Chapter 63: Winkler Dinner (2)
TL: Hanguk
After the young Asian man left, an odd silence settled over the Robert Mondavi Institute, now occupied by just the two of them. The way he'd stormed off without explanation, like someone throwing a sulk, was far from pleasant, but the words he'd left behind lingered strangely in her mind.
So Emily jotted down what Brian had said on a notepad before she could forget, then turned to Chef Daniel Rocane.
"So you're saying we should make it and try the pairing?"
"Exactly. I'm sorry for putting you in this situation."
Honestly, the one who had the most reason to feel blindsided was Daniel Rocane. He'd come at the invitation of the Mondavi family, only to be treated like this. It was hardly something to feel good about. But the student who was supposed to put together the pairing had left behind such an intriguing proposal that curiosity outweighed any irritation.
"First, before anything else..."
Daniel placed the Fumé Blanc into an ice bucket filled to the brim with ice.
"Could you check the temperature for me?"
"Hm? Sure, okay."
His curiosity suddenly surging, Daniel began rapidly preparing the chicken liver mousse, green peppercorns, and apple confit. All the while, he kept glancing at Emily, his eyes clearly asking about the wine's temperature.
"Not yet..."
Doing as she was told, she monitored the wine's temperature dropping on a clip-on digital thermometer, and when the Fumé Blanc finally reached 10°C, she pulled the bottle out. Then, with practiced ease, she opened it and poured the wine into the narrow glass Brian had mentioned.
Daniel stopped cooking, and he and Emily each speared a bite of the appetizer, the balsamic herb scallop, with their forks.
"Hmm..."
It was Daniel's eyes, more than Emily's, that went wide. He picked up the vinegar bottle the young Asian man had left behind and examined it closely once more.
"Redwood Vinegar..."
Nodding to himself, he took a sip of the Fumé Blanc. And then...
"Wow... Ha ha... Did you notice?"
Emily set her glass down and furrowed her brow, pressing her lips together to savor the lingering finish still coating her palate.
"The Fumé Blanc amplifies the balsamic's presence even more. The aroma feels richer too. And also..."
She couldn't finish the thought. The Fumé Blanc's shortcomings, the very ones that had earned it poor marks, were barely noticeable in this context. What that meant was that, at least for the appetizer course, the pairing with the Fumé Blanc worked remarkably well.
"That kid's not half bad? Let's keep going. We'll follow his instructions exactly."
Daniel Rocane was the one brimming with excitement now as he resumed cooking. The young Asian man had barely tasted anything, just glanced over the menu and ingredients before rattling off a pairing. Daniel was dying to see how the rest of it turned out. In step with him, Emily decanted the Private Selection Cabernet Sauvignon at 16 to 17°C for about thirty minutes.
Daniel finished cooking quickly. He placed a spoonful of chicken liver mousse and confit atop a thinly toasted baguette slice, finished it with a few peppercorns, and handed it to Emily. Then he made one for himself in exactly the same way, and they each took a bite.
"Mmm..."
"This is good."
The chicken liver mousse itself, rich in fat with a lingering, weighty mineral note from the iron, was deeply satisfying to both Emily and Daniel. When they followed it with a sip of wine, the tannin melted seamlessly into the mousse as if cradling it. The pepper spice tamped down the iron smell, leaving the finish surprisingly clean.
"Ha ha, this is incredible! That kid is really something!"
"......"
The main course pairings that followed, smoked duck breast with cherry glaze and skirt steak with pecorino, were both near-perfect. Granted, this was within the limits of the wines available here, but even so, it was nothing short of remarkable.
Having run a restaurant in San Francisco for quite some time, Daniel had met plenty of sommeliers, but he'd never encountered anyone with talent like this, which made it all the more astonishing.
And there was one more thing that amazed him even further.
"Let's try one more."
For the final course, Chef Daniel had originally prepared a semifreddo made with lemon, but he decided to use the vinegar the young Asian man had left behind instead.
The pre-made frozen semifreddo was placed on a plate, and a thin drizzle of elderflower syrup trailed over the top. A drop or two of the grape vinegar he'd left behind had been mixed into the syrup, and even just the aroma, a delicate floral fragrance undercut by a faintly sharp edge, asserted itself with striking intensity.
Daniel couldn't resist his own creation and dug in with a fork.
"Ha ha... A vinegar this elegant, this deep in flavor... Try it."
But Emily Mondavi had lost interest in the sweet dessert. If the shock Daniel felt was a positive one, hers was the opposite. The young Asian man had tossed off the pairing like it was a chore, glancing at the menu and ingredients before walking right out of the institute, and she hadn't even been able to properly grasp what her grandfather had asked of her.
"Haah..."
It had been a long time since Emily had felt this powerless. Watching Daniel eat his own creation with such satisfaction, all she could do was smile awkwardly. There was nothing else she could manage.
A week later, on the day of the Winkler Dinner itself, I was at the cherry farm in Brentwood instead of the campus event. And the person most surprised by this was Chloe.
"You don't have to go to school? Did you come here because of me?"
Her eyes lit up as she asked, and I flicked the brim of her straw hat.
"We're strategic investment partners. I came to check how the topworking is going."
"Still, shouldn't you be there?"
"I already set up all the pairings before I left. There's no reason I need to be there."
If I'd had to handle the pairings on my own, I never could have slipped away like this. But, ironically, Robert Mondavi assigning his granddaughter to work with me had actually given me more freedom. The chef could handle the food, and if anything went wrong with the wine, she could deal with it.
"Ooh, I thought it was such a big deal that you absolutely had to be there."
"It is a big deal, but it's not the kind of event that's tied to grades. It's a fundraiser to support student educational activities. The money raised goes toward immersion trips to wine-producing regions, international internship scholarships, and maintaining the student vineyard. They sell food, hold auctions, that sort of thing. I only agreed because the Dean asked me. There's no requirement for me to actually be there."
Of course, that was just an excuse to avoid going. It was great that the winery was gaining fame and brand value, but being observed up close by people like a lab rat wasn't something I enjoyed.
"Well, good then."
Whatever the reason, Chloe was happy and showed me the grafts she'd done.
"From here all the way to waaay over there, I did all of it."
"Alright, let's see how they turned out. Where's your father?"
"About a twenty-minute walk in that direction."
"Okay. Let's check them as we go."
Chloe claimed she'd done everything as far as the eye could see, but that was just one row stretching in a single line. She hadn't done the entire area. Even a man couldn't handle that much work alone.
"You didn't use a chainsaw yourself, did you?"
"The workers cut everything. Why? Were you worried I did?"
"... You're turning into Armando."
"Me, like him? No way."
"Exactly like him. Did you sterilize the blades and shears before using them?"
"Obviously."
"What did you use for disinfectant?"
"Seventy percent isopropyl alcohol. I already learned all this at Zaiger Genetics."
Her memory wasn't bad at all.
"Good. And if you run out, you can dilute bleach nine to one and use that instead. For the record, the nine is water."
"I know."
As I walked along and inspected the grafts, they were generally done with care and attention. The cross-sections where the main trunks had been cut with a chainsaw were neatly sealed with wax, and grafting tape and parafilm had been carefully applied to prevent moisture loss.
I nodded as I walked, and Chloe grinned shyly.
"Not bad, right?"
"Better than I expected. From the photos, I thought you'd only sent me the good ones."
"See? I told you."
"Hm? That one's a miss, though."
I pointed to a graft that had failed, its bark turning brown and shriveling up. Chloe bounced in protest.
"They said anything over eighty percent success rate is amazing."
"Mark it and redo it."
"I was going to."
Looking a bit deflated, Chloe noted the tree's location in her notebook, and I kept walking. After checking the grafts for some time, I could see Frederick and the workers far in the distance, wrestling with the trees.
But as I got closer, something seemed off. The workers were crowded around Frederick. I quickened my pace, and as I drew near, I saw one of them wrapping Frederick's hand in a bandage.
"Dad!"
Chloe ran over in alarm, but Frederick waved it off as though it were nothing.
"It's nothing. Just a little cut."
But the worker wrapping the bandage frowned and spoke up.
"That's more than a little cut. Blood was gushing earlier."
"Working this kind of job, everyone picks up scrapes like this."
"That may be true, but..."
"Enough. Just finish wrapping it."
Most Americans disliked going to the hospital and would handle anything short of a serious injury with first aid. But given Frederick's wealth, there was really no need to tough it out. More likely, a lifetime of farmwork had conditioned him to treat every minor wound on the spot and think nothing of it.
"... You need to go to the hospital."
Chloe's eyes had gone red, tears threatening to spill over. Frederick looked annoyed.
"I said I would. Hey, Brian. You saw everything on the way here, right? What do you think?"
He cared more about the farm's transformation than about his own injury, his expression bright as he asked.
"Looking good."
"Right? You know, I went to San Francisco a few days ago and picked up three hundred thousand dollars as an advance. Everyone who saw our cherries was blown away. Anthony! Go grab a few cherries."
A moment later, plump, glistening red cherries appeared in a worker's hand. Chloe was staring at her father's hand, the bandage already staining red, but Frederick smiled as if he hadn't been hurt at all.
"What do you think? Last year we had some good ones, but also soft ones and small ones. This year, they're all like this. Following your advice really paid off. Every single cherry is firm and the sugar content is high."
"Glad to hear it."
"You bet! Give it two, three years for these grafted trees to really grow, and we'll have nothing to worry about."
He patted one of his grafted trees and laughed heartily.
"They'll do well. Let's head back. I've got a few things to discuss."
"Oh? Then let's go."
His truck happened to be parked nearby, so they drove over.
"So what did you want to talk about?"
"Nothing special. Just that you should go to the hospital."
"What? I thought... Did I say I wasn't going? I just wanted to show you around since you came all this way. I know I'm hurt, you know."
"Right, right..."
Frederick looked slightly deflated, but soon broke into a smile. Just then, his phone buzzed with an incoming message.
─ Did you know the course you paired got the highest rating at the Winkler Dinner? Where did you go, anyway?
It was from Sienna. I ignored it. But the second message wasn't one I could ignore.
─ How much stock do you have left in the warehouse?
It was from John Anderson, the one distributing the vinegar. Had he already gone through all six thousand bottles in less than two weeks?
"Could you drop me off at my car?"
"Why not stay and have a drink with me?"
"I think I need to get to the winery, fast. And I've checked the grafts and soil conditions well enough. Everything I came to do is done."
"That's a shame. Suit yourself."
A short while later, as I got out of his truck, Chloe waved at me with a smile, then turned to urge her father to hurry up and get to the hospital.
"She's finally growing up."
I smirked and dialed John Anderson.
"It's me. Have all six thousand bottles already sold out?"
Soon, an eager yet urgent voice came through the receiver.
"Don't even get me started. Bristol Farms already swept up five thousand bottles. I barely managed to spread a thousand across stores near Napa, and now bulk orders are pouring in from San Francisco!"
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