Chapter 20: Redwood Reserve Vinegar(3)
TL: Hanguk
I returned home and printed out the label image Rachel had sent, then showed it to my dad and mom.
“How is it? Take a look.”
“Oh my~ it looks so convincing.”
"Hmm... I think it looks pretty good..."
Grape vines and deep purplish grape clusters, and Redwood Reserve Vinegar engraved in a neat serif font. Beneath that, the phrase ‘Premium Handcrafted Grape Vinegar’, printed as if softly blurred, had a subtly luxurious feel.
“Now we have to match the bottle, the cap, and the label too. Let’s go.”
“Let’s do it.”
We headed straight into town. After driving for quite a while through downtown Napa Valley, we arrived at a bottle manufacturing plant that looked like an old warehouse that had been remodeled, but once inside, shiny stainless steel equipment and packaging lines were neatly lined up. The factory manager took out a few sample bottles and showed them to us as he spoke.
“750ml Bordeaux style, 500ml slim, and this one is a 375ml flint type. For vinegar, usually 500ml is a safe choice.”
“This one.”
I picked up the slim 500ml bottle. I could picture the purplish vinegar filling the clear glass.
My father asked bluntly.
“What’s the unit price per bottle?”
“Can you do over 5,000?”
“To start, 20,000.”
When he heard the larger-than-expected quantity, his eyes widened, and he showed us the unit price listed on the order sheet as he said,
“Then it’s 60 cents. That includes the cap and shrink film.”
Listening to this, Dad immediately frowned.
“That’s too expensive.”
“I have to charge 60 cents.”
“It’s our first deal together, and if you treat us well, we could keep ordering in the future... Please give us a better price.”
At my dad’s hesitant proposal, the factory manager asked us to wait for a moment. After quite some time, he came back out and smiled bitterly as if he had given in.
“I’ll do it for 55 cents. I can’t go any lower.”
“All right. It can’t be helped. Then let’s sign the contract at 55 cents.”
Dad nodded and signed the contract. The first order quantity was 20,000 bottles. We carefully checked the label specifications, attachment position, and print quantity.
That evening, the winery was busy. The vinegar that had finished aging in the fermentation tanks was filtered and transferred into bottles along the stainless steel line. My father stood beside it, watching the bottling process while constantly pressing the camera shutter.
Dad had been studying on his own by watching the videos and photos he had saved so far, making constant efforts so that he could do everything by himself later even if I wasn’t around.
“If your mom sees this, she’ll faint. It’ll be hard to believe that all of this came from our farm.”
“We’ll just make her believe it. Ah, I should contact Mr. John.”
“John? You mean the former farm owner?”
“Yes. He agreed to handle grape distribution for two years, remember?”
"Ah, that's right."
He probably didn’t know that we were making vinegar from grapes with low market value. So if we wanted to, we could secretly supply products without involving him, but I didn’t think that way.
Promises had to be kept, and taking care of distribution on our own would have been too much work for my parents and me.
A few days later, early in the morning, John Anderson arrived at the farm. The first thing he did was smell the sour grape scent filling the winery, and he was greatly surprised.
“What is this? You made vinegar in the winery?”
It had been a while since I last saw him, and he had gained a bit of weight compared to when he sold the farm. I could imagine how much mental anguish he must have gone through when the farm was failing. Now he seemed to be doing better, and his expression looked noticeably brighter.
“Yes. It tastes good too.”
“So that’s why you called me...”
His pupils wavered as he took in the grape scent filling the winery. He had thought it was a failed farm, with no hope, and the fact that we had created something out of those low-value grapes came as a shock to him.
“Would you like to try some?”
“Sure.”
I poured a little straight from the stainless steel tank and handed it to him, and he smelled it first before bringing it to his lips.
“Mmm...”
After closing his eyes for a moment and fully savoring the flavor of the vinegar, he looked at me with astonished eyes.
“Did your father make this?”
“I made it.”
“You? This?”
“Yes.”
“You handled all of these facilities yourself?”
“Of course.”
He thought it was impossible. If this process were that easy, why would he have given up the farm?
Although he had gone through great hardship due to the disasters that had struck over several years, what hurt even more was that he had not been able to produce proper wine. If he had succeeded even once, there would have been no reason to give up such a precious farm.
And yet, the fact that an Asian who had not even entered college had created such an excellent vinegar, even if it was not wine, shocked him.
“So how much are you planning to sell this for?”
“We plan to supply it to you at 7 dollars per bottle.”
“To me, for 7 dollars?”
“Yes. After that, we won’t care how much Mr. John charges.”
“Did you get your father’s permission?”
As I shrugged my shoulders, the winery door opened and Dad appeared.
“Mr. John, you’re here. Of all times, I happened to be washing up...”
After shaking hands with Dad, John alternated his gaze between me and the vinegar and asked,
“Is it really true that your son made this?”
“That’s right. He’s amazing, isn’t he?”
“My goodness... I’ve heard there are many Asian geniuses among accountants and doctors... is farming like that too?”
Dad just smiled awkwardly at the praise of his son, and I didn’t bother to react either. I focused on getting ready to leave, loading the vinegar into the car and gathering the composition test report I had already prepared, along with various other documents.
“Let’s go. We have to leave quickly.”
“Let’s do that.”
John Anderson followed us down from the farm with a complicated expression and got into the car. It was obvious what he was thinking. He was probably regretting having given up the farm too early.
“How many bottles have you made?”
As expected, he was already tapping away at a calculator in his head.
“For now, there are about 10,000 liters in the tanks.”
“20,000 bottles?”
“Yes.”
If all 20,000 bottles sold at 7 dollars each, that would be 140,000 dollars. He had sold the farm for 800,000 dollars, and in fact, the amount this Asian immigrant had spent was only about 40,000 dollars. And yet, in less than a year, they would be making 140,000 dollars?
His face twisted sharply, as if his stomach were burning to the point of nausea. But he soon corrected his expression and said,
“I’ll do my best to sell it.”
“Thank you.”
He had avoided the pressure from investors by selling the farm, but he would surely need a source of income, so he clearly had to make a good profit from this. The harder he sold, the better the farm-made vinegar would sell, so neither my parents nor I could have any complaints.
“But where are we going first?”
“Carson, California. The Bristol Farms headquarters.”
As I answered while getting into the car, John Anderson suddenly stopped in his tracks.
“We’re going to Carson from here? Do you know it’s a four-hour drive by car?”
“That’s why we’re leaving in the morning.”
“There’s no reason to go all the way there just to sell vinegar, is there?”
That was entirely true. No matter how high the retail price was, it was clear that the vinegar would fluctuate around 12 or 13 dollars, so there was no need to go that far just to sell it. Even so, there was a reason for going all the way to the Bristol Farms headquarters. It was a grocery chain that operated about ten stores in California and handled top-tier ingredients.
If we made a good impression here, it would not be unreasonable to get our vinegar and wine into the Bristol Farms store located inside the Macy’s department store at South Coast Plaza.
“We’re not going to make just this vinegar and be done with it. We’re going to sell the wine we produce next year there as well, so it would be good to get acquainted with the Bristol Farms MD in advance. The same goes for you, Mr. John.”
I said it would be good for him too since he would be handling distribution exclusively for two years now, but John Anderson had a thoughtful expression. Soon, however, he got into the car, fastened his seat belt, and said,
“Let’s go for now.”
Since we were already firmly resolved, Dad and I ate a hearty breakfast and set off for Carson. We stopped by a supermarket briefly for John along the way, but we did not linger for long.
With 300 bottles of vinegar loaded in the back of the truck, we drove for over four hours and finally arrived at the Bristol Farms headquarters. Meeting the food department MD there was not difficult. That was partly because we had already secured a meeting through email before leaving, but surprisingly, he was someone who was acquainted with John Anderson.
“Well, look who it is. Isn’t that Mark?”
“Good to see you, John. Have you been well?”
“You know how I’ve been. This guy here is Mark Davis. I’ve known him since my father was making and supplying wine. And this is Woody Choi. He’s the owner of the farm.”
“Nice to meet you. Still, it’s good to see you after so long. Please, have a seat. But you’re selling vinegar instead of wine?”
Although John Anderson had only learned about it this morning, he had received plenty of instruction(?) from me on the way, so he was able to explain it very smoothly.
“Let’s put the explanation aside for now and taste it first, shall we?”
Seeing the Asian father and son, Mark’s eyes were filled with suspicion, and John abruptly opened a sample bottle first. He picked up the bottle with a half-doubtful expression and carefully scanned the label.
“Redwood Reserve Vinegar...”
The vinegar poured into the glass caught the light, and its purplish hue glowed softly like an amethyst. Mark brought it to his nose and smelled it, and in that instant, his expression changed. He cautiously took a sip into his mouth, then looked at us with a slightly surprised face.
“Did Mr. John make this?”
“No. I’m the one who handles distribution for the people who made this.”
“Ah... remarkable. Not only the aroma of the vinegar, but this deep flavor and lingering finish... I’d say it truly deserves to be called an aged vinegar.”
“It’s a taste that needs no explanation, isn’t it?”
“Honestly... I can’t help but acknowledge it. What about the documents we requested?”
I immediately handed over the necessary documents, including the ingredient analysis report and the farm contract. He carefully reviewed the paperwork, then promptly made copies and returned them to me.
“What price have you set for the supply?”
I turned my gaze to John. John looked straight at Mark and said firmly,
“I’ll do it at 9 dollars.”
Since we were supplying it to John at 7 dollars per bottle, that meant he would earn 2 dollars. Mark’s face immediately twisted.
“9 dollars? Hmm... that’s too much, isn’t it?”
“It’s absolutely not too much. For an aged vinegar with such a rich grape aroma, couldn’t it easily sell for 13 dollars or more?”
“The brand is weak.”
“I know. But I don’t think it would be impossible to sell if we put our minds to it. If consumers just get to taste it through promotional events, it’ll sell like wildfire.”
“Hmm...”
He crossed his arms and pondered for a long time, then stared intently at the vinegar bottle label and asked,
“Is the aroma and taste consistent?”
Dad answered.
“Of course. No matter which bottle you open, you’ll experience the same taste.”
“What’s the production volume?”
“A total of 20,000 bottles, and we brought 300 bottles today.”
“Hoo... all right. Then let’s contract for 300 bottles first, and I’ll request additional orders after seeing how they sell.”
“Good decision.”
John immediately shook hands with Mark and swiftly wrapped up the related paperwork. Then, after unloading the 300 bottles of vinegar packed in boxes, we left and headed home. By the time we arrived, it was already dark, near evening.
“I’ll come back again tomorrow.”
When he had first arrived and seen the winery, John’s face had been dark, but now it was shining with hope.
“He looks excited.”
“I guess he can see hope now.”
“Probably. Dad understands how he feels.”
“Anyway, we earned money with our own hands for the first time. 2,100 dollars. It’s modest as a contract payment, but still, not a bad first deal, right?”
“Of course~”
Seeing Dad’s brightly smiling face, it wasn’t only John who was filled with hope.
The next day, John showed up in the morning with his pickup truck and left with 100 bottles loaded. It was to promote them to all the stores around Napa. This was exactly why we had a separate distributor. We needed someone who would go around in person, promote the product, and handle sales promotions on our behalf. Even the huge wine estates didn’t work with distributors for no reason.
And then, that very day,
“Hahaha, I’ve already signed contracts for 2,000 bottles! They’ll pay as soon as we deliver the goods!”
The phone call from John made my parents and me giddy with excitement. Two thousand bottles in just one day... But that wasn’t the end of it. Around the evening, John’s excited voice practically hit the phone.
“Bristol Farms contacted me. They say all 300 bottles sold out! Hahaha! They immediately requested 5,000 more!”
Dad, who had taken the call, looked at Mom and me and said,
“I think we’re going to become rich at this rate!”
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