Chapter 71: Sylphide (1)
TL: Hanguk
The moment the auction began, it surged like wildfire. The instant the host called out the name of the first barrel, paddles shot up all around the room. The hushed silence lasted only a few seconds before the hall filled with murmurs and the sound of numbers being thrown out.
"Eight hundred dollars per case!"
"One thousand!"
"Twelve hundred!"
In an instant the price doubled, and the auctioneer's voice came pouring out faster and faster. Around me, people raised their numbered paddles high in a contest of momentum, while importers in the front rows and collectors toward the back sized each other up and nodded.
"We have five thousand dollars per case!"
"Six thousand!"
A ripple went through the hall. Someone whistled as if in astonishment, and someone else tapped rapidly on a calculator, whispering to a colleague.
"Eight thousand, anyone else? Very well. Sold to the gentleman in red!"
As time passed, the heat only rose.
"Next up is a barrel from Oakville's dark horse, Glory Vineyards. Lot number 17..."
And when the next barrel was introduced, applause and cheers broke out. A winery that represented the prestige of Napa Valley. Before the auctioneer even had a chance to announce the starting price, paddles shot up all at once, and the moment felt like fireworks going off.
"Seven thousand dollars!"
"Eight thousand!"
"Ten thousand!"
People traded sidelong glances and smiles, and one person half-rose from his seat, waving his paddle. The heat of competition flushed everyone's cheeks red. Wine and money, prestige and pride, all blended together and set the air on fire.
The more renowned the winery, the more mercilessly the price climbed, and the faces of those who still hadn't gotten what they wanted began to betray growing impatience.
And then, at last, it was Kenaz Vineyards' turn. The auctioneer smiled and called out.
"Kenaz Vineyards, 2004 Merlot Barrel. Lot number 27. Starting price is three hundred dollars per case."
A momentary silence fell over the hall. No one raised a hand. Most of those who had tasted the barrel sample had shaken their heads. The auctioneer called out the price a few more times, but there was still no response.
"Three hundred dollars per case, anyone?"
A trace of impatience crept into the auctioneer's voice. After one or two more repetitions, the word "passed" seemed about to fall.
I steadied my breath and raised my paddle.
"Right here."
In an instant, eyes turned toward me. Everyone wore puzzled expressions. Someone whispered to the person beside them.
"Why's that Asian kid bidding?"
"Leave him. Probably a first-timer."
Dad looked at me with a flash of tension, but I nodded. I was certain.
The Total Polyphenol Index (TPI), the total concentration of phenolic compounds (tannins, anthocyanins, and the like) in the wine, was over 70, and the color intensity, the value representing the wine's color density, reached 18. At those numbers, the wine might be rough now, but it would soften with aging, and over time the color and aroma would develop beautifully, making it favorable for long-term blending.
In short, this barrel might look like an unloved outcast no one wanted right now, but next year, combined with Redwood's Cabernet Sauvignon, it would produce astonishing synergy.
The auctioneer confirmed once more.
"Three hundred dollars per case, anyone else? ... No one. Sold!"
The moment the gavel rang out, the audience's interest immediately turned to the next barrel. But my chest was pounding hot.
"Got it."
"Well done."
I was certain. This barrel, that not a single person had spared a glance for today, would be the key to lifting Redwood's future to another level.
Having walked away with an even better haul than I'd hoped, I left the auction hall with Dad.
Brian wasn't the only UC Davis student in attendance at the Napa Harvest Gala & Barrel Auction. Many wineries were represented there, and among them were Sienna of Harrington and Matthew of Castello. Both had come with members of their families, but during the auction they had settled right next to each other.
Both of them had watched, clear as day, as Brian, seated up front, had cheerfully walked away with an astringent, unpopular Merlot.
"Does that even make sense?"
Matthew asked, his tone baffled.
"There must be a reason."
Sienna kept her arms crossed, her eyes trained on the auction in full swing, but Matthew knew. That auction wasn't really registering with her right now.
"If you think there's a reason, why didn't you jump in?"
"Me? Why?"
"Can't just sit by and watch him snag it for that cheap, can you?"
At the slight edge of dissatisfaction in Matthew's voice, Sienna turned her head to look at him.
"Then why didn't you jump in yourself?"
"Well, I..."
"You couldn't because you don't know what to do with it. Even at three hundred dollars a case, buying an entire barrel adds up to real money. If you brought it home without knowing where or how to blend it, you'd just get chewed out. And you didn't come alone, either."
The truth was, the reason Matthew hadn't jumped in was, just as she'd said, because he hadn't come alone; the fact that he was here with members of the family was the real cause. If that hadn't been the case, he would have entered the bidding, driven the price up to at least a thousand dollars, and then pulled out.
"That's not it. I didn't jump in because I'm planning to take home something better."
"I'll look forward to seeing how much better."
"... But seriously, aren't you curious? Why on earth he bought that Merlot just now?"
"......"
She said nothing, but right now, she was the one most curious about that very reason. If she could have, she would have chased him down and grabbed him to ask.
Why the hell are you buying that? Did you even taste it? What are you going to do with that flat aroma? She wanted to ask. But she couldn't. Brian wasn't a professor, nor was he a winemaker anyone would look up to, and asking him directly felt like it would be too humiliating for her.
"If you don't want to talk, don't. But it really is interesting."
"What is?"
"California here, especially Napa wineries, they all look like they're doing well and swimming in money on the outside, but they're not. Hard to break into, and the wine is even harder. People keep coming in with pipe dreams and keep going under, and yet, for all that, rising stars like Redwood are born."
Sienna snorted.
"Ha, you're calling them a rising star? Redwood?"
"Of course. You think I don't have even that much discernment? Anyone who can't acknowledge real skill is doomed to fall behind."
"The more I see of you, the less I understand you."
"That's because you have a bias against me. I'm objective, and logical. And generous."
"Ugh...!"
"If you don't believe me, there's nothing I can do."
Matthew chuckled softly, his lips twisting just slightly as he watched the auction. He, too, knew plenty about Echelon, which had become the talk of the town, and he'd even tasted it. So he was dying to know how that Merlot would be used, but he forced himself to endure.
'At an auction, believe only what you can see.'
It was something his father, Joseph Higgins, had told him over and over. The reason being that a careless misstep could lead a person astray, driven by wishful thinking rather than prediction, into the wrong choice. The downside was that following the reality right in front of one's eyes came at a fairly steep price, but Castello Winery was a family that could laugh off that kind of cost.
"Ten thousand dollars again!"
Matthew smiled faintly at the high-priced wine he'd just won. He was certain this wine would become a hidden card that would earn an even higher rating than last year's.
September and October were my busiest months. Our own farm kept me occupied, of course, but I also had to assess the harvest timing for the Pinot Noir vineyards we had under contract, which meant going out to check on them at least once a week. On top of that, unlike last year, the release date for this year's Pinot Noir was right around the corner, which made things even busier.
As if that alone weren't enough, there were other farms I had to keep an eye on. I needed to check that Armando's Laguna Creek farm, which he'd taken over this year, was running well, and Chloe's place was the same.
Thankfully, Jacob's was just entering harvest season, so I could afford to pay a little less attention there.
"Busy, busy..."
I'd stopped by Hart Farm in the Russian River Valley, where we had Pinot Noir under contract, told them I'd be back next week, and had just arrived at the Brentwood farm.
With winter on the way, I needed to check whether the cover crops sown between the rows had room to sprout, and make sure the drainage ditches were properly maintained.
Getting careless at this time of year could mean that winter rains would wash the soil away and affect next year's fruit set.
Whirrrr!
The sound of a tractor came from one side of the farm. When the workers clearing the drainage ditch cut the engine, the smell of earth spread thickly through the ensuing quiet. I brushed my fingertips across the leaves of a few vines, gauging the irrigation. The leaf veins weren't dry, and the leaf color was uniform.
Just then I caught sight of Frederick and Chloe approaching from a distance, and I smiled and said,
"Pest management went well this year. The pheromone traps clearly did their job."
"All thanks to you. Let's walk and have a look."
I went through the farm with a careful eye, but Frederick's face somehow didn't look great. Chloe had clearly told me that her dad was pleased about the decent profit this year, so I tilted my head in confusion.
He led us into the shade beside the warehouse, then let out a heavy sigh.
"Thanks to you, the cherries did very well this year. But the tomatoes are the problem."
"Tomatoes?"
I'd heard that Frederick grew walnuts, tomatoes, and olives in addition to cherries. I'd never bothered to ask about the location or size of those other farms, but judging from the worry on his face, it clearly wasn't a backyard garden plot.
"The heat dragged on all summer this year, you know. No matter how much water I gave them, I couldn't get the balance right. The yield dropped sharply. On top of that, the cannery said the quality was down and slashed the price. So after all the work, there's barely anything left."
As of 2005, California tomatoes were such a large-scale industrial crop that they accounted for over 90 percent of the world's processing-tomato production. From that angle, tomato farming sounded like a good idea, but the price, as with most American agricultural products, wasn't particularly high.
"How much did you get?"
The one who answered, from where she stood with her arms crossed, was Chloe.
"This time he didn't even get forty-five dollars a ton."
Even I, who already knew tomato prices weren't high, let my jaw drop at the number.
"Forty-five dollars..."
In 2005, forty-five dollars wasn't even fifty thousand won. Even allowing for the fact that these weren't fresh salad tomatoes but the kind used as raw material for ketchup, pizza sauce, pasta sauce, canned tomatoes, and so on, it was a startlingly low price.
"So I've been chewing on it. Normally I can pull in around fifty to sixty dollars, but this year there's nothing to show for it. In fact, it's pretty much a loss."
"I see. I can understand why you're worried."
"Still, thanks to you, the cherries brought in a decent profit this year, so that's a relief. And that's not even the end of it, right? When you factor in the thirty percent bump from the Cerasia that's releasing at the end of the year, I'm more than satisfied. Even with a good number of trees out of commission this year because of the topworking, I'm actually up from last year. Next year will be alright too, right?"
"Just looking around, the farm's in great shape. You've put in a lot of work."
Chloe cut in, clenching both fists.
"I'm the one who worked hard!"
"I know, I know... you worked hard. Good job."
When I gave her arm a pat, Chloe broke into a bashful grin.
"Should've said so from the start."
At that, Frederick let out a sigh and said,
"I'm actually thinking of converting that plot to cherries. What do you think?"
"Cherries? Hmm..."
It would certainly be leaps and bounds better than tomatoes.
"That could be good. But there must have been a reason you went with tomatoes instead of cherries, right?"
"It was for risk diversification. If you pile everything into cherries and a crisis hits, the damage can be catastrophic."
"That's true."
"So what do you think? Should I switch to cherries?"
He asked with a serious expression. Given how well he'd followed my advice up to now, it looked like the moment I said cherries, he'd start changing the land use right away.
"Where is the tomato farm? And how big?"
"Lodi. Seventy acres, so on the smaller side."
"Ah... that's about forty to fifty minutes by car, right? Hmm... what if. Does it have to be cherries?"
"Hm? Well, I mean... what are you thinking...?"
I knit my brow for a moment, then cautiously floated the idea.
"There's a Korean fruit called the pear."
"A pear?"
"Yes. Among them, there's a USDA-registered variety called the 'Niitaka pear'... You could go with cherries, sure, but it's a fruit you don't see much of in America. If it gains some recognition, the profits could end up considerably better than cherries."
At my words, Frederick's face took on a puzzled look.
"Niitaka pear..."
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