Decanter World Wine Awards(1)
London Heathrow Airport. As the arrival hall doors slid open, the cold, damp air seeped into my lungs.
Christopher White walked briskly, checking his wristwatch, followed by a staff member pushing a luggage cart stacked with several trunks. Inside those trunks were half-cases each of Echelon 2005 and Sylphide 2005.
Thomas, the staff member pushing the cart, said with a lighthearted tone, "I'm looking forward to seeing everyone's reaction when they taste these wines."
Christopher merely offered a faint smile; he didn't share Thomas's wide-eyed excitement.
"Don't get your hopes up too high. Our goal is simply to promote the wine."
"But for a wine of this quality, isn't that a bit modest?"
"True. It's an excellent wine for the price. But if you expect a high score, you'll only end up disappointed. Besides, we don't have the inventory to sell anyway. Just think of this as building a career for Echelon and Sylphide."
The reason he had insisted on bringing Echelon along with Sylphide was to foster a long-term, positive relationship with Redwood. Especially since Brian had mentioned "cult wines" before, and with another Pinot Noir expected to launch later this year, Christopher knew he had to win Redwood's favor at any cost.
His trip to London wasn't about achieving a massive breakthrough with these specific bottles, but rather to demonstrate to Redwood that White & Co. Wine Trading was putting in the effort for their brand.
"I still have a feeling the results will be good, sir."
"Heh, I hope you're right."
The air outside the airport was heavy and ash-gray.
"The weather is so..."
"It's always like this in England, isn't it?"
"This is exactly why I don't like England."
The two hailed a taxi and loaded their luggage into the back.
"Where to?"
"Conrad St. James Hotel, near Westminster, please."
The taxi driver pulled straight into the flow of traffic.
"On a business trip?"
"I'm here to participate in a wine competition."
"Wine, eh? London isn't exactly the best choice for that. We're a nation that still survives on beer."
Christopher chuckled quietly at the driver's joke. While the driver's words held some truth regarding the general working class, England had actually been the world's largest consumer of wine since the 13th century.
Despite a climate unfavorable for traditional viticulture, England had established itself as the gateway for wine, with vintages from France, Spain, Portugal, and Italy trading through London ports, making the city a global hub for judging, distribution, and evaluation.
In particular, Decanter, a British wine magazine founded in 1975, had effectively led the global standards for wine evaluation. When they launched the Decanter World Wine Awards (DWWA) in 2004, it immediately became a competition of global authority.
"England is the place where world-class wine competitions are held. You should take pride in your wine culture."
"Oh—is that so?"
Christopher turned his gaze back to the window. He had told Thomas not to expect much, but in truth, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of anticipation himself. He was busy suppressing that feeling with all his might.
The next morning, the hotel lobby was already bustling.
【Decanter World Wine Awards】
Banners printed with the names of wineries from 60 countries hung from the lobby ceiling. Beneath the posters, participants from around the world were moving cases of wine. Bordeaux, Barolo, Malbec, and Napa... different scents and colors mingled in a single space.
Christopher handed his documents to the receptionist.
"Redwood Winery. From California."
The staff member nodded and checked the list.
"It says here you have two entries?"
"Echelon, and Sylphide."
"Are they from the same vintage?"
"Same year, same winemaker, but different varietals, so they have completely different characters."
After finishing the registration, Christopher slowly looked around the hall. The French booth was already crowded with reporters. A French winemaker was speaking into a microphone.
"French wine is a conversation between the soil and time. The terroir unique to France creates the most special wine in the world. Furthermore, our long history of technique elevates its class."
However, his face stiffened at a reporter's question.
"That was just a trend of the times. People are always drawn to new and intense flavors at least once. But eventually, they return. Soft, long-lasting finishes and an inimitable class. That is the place of French wine."
His words, dripping with pride for French wine, rang clearly in my ears.
Nearby, a representative from an Italian wine distributor was pouring wine for reporters. The scent of Barolo filled the air.
"Now, this is Barolo, the heart of Piedmont, grown in soil that produces the most expensive grapes in Europe. This land is rich in limestone, and the wind blows only from the northwest. That is why Barolo is firm, yet its aroma is long-lasting.
You say American wine is trendy? Yes, they are young and full of energy. But this is different. If you age it for 10 years, the cherry scent turns into spice, and then into truffle. That is a transformation that machines or technology cannot create.
I only export 40,000 bottles a year. The reason? This wine will answer for me, not my words. Here, take a sniff. This is a wine you drink with your nose, not your mouth."
Everyone participating here was passionately promoting their own wines and displaying their pride. Listening to them, one would be willing to open their wallet to pay for the wine right in front of them.
In the afternoon, a preliminary meeting was held. Judges from various countries sat around a long, circular table.
England, France, Italy, Australia, South Africa, New Zealand... they were all people whose names I had seen in wine magazines.
"This year, we are prioritizing balance over aging."
"Minerality is the trend. If the oak scent is too strong, it's hard to get a high score."
"Light reds are the mainstream these days."
Their conversation seemed peaceful and calm on the surface, but an undeniable tension flowed beneath it.
In the midst of it all, Christopher quietly took out his phone. There was a message from Brian in the U.S.
He wrote a short reply.
He spent the time feeling nervous, wondering what kind of contact he would have.
While Christopher was spending a tense time in London submitting his wines, I was placed in a completely unexpected situation.
"Ah... I have a sense of déjà vu. Haven't we had an experience like this before?"
Armando, sitting in the passenger seat next to me as I drove, said while smoothing his hair in the sun visor mirror.
"We did. I regret why I didn't make an aggressive move on Christina back then. What is she doing now?"
"She's probably dating another guy."
"You cold-hearted bastard..."
I was picking up Armando from the Laguna Creek Winery in Alexander Valley and heading to Healdsburg. Surprisingly, Sienna had invited me to her birthday party.
I had intended to decline because I was busy, but Armando somehow found out and insisted on coming along, so I ended up at the birthday party.
"But do you really like Sienna? Look at her eyes, they're something else."
"Tsk tsk tsk... You don't know anything. Women like that are drawn to strong men. My ex-girlfriend told me."
"That reporter?"
"Yeah. Maybe because she was three years older than me, she taught me a lot. I guess that's why they say your first woman should be older."
"......"
"Well, it doesn't matter for you. But did you tell Chloe?"
"No. Why would I?"
"As expected... That's why I like you. A man who gets dragged around by a woman isn't cool. Sometimes you have to slip out of their hands like this to make them anxious."
"What are you talking about..."
Arriving at the white mansion where Sienna lived, I was inwardly stunned by its magnificent scale. Chloe was also a wealthy person who had some influence in the region, but seeing Sienna's mansion, I realized the gap was beyond words.
"Whoa... this is insane, right?"
"You don't like Sienna because of her money, do you?"
Armando said firmly.
"No. But I think I'm going to love her even more."
"You're crazy..."
Arriving at the mansion, balloons for the party were already stuck here and there, and many young people who had arrived earlier were walking around with wine glasses, chatting.
Loud pop music, alcohol, and young men and women throwing themselves into a heated swimming pool... Armando swallowed hard at the hot and sexy sights.
"This is crazy, absolutely crazy."
"Must be nice. Go find Sienna."
"Oh? There she is."
Armando discovered Sienna surrounded by friends in the center of the party and approached her.
"Nice to see you."
"Oh, hi."
Since Sienna remembered greeting me a few times now, she didn't tilt her head when looking at Armando. Instead, her expression, which seemed almost happy, felt somewhat strange. She looked at me, who had followed Armando, and said,
"Enjoy the party. If you brought a swimsuit, you can go swimming. Oh, Brian, my dad is looking for you, could you spare a moment?"
"Your father?"
"Yes, he told me to tell him if you came."
"Sure."
She made a phone call right away to let him know I had arrived. Since the house was so big, the fact that she called instead of walking over to get me made me feel that this household was in a different class.
As I was standing there blankly,
"But aren't you going to swim?"
"Me? Why?"
"Just because... I think a swimsuit would look good on you."
I muttered "crazy bastard" behind her back, but absurdly, Sienna shook her long hair and said with a strange look in her eyes,
"It would look good, wouldn't it?"
"I thought so. The house is so nice. Could you show me around?"
"Shall we? Guys, just a moment."
I watched Sienna take Armando away and my jaw dropped.
"What is this? Is this a hidden camera show?"
I firmly believed my thoughts couldn't be right. For the sake of the world's justice, it shouldn't be possible for that kind of baseless flirting to actually work.
At this moment, a dignified voice came from behind.
"Oh, Brian?"
Turning around, a handsome middle-aged white man was smiling brightly and reached out his hand. I shook his hand and said,
"Hello. You were looking for me?"
"That's right. Sienna told me she invited you, so I told her to let me know if you came. Sorry for the trouble of coming all this way. The wine...?"
"I'm fine, I drove here. I'll just have a soft drink."
If it were a party for people in their early 20s, it would usually be RTDs rather than wine, but these were definitely children from wealthy families, and above all, since they were a winery family, there were no cheap cocktails.
The wine right in front of me was a Pinot Noir that retailed for over $90, but since it was made at their own winery, they seemed to be serving it freely.
"They say Asians are disciplined, and it seems that's true. The kids here, alcohol is alcohol and driving is driving, but... It's noisy, so shall we go somewhere quiet?"
"Yes."
Sienna's father, Mark Harrington, took me two levels down to the basement. There was a billiard room and a small bar, and I could tell it was a place where he entertained guests.
"This is nice."
"Isn't it?"
He poured me some juice from a small refrigerator at the bar and held it out. Then, sitting in the owner's seat inside the bar, he opened his mouth.
"Actually, I was thinking I should visit Redwood sometime anyway."
"For what reason...?"
"I heard you receive grapes from Grendel Hill Vineyard."
He brought up something I hadn't expected.
"Yes..."
"Some of our California wineries are planning to make a special wine to commemorate the 30th anniversary of the Judgment of Paris re-tasting, so how about Redwood Winery participates? The California state government is providing special support and promotion for these wines. It will be a great opportunity."
His eyes were shining strangely as he made an offer that any winery would be greedy for.