Aman Le Mélézin

Among conifers, the larch is the odd one out. Every autumn it turns gold, sheds its needles and stands bare through winter among spruces that have kept their green coats on. Aman Le Mélézin is named after that tree, and it has always played a similar trick. In an Aman family of tropical pavilions and serene stone retreats, here is a Savoyard château in the snow. And in Courchevel 1850, where the grand hotels unveil fresh reasons to be impressed every winter, it has made a quieter career out of staying itself.

The story began as Le Savoy, a family hotel where Adrian Zecha, Aman's founder, used to ski. He acquired the house, brought in architect Ed Tuttle, and in 1992 it reopened as one of the group's earliest outposts. Under the slate roof, aged oak, carved wood, parquet and discreet works of art feel more like a carefully kept home than a set built for Alpine glamour. The craftsmanship is detailed enough to keep you looking, but the rooms do not demand that you look. That is a rare form of manners in this part of the mountain.

There are now twenty-eight rooms, suites and apartments above the Bellecôte piste, a small number by the standards of Courchevel's competing palaces. Some open onto balconies and terraces; in selected suites, a cedar hot tub steams in the cold while skiers make their final descent. The village and its glitter are close enough to borrow whenever wanted. Back inside, they can be left politely at the door. This is a house for people who measure a ski hotel less by the number of restaurants it owns than by how glad they are to return at five o'clock.

That hour is its quiet triumph. Skis are handed over, boots vanish into the care of the ski team and the room by the fire begins to fill with the soft exhaustion of a day outside. A glass of something warming appears, the windows turn dark and nobody has to make an entrance. The place still seems to remember that it was once a family hotel rather than an international brand. In Courchevel, a relaxed welcome can feel much more extravagant than another chandelier.

The Japanese roots of Aman have made it to the dinner table. Akari serves sashimi, sushi, wagyu and warming bowls of ramen, a welcome alternative to a week of fondue. The hotel also offers yakiniku on the terrace. Below, the spa has a swimming pool, hot tubs, hammam and spaces devoted to movement and recovery. None of it tries to outsize the resort's newest pleasure palaces. It aims instead to make the time between skiing and sleep feel unusually well spent.

By Courchevel standards, some of the house can seem almost old-fashioned. Neighbours offer more restaurants, louder bars and elaborate new entertainments; there are fewer reasons here to dress for an audience. The spa is a sanctuary rather than a spectacle, and the bill is every bit as serious as at hotels that put on a bigger show. A different scene every evening is not on offer here. For its regulars, consistency is precisely the attraction.

In winter the larch looks like the tree that forgot to keep up. Yet its timber has built Alpine houses for centuries. Le Mélézin has the same gift: faintly behind the times in February, and the place its guests are still thinking about in July.