Chapter 60: Alumni Wine Showcase (3)
TL: Hanguk
Saturday afternoon, south side of the UC Davis campus. The lawn in front of the Robert Mondavi Institute for Wine and Food Science was packed tight with white tents.
"Why am I the one shaking?"
"Right? Why are you shaking?"
Armando held an ice chest full of wine in his hands and surveyed the showcase venue, visibly tense.
Banners bearing the names of alumni wineries fluttered gently in the breeze at each tent, and near the entrance, student volunteers in black aprons were checking tickets and IDs before fastening wristbands. Carts loaded with spit buckets and water pitchers rolled back and forth at the end of the line, and polycarbonate bins brimming with ice held bottles of Chardonnay and sparkling wine half-submerged.
"The wineries here must all be pretty amazing, right?"
"Not really. I'm participating too, aren't I? Mondavi's obviously a huge name, but... there are plenty that aren't."
"If I'd known it'd be like this, I would've majored in viticulture and enology like you instead of agricultural science."
"Ag science is fine. Once you learn the full range of farming methods, you'll feel confident growing anything."
"So I could do well with grape growing too?"
"If you're not sure about something, just ask me."
"Yeah, yeah, you're right. I think I made a good choice with ag science."
"...... Are you really that easily swayed?"
Just then, a DEVO (Department of Viticulture and Enology student council) volunteer pointed at my wrist.
"Here, show me your wrist, please."
When I showed the blue 'STAFF' wristband, he smiled.
"Your booth is this way. You're aware that only volunteers can serve tastings today, right?"
"Yes, I know."
"And this person...?"
"He's an undergraduate in the college."
"May I see your ID?"
Unfortunately, Armando had not yet reached the legal drinking age, so he failed to obtain a tasting wristband and had to enter looking dejected.
Beside the table where glasses were being handed out, cheese, olives, thinly sliced baguette, and ham were neatly arranged, and people moved freely from booth to booth with glasses in hand.
"Where's the Redwood Winery spot?"
"The Dean said he'd set up a side table for us instead of a proper booth."
"Come on, that's rough."
"It's not really rough so much as... he was doing whatever he could to get our winery out there. It's not even a finished wine, and on top of that, a student made it. People could easily trash us for ruining their palate, so the fact that he squeezed out a spot like this actually makes me more anxious than anything."
"I get that, but..."
The Redwood Winery spot we arrived at consisted of nothing more than a long white table and a few chairs.
Redwood Winery
Cabernet Sauvignon (Barrel Sample)
A description card sat alone on the table, the only thing marking this as my spot.
"I'm telling you, that's rough."
I snickered at Armando and his pouty face, then pulled a bottle of wine from the box he'd brought. Instead of a label, the bottle bore only a simple tag reading Redwood Foundry 1.
"I'm fine with it, so why are you getting all worked up? Go walk around and check out the vibe instead. I'll just sit here."
"Why don't you walk around? There are alumni here and everything."
As Armando said, this showcase was an incredibly important event for people in the program. First of all, it featured wineries owned by, or employing as winemakers, alumni who had earned viticulture or enology degrees from UC Davis. These alumni staffed their own booths, greeted guests, and shared stories about their wines. For current students, even those conversations were invaluable experience.
The best part, especially, was that viticulture and enology students turned out in droves, getting the chance to meet potential employers and mentors before graduation. The eyes of the students milling about were bright with excitement, their faces practically glowing.
Of course, there were also wine enthusiasts and members of the general public who had purchased tickets in advance, but the real stars of the event were the wineries introducing new wines and the students.
"I'm fine."
Before the regression, I had already tasted and analyzed every kind of wine imaginable. Thanks to Sideways (TL: movie), I was well acquainted with the hottest Pinot Noirs of the moment, from Spellbound Vineyards' Santa Barbara Pinot Noir, to Littorai's Vineyard Series Pinot Noir, to Rochioli's Little Hill Pinot Noir. And I had tasted them all much later, when they had matured even further, so curiosity simply didn't exist for me.
"Yeah? Got it. I'll go take a look around then."
Although he wouldn't be able to taste any wine, just visiting the many winery booths and learning about each one's distinct character would be helpful for Armando.
Not long after Armando left, however, a crowd poured into a booth a short distance away. Looking more closely, I spotted Matthew among them. It was the Castello Winery booth.
Castello Winery possessed the same To-Kalon terroir that made Robert Mondavi legendary, and wielded equally formidable influence, so its booth was both large and impressive.
They no doubt considered Mondavi their rival, and their booth was decorated like an entire showroom, with a massive banner bearing the words [Castello Riserva Cabernet Sauvignon] in gold lettering.
"We brought enough wine, right?"
"One-third of a pour per person. Don't give them any more than that!"
"Check the tasting wristband."
Having noisily finished their setup, they began pouring wine for the people flooding in. Then, as Matthew was pouring for a student, our eyes happened to meet. Was it my imagination, or did the corner of his mouth curl up ever so slightly?
He said a few words to the student, set the wine bottle down, and walked over.
"Brian? There's a booth here too. Did you request one? You should've asked me. I could've put in a word to get you a better spot."
"No, it's fine."
"Well, everyone starts like this. If nobody comes by, want me to send some people your way?"
His words were perfectly kind, but I could clearly sense the faint air of superiority behind Matthew's eyes.
"That won't be necessary. Looks like your visitors are piling up, so you'd better head back, don't you think?"
Matthew turned his head to check his booth and shrugged.
"Ha ha, we're unveiling a new wine today, so I think that's drawing even more people. Well, I'll get going then. If you need any help, come find me."
"I appreciate the consideration."
As Matthew turned to leave, he soon fell into conversation with members of his family before producing a new bottle of wine.
"Allow me to introduce Castello's next-generation wine, Castello Aurora Blend."
The moment the Castello family's dedicated sommeliers filled the glasses, gasps of admiration erupted from every direction.
"The balance is truly exceptional."
"The bouquet is so refined."
As the praise continued, the area in front of the booth grew even more crowded. Applause rippled through the air, and with each clap, Matthew's shoulders seemed to rise a little higher.
That was when it happened. The crowd parted as if making way, and Sienna appeared alongside her father, Mark Harrington of Harrington Vineyards. Mark, dressed in a sharp suit, entered while receiving greetings from several people, and Sienna scanned her surroundings with her characteristically cool expression.
"So this is the secret weapon you had up your sleeve today?"
Mark broke into a grin as he addressed a middle-aged man nearby. The man was tall, had aged with a distinguished elegance, and on closer inspection bore a strong resemblance to Matthew.
"That's right. Give it a taste."
They took glasses of wine in front of the Castello booth. The moment Mark took a sip, something stirred in his eyes.
"...... Remarkable."
Sienna was no different. Even she, whose expression was always so composed, raised her eyebrows slightly this time.
"It's like... holding layers of flower petals in your mouth."
"Yes, this is unmistakably the next generation of Castello."
The people around them murmured in agreement. The words "as expected of Castello" could be heard drifting from every corner.
At that moment, Sienna's gaze happened to drift to the side. Her eyes met mine, sitting at the small white table tucked in the corner. She tilted her head at the hastily attached label on the sample bottle, then began walking slowly toward me. Mark, catching his daughter's movement, turned to look at me as well.
As I dipped my head slightly in greeting, Sienna stopped in front of me and asked.
"Did you not get assigned a booth? Why is it like this...?"
"I don't have any finished wine, so I didn't apply in the first place."
"Then how...?"
"The Dean asked me to participate."
Understanding the situation at last, she let her lips part slightly.
"Ah... I see. So what is this?"
"A wine our winery plans to release in a few months. I'd say it still needs about three more months to be finished."
"Is this the wine from back then? The Pinot Noir?"
"No... not that one. Look, it says Cabernet Sauvignon right here."
When I tapped the card on the table with my finger, her eyes widened.
"Oh! I can taste it right now, can't I?"
"Of course."
She quickly rinsed a glass in the water basin and held it out, and I poured the wine into it. Her eyes, full of anticipation, darted between me and the wine before she slowly tilted the glass. And then,
"Wh... what?"
There was neither doubt nor scorn on her face. Only surprise and admiration. After tasting the rest, she stared at me with a bewildered look and asked.
"How old is this?"
"Hmm... six months?"
"Don't lie to me."
"The Cabernet Sauvignon from the year before last was all sold off as vinegar. This was made from grapes harvested last year. And you'd know this already, right? That the edges were smoothed out through blending."
But the one who answered was not Sienna. It was Mark, who had come up behind her.
"You're saying blending brought a six-month-old Cabernet Sauvignon close to completion?"
Sienna turned around at the low, firm voice behind her.
"Dad... this... I can't believe it. Try it."
"I already thought you were no amateur when I tasted your Pinot Noir. So you've worked another bit of magic this time?"
Mark glanced at me briefly, then rinsed his glass and held it out. Wine from an unlabeled bottle. It might have looked shabby on its own, but he raised it with a skeptical eye, took in the aroma, and then tilted the glass.
The instant the wine touched his palate, his expression changed. His pupils flickered, and his fingertips tightened around the stem.
"Now I see why my daughter couldn't believe it was only six months old."
"Yes, it's a barrel sample. It still needs a bit more time to reach completion."
Mark steadied his breathing and set the glass down. But soon he picked it up again and asked for a second pour.
"One more time."
The dead-serious look on his face as he asked for another glass was almost funny, but I suppressed a grin and said,
"Sorry, but I only brought three bottles, so I can't give two pours to one person."
"What? Listen... hold on..."
Just as he was about to protest, a cluster of people who had drifted over thrust their glasses forward.
"Me first, please."
"Me too!"
For a moment, I wondered if bringing only three bottles had been a mistake, but I poured roughly a quarter-glass for each person regardless.
"Which winery did you say? Redwood?"
Just then, a young student who had just tasted the wine stopped squarely in front of me.
"I'd love to learn more about Redwood Winery..."
Before I knew it, a soon-to-graduate student was standing there with wide, eager eyes, requesting a conversation.
"Oh, just a moment."
"Can I help you with anything?"
"No, I'm fine."
I distributed the wine to the gathering crowd, pouring as sparingly as I could. Then, from behind the group, a weighty voice broke through.
"What kind of wine has everyone looking so serious?"
Remarkably, the crowd that had been pressing in stepped aside as if clearing a path. And the person who emerged was none other than Robert Mondavi, a living symbol of California wine. He had been walking through the venue himself when the scene caught his eye and drew him over. Standing beside him, Dean Thomas Edward furrowed his brow and said,
"Good grief... he's already won them over. Didn't I tell you? I said there was one hell of a kid here."
Robert Mondavi, over ninety years old, leaned on his cane and approached slowly, his gaze settling on the unlabeled bottle on the table. He extended his hand, requesting a glass from a volunteer.
The atmosphere shifted. The murmuring fell silent, and dozens of pairs of eyes turned toward Mondavi and my table. Even Sienna and Mark Harrington watched without a word. And in the distance, the Castello father and son stared in this direction as though spellbound.
The situation had grown bigger than I had anticipated, but I calmly lifted the bottle. The red liquid fell slowly into the glass. Once the wine was poured, Mondavi brought it close to his nose, closed his eyes for a moment, and drew a long, deep breath.
Then, he tilted the glass.
Everyone held their breath.
*****
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