Chapter 77: Forward Toward Success (1)
TL: Hanguk
On the way out of Redwood Winery, Michael Lowell climbed into the SUV and spoke to the cameraman who would be taking the wheel.
"Let's make one stop on the way. A place called Ironwood Cellars, not far from here."
"Understood."
Inside the bag beside Michael on the seat were two bottles of Echelon he had just received. The golden lettering and pyramid symbol on the labels shimmered with a strange glow, and though he had paid for both himself, one he had bought because he wanted to own it, and the other because he wanted to show it to someone.
"Haah..."
The name that pressed heavily on his chest and rose in his mind belonged to a single person, his old friend David Hoffman. He ran a winery under the name Ironwood Cellars, but he was a friend who always lived with his head hung low.
On a modest thirty-acre plot, he grew primarily Cabernet Sauvignon, but unfortunately the reviews of his wine had never been particularly kind. They always ended with the word "ordinary".
One might say he was barely holding on thanks to the prestige of the Napa Valley name.
'I have to show him. Redwood is a small new winery too... and look at what they've done. If I show him this, David might find his strength again.'
The road to Ironwood Cellars wasn't long. It was just a short climb up a hillside road north of Redwood.
The road was winding, and the vineyards visible through the window had already finished their harvest, leaving a desolate view. In the distance, faint letters on an old sign came into view.
Ironwood Cellars.
When they arrived, the winery building looked even more shabby than Redwood's. An aging cellar that seemed tacked onto an old wooden warehouse, a vineyard with weeds poking up in sparse clumps. And yet, on every grapevine, one could see the years and sweat David had poured into them.
Michael stepped out of the car and felt his heart grow heavy in an instant. His friend's sweat was still there, and yet the world refused to recognize its worth. It felt unjust.
"Michael?"
The door of the aging cellar opened and a man in rough work clothes appeared. Silver-streaked hair, a face tanned by the sun. It was David Hoffman.
"Been a while, David."
"What brings you all the way out here?"
The two clapped each other on the shoulders and laughed, but the laughter was brief and carried something lonely. David wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief as he spoke.
"You're supposed to be in New York. What are you doing here?"
"What other reason would a reporter like me have for coming here? I came to cover a story."
At those words, David's face darkened slightly.
"Ah, right. There was the San Francisco Chronicle not long ago. Dropped by since you were in the area?"
"That's right. And there's something I want to show you."
"Something to show me?"
"Yeah. Let's head inside first."
Once inside his winery, Michael pulled out the Echelon he'd prepared from his bag. The golden logo on the black glass bottle glinted under the lights of the aging cellar.
"Redwood, Echelon 2004. A wine that took Double Gold with just one year of aging. And that's not all. Redwood's Pinot Noir single vineyard, Sylphide 2004, also took Double Gold. From one winery... a small winery like Redwood, two Double Golds at the same time. A small winery just like yours pulled off a result like this, and that's why I wanted to tell you. It's not too late."
David's eyes wavered. He was silent for a moment, then quietly pulled out a wine glass.
"Alright, I'll give it a taste."
The cork came out and the wine flowed into the decanter. As the red hue ran down the glass wall, the air in the aging cellar seemed to shift for a moment.
The two of them spent a while chatting about other things. They had gone their separate ways since college, but their friendship hadn't gone anywhere. The stories David told from working the land were grounded and practical, steeped in the hardships of real life, and Michael listened intently.
Then at some point, Michael lifted the decanter, poured wine into David's glass, and said,
"Give it a try."
"......"
David raised the glass to his nose.
The moment he caught the first whiff, his eyes widened for a second. The sharpness of blackcurrant, the subtle spice of oak, an aroma where fruit and structure locked together filled the glass. But then his face hardened. He took a sip, held it, looked down at the glass, and set it down hard on the table.
"This is impossible."
Slightly startled, Michael asked,
"What is?"
"A one-year-old Cabernet blend can't taste like this. This is manipulated. They put something in it in a lab."
"David, you know that's not true. Anything Gold-tier or above gets its production schedule strictly audited after the award is given. This wine has already been verified by the association."
"Goddamn it! It doesn't make sense! You've studied wine, and you believe this? Are you a fool? How could anyone balance a wine like this in just one year! If this were possible, Mondavi would've done it first! You don't even deserve to write about wine!"
The glass struck the table hard again and wine splashed. The air in the aging cellar sank heavily.
Silence settled for a moment. Michael caught his breath and looked at his friend.
"David, wine keeps evolving. It's not standing still. So this isn't manipulation, it's possibility. You're right about the monopoly of the big wineries, that much is true. But that's not everything. This proves that even a small place like Redwood can do it. I went and saw it for myself, and Redwood's land is different from To Kalon in Oakville."
The reason David had been mired in such despair, he had pinned all of it on 'terroir'. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't beat the big wineries that owned the optimal terroir.
In truth, Michael Lowell had partly accepted his friend's view up until now. Most of the cult-tier wines the world had ever seen were born from grapes the heavens had granted.
But this time was different, and that was why he had wanted to show his friend the proof.
"Then what am I? I poured fifteen years into this vineyard and never got recognized once. There's no hope for a small winery like mine. If this wine is real... then what the hell were those past years for!"
David's voice was a mix of rage and despair. He turned his back, opened the door, and walked out. A cold autumn wind rushed into the aging cellar.
The red wine left in the glass trembled. Michael stood there for a long while, letting out a deep sigh, and murmured to himself.
"Haah... He has to face reality. Turning away from it just leaves you behind."
Michael quietly rose to his feet, left the wine where it was, and walked out of the winery. He hoped that someday his friend would drink the rest of the Echelon and come to his senses. He thought that was the last thing he could do as a friend.
Sacramento, Golden Grain Soju House.
Even after selling half the rice, the two hundred tons still left over had to be weighing on Jacob's chest, but he didn't let any of it show in front of me. Jacob, with his ever-hopeful expression, was showing nothing but determination.
"Our rice is in really good shape this year, so they're saying they'll take the remaining two hundred tons too. The M-206 variety really is good. Other farms are saying they'll switch over to it now too."
"That's how it'll go."
I looked up at the still and said,
"Now the question is how much distilled liquor we can sell from those two hundred tons."
"Right... but I think it's actually going to be okay. I did a little market research in advance."
"Oh, yeah?"
Jacob spread out the California map he'd brought and said,
"Sacramento here, and San Francisco, plus Santa Rosa, Stockton, Modesto... I called every shop in these places and asked if they'd be willing to do a tasting and consider it if we made vodka from our rice."
"And what did they say?"
"Most of the answers were similar. The first thing was that it needs to have something different from existing vodkas. Otherwise there's no reason to buy it. And the second thing was price. If it's a similar drink but more expensive, there's no reason to buy."
I was slightly surprised that Jacob had been preparing this much. I'd half wondered if he was only trusting me and focusing solely on the rice harvest.
"Oh, nice work."
"So I figured a fair price would be exactly eleven dollars wholesale. Thought we could use that as our baseline."
It was a price line that didn't reach for too much right out of the gate, and I nodded.
"Good. I've been thinking too, and instead of the standard vodka distillation method, I want to do something a little different to give Golden Grain Soju House its own edge."
"Something different?"
"Most vodkas use only a continuous column still. That's why they end up completely flavorless and odorless. But flip that around, and if you make a spirit with no distinctive Flavor or Aroma, you can't compete on anything besides price. So I want to go with a hybrid setup for the vodka we make at Golden Grain Soju House."
"Hybrid?"
"For the first distillation, we use a pot still to keep the rice's natural softness and a bit of its aroma. Then for the second distillation, we use a column still to purify it to a high proof. That way, instead of a completely flavorless, water-like spirit, we get a clean vodka with personality."
"Ohh-"
"Just saying it like this probably won't land, so I'll explain as we make it. Hang on a minute."
"Hang on?"
"Yeah, someone's got to come. Let's check the fermentation first."
Jacob seemed puzzled about what I was talking about, but he went along with me and let me look inside the fermentation vat. The inside of the vat was bubbling like a living thing, belching out foam. The rice had been washed, cooked, evenly dusted with koji mold, and put through the process of turning its starch into glucose, which was why it could reach this state.
"Looks like it's in good shape?"
"Right?"
When we opened the fermentation vat, the smell of grain mixed with alcohol came pouring out, and the brewery gradually filled with the scent of a bar.
About ten minutes later, a group of people walked into the brewery.
"You called for us?"
The people who had come were from the company that had installed the still in the brewery.
"Could you modify the still the way I described?"
Honestly, I could have modified the machine on my own without these people, but doing that would have shocked Jacob, and for safety's sake I had others handle the equipment modification. It wasn't anything particularly difficult, so the crew finished the modification quickly and left.
"Watch closely. Now at the bottom, we distill once like a pot still. That leaves the subtle aroma from the rice. Then we send that vapor up the column and run it through the plates (distillation plates) to refine it. Let's do it."
We fired up the machine right away. To move the fermented liquid into the still, we opened the lid of the fermentation vat and connected a hose, and the cloudy grain mash flowed into the copper pot still.
From the top of the still, a clear liquid fell drop by drop. I lifted the bottle collecting the spirit and handed it to Jacob.
"Taste it. What do you think?"
Jacob swallowed a mouthful, and his eyes went wide.
"Huh? This is definitely different. Not like the watery vodkas out there."
"Right. You'll catch the texture of the grain at the finish."
"Wow... it's smooth. As it goes down the throat, there's a faint sweetness that lingers. We can definitely sell this as a rice-based vodka for real. I've had a ton of vodkas, you know? And this is clearly different."
Jacob's eyes sparkled, and his face filled with intense anticipation.
"Think it could work? Bottle up a few like this and make the rounds at the local cocktail bars and liquor shops, see how they react."
"Got it. Thanks."
"Thanks? Come on, this is just what I'm supposed to do."
"Still, thanks. You've gotta be busy too."
I shrugged.
"Things are actually kind of slow on my end. The ones with the problems are you guys. Armando's entering the season for making vinegar, so I've got to help him, same with you..."
"What about Chloe?"
"She's actually the busiest of all. She pulled a big one this time."
"A big one?"
"Yeah. She took out a bigger loan than you did."
Just then, the brewery door flew open.
"Brian! Let's go!"
Chloe burst in with her face all flushed, then spotted the spirit coming off the still and said,
"Ohh- the aroma's pretty nice. Give me a small bottle. I'll let my dad taste it."
"That works out great for me."
"My dad may not know much about other things, but when it comes to liquor, he's an expert. If he likes it, I'll get him to help recommend it around."
"Please do, Chloe."
Having scored a bottle of Korean-style vodka in the blink of an eye, Chloe tugged me along.
"Let's go."
Watching me get dragged out, Jacob asked,
"Wait, where are you two going?"
Chloe answered in my place.
"To pick up Niitaka pear saplings and rootstock. I'm not just a farm kid anymore. I've become a farm owner like you, a pear farm owner."
She tossed her long hair with a sharp flick, then pulled me out of the brewery.
*****
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