Chapter 25: Pinot Noir (3)
TL: Hanguk
After driving for about an hour from Napa Valley, we arrived at a vineyard that, at first glance, did not look very different from our own farm.
When the unfamiliar vehicle pulled up at the farm entrance, a middle-aged man with a bald head and a red beard walked out from the building. His overall impression was almost like a tall dwarf.
“You want a pre-purchase?”
At a glance, he looked angry, but perhaps because he seemed like that kind of person to begin with, Dad was not intimidated at all and stepped forward, holding out his hand.
“I’m Woody Choi.”
“... Steven Hart.”
“We’d like to take a look at the condition of the farm first.”
Skipping any small talk and immediately saying he wanted to see the farm seemed like a good choice. Dad was not very good at small talk, and if he talked too much with the farm owner, there was a risk of getting carried away and inflating the value unnecessarily.
He looked us over for a moment, then nodded.
“Let’s go.”
He leisurely walked up through the farm, and I carefully examined the vines. There were no signs of pests or disease, no withered vines or branches, and the soil was soft, enough to make me already look forward to the grapes that would be harvested in the fall.
Of course, that did not mean it felt better than Redwood Farm, where the soil quality had been solidly designed with biochar compound fertilizer and nitrogen fertilizer packs.
Steven Hart, who had been walking up the hill ahead of us, came to an abrupt stop and turned around so the entire farm was visible at a glance, pointing to one section with his hand.
“This is Block C. West of that boundary over there is D. Farther over there are E and F. The pre-purchase scale has to be at least by block. The area behind that is already contracted, so there’s no need to look.”
“How much yield comes out of Block C?”
“About 24 tons.”
Dad glanced at me once and then asked again.
“And if we include D?”
“That one’s a bit smaller, so it’ll come out to about 45 tons total. But do you have any experience? That’s quite a volume.”
His gaze was suspicious, but Dad responded without making a big deal of it.
“If the volume is large, does that mean you’ll make it cheaper?”
“...... Well, for me, as long as I sell the grapes.”
“How about a contract combining Blocks C and D, 45 tons, three years fixed plus a two-year option?”
“A total five-year contract? What’s the price per ton?”
“2,300 dollars.”
Before coming, we had contacted all kinds of places and checked the market prices. A wine broker introduced by Pierce Morgan had informed us of the most up-to-date wine prices across farms throughout California, so we were confident.
“That’s too low.”
“White Fog Farm next door signed at 2,250 dollars.”
At Dad’s words, his expression immediately twisted into a frown.
“Which bastard is running his mouth everywhere. Damn it...”
“We’ll pay 20% as an advance and raise it by 3% every year starting next year.”
“Only 20%?”
“If you want 30%, we’ll have no choice but to go to the farm next door.”
The furrow between Steven’s brows deepened. If we had seemed like people who did not know much, he might have tried to bluff, but since we mentioned White Fog Farm and even cited the exact price, he realized that the Asian father and son in front of him were not fools.
“Our farm’s Pinot Noir is the best in California.”
“I know. That’s why we’re offering 2,300 dollars.”
“Even so, it’s not enough. I’ll accept the 20%, so let’s do 2,500 dollars.”
Knowing well the value of the Pinot Noir harvested from his own farm, he suddenly raised the price significantly. But Dad shrugged his shoulders and said,
“You know that wine prices per gallon are plummeting right now regardless of variety, right? We’re taking on risk as well.”
“......”
“Let’s do 2,350 dollars. We’ll match it up to that point. If you want 2,500 dollars, you’ll have to look for another customer.”
Steven smacked his lips, apparently aware that wine was oversupplied in the current market and prices were falling across the board, then soon nodded.
“Let’s do that. 2,350 dollars.”
“The remaining balance will be paid within 30 days after delivery. Instead, MOG (Material Other than Grain; foreign matter other than agricultural produce) must be 1% or less, and rotten fruit also 1% or less. Harvesting must be done by hand, and please use 0.5-ton boxes, and if possible, we request dawn harvesting.”
“Seems I asked about your experience for nothing. In exchange, dawn harvesting adds labor costs for us, so we’ll need to charge an additional 50 dollars per ton.”
He seemed convinced that if he had asked for a higher price, the deal would have fallen through. Someone without experience would not have brought up the conditions Dad had just proposed.
The reason for harvesting by hand was that machine harvesting causes many berries to burst, and varieties with thin skins like Pinot Noir suffer even more damage. Once the berries burst, they come into contact with air and browning and oxidation begin, which can cause problems with wine quality.
Asking to transport them in 0.5-ton boxes was to point out that grapes loaded on the bottom layer could be crushed and burst, and the reason for harvesting at dawn was that the fruit is cold and firm at that time, preventing the aroma from volatilizing.
All of these characteristics are areas that must be handled with extra care precisely because it is Pinot Noir with its thin skin, so they were points that had to be mentioned.
After that, Dad drafted an MOU with him, discussing and setting various options such as target Brix, the timing for deciding the harvest, and the ratio of risk burden due to natural disasters.
“Thank you. Let’s finalize the formal contract with the lawyers.”
“Let’s do that. Thank you for providing good grapes.”
“I hope you make good wine.”
The farm owner, Steven, wore a relieved expression. With wine prices currently falling, making wine himself carried too much risk to touch, and since he had secured sales through a futures contract, his burden had clearly been eased.
On the way back in the car, I asked Dad,
“When did you study all that?”
“Oh, that stuff earlier? You know the broker you introduced me to. Mr. Richard. I called him and asked him a ton of questions. By the end, his voice was getting more and more tired. Hahaha!”
“Hahaha! You did great.”
“But I did call for 45 tons. That’s not too much, right?”
Forty-five tons of grapes as-is would yield roughly about 25,000 liters when made into wine. It was quite a large amount, but since it was about half of the total grape production at Redwood Farm, it was not a case of the cure being worse than the disease.
Just the right amount to make a nice side profit.
“It won’t be. If worst comes to worst, we can later unload it as daily wine grade without taking a big loss.”
“Then now the only problem is making the Pinot Noir into a good wine... Dad is counting on you.”
“Of course. I told you to trust me.”
I boasted loudly. After making such a bold claim, that evening we received confirmation of acceptance from UC Davis and threw a party at home.
Time flew by again in an instant, and it became late May.
Because of someone’s (?) report, half of the undocumented immigrants who had mainly been working in Napa Valley disappeared, making it very difficult to find laborers, but even so, my parents were handling things well.
And I was finally approaching my graduation.
“Time really flies.”
The stage set up on the athletic field was decorated with blue and gold balloons. Graduates wearing shimmering gowns under the sunlight were seated in rows, with their mortarboards sitting neatly atop their heads.
The stands were packed with parents, relatives, and friends. Placards with children’s names written on them, large bouquets of flowers, colorful balloons, and even camera flashes... some people already had moist eyes.
On the stage, the principal spoke in a composed voice.
“Class of 2004, congratulations on your graduation!”
In an instant, cheers and applause burst out from the stands. My heart pounded at the thunderous clapping. Even though I had regressed once, my body had grown younger, and it seemed my heart had too, because it felt strangely moving.
I brushed the hem of my blue gown once with my hand and glanced sideways at Armando sitting next to me. He had already taken off his cap and was fanning himself with it, his face drenched in sweat.
“Damn it, this is why Mexican graduations are held at night. The sun is way too hot.”
“They say sunlight is a blessing here.”
When I laughed, Armando grumbled but ended up letting out a snort of laughter. Jacob, who was behind us, leaned forward and whispered.
“If you have time, come help out at our farm sometime.”
“Alright.”
Jacob was just as serious about farming as I was, so whenever he had a chance, he would ask all sorts of questions, and then something must have come up because he went as far as inviting me outright. Jacob’s farm was quite far away, so it was not somewhere I could casually go like visiting a friend’s house. I would have to make up my mind and really plan the trip.
A little farther away, Chloe turned her head and looked my way. A white dress peeked slightly from beneath her golden gown. She fiddled with the tip of her mortarboard and smiled softly.
"It's really graduation now. Thanks to you."
“It wasn’t anything like that... I helped because I got something out of it too.”
“That’s kind of a hurtful thing to say, you know?”
“Is it? That’s just how farmers are. We help each other and get help in return.”
“I see. Anyway, we’ve entered the harvest now. The results will come out soon. Before, I thought I absolutely had to win, but strangely enough, now I feel like even if I lose, I won’t have any regrets.”
“Why?”
“Because I did my best. And... Dad said that if I want, he’ll let me try running another farm.”
“Wow... that really is a different level.”
Cherry farms had been stretching endlessly, and Chloe’s family place seemed almost like a corporate-scale farm.
“Anyway, congratulations on graduating! I can’t go to the graduation party, but have fun with Evan.”
She flinched for a moment, then said,
“I broke up with Evan. And I need to check on the cherry harvest too, so I’m not planning to go to the party.”
“You... you’ve really become a true farmer now, didn't you?"
She gave a smile that was hard to read and then turned her head away.
At that moment, the emcee called the student representative up to the stage. First in the entire school, the valedictorian. The clear, deliberate speech echoed across the athletic field.
“We have dreamed even in the midst of hardship. And today, we begin a new path.”
Cheers and applause followed from the crowd. Watching the scene that stirred my heart to an unusual degree, I made a silent vow to myself.
‘This time, I won’t fail. In farming, and in life too...’
My heart burned hot, as warm and intense as the sunlight.
***** For extra chapters, you can read them on my Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/HangukTranslations.
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