Chapter 51: Royal Tioga, and M-206 (1)
TL: Hanguk
One afternoon, just a few days after the new year had dawned, a black sedan glided into the front yard of the winery.
An unfamiliar face was visible through the car window, and when the door opened, a man in a well-pressed suit stepped out at a leisurely pace. He checked the sign reading [Redwood Winery] at the farm entrance and let a thin smile cross his lips.
"Redwood Winery... It looks small, but..."
Though it was far off in the distance, the farm's boundary line was visible, which made it clear this was not one of the larger farms by Napa Valley standards. He took his time admiring the farm's scenery as he strolled along. The basics, like winter pruning and cover crop planting, were very well maintained, which gave him the impression that the grape quality would be at least above average.
"Can I help you?"
He spoke to the young Latino man approaching him.
"I came to meet the owner of this winery. I did reach out in advance. The name's Christopher..."
"Ah! The wine columnist, right?"
Christopher gave a faint nod to the startled young man.
"More or less..."
"Right this way. My friend's been waiting for you."
"Friend?"
"Yes. The owner of the winery is here, but really, my friend is the one who had a hand in almost everything. That cherry wine... my friend made it."
Though the young man was chatty, the content of what he said was shocking enough to be hard to believe. To put it simply, he was saying that some mere freshman had created that incredibly complex Cerasia?
Cherry wine was supposed to be sweet, that was the conventional wisdom, and whoever made this had shattered that notion by producing a wine with proper aroma and structure, just like one made from grapes. Naturally, Christopher had assumed it would be someone with a deep understanding of wine.
"Hmm... I see..."
But he was not the type to easily take people at their word. So he gave a noncommittal response, and when they arrived at the winery, he spotted an Asian young man wrestling with oak barrels.
'No way...?'
"Brian!"
When the Latino young man waved and called out, the Asian young man turned around and smiled. Christopher struggled to conceal the bewilderment rising within him.
'He's really Asian?'
This was something that defied his common sense. In his memory, there was no history of an Asian person being recognized for their work in wine, anywhere in the world. And on top of that, just a college freshman?
"Hello. I'm Brian. You must be Christopher White?"
He shook hand with an awkward smile.
"Nice to meet you. I write wine columns as a side gig, but my main business is wine distribution. Mainly exporting American wines overseas."
"Ah... I see."
"Are there any, uh, older folks around, by chance?"
That look on his face, vaguely uncomfortable and searching for an adult. I could tell the moment I saw it. Ah, this man was flustered because I was Asian.
"You mean my father? Um... could you wait just a moment? Dad!"
I called Dad over from the office, and Christopher still looked uneasy as they shook hands. He had probably expected a Western man who had married an Asian woman, but the moment he saw my Dad's face, a twitch started at the corner of his mouth. He was clearly racking his brain, desperately trying to figure out how to react.
"Thank you so much for the kind words about our wine. We were really moved."
"It was an objective assessment of the wine. It was extremely... surprising. There's one thing I'm curious about, though... When did you start running the winery?"
"About two years ago. The farm was struggling and went bankrupt, and we acquired it."
"You acquired it? Two years ago?"
"Yes."
"Then when did you start making cherry wine...?"
"Naturally, from around the middle of last year."
"... That's remarkable... Even if someone comes up with the idea of making cherry wine, it's not easy to think it should follow the conventions of traditional winemaking. What led you to think that way?"
Once the conversation got into deeper territory, Dad immediately flashed a grin and passed the baton to me.
"Sorry, but I've got something urgent to take care of. Would you mind talking to my son instead?"
"What? No... I really should be hearing this from the winery owner..."
"There are times when my son is better at this than I am, so I'm sure you'll get the answers you're looking for. Well then..."
With that, Dad disappeared, and Christopher's gaze turned to me.
"Shall I answer your questions?"
"... Sure, go ahead."
"My friend's family runs a cherry farm. So we decided to collaborate and try making it on an experimental basis, but the typical sweet dessert-style stuff felt too predictable, so I wanted to make it properly."
"Ha ha... So that's it...?"
I asked, seeing his bewilderment.
"Is something wrong?"
"No, it's just... the answer is much simpler than I expected."
"Ah... Were you expecting some deep philosophy about wine behind the creation of Cerasia?"
He smiled lightly and admitted it without resistance.
"I can't say there wasn't something of that expectation."
I nodded, then spoke to him seriously.
"It's not like I have no knowledge about wine. But the reason I made the cherry wine differently from what existed before wasn't because of some grand philosophy about wine. It was simply to make a better wine. That's all."
"A better wine..."
He nodded with an unreadable expression, then asked with a somewhat more serious face.
"Cabernet Sauvignon is Redwood's main variety, right?"
"That's right. Since you're here, let's head to the aging room."
I led him inside the winery to the aging room. Amid the cold metal tanks and rows of oak barrels, he carefully sniffed the air brushing past his nose.
"The aroma is decent. It's still young, but there's no off-putting smell. Seems like it's been well managed."
"Thank you."
"If you can produce a cherry wine that good, I figured your understanding of traditional wine must run even deeper. What do you think next year's vintage will be like?"
I shrugged.
"I can't really say anything definitive right now. As you've heard, it hasn't been long since we acquired the farm, so my mindset is more about making it as marketable as possible and getting it out quickly."
"Getting it out quickly? It's Cabernet Sauvignon. Aren't you being a bit hasty?"
"I can see why you'd think that, but once you actually taste the finished wine, you might be quite pleased with it."
But he couldn't easily accept what I was saying. In the current era, this kind of reaction was perfectly understandable.
"I don't want to meddle, but you might want to reconsider. There aren't many places in Napa that think highly of a wine finished in just one year. And... the amount of wine in those stainless tanks is considerable. It's not going to be just 8,000 bottles like the cherry wine, is it? If you could just hold out for at least two years with a loan..."
"That's vinegar."
His expression turned to one of utter shock.
"What did you say?"
"What's in those stainless steel tanks is vinegar. The wine has already been transferred entirely into oak."
Blinking in disbelief, he stammered.
"Wh-what kind of... vinegar?"
"Grape."
"Was the quality not good enough for wine? I heard there was a big wildfire last year... Ah! The grapes must have gotten heavy smoke taint!"
"No. The difference in quality wasn't significant."
At that point, he was even wiping sweat from his forehead.
"How much was your total harvest, exactly?"
"About 50 tons last year, and we're turning half into wine and half into vinegar."
Christopher burst out laughing as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. But his laughter was laced with shock and anger.
"You're using premium grapes like these for vinegar? Are you out of your mind? Napa Valley Cabernet, and half of it for vinegar?"
I understood his disbelief, so I answered calmly.
"Yes, that's what we did."
He tapped the notebook in his hand and raised his voice.
"I've been selling wine for decades, and I've never seen such a foolish decision. Go tell overseas buyers, 'Our winery turned half of its premium Cabernet into vinegar.' From that moment on, this place will be treated like a joke."
As he grew heated, I leaned against the wall next to an oak barrel and spoke.
"I think you and I see things differently because you're a wine columnist."
"How so?"
"I'm a farmer. No matter how much care goes into growing something, if it doesn't make money, a farmer plows it under. I don't want to take out more loans just to make more wine and barely scrape by. Neither does my dad."
"Even so..."
He still waved his finger as if he couldn't comprehend it.
"Turning Napa Valley Cabernet into vinegar is practically a criminal waste."
"I don't see it that way. I actually think it was the best move for survival. Selling vinegar gave us breathing room, and thanks to that, we can try again next year. I'm grateful for the vinegar. It's what lets the winery prepare for the year ahead."
He glared at me for a moment, seemingly at a loss for words, as though trying to pull a different answer out of me. But I didn't waver.
"...If you truly mean that, then you're just a farmer, not a wine artisan."
"I have no intention of driving the farm into crisis just to be called a wine artisan. And besides, do you know how many housewives are waiting for our vinegar..."
If we hadn't made over $100,000 from vinegar last year, running the farm would have been incredibly difficult. In particular, without the vinegar, securing over 40 tons of Pinot Noir would have been absolutely impossible.
Christopher, unaware of these circumstances, simply couldn't understand why anyone would make vinegar from grapes grown on such expensive land, and assumed it was all shortsighted thinking.
"Fine, we'll see. When this Cabernet comes out as wine, I'll judge it then."
He closed his notebook and turned away. He seemed to be misunderstanding the farm as a place that had lost focus and gotten distracted by something trivial, but I didn't bother trying to convince him. Once the wine was released later, it would be judged on its own merits anyway.
"I was going to offer you a glass of Pinot Noir... He'll come asking for one later on his own."
After Christopher left with a slightly sulky mood, I got in the car and headed for Brentwood. There, at the farm entrance, I spotted Frederick in the middle of a serious conversation with someone.
When I got out of the car, Frederick saw me and raised his hand with a wave.
"Oh! Brian!"
The man he had been talking to turned to look at me as well. He was fairly old, and his belly was so impressive that his body was practically diamond-shaped. With that build and a disproportionately small face, I couldn't help but marvel at how mysterious Western physiques could be.
"Say hello. This is William Hartford, the president of the Brentwood Cherry Growers Cooperative."
I found myself greeting him almost reflexively.
"Oh, yes. Hello. I'm Brian, I run Redwood Winery in Napa Valley."
"A winery in Napa Valley? You're Chloe's boyfriend?"
"Huh?"
When I made a strange face, he turned back to Frederick and said,
"Don't tell me you're thinking of taking on an Asian son-in-law?"
"Cut the nonsense."
"Fine. Anyway, there's only one thing I want. Are you going to pass up Safeway? It's a five-year supply contract. All you have to do is sign on the dotted line, and you can sit back and count your money every year without a worry. You follow me?"
It seemed that Safeway, the major California supermarket chain, had offered a long-term supply contract to the Brentwood cherry farm owners. But Frederick wore a troubled expression.
The reason was obvious. He was spending hundreds of thousands of dollars tearing up and reworking his land using the method I had proposed. Being told to hand everything over as a single Brentwood product was something he naturally wanted to refuse.
While Frederick deliberated, the man named William poked Frederick in the chest and said,
"What is there to think about? Don't tell me you're actually planning to make cherry pizza or something? Get a grip. This is a contract that goes in at the cooperative level. If you pull out, the unit price drops!"
At that point, unable to just stand by, I stepped in.
"Um... he's in the process of switching varieties, so I think it would be difficult..."
William Hartford immediately frowned.
"Switching varieties?"
He glared at Frederick, and Frederick flinched for a moment, looking at me. But he soon turned to William with a regretful expression.
"I'm sorry, but I'm planning to switch varieties. So I don't think we can participate."
"Why switch varieties?"
"...... Just because."
"What?"
"Anyway, count us out. We can't do it together."
Since the varieties were going to be different, William had no choice. He twisted his face into a scowl and promptly got in his car and left.
Frederick, who had been watching him drive away, asked,
"You want me to switch varieties?"
"You looked like you were in a tough spot, so I improvised for a moment. You don't have to switch right now. If this year turns a profit and you feel confident, it's fine to change varieties then."
"Hmm..."
"But here's something to consider. We're doing irrigation work right now, and if you do switch varieties, the water lines would need to be reconfigured."
"So it would cost more money?"
"It would be more efficient to do it all at once, that's all. But like I said, since changing varieties is expensive, I was thinking it might be better to do it after you've made some money from this year's harvest."
"What varieties would you switch to?"
"Three."
"Three?"
"They each have different harvest windows, which spreads out the weather risk. All three have slightly different characteristics, too. But compared to the Bing cherries you're growing now, I guarantee the flavor will be far superior. And the profits won't even be comparable. But by the way, that man just now, he must be pretty wealthy?"
"That's right. He's got 300 acres of cherry farms alone, and with his other properties added in, he's a large-scale farmer sitting on 1,000 acres."
"I guarantee you, even without switching varieties, you'll earn more than what he makes off those 300 acres. If you do switch? At least double."
"......"
"Maybe even enough to rival 1,000 acres with just 200?"
Frederick's eyes wavered, and he immediately led me deeper into the farm.
"Let's go inside first. Let's go in and talk about this in detail."
*****
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