Chapter 40: Redwood Winery (3)
TL: Hanguk
The people outside naturally assumed that the person who created this new wine was the older Woody Choi, so they weren’t paying much attention to the fact that Frederick suddenly dragged me away. No, it would be more accurate to say their attention was elsewhere, so a scene like that didn’t even register.
“One more, please.”
“If you don’t mind, may I ask how you were able to bring out this kind of aroma?”
They latched onto Dad and wouldn’t let go, persistently grilling him with questions. Just as I’d taught(?) him, Dad shared what could be shared, and for what shouldn’t be shared, he only smiled and gently moved on.
In contrast, I...
“We need to have a slightly more serious conversation now.”
As if we’d done nothing but joke around? With him, whom I was meeting for the third time now, it felt like we’d mostly only had serious talks...
"Ah, is that so?"
Frederick continued, speaking with a face full of certainty and firmness, as if he were making a once-in-a-lifetime important decision.
“From what I’ve seen, this Redwood Winery has the capability to produce wine competitive not only in Napa but throughout California. And seen from that angle, this Cherry wine is sure to greatly elevate Redwood’s brand.”
“......”
I only smiled without a word and looked at him. Under that strange psychological pressure, Frederick seemed to think it wouldn’t be easy and kept pressing his case.
“To maintain a brand like that consistently, you need to be supplied with good-quality cherries at a low price. And not with quantities fluctuating every year, but steadily and reliably. Do you agree with what I’m saying?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
I smiled with my eyes as if I already knew exactly what he was going to say, but Frederick didn’t get drawn in and continued.
“Do you happen to know how long our farm has been around? Fifty years. A cherry farm that’s been carried on for a full fifty years. That’s how we’ve kept a consistent, uniform taste all along. And on top of that, the quality is top-grade.”
"There's no question about the quality."
“That’s exactly it. Think about it. Right now you made it with 10 tons and it’s only 8,000 bottles, but what if it were 100 tons? That’s 80,000 bottles. It would be tremendous revenue.”
"Well, 80,000 bottles of cherry wine is easier said than done. If the taste turns out to be mediocre, we might have to throw all of that away."
At my words, he hurriedly waved his hands.
“No, no. That can’t happen. What do you think the restaurant owners out there are thinking? They’re probably worrying about how much quantity they can secure, you know? If they find out there are only 8,000 bottles, they’ll get even more fired up. I guarantee it, if this quality is maintained, even 80,000 bottles will be taken care of without any problem.”
“So... you’re telling me to take 100 tons of cherries?”
“To be honest, I’d like to do even more, but it’s a shame, knowing it won’t be easy because of the winery’s limits.”
Frederick looked around the winery with genuinely regretful eyes. Since it was a winery attached to 15 acres, it couldn’t help but be clearly lacking in scale compared to the large winery facilities of large farms. Besides, it wasn’t state-of-the-art, so in terms of equipment it was a little disappointing as well.
“Wow...”
When I quietly uttered just an exclamation with a completely unsurprised face, he spoke urgently.
"You have a very special ability. Such abilities aren't easily given. Especially here in Napa, it's a talent that money can't buy. Let's fully unleash that ability together with me, that's what I'm saying."
“......”
I folded my arms and looked outside as if I were thinking it over. People kept shouting “a little more” at Dad, and Dad was handing it out little by little as though it were very precious. The only slightly unexpected thing was that, far off, Mark, Siena’s dad, was looking this way, and our eyes met a few times, that was all?
“Is that someone you know?”
“Who? Ah, Siena’s father?”
"... So that girl's name is Siena? Chloe didn't tell me."
“She’s a third-year senior. Harrington, the owner of a large farm in Sonoma. He introduced a few of the restaurants that came here.”
In that moment, Frederick’s eyes gleamed, and he led me back inside again before speaking.
“I think trust is extremely important in a business relationship.”
“Of course, I think so too.”
“Are you thinking about anything other than cherries, by any chance?”
"Actually, I was going to show you today, but I've been doing contract brewing with grapes I purchased in advance from Russian River Valley."
“Yeah? How much?”
“Back then, a little over 40 tons came in.”
He looked at me with an intrigued expression, then asked,
“Then it must be a long-term contract?”
“That’s right.”
“How about a long-term contract with us too?”
I asked him, who was deliberately trying to look relaxed.
"How much will you give me per price?"
“I’ll match it at 1,100 dollars per ton. For premium cherries, this is by no means an expensive price.”
As he said, I knew that quality cherries from Brentwood could easily fetch 1,200 dollars. But I shrugged my shoulders and said.
"I know that Brentwood cherries maintain a very high standard. However, since prices fluctuate each season, I think setting a fixed price for 100 tons annually and securing a stable sales channel would be profitable enough."
At my words, Frederick made a slightly impressed expression.
"Honestly... that's not wrong."
“Then receiving a supply of 100 tons of cherries isn’t only beneficial for us, it’s beneficial for your farm too. So this part can clearly be a win-win strategy for both sides, but... the problem is, if we’re going to process 100 tons of cherries, it’ll be difficult with our farm’s facilities alone.”
“Aren’t you doing custom crush even now?”
“That’s right. Long-term, we’re investing and doing contract winemaking because we see the value of Pinot Noir, but unlike Pinot Noir, the problem is that with Cherry wine it’s hard to get more than 20 dollars per bottle. If we run it through custom crush, it’s hard to leave a big profit after subtracting the rental costs.”
“Hm... so what’s your opinion?”
“That we have no choice but to expand the wine facilities.”
At the sudden topic, Frederick’s head tilted.
“Facility expansion?”
“Yes. In that sense, how about trying this?”
I glanced over the atmosphere outside again, then said quietly.
“You invest 700,000 dollars in our farm to expand the facilities.”
“700,000 dollars?”
At the unexpected proposal, his eyes went wide, and I explained calmly.
“I’m planning to sell this Cherry wine at about 18 dollars per bottle. For a fruit wine, it’s on the pricey side, but do you agree it’ll sell at that price?”
“That... you’ll be able to get that easily.”
Since he’d already tasted it, gotten excited, and rushed in, Frederick might even be more confident about the price than I was.
“Good. With 100 tons of cherries, roughly 80,000 bottles. The yield could drop a bit, and some could go out for promotional purposes, so I’ll estimate about 75,000 bottles. If we set it at about 18 dollars each... hmm... about 1.3 million dollars? It’ll be similar. From that, I’ll give you 20% of the revenue we make from the cherries.”
“So you take 8 and I take 2?”
“That’s right. Let’s do the math. The revenue you get from selling 100 tons of cherries to the winery is 110,000 dollars. But if you take 20% of 1.3 million dollars, that becomes about 260,000 dollars. Then the total revenue you get from 100 tons of cherries is 370,000 dollars. It’s money you couldn’t earn even if you sold 300 tons of cherries.”
At my explanation, Frederick blinked, and I continued.
“Now, if we sign a 10-year contract with 700,000 dollars, in the long term the profit the farm earns will be 1.9 million dollars, which is the 2.6 million dollars you additionally gain minus the 700,000 dollars upfront investment. And the wholesale market for fresh produce is mostly decided purely by price competition rather than other factors, right? If a specific winery says it uses only the cherries from Chloe’s father’s farm, a clear premium will form, so if you include even these invisible profits...”
“......”
Frederick was left speechless when a young man my age, barely twenty... practically no different from a greenhorn, rattled off the calculations in an instant. As if I’d stripped him bare, I could see through everything so clearly that there was no room left to negotiate.
“You can recoup 700,000 dollars in two years. Even if you exclude the cherry sale price, you can recoup it in three years. And on top of that, it starts at 100 tons, but if we gradually invest in the facilities and increase the capacity...?”
“......”
“Well, you might not be interested...”
When I uncrossed my arms and tried to leave, Frederick grabbed me tightly with his thick hand.
“Hey, hey... Not interested, what are you talking about? Honestly, I’m so happy. I didn’t know you’d be thinking this deeply. I support your plan that envisions a constructive future for both our farms. As long as there’s a clear contract, that is.”
“Then... deal?”
“Deal.”
He patted my shoulder a couple of times, then suddenly burst into a hearty “Ahahahaha!” and went outside. He came out waving both arms, wearing a meaningful grin, and the others only glanced at him before focusing right back on the wine, but Mark Harrington alone watched it closely.
After exchanging a signal with me with his eyes, Dad set down the stainless decanter he’d been holding and said,
“The wine you’ve tasted will be officially released in about half a month, and we’re thinking 18 dollars for a 750ml bottle.”
Some people looked slightly surprised at those words, but most wore satisfied expressions at the price or nodded. And one person even raised his hand.
“What’s the minimum order quantity?”
It was Theodore Goodwin of the one-Michelin-star Blaze Bistro.
“I was about to explain that. The minimum order quantity is three cases (1 case = 12 bottles). The deposit is one-third of the total order amount. And since there isn’t much of this Cherry wine, 8,000 bottles is all there is in total.”
"Oh, dear..."
Maybe because the quantity wasn’t large, everyone looked regretful.
“Please make sure you stock up on Redwood’s Cherry wine before Christmas. As I said, there isn’t much.”
Before Dad even finished speaking, people from a few restaurants raised their hands, and I quickly jotted down their orders in the notebook I’d prepared in advance. Since I already knew exactly where each of them was from, it wasn’t difficult; I only needed to write down how many cases each place would take.
Just when I expected the tasting event to end like that, I drove the pickup truck up.
"What's that...?"
What I hauled out from the back of the pickup with Armando was a large oak barrel.
“There’s still one more thing for you to taste.”
After saying that, I slowly pulled out the thick wooden bung. The gentle fruit aroma spreading out from inside the barrel pierced the air and instantly caught everyone’s attention.
“It’s not cherry?”
Rather than being surprised simply because it wasn’t cherry, it was an exclamation of admiration tinged with curiosity about what a wine made from grapes would be like if the Cherry wine had been made this well.
I held a stainless decanter to the barrel opening and carefully ladled out the Pinot Noir. The deep crimson liquid flowed in a steady stream and struck the metal surface, heightening the soft yet distinct fruit aroma even more. An aroma like cherries, raspberries, and rose petals all bursting at once. It was hard to believe it had only been fermenting for three months.
Dad took the decanter filled with wine from my hands and said to the guests,
"This is Pinot Noir harvested this year. It's only been 3 months, but since we've arranged this meaningful occasion, I wanted to give you all a special preview."
Everyone looked dumbfounded. With a Pinot Noir that was only three months old, the acidity was often too strong, the tannins rough, and the fruit aroma frequently buried under fermentation notes. In short, it was still an unfinished wine, so being told to taste it was bewildering.
But when Armando set out completely fresh glasses and Dad poured them each a little wine, the atmosphere changed. The aroma rising from the glasses was clean and vivid, making it hard to believe it had only been three months.
“Is this really only three months old?”
Mark, who knew Pinot Noir better than anyone, lifted his nose from the glass and asked Dad.
“Of course. We purchased it from Hart Farm in Russian River Valley, so it won’t be difficult to find the records.”
He wore an expression of disbelief. Of course he did. In 2004, they didn't use cold soak to let the skins and juice contact at low temperatures for several days before fermentation to extract color and aroma, and they didn't use micro-oxygenation techniques to inject trace amounts of oxygen during the aging process.
And above all, the yeast I used was definitely different from the one Mark used.
“So for now, please try it. It isn’t a finished wine, it’s meant to show you the direction we’re headed, and it’s to ask you to remember our Redwood Winery well going forward.”
When Dad raised his hand and urged them on, the moment everyone present, including Mark, held the first sip in their mouths, their expressions stiffened all at once.
“Amazing.”
“This balance from a wine that’s only three months old?”
“A monster’s going to come out.”
Someone said it as if joking, but no one laughed. Everyone simply stared into the wine in their glasses once more, looking at it with awed eyes.
*****
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