Chapter 30: UC Davis(2)
TL: Hanguk
Armando, Chloe, Jacob, and I all entered the same UC Davis, and we were all admitted to the College of Agricultural and Environmental Sciences, but our majors were all different.
Armando was in Agricultural and Resource Economics, Chloe was in Plant Sciences, and Jacob was in Agronomy. So even though we attended the college orientation together, we had to split up when dividing into groups by major.
As the brief welcome speech ended at the college orientation, upperclassmen volunteering in the back waved their hands.
"Now we'll divide into groups by major!"
In the hallway, small placards were already being held up. The one that stood out at a glance was Viticulture & Enology. When I followed the student holding that picket, about fifteen freshmen around my same age were gathered close together.
The small lecture room we were led to had a map of grape cultivation blocks posted on one wall, and on the opposite side hung a photo of equipment that looked like a small model of stainless tanks. On the long table at the front, tasting glasses and wine bottles were lined up neatly. The paper labels read ‘Student Lot'. Without realizing it, my brow lifted slightly.
One professor in a gray suit, an academic advisor in a short-sleeved shirt, and two or three juniors and seniors welcomed us. And I quietly hid my face behind the student in front of me when I noticed someone familiar among them.
After finishing his introduction, the professor began writing a bold title on the whiteboard with a marker pen.
“...... As for explaining the courses, in the first year you take Intro to Soil Science and Introduction to Viticulture and Enology based on General Chemistry, Biology, Physics, and Calculus. From the second year, you go into Viticulture, Enology, and Sensory Evaluation. And...”
He wrote ‘field & facility’ on the board and raised his head.
“One of the important reasons you chose this school, you’ll get to see the teaching vineyard and the pilot winery facility today.”
At those words, the students looked around at one another with eyes full of anticipation. The fact that they could actually grow grapes and make wine, not just sit and listen to lectures, was what made the young students excited.
After that, a simple Q&A went back and forth, and the academic advisor pointed out, in order, the course registration system, when to choose a major, and where to check postings for research assistant (RA) positions.
At this, someone shot a hand up and asked.
"Do freshmen actually get hands-on experience when making wine?"
The female student who had snapped at me earlier raised one corner of her mouth and answered.
"First-years have to start with cleaning, right?"
A light laugh spread through the lecture room. When I, too, let out a small snort of laughter, the professor picked up one wine bottle on the table and gave it a shake.
“And today, the second-year students prepared a little wine they made to welcome the freshmen. Have you all done a tasting? Ah, which team made this?”
That same female student raised her hand.
“It was our team.”
“Oh, Siena. You’re the team leader, right?”
“That’s right.”
The woman called Siena smiled with satisfaction.
With a benevolent smile, the professor poured the wine from the glass bottle into a cup, lightly sniffed the aroma, and then brought it straight to his mouth to taste. Siena stared at him as if her eyes were fixed in place as his mouth worked.
“You made it well. Is it the Viognier variety? The core of the fruit aroma doesn’t waver, and the sweetness isn’t excessive. Everyone, this is your senior’s skill. If you focus on your classes and pour in passion and sincerity, you can definitely make wine like this... no, even better wine than this. Well done.”
Siena beamed and shrugged her shoulders at the praise. But as the professor was patting her shoulder, he brought his face closer to Siena and whispered softly.
“Everything was good, but next time it would be better if you paid a bit more attention to temperature control.”
In an instant, Siena’s face stiffened. She was grateful for the professor’s consideration in trying not to point out shortcomings in front of the students, yet she was also shocked that, that freshman’s criticism earlier hadn’t been mere bluster.
“I’ll be careful.”
“Good, you’re doing well. At this level, it’s not bad. It’s quite excellent.”
The professor patted Siena on the shoulder, finished a few words, and then disappeared. Now, in front of the winery, there were only the upperclassmen from the school.
A tall, pale-faced man who had been standing next to Siena stepped forward. His body was lean and he had slightly curly hair, looking like the stereotypical white elite.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Matthew Higgins. I’m a third-year, and from now on I’ll tell you about the school’s rules and the things you absolutely need to know. Listen well...”
No matter what school you go to, there are always some trivial rules, so I listened expecting some nonsense, but surprisingly there really wasn’t much. Things like, being late disrupts other students so come to class on time whenever possible, or advice that if you get good grades, you can get a good job.
“Never fight, and if some kind of trouble comes up between people, come find me or the seniors and ask for help resolving it...”
It was all very normal, I suppose? And then,
“And this friend here is Siena Harrington. She’s the daughter of the farm owner of Harrington Vineyards in Sonoma County. Once you graduate and go out into society, you’ll hear that name a lot. So starting now, make sure you stay on her good side.”
So it turned out she was the daughter of a pretty prominent family. Harrington Vineyards is a huge farm I’d heard of a few times myself, and I’d heard they had several hundred acres in the northwest of Sonoma County. They say it’s at least ten times the minimum size of Redwood Farm.
But Siena snorted and pointed at Matthew.
“He’s no joke either, you know? He’s the son of the farm owner of Castello Vineyards in Napa Valley.”
That man who looked like he’d come out of Harry Potter was no joke either. Castello Vineyards in the northern part of Napa Valley is known for producing the best Cabernet Sauvignon. Of course, the land itself is also a major farm of over a hundred acres.
There must be a few more major farms like this, but if I limit it to this school, aren’t those two basically the one-two punch of California wine families?
"It was nice meeting everyone. Get home safely."
“Can we drink more wine?”
Someone raised a hand, but senior Matthew shook his head.
“Just one glass each. It’ll be a problem if you get drunk. After a year, you can drink as much as you want, so until then, focus on your studies.”
Wasn’t that the very model of exemplary?
I also nodded, looking at senior Matthew with satisfaction, and it was when I turned my body to go home.
“Hey, wait a second.”
I tried to ignore it and keep walking, but someone grabbed my arm. Turning around with as much of a smile at the corner of my mouth as I could manage, I saw Siena staring at me with an intense gaze.
"How did you know the temperature was wrong just by tasting it?"
“......”
“Fine, even if I give you a hundred concessions, sure, you could feel that there was a problem with the taste. But how could a mere freshman know that the cause was the temperature? My dad couldn’t even do that.”
Of course. Ordinary people are just people who enjoy wine. Someone like Siena’s dad, as a winery owner, would be a bit different, but even so, by my standards he was only someone who knew a little more than the average person.
But I was different. Back when I was at Cornell University, I’d taken on quite a lot of wine-related projects won from the Department of Agriculture (USDA) and the California Department of Food and Agriculture.
Starting with viticulture methods to respond to climate change, using new yeast and MLF starters, strengthening aroma and color stability during fermentation, water-saving vineyard management, and so on... Cornell University had its own wine research institute, so even while doing various research projects on farming methods unrelated to wine, I could carry out projects like these at the same time.
In the end, the reason I’d drunk an enormous amount of wine before my regression wasn’t because I enjoyed wine, but because of research. So there was no choice but for me to be clearly different from ordinary people...
“I make wine too.”
That was the best answer I could come up with after thinking as hard as I could.
“You make wine? Where’s your winery? Sonoma? Napa?”
“Napa. Redwood Farm is my family’s.”
“Redwood?”
As if she didn’t know it well, Siena’s brow twitched.
Even though it was as much as fifteen acres, from her perspective it must have seemed like a small farm, so she probably didn’t even know it existed. It’s the size of six soccer fields...
"There is such a place..."
"So you're making wine then? It must be better than what I made, right?"
“Um... sorry, but we took over the farm last fall, so the proper harvest for wine is this fall. So we don’t have any wine.”
Siena’s face immediately twisted. He’d harshly criticized the wine she’d made, but now the other person didn’t even have any wine to be evaluated, and that annoyed her.
"What, you're all talk then?"
"Well, maybe..."
Was it because I nodded too readily? Siena grew even more curious.
“You said earlier the problem with the wine was the temperature, right? Then what exactly should I have done?”
“Even if I don’t tell you, if you go home and watch how wine is made, you’ll figure it out on your own.”
“Tell me properly.”
“The temperature was high. For the details, go to the winery and check. The initial temperature they set will be different from the way you did it.”
“Initial?”
Harrington Winery was famous, so they were surely making proper wine, and the early fermentation temperature would have been set correctly based on their experience up to now.
The problem with the wine she made was that the temperature rose too much at the beginning of fermentation, so the yeast got stressed and pulled out a lot of unnecessary astringency. If she properly learned Harrington Winery’s wine-production method, she could definitely fix it.
“...”
“Then...”
Siena stared blankly at the Asian man disappearing into the distance, then gathered up the wine she’d made in its entirety. Seeing that, Matthew asked.
"Leaving?"
“Yeah. Ask the others to handle the cleanup.”
With the wine in hand, Siena drove the over-two-hour distance back to Healdsburg, where her home was. She headed straight to her father, who was talking with someone in the living room.
“Dad, are you busy?”
Mark Harrington, her father, asked the person he’d been talking with for a moment’s understanding, then spoke in a somewhat stern voice.
“Could you show some manners when Dad is having a business conversation?”
"... I'm sorry."
Mark noticed the small stainless container in his daughter’s hand and, suddenly curious, asked.
“What’s that?”
“The wine I made. I tried making it at school, but...”
Only then did Mark realize she hadn’t come to find him for no reason, and he gestured with his chin.
“Oh? Bring it here.”
Siena brought over the stainless container and a few wine glasses. The person who seemed to be her father’s guest watched with great interest as well.
“Did you bring it to show off?”
“No. Someone said there was a problem, and I was curious.”
“Oh? Really? That’s a good attitude.”
Mark felt very pleased that she wasn’t simply trying to brag, but had found a problem and come to her father for advice.
His daughter poured the wine herself, and after Mark tasted it together with the guest, he set the glass down after fully savoring the sensation of the wine swirling around the edge of his mouth.
"This is impressive."
The praise from her father’s guest didn’t reach her ears. She only flicked a glance and then looked right at her father, and Mark grinned.
“I am satisfied too.”
"Really satisfied?"
“What kind of evaluation did you get with this wine that you’re acting like this?”
“They said the astringency was strong.”
At that, Mark’s eyes widened.
"There is a tendency toward that, but it's not that severe. This is excellent. What varietal did you use?"
“Viognier.”
“Siena, at this level it’s excellent. Sometimes even wines sold on the market come out with this much astringency.”
“But our family’s wine isn’t like that.”
“Well... that’s true.”
"If someone asked you to buy it and drink it, would you buy it?"
"Wouldn't it depend on the price? It's sufficient as a daily wine."
At the mention of the cheapest daily wine, Siena bit her lip. Mark asked his disappointed daughter.
“What on earth happened?”
After hesitating, Siena spoke.
“One freshman tasted it and said I set the initial temperature wrong. That’s why the astringency came out strong... And the professor at school pointed out the exact same thing.”
“Did he?”
“And that freshman says he’s the son of the owner of Redwood Farm. Do you know it?”
At this point, the man who was Mark's guest interjected.
“Redwood?”
“I’ve never heard of it. Is it a farm you know?”
Pierce Morgan, who had been Mark’s guest, formed a thin smile at the corner of his mouth.
“I do know it, somewhat... But that kid, to call him a student...”
At Pierce’s vague words, Mark grew doubtful.
“Why? He’s not a student?”
In truth, Pierce wasn’t certain yet either. What he should pin that kid down as. Still, at least one thing was clear.
“He’s a kid who knows what farming is. And rather than making wine in a little batch like this, he’s a kid producing ten-ton-scale cherry wine as a product. He’s practically no different from a farm owner.”
“So... he’s similar to me?”
“That’s right. It’s like a pro player being mixed into Little League, I’d say.”
Mark looked back at his daughter.
“So an interesting kid has come in as a freshman at your school.”
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