Chapter 92: The Retasting (4)
TL: Hanguk
After Dean Thomas left, the lecture hall settled into a strange atmosphere. The students split into two camps: one half swarmed around Elaina, openly fawning over her, while the other half came to me and bombarded me with all kinds of questions. Things quieted down a bit once class started, but the moment the lecture ended, the students were at it again.
“Who taught you about wine?”
“Who’s going to be the host?”
“When does filming start?”
Bathing in all the attention, Elaina lifted her chin slightly and answered each question with practiced graciousness. These were the same students who had never given her the time of day before, but now that she was a TV celebrity, all the self-esteem she’d been suppressing seemed to be erupting at once.
I didn’t think badly of her for enjoying the attention. Everyone wants to be loved, everyone wants to be noticed; people just don’t say it out loud. Given the same opportunity, anyone would be just as thrilled as she was.
Of course, plenty of people crowded around me too. What surprised me a little, though, was that Sienna from Harrington Winery was among them.
When she walked toward me, the other students parted like the Red Sea, all eyes on Sienna. The whole scene reminded me of Chloe back in high school, and I had to laugh inwardly. Chloe had practically been the queen bee of the school back then.
“So you really don’t have any regrets?”
“You honestly think I’m upset about not being on that show?”
“A winery’s reputation can influence the price of its wine. The higher the reputation, the more money you can make... a whole lot of money.”
“We don’t need any of that. Our wines are already getting recognition.”
Before I could even finish, Armando barged in, having wandered into my lecture hall during the break for who knew what reason.
“How many wineries have ever taken home two Double Golds at once? I doubt even Harrington can say that.”
For a brief moment, Sienna’s brow furrowed.
“I just asked out of curiosity. Why so sharp?”
“Huh? That wasn’t what I meant, sorry. I just thought maybe Harrington was jealous of Redwood... and for the record, I have a thing for beautiful women. So please don’t take it the wrong way.”
The out-of-nowhere flirting left Sienna with a dumbfounded look on her face.
“What are you...”
“Don’t mind him. What are you doing here all of a sudden?”
I waved her off and turned to Armando.
“I wanted in on the fun too! I’m a winery owner now, you know!”
“Ah... right.”
At that point, Sienna cut in.
“Forget it. Focus on me.”
“......”
“......”
Told to focus, both Armando and I turned our attention to her. A little flustered, Sienna glanced away briefly and then said in a haughty tone,
“There’s a big event coming up that could really bring honor to the college. So the department is putting together its own event, centered around the students who own wineries. Each winery will sell their flagship wine at a discount. It’s meant to promote student wineries and donate part of the proceeds as scholarships, so I’d like everyone to take part.”
“Uh... it sounds like a nice event, but we don’t have any wine left over.”
To be honest, I wasn’t even sure it was such a great event.
For a big operation like Harrington Winery, sitting on a warehouse full of stock, it made sense to use this as an opportunity to clear out inventory with a discount event. But for a small winery like ours, where stock was already tight, taking part would be a losing proposition.
“You don’t have any?”
“None. Echelon and Sylphide both sold out completely.”
Sienna paused, trying to figure out how to respond, when Armando suddenly cut in with that sleazy tone of his.
“So, what kind of guys do you go for?”
“......”
Sienna’s jaw all but dropped, and...
“This crazy bastard...”
A curse slipped out before I could stop it, and I turned my head away, doing my best to pretend none of this was happening. But Armando pressed on, undeterred.
“If you have a boyfriend, my apologies. You’re just so pretty... it kind of slipped out.”
The greasy look in Armando’s eyes was beyond description.
Sienna, completely thrown, just whipped around, cupped her cheeks in her hands, and walked off. At this unexpected turn, the other students stared at Armando like he was out of his mind, but he just shrugged and announced, almost proudly,
“Pretty smooth, right? I drove her off, see?”
“... So you’re telling me you did all that on purpose, just to chase her off?”
“Obviously.”
“Wow... I can’t even begin to measure your thought process. Weren’t you dating that reporter?”
After the Blender Magazine interview, the most jaw-dropping thing, even more so than the jump in sales for Jacob’s ‘The One’, was that Armando had ended up dating the reporter who interviewed us. He’d clearly drawn some kind of confidence from that, because ever since, there was no holding him back in either expression or behavior.
“We broke up a little while ago. Which means this little performance of mine is morally one hundred percent in the clear.”
“Why’d you break up?”
“The distance was too much. LA to here is just too far. I was fine with it, but Miriam couldn’t take it anymore. Good woman, but it couldn’t be helped.”
“...... Unbelievable. Just unbelievable.”
“You’ve never dated, have you? It’s not all sunshine and rainbows. It’s nice when you’re together, but there’s plenty of hassle too...”
“...... I feel genuinely nauseous.”
“I get that you envy me, but you’ve got your own strengths. Farming and wine knowledge, that’s your thing. I respect that. I mean it.”
It was a compliment, but it left my stomach turning even more.
“Let’s just go eat.”
Today, even the unappetizing American campus cafeteria food felt like something I needed to choke down.
“No way. I came all the way here to enjoy the celebration.”
“......”
In the end, in commemoration of the victory at the 30th anniversary Judgment of Paris retasting, Armando decided to put up not wine but vinegar, 100 cases of it. Even with the discount, the price was still above wholesale, so it wasn’t a loss. In fact, cutting out the distributors made it more profitable.
After the winery officially registered vinegar instead of wine for the commemorative event, we met up with Chloe and Jacob at the cafeteria.
“What took you so long?”
Chloe’s blunt greeting was met with a snort from Armando.
“Hmph! If you knew the whole story, you’d be thanking me.”
“Why’s that?”
“I chased that Harrington kitty cat away from Brian’s side.”
Chloe, who had been standing there with her arms crossed and a tilted stance, looked between me and Armando, then said,
“Okay. Lunch is on me.”
“Aaaalright. See, Brian? There’s always a reason for what I do.”
I answered, from the bottom of my heart,
“I give up. Can’t beat you.”
I had to make peace with my queasy stomach while polishing off a tasteless lunch with my friends, on the house.
Three days after Armando’s shocking dismantling of Sienna’s mental state, a massive Volvo VNL 53ft reefer trailer slowly turned in through the entrance of Laird Family Estate.
By now, even the 20 tons of cherries being unloaded from a truck like that didn’t feel particularly daunting.
“These are all from Brentwood, right?”
The driver handed over the paperwork and said,
“That’s right. Cherries from Harris Farm in Brentwood. Today’s delivery is 20 tons, and it’ll continue like this for ten days.”
“Confirmed.”
We could have taken it all in one go, but given the time it takes to process the cherries and transfer them into aging stainless steel tanks, we’d arranged for 20 tons a day.
The cold air spilling out of the truck brushed across my face, carrying the scent of cherries. The staff stationed near the warehouse drove out forklifts and began setting down the pallets row by row.
“Brian!”
Alexis, the winemaking manager at Laird Family Estate, waved over. He’d helped quite a bit in making Sylphide. Naturally, he didn’t know the specifics, the exact yeast strains or temperatures, that went into Sylphide, but because he managed things so well when I wasn’t around, the countless barrels of Sylphide had been able to maintain a consistent quality.
“That’s a serious quantity this time. Looks like even more than when the Pinot Noir came in.”
“It’s 200 tons. This time we’re making two kinds of cherry wine. The original Cerasia, and a Reserve. But you don’t need to worry about anything different from the start. Up through the first racking to remove sediment, everything’s the same.”
“Through the first racking, huh... So everything stays the same until it goes into the stainless steel tanks?”
“That’s right.”
“Two hundred tons... that’s nearly 120,000 to 140,000 liters... way more volume than the Pinot Noir. You’re not feeling overwhelmed?”
“I’m fine.”
“Well, from what I’ve heard, Sylphide has been flying off the shelves. I guess you can afford this kind of expense.”
The larger the volume, the more stainless steel tank capacity it ate up, and once oak barrels came into the picture, there were barrel rental fees on top of that. The only saving grace was that we were keeping it under six months.
“We can.”
“And you’ll be handling the enzymes yourself, like before?”
“Yes.”
“Haaa, I’m dying to know. What on earth are you using that you have to keep such a tight lid on it?”
“Hahaha, please just think of it as each winery having its own trade secrets.”
“It’s because I know that I’m keeping quiet. If I didn’t, I’d be on my knees begging you to tell me. I got my hands on Echelon early and gave it a try... it’s phenomenal. I’m guessing you won’t tell me the blending ratio either?”
“Heh heh... but I can tell you the varietals that went in.”
“Ohhh, really?”
“Over 80% Cabernet Sauvignon, with Petit Verdot, Merlot, and Malbec making up the rest.”
“Haha, thanks.”
The varietals themselves weren’t much of a secret, really. What mattered was the state of the base Cabernet Sauvignon and the other wines being blended in, and the delicate adjustments in the ratio that brought out the final flavor.
“The first stainless steel batch will be coming out toward the end of this year. To be exact, from mid to late November. After that, we’ll move it into used oak barrels. Ones that are two or three years old.”
“No new barrels? We’ve actually got new barrels coming in this September.”
“No, can’t use those. New oak kills the flavor in cherry wine.”
“How long will you be aging it?”
“Minimum four months, up to six. And to keep it from getting too sweet on the nose, the temperature has to stay at 16 degrees.”
Alexis took notes, nodding along.
“Trickier than grapes, isn’t it?”
“Cherries have a high sugar content and inconsistent acidity. And since the tannin in the skins is low, the maceration time has to be a bit longer. About 36 hours.”
We immediately moved the harvested cherries onto the sorting line. As the cherries rolled along the conveyor belt, their signature sweet aroma exploded into the air.
Now and then, a burst cherry would let out a stream of crimson juice, and the scent was even more intense than that of grapes.
Alexis pointed toward the stainless steel tanks.
“Since the volume’s so high... I’ve cleared out ten 10,000-liter tanks, and I’ll set up a few more 5,000-liter ones on top of that. Sugar content?”
“Brix 22. It’ll probably come in higher than that. Target alcohol around 13%.”
“Cherries can hit those numbers?”
“The Bing cherries we brought in from Brentwood’s Harris Farm have high sugar content.”
“Oh, really? Got it. Let’s go with that.”
After wrapping up the day’s work at Laird Family Estate and heading back to Redwood as dusk settled in, I was surprised to find a guest in the office. And the guest’s identity was surprising.
“Hey, it’s been a while!”
It was Elowen Pike from Silver Oak Farm.
“Hello, sir.”
“Yes, I remember seeing you a few times when you were clearing the new land.”
“What brings you here, though?”
I caught my dad’s eye, and the wry smile on his face told me right away that the man had come bearing some kind of unreasonable request. Sure enough,
“Here’s the thing. You know that land I sold you a while back? I was wondering if I could buy it back.”
“Excuse me?”
“Of course, I’m the one buying it back, and since you’ve put work into it over the years, I’ll add 200,000 dollars on top. How about 1.3 million dollars to sell it back?”
I cut him off with a firm wave of my hand.
“Absolutely not. We’re not selling. Do you have any idea how hard we’ve worked to bring that land back to life?”
“Which is why I’m offering an extra 200,000 dollars.”
“No. We’re good.”
He frowned and, as if conceding, said,
“Fine, 400,000 more. 1.5 million dollars total. That’s a fair profit, more than fair.”
It seemed that after Silver Oak got tagged as a notable newcomer at the Judgment of Paris retasting and pulled in a wave of attention, their wine sales must have shot up.
“Not selling. Not even for 2 million.”
“Two million? Ha, ridiculous.”
He gave my dad a shrug and said,
“Your son’s asking for too much. Fine. Nothing I can do. But this really is a good opportunity. If you change your mind, give me a call anytime.”
Elowen gave a gentle smile and walked out of the winery.
“What was that all about...”
As I stood there, dumbfounded, watching him leave, my dad sighed and said,
“Actually, Elowen isn’t anything special.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“We’ve been getting calls all day asking if we’d sell the farm. Apparently, land prices all across Napa Valley are climbing.”
“Ah...”
That was when it finally hit me, Elowen hadn’t come asking for his land back simply because his sales were up. And the next day, I got a phone call from Christopher.
“Don’t be too shocked. Since the retasting, Echelon’s price on the Secondary Market has shot past 300 dollars.”
“What? How do you even...?”
“Sylphide was going for over 200 on the secondary market, so out of curiosity I went looking to see what Echelon was selling for. Napa Valley wines as a whole are surging right now. Haha, the value of American wine itself is going up!”
Christopher was practically shouting with excitement.
*****
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