Chapter 9: The Cherry Farm in Brentwood(3) TL: Hanguk

Just like any other business, farming has no weekends. You might rest if there’s nothing to do or if it rains, but if not, farming is simply repeating the same work every day.

In that respect, my parents were truly amazing because until they left Korea, they knew absolutely nothing about farming. They had just run away as if fleeing, and farming was something they could start right away, so they did it. Even so, they worked silently without a single complaint, and I think that’s really incredible.

“I’m so curious.”

Mom was already excited at the thought of starting to make vinegar today,

“Do I need to prepare anything?”

Dad, too, was firmly prepared with a notebook and pen in both hands.

“Since it’s your first time, just learn by watching for now. If that’s hard, then you can just record it instead.”

“Oh, that’s good. Recording. I'll record it with a camera."

There were no workers today, so it was only the three of us on the farm. It was unfortunate that we’d have to grow fruit again starting next spring because of the pest damage, but seeing the green farm made my mind feel open and clear.

“The weather’s nice too.”

California’s mild and warm climate was truly comfortable to live in. Just looking up at the blue sky lifted my mood, and I regretted spending my past years buried in my desk without ever thinking to look at this sky.

But I pushed aside useless thoughts, and as I stood in front of the wine equipment, my heart began to race.

The equipment, freshly cleaned and inspected, looked as if it had come alive again. The stainless steel press glimmered under the morning sunlight, and the fermentation tank stood quietly but sturdily, waiting for my touch.

Since showing something professional would definitely make my parents trust me more, I confidently slipped on my gloves like a skilled technician while puffing out my shoulders.

“Dad, Mom. I’ll start now. Just watch slowly and follow along.”

“Alright. Don’t worry and just do what you need to do.”

Dad watched the tips of my fingers with expectant eyes, and Mom lightly bit her lip as if nervous.

I slowly moved the grapes inside the box toward the press.

“First, the most important part is pressing. When extracting the grape juice, you can’t apply too much pressure. Otherwise the astringent and bitter flavors mix in. Like this, gently pressing is the key.”

I put the grapes into the press and activated the machine. It began to move slowly with a low, steady vibration. As I adjusted the pressure bit by bit, I watched carefully as the grape juice came out cleanly. Deep purple juice flowed through the transparent tube beneath the machine.

“Look at that color. It’s prettier than I expected!”

Mom admired the grape juice with amazement, and Dad filmed it closely with the camera.

After some time, when a good amount of grape juice had collected,

“Now we have to move the pressed juice into the fermentation tank.”

I slowly poured the clean grape juice into a large stainless steel tank. The juice slipped in without a sound, and its fragrant, slightly fresh smell filled the surrounding air.

The grapes weren’t very good in terms of market quality, but once juiced, they felt different.

“Now, this is the yeast. I’ll add it in.”

I took the yeast I had prepared from a small packet and sprinkled it evenly into the tank. The fine particles slowly spread across the grape juice and gradually disappeared.

“Now this yeast will feed on the sugars in the grape juice and turn them into alcohol. From here on, the important part is maintaining the temperature. During fermentation, you need to keep it steady between 20 and 25 degrees. If the temperature is too high, fermentation becomes too fast and harsh, ruining the flavor. Too low, and fermentation might stop altogether. This part’s important. Okay?”

I said this toward the camera while checking the thermometer attached to the fermentation tank and made small temperature adjustments. Once the inside of the tank reached the proper temperature, I turned to my parents and smiled.

“Alright! This is the preparation stage for Alcohol Fermentation. Nothing hard, right? Now you just check the condition steadily over the next few days and wait for it to progress.”

“Then what about acetic fermentation? How do you do that?”

Dad asked with the same serious expression.

“Like I said before, once Alcohol Fermentation is done, you just leave the air vent at the top of the tank open. That way, the acetic acid bacteria in the air will naturally enter the tank and react with the alcohol to turn it into vinegar. I’ll explain it again when the time comes, so don’t worry about it in advance.”

Hearing my words, Mom nodded and seemed to relax.

“Listening to our son, it doesn’t sound that hard, does it?”

“Right. Since Woo-Seok is telling us everything step by step, there’s nothing we can’t do. Should we try it ourselves starting tomorrow?”

Dad’s voice was full of confidence and determination. I, too, smiled with satisfaction.

Starting the next day, my parents began trying the pressing and fermentation work themselves while recalling what I had done. At first they made mistakes and were nervous, but gradually they gained confidence and began handling the process skillfully.

“This is more fun than I thought. Thinking that all of this belongs to us, I don’t even feel tired.”

“Exactly. The fact that this is all ours is what matters.”

After spending the weekend doing the initial steps of vinegar making with my parents, I went to school on Monday. Some might think going to school instead of working on the farm is a waste of time, but I didn’t think so at all. I firmly believed that completing this educational path would later become an incredibly valuable asset.

In some ways, America is as sensitive about educational background as Korea... no, even more. The higher the social class, the more firmly academic background and their private networks form a cartel. Even in agriculture, it was no different.

And today, I had a specific reason to go to school. It was Elaina Pike, daughter of the Silver Oak Farm owner.

“Elaina!”

“Oh, Lucinda!”

Elaina, who took math class with me, didn’t look much different from any other ordinary girl at first glance. A normal student with lots of freckles, reddish hair, and braces. That’s why even before my regression and up until now, I hadn’t really paid much attention to her.

But after learning she was the daughter of the Silver Oak Farm owner, I couldn’t help but pay attention. Even simple morning greetings among friends subtly caught my interest for that reason.

“I said hi to Christina today.”

I ignored Armando’s useless morning information and kept glancing toward Elaina. Naturally, of course, making sure no one would notice.

‘How should I ask her?’

I couldn’t just walk up and say, “Your dad’s eyeing our farm, isn’t he?”

“Well, Christina smiled at me this morning, you know? That means something, right?”

‘Am I overthinking this? Should I just go say hi?’

Come to think of it, maybe I was over-strategizing against a kid. Maybe Elaina didn’t care about the farm at all.

“Is it too early to confess? Should I at least send a signal?”

At that moment, feeling Elaina’s gaze briefly flick toward me, I realized I didn’t need to think much longer.

“Hey? What are you thinking about? Am I talking to myself here?”

I stood up from my seat and walked over. Sensing my presence, Elaina turned her head.

“Hi, Elaina.”

“Mm. Hi. What’s up?”

“I heard before that you’re the daughter of the Silver Oak Farm owner, right? My family runs Redwood Farm. Since we’re close by, I thought we should get along.”

Elaina simply stared at me, as if unsure what to say.

“What are you two suddenly talking about?”

“Well, turns out Elaina is the daughter of the owner of Silver Oak Farm, which is right next to ours. I thought we should be friendly.”

“What? You wanna be friends because she’s rich?”

“...... We’re neighbors, neighbors. Do I look like that kind of guy?”

“You never know.”

“I’m disappointed. So that’s how little you think of me? After all I’ve done for you with Christina...”

“Wait! Leave that out. Don’t poke at my weak spots.”

Annoyed at the two boys babbling nonsense in front of her, Elaina frowned.

“Who’s your neighbor? You bought a failed farm.”

Only then did I turn my head to look at Elaina.

“It failed, so we bought it cheap. But just wait until next year. Our farm’s grapes will be the best.”

It might seem a bit childish, but I declared it on purpose. Many of the students at this school were children of farm owners, and I believed it was important to leave a strong impression on them.

Of course, Elaina twisted her lips as if it were ridiculous.

“Is that so? We’re entering the table grape category this year too...”

Local organizations such as the California Table Grape Commission and the Washington State Table Grape Association evaluate early-season harvest samples and award titles like “Best Quality Grape Variety”.

Naturally, fruit from farms selected for such awards sold at higher prices, so farms valued these events quite a bit.

In Korean terms, it was like choosing the Grape King at the Songsan Grape Festival. When you look at things like this, people are the same whether in Korea or the United States.

Anyway, I was just about to ask the strangely competitive Elaina how she knew so much about Redwood Farm.

“But can you win in the table grape category after spraying that much pesticide?”

Armando blinked and tossed out the question.

“What? Wh, who uses pesticides? We’re organic!”

Her eyes blazing, she glared at both me and Armando.

“I don’t know anything about that.”

Startled that the arrow might come my way, I took a step back and dodged, while Armando looked back and forth between us in panic and muttered in a shaky voice.

“I was... just asking... I mean, when I worked there before, I did see... pesticides being used in the storage... so I just wondered if that was okay... I guess it is? Now that I think about it, maybe it’s fine... It’s not like they only pick organic ones... right? Right?”

Before Elaina could even defend herself, every kid around us had already heard what came out of Armando’s mouth, and Elaina’s face turned red like a perfectly ripe cherry.