Chapter 75: San Francisco Chronicle Wine Competition (1)
TL: Hanguk
The autumn sun had passed its midday peak, and the broad rice paddies of the Brentwood plains had already been harvested, leaving only straw that swayed in the wind. Where the golden waves had once rippled, neatly tilled soil and scattered bundles of drying straw now lay in their place.
Jacob stood at the edge of the field with his arms folded, exhaling in satisfaction.
"Finally done. There was more to do this year than last, but somehow it felt easier."
I stood beside him, gazing out at the paddies, and nodded. When I knew exactly what needed to be done and what effect it would have, the work couldn't help but feel lighter.
"Last year it was around 4 tons per acre, right?"
"Yeah. This year the average is 5 tons. Just like you said it would be. Switching varieties and preventing the lodging made a huge difference. I got the silica fertilizer timing right too. What you said back then... that yields drop by half when the stalks fall over. Honestly, I was only half-convinced, but the difference was undeniable. I had no idea the variety alone could change things this much. And getting the fertilizer in at the right time boosted the yield a lot."
We turned away from the paddies and headed toward the warehouse. When he opened the door, the smell of grain rushed out in a warm wave. Inside, sacks of freshly milled rice were stacked in layers nearly touching the ceiling. Along the inner wall, the sacks were lined up by harvest period, each one stamped with "2005 HARVEST" on the outside.
Jacob laid a hand on top of a sack and spoke quietly.
"The buyer we've been working with is offering $290 a ton. I'm still thinking about what to do."
"How much do you have right now?"
"About 400 tons."
"So at $290 per ton times 400 tons...?"
"Worked out to about $116,000. That's $20,000 more than last year. Incredible. Switching the variety and doing what you suggested pushed yield up nearly 20%. And we used less water, less pesticide, less fertilizer. Costs down, production up. It's basically magic."
Even as he said it, a trace of bitterness showed on Jacob's face. Because even after all this, the money he'd actually bring in wasn't much.
The money I was making just from selling vinegar alone easily topped $200,000, and with Sylphide, we'd produced about 3,000 cases this time around. If the 500 cases set aside for regional sales all sold out along with the rest, we'd pull in roughly $1.2 million.
Considering that the cost of Jacob working 80 acres of paddies for an entire year wasn't all that different from what I'd spent on custom crush production, I could imagine just how hard this was for him.
"Good work."
"So, what should I do?"
"Want to use half of it?"
"Half means... we'd secure $55,000 in cash, right?"
"Honestly, to play it safer, it'd be better to only turn 30% into liquor and sell the rest for cash."
Jacob thought about it for a moment, then shook his head.
"No. Let's do it your other way, sell half and bet the other half. Between the government subsidy and $55,000, we'll have just about enough to prepare for next year."
"All right. Let's make it work."
Jacob and I bumped fists, sealing our resolve.
We walked over to the small building newly built next to the warehouse. When he opened the door, a proper distillery came into view, stainless steel fermentation vats, a gleaming copper still, well-maintained drainage and ventilation.
Just as its name said, Golden Grain Soju House.
"Nice, isn't it?"
Jacob slowly ran his hand along the body of the still.
"Between the bank loan and the money my mom had saved up, I barely managed to build this place. The debt is terrifying... but I don't know. Strangely enough, I don't think it's going to fail. These days I've been drinking every Asian liquor that comes into California, you know? I figure I can at least match what's out there."
"Right. At least that much."
Just then, a worker came running over to say a visitor had arrived. When we stepped out, we saw a middle-aged man in a suit walking toward us from a distance, briefcase in hand. He was clearly the person scheduled to visit today.
He handed over a business card and introduced himself.
"I'm Lawrence with the TTB, the Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau. As you know, I'll be conducting the final inspection today."
Jacob was visibly tense, but he managed a smile as he accepted the card.
The DSP permit that the TTB had issued earlier didn't actually mean liquor production could begin. That earlier approval had been a conditional approval, a process where a permit number is issued once the paperwork, blueprints, ownership structure, and tax bond are deemed compliant. With that in hand, loans could be secured and facilities built.
But before actually beginning distillation, a TTB inspector had to visit the site in person and confirm that the facility had been set up according to the blueprints. This was the final gate.
"Welcome. We're all set."
The inspection was thorough. Lawrence started with the grain storage warehouse. He pressed his fingers into the sacks, checking for any trace of moisture or mold. He went through every line of the temperature and humidity logs posted inside the warehouse.
"Grain management looks good. Proper ventilation and temperature control."
Then he moved to the fermentation room. He opened the lids of the stainless steel fermentation vats to inspect the interior for sanitation, and checked the floor drains and ventilation system. Since the facility had just been built, he wasn't looking for general cleanliness so much as whether everything worked properly and had been assembled without issues.
"You must have equipment to measure alcohol proof. Without it, you can't legally manage distilled spirits."
"Of course, we have it ready."
"Good. Is that the still?"
"Yes."
Following the piping of the gleaming copper still, he checked that the thermometers and pressure gauges were functioning properly. Then he pulled a Proof & Tralle Hydrometer from a small case and examined it.
"Hm, everything matches the blueprints."
Jacob held his breath, waiting for the next words from the man's lips. The inspector pulled a thick stack of documents from his bag and set them on the desk. He pressed a seal, signed, and handed the papers to Jacob.
"Golden Grain Soju House is now officially approved for a distillation license."
In that instant, Jacob's eyes went wide. He checked the document in his hands again and again before shouting in my direction.
"Finally...!"
"Yeah, we can finally make liquor. Congrats."
"Nngh...! I'm overwhelmed!"
As Jacob pumped his fist and cheered, we both looked at the warehouse packed with sacks of rice. Now these grains would be reborn as liquor and make their way into the world.
Once the inspector left, Jacob took a look around the fully state-certified distillery, rubbed his hands together, and asked,
"So, are we actually going to make booze with this monster of a machine now?"
"Yeah, let's run a steam test."
Now that the facility was certified, we needed to verify that the cooling line properly condensed clear water.
"Let's start with just water. Distillation is basically a process of boiling, collecting, and separating. There's no aroma or alcohol involved today, but the flow is exactly the same."
I filled the boiler with water and flipped the ignition switch, and a low hum began to reverberate from inside the metal as the pressure built.
A short while later the steam line began to vibrate, and at the end of the copper pipe, clear drops of water fell, drip, drip. I pointed to the end of the pipe with my finger as I spoke, and Jacob nodded, fascinated.
"Look, right now it's just water, but when you do this for real, alcohol and various compounds come out in order of their boiling points, lowest first. You divide that flow into three sections: the heads, the hearts, and the tails. What you're seeing now is basically the heads, and when you're actually distilling spirits, you always have to discard this first portion. It's full of impurities like methanol."
"Got it."
Jacob didn't have a camcorder, but at some point he'd pulled out a notepad and was taking notes.
"Next is the hearts. That's what you want to catch. It's the core section of the distillation, where pure ethanol and aromatic esters come out. This is what becomes the body of your spirit."
"Ahh..."
"Proof usually starts around 70 to 60% and gradually drops. You only collect this section to make your final product. And the last portion is the tails, rough and heavy in flavor. You collect that separately and redistill it in the next batch."
"So you don't just throw it away?"
"Right."
Catching the drips falling from the condenser, I opened and closed the valve to demonstrate how to control the flow.
"Soon we'll ferment the rice and make an actual wash (the fermented liquid). Making a wash basically means preparing the fermented rice mash and getting it ready to go into the still."
"That's the jargon, huh?"
"Yeah. If we handle this equipment well, this Sacramento Valley rice won't just be grain anymore. It'll be reborn as a liquor like nothing else in America. Something genuinely competitive."
Jacob watched the steam rising from the still and smiled.
"I believe in it. I'm sure what comes out of this will be better than any Asian liquor I've tasted in California."
Watching the liquid drip, drip, drip, Jacob, big as he was, had his eyes sparkling.
A week later, on October 17, 2005, the convention center hosting the San Francisco Chronicle Wine Competition was already packed from morning.
Hundreds of winery representatives, judges, and reporters had gathered in one place, and thousands of wine samples were already neatly arrayed throughout the hall. Fitting the name of the largest wine competition on the American West Coast, the atmosphere was fever-pitched.
"Wow... I heard there are even more entries than last year."
"Over 2,000 entries, apparently. Just taking a gold in this lineup would be huge."
The voices of participants, the clicks of camera shutters, and the pops of corks being pulled mingled into a steady hum. Among these people were Joseph Higgins of Castello Winery and Mark Harrington of Harrington Winery.
"It's as grand as ever today. Seems like more people show up every year."
Joseph Higgins's rich voice was steady as his calm eyes swept over the countless wines entered in the event. All these wines were competitors to his own, and his expression betrayed that tension.
"Right. And this year, Sideways has really lit a fire under interest in wine."
"Heh, must be nice for you?"
Since Harrington Winery's main product was Pinot Noir, it wasn't hard to guess they'd raked in enormous profits. As much as Castello was called the second-largest winery in Napa Valley after Mondavi, Joseph couldn't deny that the ones truly benefiting from this Pinot Noir phenomenon (?) were the Sonoma wineries that specialized in Pinot Noir.
"Well. Just how long do you think this mood is going to last?"
"Who knows. But one thing's certain: our California winery profits are going to keep climbing."
"Yeah. That much is certain."
The owners of the large wineries tracked market fluctuations with obsessive care, and thanks to the Sideways craze, wine consumption was rising steadily and smoothly, which they viewed very favorably.
"So, who do you think is going to take first today?"
At Joseph's question, Mark shrugged.
"Hard to say. Too many variables in this place..."
Even the famous Mondavi didn't take first place every year, and roughly every other year, some completely unexpected wine would claim the top prize.
"You must have your guesses, though?"
"Hmm... Joseph Phelps Insignia, Screaming Eagle Cabernet Sauvignon, or... Heritage Oak Pinot Noir 2003?"
Joseph let out a hearty laugh at that.
"Hahaha! Sneaking your own wine in there?"
Heritage Oak Pinot Noir 2003 was the wine that Harrington Winery had put forward with great ambition this year.
"And what do you think will get the highest marks?"
"I'd also name Insignia as the strongest contender. If there's any wine that could match it, maybe Castello Reserve Meritage 2003?"
Castello Reserve Meritage 2003 was, likewise, Castello Winery's own prized entry.
"I'm looking forward to it. Seeing how the results turn out."
The two of them turned their attention toward the judges' table with keen expressions. Sommeliers, critics, and journalists, familiar faces all, were seated there.
They weren't looking at bottles with labels. Each bottle was marked only with a number, opened one by one for a blind tasting. In the end, the entire evaluation was done by mouth and nose alone.
Wines moved along one by one as scores were tallied, for how long?
Eventually, in the afternoon, the awards ceremony began.
On the screen above the convention center stage, the competition logo appeared, and the winners in each category were announced in sequence. Since each medal tier included not just one but dozens of wines, the announcements moved quickly. And among them, one name was called.
"Silver Medal, Heritage Oak Pinot Noir 2003, Harrington Winery!"
Mark Harrington's face hardened at the lower-than-expected placement. He forced a smile and exchanged handshakes with the people around him, but his fingertips were stiff.
Astonishingly, someone else was hit with an even greater shock.
"Bronze Medal, Castello Reserve Meritage 2003, Castello Winery!"
Joseph Higgins's face flushed red.
Turning to Mark beside him, he ground out the words.
"The judges have to be messing with us."
He'd been expecting at least a Gold Medal, and the result had shattered that expectation completely. The Gold Medals followed, going to Mondavi and several other wines, and this got nods of approval from the crowd. That part felt reasonable. But the next name on the screen shattered everyone's expectations entirely.
"Double Gold Medal, Echelon 2004, Redwood Winery!"
The hall stirred.
"Redwood? Isn't that a new winery?"
"Echelon? Isn't that the wine that just came out?"
"A 2004 vintage means it's only aged a year, and it got a Double Gold? I can't believe it."
Even the Chief Judge added from the stage,
"Despite the short aging, this wine showed exceptional completeness in balance, structure, and flavor. We believe it presents a new possibility for Napa Valley. Would someone from Redwood Winery please come forward."
While people were still glancing around in surprise, a young Asian man threw both arms up and made his way to the stage.
And watching him, two men twisted their faces in displeasure.
"This can't be happening..."
"Damn it...!"
Earning a Double Gold meant entering Best of Class and competing for the top wine of the whole competition, which was already an enormous honor in itself.
But the surprises weren't over.
"Double Gold Medal, Sylphide 2004, Redwood Winery!"
As a second Double Gold Medal came from the same winery, the noisy hall fell dead silent instead.
"What on earth is going on over there..."
Someone's murmur spoke for every heart in the hall, and the Double Gold Medal announcements that followed didn't register with anyone anymore.
*****
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