Chapter 95: Cult Wine (1)
TL: Hanguk
Though his expectations for Redwood ran high, Elias, who had no way of knowing what Mark was actually thinking, found himself quietly intrigued.
"Oh, really? Well, it would be ridiculous not to know Redwood after they pulled in two Double Golds at once. Especially if you've tasted Sylphide."
"Sounds like it left quite an impression on you."
"Indeed it did. Originally, I wasn't going to give them any grapes. They were going to use my fruit for Blending, weren't they? Hahaha. I couldn't very well allow that. But that young fellow... ah, do you know about that Asian boy too?"
"Of course. He's my daughter's junior at university."
"Is that so. Truly fitting of the most prestigious UC Davis. In any case, that young fellow. He knew my grapes were the finest in the Russian Valley. He begged me to help him just this once, said he'd make a Single Vineyard rather than a blend, so what was I to do? I signed the contract."
"... It's a fine choice, but might you have been a touch more cautious? No matter how promising the rising newcomer, wine vintages differ from year to year..."
"Ah, if you're worried on my account, don't be. What's the harm if an old man who could drop dead any day makes a mistake and takes a small loss? At my age, life gets rather dull. That Asian boy is brimming with fire, and watching him is quite entertaining. Almost like watching my own son when he was young, wouldn't you say? Hahaha!"
Mark's expression hardened further. He wasn't fool enough to miss what the old man was getting at.
"I see. I look forward to it. Another Russian Valley Single Vineyard from Redwood... I wonder if they can really set it apart from Sylphide?"
"Mmm~ It'll be fine. Hart's grapes and mine are different, so even if the Asian boy doesn't pull any clever tricks, a different wine will emerge. That's what I believe."
"...... Then I'll be cheering from afar."
"Thank you. You're certainly well-mannered, Mark. Befitting the Pinot Noir Association Head who leads Sonoma."
"Don't mention it. Well, then..."
As Elias watched Mark turn and walk away, his eyes grew deeply somber. Yet his expression betrayed nothing of what was running through his mind.
Just then, someone else stepped up beside him and spoke.
"Why are you dragging me into the conversation again?"
When he turned his head, Steven Hart, the hulking Pinot Noir grower, was standing there. He had cracker crumbs caught in his bushy red beard, but his features were so rough that he didn't look the least bit boyish.
"Big as a mountain and you're sneaking around eavesdropping."
When Elias scolded him, Steven scratched his head with an apologetic look.
"I wasn't eavesdropping. I just happened to be nearby and overheard it. Anyway, did Redwood actually buy your grapes, old man?"
"They did. Don't worry. I handed them over on the condition that your Single Vineyard Sylphide would continue just as it is."
"I caught that part just now. Thank you."
"Don't bother thanking me..."
"That said, that snake of a man... How could he have the nerve to come asking you for grapes... The people who drink wine ought to know just what kind of scumbags Harrington Winery really are."
"I'm not the one kicking up a fuss, so why are you?"
"Because you're not the one kicking up a fuss, somebody like me has to."
Watching Steven Hart get worked up on his behalf, Elias gave a snort.
"Hmph! If kicking up a fuss could actually hurt Harrington, why would I be sitting still? Throwing an egg at a rock at least leaves a stink and a mess. I can't even manage that much, so I sit still. Still, because I'm holding my ground here, that bastard can't quite whitewash his past."
"Ugh..."
"In the end, at my age, watching that Mark squirm puts me in a good mood. Did you see his face just now?"
"I was behind him, so I couldn't see. I was keeping my head turned in case he caught my eye and realized I'd been watching."
"You really don't live up to that size of yours."
"... Sorry."
"Just wait and see. What that Mark does next."
"Yeah. Watching that snake's face crack would be a real relief. By the way, any word from Daniel?"
Elias's face, which had remained composed throughout, took on a sad cast somehow.
"Hasn't called once, the wretched boy..."
"He'll be doing fine. The guy always had nerve to spare. That's probably why Harrington went and did what they did to him."
"You can say that again. The boy who caused so much trouble growing up still goes around causing trouble all grown up..."
Before long, the two men were sipping their wine and turning their attention to the afternoon session of the Annual Grower Meeting.
At the very hour of the Annual Grower Meeting hosted by Sonoma County Winegrowers, another gathering was being held in a convention hall near Yolon Park. It was a meeting hosted by the Napa Valley Grapegrowers (NVG) in commemoration of the Retasting, titled [Beyond the Judgment, Building Napa's Next 30 Years].
NVG was an association that included nearly every grower and winery owner in Napa Valley. Ordinarily they held one large-scale event each December, but this year, following the historic landslide victory at the Judgment of Paris Retasting, the gathering was steeped in deliberation over how to sustain that triumph going forward.
From the outside, it might have looked like American wine had simply triumphed over French wine, but from inside the industry, the situation was effectively a Napa Valley victory, and the faces of the winery owners gathered here were as bright as if it were their birthday.
A large screen hung at the center of the hall, and the banner reading 'Beyond the Judgment, Building Napa's Next 30 Years' in gold lettering above it made plain just how much hope today's event was kindling in them for the future.
Each chair held a nameplate stamped with a Napa Valley winery logo, and the wine glasses set at every seat were already releasing a subtle aroma.
"I hear UC Davis professors are coming today?"
"It's been a while since I sat through a lecture."
"How are prices looking lately?"
"Cabernet's flat. Everyone's only after Pinot Noir."
"Still, I heard those hard-to-find wines around fifty dollars are creeping up little by little?"
"Eh, that's just talk. People look, but the second the price climbs they back off. It's mostly just curiosity."
"Is that so..."
The one disappointment was that, even with the win at the 30th anniversary Judgment of Paris Retasting, mainstream popularity hadn't shifted much. The reason was simple enough. The American wines that had beaten the French were essentially Cult-tier wines costing several thousand dollars, while what the public actually bought were premium wines in the range of tens of dollars, or at most around a hundred.
At that price point, Pinot Noir, riding the wave of the film Sideways, was naturally seeing far greater swings.
Just then, the emcee took the mic and stepped up to the podium.
"Everyone, would you please take your seats? We are about to begin the 'Beyond the Judgment' session."
The lights gradually dimmed and the screen came to life.
The first session was led by Professor Richard Thomas of UC Davis's Viticulture Department.
"Thirty years ago, the Judgment of Paris was a gift from our climate. But the climate is no longer stable. Irregular heatwaves, warming winters, unexpected frosts. We can no longer ask the grapevines to adapt on their own. As we always have, we must change ourselves."
He flipped through his slides, unveiling new experimental data.
Temperature distribution graphs for grape canopies, Brix variation rates by photosynthetic efficiency, and average sunshine and humidity values for each region appeared on the screen one after another.
"Shade Management, Partial Irrigation, and Canopy Layering...."
His presentation was scientific and, at the same time, grounded in practice.
Naturally, attending this event, I found myself smiling as memories from before my regression came back. Every single point he made was already filed away in my head.
"From now on, we must no longer dismiss irregular climate as merely a disaster. It is a new condition imposed on us for growing grapes, and interpreting and responding to it is precisely what our work must become."
It was the kind of speech people always give, but I knew just how severe climate change was going to become in the future. The ones who focused on this lecture now and prepared for it would be the ones still standing in Napa ten years down the line.
The sessions that followed were practice-oriented. Precision Irrigation, Soil Carbon Retention, Alternative Rootstock, and so on...
Cultivation Directors from major wineries presented case studies, and UC Davis researchers shared their data. As the session drew to a close, people naturally rose from their seats and drifted toward the lounge area.
Wine tasting booths had been set up outside, with bottles from 'Napa Heritage', 'Duckhorn', 'Beringer', 'Robert Mondavi', and others lined up side by side. Off in the distance, a small round table caught my eye, where the major winery owners of Oakville, arguably the very heart of Napa Valley, had gathered.
The winery owners who controlled Oakville's To Kalon district were effectively Napa Valley's nobility, and they had formed their own association, Oakville Winegrowers, where they held separate meetings. And at that gathering, there was a face I recognized.
"Huh?"
Matthew, my upperclassman, caught my eye, gave a knowing nod, and grinned. Watching the exchange from beside me, Dad asked,
"Someone you know?"
"He's an upperclassman at my university."
"Ah, he looks like a decent kid?"
"Eh, looks can be deceiving."
"Really? Some racism going on?"
In America, the first reflex whenever it felt like someone disliked me was to think of racism. And it wasn't pure paranoia, either. Before my regression, before the Korean Wave came along and bombed not just Asia but America itself, mentioning Korea at university had been all but impossible.
There were kids who'd jostle me just for walking by, and in the worst cases, ones who'd beat someone so badly they couldn't attend university anymore.
"Nothing that bad. He just seems to be the jealous type."
"Makes sense. After all, you happen to be remarkably brilliant."
"My point exactly. I really am too brilliant."
While I was trading jokes with Dad like that, I suddenly noticed someone rising from that table and walking over. It was Matthew's father, Joseph Higgins, who immediately extended his hand to Dad and said,
"Pleasure to meet you. Joseph Higgins. I hear your son attends my son's university."
"Woody Choi. I just heard the same myself. UC Davis really is a prestigious institution. I'm proud to have sent my son to the same university that educates the son of such a major winery owner."
"Word has it your son's skills are quite remarkable."
"Since you're praising my son, I can hardly disagree."
"Hahaha! I'd be proud myself. Let me invite you to the winery sometime, come by for a meal."
"Sounds wonderful. It would be an honor anytime."
After Joseph took his leave like that, just as the event's break time was winding down, he turned and addressed Mondavi, who was effectively the chief host of this gathering. The tables weren't far apart and Joseph's voice carried, so every word he said came through clearly.
"Why don't we stop dancing around it and use this opportunity to rebuild Napa's image around Cult Wine? The perception that American wine is cheap is exactly what makes people balk at French prices."
Mondavi, old enough that no one would have been surprised if he passed at any moment, gave a faint smile.
"You should remember that we aren't the only ones in Napa Valley."
"I know. But if we strengthen Oakville's premium image and build up the prestige to stand against France, then in the end Napa Valley's name as a whole will rise with it."
"I wonder..."
Mondavi, who had seemed to be mulling it over, suddenly shifted his gaze to me.
"At a moment like this, the opinion of an experienced old man matters, but so does the opinion of the younger crowd. What do you think?"
"Me?"
When I pointed at myself with my index finger and asked, Mondavi nodded, and in an instant a great many eyes turned my way.
'This hat old geezer...'
He was clearly still nursing a grudge over the time I'd shown up his granddaughter, I cursed inwardly while answering calmly.
"I don't claim to represent Napa Valley, but personally I don't think wine's value rises just because of branding. If there's a wine consumers want to drink, they'll happily pay a premium for it. I understand the intent behind your suggestion, but it seems to me that in the end only the Oakville-centered wineries would actually benefit."
Joseph, who had just greeted us and gone back to his seat, stiffened visibly, but I didn't care. It wasn't as if I was actually going to head over to his place for dinner... So what if I bruised his feelings?
"There you have it."
The old geezer shrugged as if deliberately stirring up a fight and gave a faint smile, while Joseph and the other Oakville winery owners nodded with heavy faces.
With Mondavi having turned the idea down, they could hardly push the argument any harder. Of course, a few among them turned to glance at me with sharp eyes...
"Got myself on their bad side for nothing, didn't I?"
When I asked with a hint of worry, Dad simply clapped me on the shoulder and laughed.
"Over a little thing like that... Although, it would be nice if we put out a Cult-tier wine of our own."
"Look forward to it. I've got something in mind."
Dad's eyes went wide.
"Reallyyy?"
"Why else would I have gone all the way to that auction to buy that wine? I've got to show them. To Kalon isn't everything."
*****
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