cavistes of Lyon. Today's wares would have lived a similar fate if it was not for the intervention of our friend Adrien Carrard (thanks Adrien!).

Tour the region and you'll feel the influence of Beaujolais in a major way - Gamay and Chardonnay reign supreme in the Lyonnais, with many of the vines here rooted into the same blue granite soil (aka Diorite) that makes Brouilly taste uniquely like Brouilly. Whole cluster ferments are the norm for reds, vineyards are usually very old, and glamour is nonexistent in the best possible way. Enter Domaine Roustaing-Tayard. 

Emmanuel Rostaing-Tayard grew up in the Lyonnais village of Savigny, went on to travel and intern at some iconic addresses (including Domaine Lafarge and Burn Cottage!), and upon returning to his hometown four years ago Emmanuel was presented with the opportunity to save what were the last two plots of the local, nearly-extinct varietal called Gamay de Savigny. Later that year, Emmanuel went on to save the last plot of old vines in neighboring Récy. 

A new domaine was born, now composed of 8 hectares of various small sites, all farmed biodynamically with the help of his sister Claire, who until recently worked as an herbalist in the town center. French tract housing developers had a sudden Robin Hood-meets Johnny Appleseed type of enemy to contend with as Emmanuel cleverly thwarted their zoning plans using French agricultural tradition as his raison d'être with the local politicians.

Folks in town started coming up with all sorts of nicknames for this wonderkid, both positive and negative depending on their status as normal citizens or developers.

Emmanuel the "King of Lyon."