Chapter 49: Happy New Year(1)
TL: Hanguk
A few days before Christmas, the phone rang nonstop from the morning.
“This is Redwood Winery.”
“I’d like to order Cerasia.”
“I’m sorry. We’re completely out of stock right now.”
“Out of stock? Then when...?”
“I’m sorry, but it won’t be possible until around the end of next year. All of the wine we made this year has been sold.”
“Oh... I see... All right.”
I repeated the same words several times. As soon as I hung up one call, the next one came in. Some were from within California, like Los Angeles and San Diego, and others were mixed in from out of state, like Seattle and Denver.
Just like now.
“Hello, this is the ‘Second Glass’ wine bar in Portland. Would 30 cases of Cerasia be possible?”
Portland was a place a full 800 km away from Napa.
“I’m sorry. We’re completely out of stock right now. Would you like me to put you on next year’s vintage allocation (advance allotment) list?”
“Yes, please put our name on it.”
As I wrote the wine bar’s name, contact information, and desired quantity in my notebook, I couldn’t hold back my curiosity and asked.
“By the way... how did you find out about our wine and call us?”
On the other end of the line, they asked back with a puzzled tone.
“You haven’t seen Wine Review West yet?”
“Huh?”
“This month's issue. It has a review of your cherry wine, Cerasia. So customers have been looking for it like crazy, and the wine they ask about next after Pinot Noir is Cerasia.”
The person on the other end said it as if it were obvious. The moment I hung up, I started searching, but damn it, the office internet was slow.
“Armando, take calls for a second. I’m going to head into downtown Napa and come back.”
"Okay! Another day as the sold-out specialist, I guess."
I came out with only my wallet and car keys. I drove the pickup truck down to downtown Napa, went into a small bookstore on the corner of Main Street, and asked at the counter.
“Do you have the latest issue of Wine Review West?”
“Look on the rack over there on the right.”
When I went to check, I saw the big words [Holiday Pairing] on the cover. I flipped through the table of contents in the back, and around the middle I found a photo of Cerasia. Our label was captured clearly, and in the small caption under the photo it said [Redwood ‘Cerasia’ Cherry Wine (Napa, CA)].
Since I was curious, there was no way I could not read it.
[Brentwood Cherry Wine, Beyond the Prejudice]
Writer: Christopher White
The article wasn't long.
It pointed out his own prejudices about cherry wine while discussing how Cerasia overcame them. It concluded that the price was affordable and it had aromas and flavors that couldn't be found in existing wines, making it worth trying at least once.
There was no huge praise and no harsh criticism, but rather, these straightforward pieces often move the market.
“I’ll pay for it.”
After they wrote such a grateful column, I couldn’t just walk out. I immediately took a copy, paid for it, and headed back out.
When I got to the winery and was about to show off the magazine to Armando, I saw a small bus coming in from a distance. The UC Davis logo was clearly attached to the side of the vehicle. Thinking about it, I remembered that there was supposed to be a farm tour today for a special seminar.
When the door opened, Dean Thomas got off first, and the students followed in small groups behind him. Most of them were dressed comfortably as usual, but from the way they had notebooks and pens ready, it was clear they were treating today not as a simple tour, but as a learning opportunity.
“Brian, good to see you.”
“Welcome, Professor.”
I shook hands with the dean in front of the bus. He already had a smile full on his face, as if he were excited to try the Pinot Noir.
“We came for the last special seminar of the semester. Regular classes are already finished, but I made it so only the students who wanted to could participate. Before going on break, they said they wanted to see real field experience for themselves, so I arranged this.”
The dean must have recommended it. Even though it didn’t belong to To-Kalon, it had produced results similar to grapes from there, so judging that it could be a good learning opportunity for himself as well as the students was an entirely sensible decision. And on top of that, he could taste the wine he’d been curious about.
But among the students getting off behind him, Siena and Matthew were included too. If it was those two, they would be very curious about my farm, so that wasn’t strange either.
“Yes, yes. Please head up.”
As I assisted Dean Thomas, I cautioned the students following us up.
“Don’t go near the machinery. Photos are fine, but you have to get permission before you take pictures of people’s faces. Minors can’t do tastings, and students who are 21 or older can taste only a small amount after we check your ID.”
For Chloe and me, drinking at home in front of the whole family doesn’t matter, but in a situation like now, where they came as a group to participate in a class, there are a lot of people watching. It would be troublesome if a problem arose from a needless mistake.
After we made one round of the farm, small exclamations burst out here and there. The soil in the area treated with biochar was moist and had a deep color, and the tensiometer installed next to it was quietly recording data.
Dean Thomas’s eyes gleamed as he looked at the tensiometer installed on the farm.
“As expected... you were using a tensiometer. As far as I know, the large farms in Napa and Sonoma had them installed with research support in connection with our school, but did your farm install it separately?”
“Yes.”
“Hooh, commendable. Then you’re using a pressure chamber too, I assume?”
“Of course.”
“Really...? Even when we tell them to, small farms don’t do it, so how...?”
He wore an expression of great surprise. That was understandable because at this time, the common knowledge among farms centered in Napa was just to give a little stress before harvest to increase sugar content and tannins. Rather than precise measurements, they would reduce irrigation based on observing the leaves drooping slightly.
UC Davis had been the first to find the exact SWP values through a pressure chamber and apply them, and it hadn’t been long since they started distributing that method to large farms. To the point that even within Napa, there were quite a few small farms that didn’t use a pressure chamber.
“Ever since I learned that UC Davis developed a way to grow grapes with precise irrigation using SWP through a pressure chamber, I’ve been deeply impressed and tried hard to learn it. I think farming is science, and I think the UC Davis researchers who developed this kind of method are truly amazing.”
This wasn’t something I was saying just to say it. The researchers who developed this farming method truly deserved praise.
“Hahaha! There are many people who don’t do it even when we tell them to, but it’s surprising that our student was already using this method before even enrolling.”
“Of course I have to use it. After the Judgment of Paris, American wine started being recognized globally, and I think the reason is because of attempts that France never wants to make.”
Dean Thomas even had a moved expression at my words. The fact that Napa’s Chardonnay and Cabernet Sauvignon took first place over France’s Burgundy and Bordeaux wines in the 1976 blind tasting was something people in the American wine industry bragged about for a long time.
Moreover, it was the general belief among people here that the reason it could happen lay in the difference between French and American grape-growing methods.
“Oh... my goodness... You’re more American than anyone. That’s right. France still treats irrigation as taboo. They have the philosophy of terroir that has continued for centuries. The belief that you must accept what the land gives you as it is. It’s worthy of respect, but Americans are different. In this land where hardly any rain falls all summer, commercial grape cultivation is impossible without irrigation, so if we had only been looking up at the sky, grape growing would have been impossible.”
“I think so too. If France stands on tradition, America stands on innovation. I believe we are by no means inferior to French wines.”
When I said something that a professor would like, he practically writhed with delight, and practically had hearts in his eyes.
“So there was a reason. There was a reason you got results at the Harvest Fair. Siena! Matthew! Did you hear what Brian just said?”
“Yes...”
“I heard. I think it’s an attitude worthy of achieving sufficiently good results at the Harvest Fair.”
Matthew looked at me and even raised his thumb. He looked like a senior who truly cherished his junior, to the point that for a moment I even thought, “Is he really the same person I saw before?” What truly impressive acting, wasn’t it?
“You are the children of families who will lead California wine farms, and you already make good use of SWP, so there’s nothing more to say, but still, you must always take after this attitude and continue researching without end.”
“Yes...”
“I will keep it in mind.”
Dean Thomas turned back to me with an affectionate smile and casually said.
“Then shall we taste that famous Pinot Noir?”
“Let’s.”
The group moved into the inside of the winery, where stainless fermentation tanks stood in rows. In this place where the smell of disinfectant mixed with a faint grape aroma, the students looked around, their eyes sparkling as they stared at the tanks.
“The tanks you see now have two different things in them. Both were made from this year’s Cabernet Sauvignon harvest, but one side is vinegar and the other side is wine. The wine will be transferred to oak barrels soon.”
“Where did the oak come from?”
“We’re going with 60% new French oak.”
“So after that you’re planning to blend in American, then. And the Cabernet tasting right now...?”
“You can’t.”
“That’s too bad, too bad...”
I stood in front of the single Pinot Noir oak barrel on one side of the winery and spoke.
“The Pinot Noir is produced through custom crush (contract winemaking), and we’ve only brought one barrel here. As you’ve heard, what you’re tasting now is naturally not in its finished form, so there are shortcomings. You can think of it as the direction being set.”
“Yeah, I know.”
At the look in his eyes that said to stop talking and hurry up and pour, I brought a glass to the oak barrel. The wine, still vividly purple, filled the glass clear and bright.
The dean lifted the glass and inhaled the aroma. He closed his eyes for a moment, then took a sip. Soon his brow moved slightly, and he let out a quiet exclamation of admiration.
“...Even knowing it, I’m surprised. The acidity is still rough and the structure hasn’t fully come together yet, but the balance has already formed to a certain degree, so I can clearly see how it’ll change in two years. How did you make it?”
“It’s a secret.”
To Dean Thomas, who looked regretful, I brought over a bottle of Cerasia I had been keeping.
“This is...?”
“This is Cerasia, Redwood Winery’s first official wine. It’s cherry wine, but it’s not bad.”
“Is that so?”
“It was already featured in Wine Review West.”
When I even showed him the wine magazine published for the western United States, he hurriedly looked over that section. And at this, Siena and Matthew were so surprised that they even scurried up beside the dean to take a look as well.
“Christopher White?”
Everyone watched him as he furrowed his brow.
“Do you know him?”
"Of course I know him... He's from our school and was my student."
“Really?”
He looked at me and Cerasia alternately with a look of newfound appreciation and said quietly.
“He’s quite a caustic critic, but for him to rate it like this... Congratulations. You’ll become famous soon.”
***
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