Pieces to Complete the Masterpiece
The Columbia Valley in Washington State, located a staggering 1,180 kilometers north of Napa Valley, sits near the border between Canada and the United States. Since it is about 150 kilometers away from Seattle, the largest city in the Pacific Northwest, it was common sense to fly there rather than drive, as a road trip would take over 13 hours.
Considering that the straight-line distance from Seoul to Busan is about 320 kilometers, one could easily grasp just how far away it was.
If I sourced Petit Verdot from outside California, I wouldn't be able to label the wine as a California product, but I didn't care about that at all. If it was for a cult wine and I could improve the quality at a low cost, it didn't matter where I brought it from.
We arrived at Sacramento International Airport to catch an early morning flight, and I couldn't help but say something as I watched Warren step out of the back of a Rolls-Royce.
"No... don't you think that feels a bit out of place?"
"If I don't ride in a nice car at this age, my back and hips ache. If you have the money, you have to ride in something like this."
"Ah, right..."
The flight was, of course, in business class, and as soon as Warren sat in his seat, he asked naturally.
"What kind of wine do you have?"
"We have a small amount of 2004 California Cabernet Sauvignon, 2005 Washington Merlot, and Korbel Brut for sparkling. It's a short flight, so there aren't many varieties."
"I'll have a glass of the Washington Merlot. Today is a day to feel Washington. What will our master have?"
I looked at him with a puzzled expression.
"We're arriving soon, are you really going to drink wine?"
"Wine enjoyed in the sky is different. Just order one."
Since Warren had ordered, it felt awkward to just sit there.
"Give me the same, please."
"Understood."
As the flight attendant walked away, Warren said,
"You have that look on your face—like you're wondering why I'm drinking cheap wine."
"To be honest, I am curious. I don't think you'd order wine just to get your money's worth since we're in business class."
"Hahaha! I'm grateful you think of it that way. Like you said, on these short domestic routes, the wine in the cart is often mass-produced OEM wine from large corporations, and sometimes it's an airline-exclusive label with no specific winery indicated. Yet, I always order it. It's partly to set the mood, but more than anything, I don't get many chances to drink cheap wine otherwise."
"Are you saying you drink it because it's cheap on purpose?"
"That's right. Wine doesn't have a fixed answer like mathematics. So, I live every day feeling like I'm exploring an imaginary sea. Aroma, structure, finish... I imagine what kind of combination creates the most excellent sensation. When I do that, I get the feeling that my feet are floating in the air."
"So you're losing your sense of reality."
"Exactly. There are moments when I think, 'What on earth am I making?' When that happens, drinking a daily wine under $30 acts as a palate cleanser. It reminds me, 'Ah, people buy this for $30.' Then, my feet touch the ground again, and I can organize the thoughts that had run too far ahead."
At that moment, the flight attendant brought the wine. Warren smiled, took the glass, and took a light sip.
I took a sip as well, and a sweet red fruit aroma rose up, accompanied by a fleeting hint of light herbs.
"Hmm? It's better than I thought. It doesn't have the cloying sweetness typical of Merlot, and the finish is short, so it actually seems perfect for drinking on a plane."
"That's it. Look at that—this is the joy of life. Encountering unexpected pleasure in an unexpected place."
"I see."
I nodded, feeling that I had much to learn, and then asked,
"How did you find out about the place we're going to?"
"That? It must have been... 1998. There was an international seminar called the Vinorum Symposium held near Florence. It was hosted by Antinori, and it was a gathering of winemakers from all over Europe."
He had a wide smile on his face, as if reminiscing about old memories was fun.
"That day, there was a tasting session under the theme of 'Diversification of New World Wines'... but honestly, the entire lineup was predictable. Napa, Sonoma, Chile, Argentina... But then an Italian professor came up to me and secretly recommended a wine. It turned out to be an American wine. I thought I knew all the decent American wines—well, not all of them, but most—so I had encountered a wine I never expected."
"Is that the Washington wine we're going to see now?"
"That's right. When I saw 'Columbia Valley, Washington' written on the label, I wondered if I was seeing things. And the friend who recommended the wine to me had a very picky palate. On top of that, a single-varietal Petit Verdot, which is usually treated as a hidden supporting actor in a Bordeaux blend? And from Washington? Everything was hard to believe."
Looking at him, Warren was not only a good storyteller, but he was also quite talkative. I thought he would have been very happy if his children had been interested in grapes and wine. He must have had so much he wanted to say.
Conversely, perhaps he had so much he wanted to pass on but couldn't, so he was letting it all out here.
"Oh... and then?"
"I immediately found the recommended wine and drank it. That Petit Verdot I drank that day was... shocking."
"In what way?"
When I asked, Warren lowered his voice, his eyes sparkling.
"Petit Verdot is usually late-ripening, dark, and firm. That's why even on the Left Bank of Bordeaux, it's hard to ripen fully, and in cool years, it often retains a green, vegetal note. But in that glass, there was none of that. Black plum, violet, plum blossoms, and acidity that wasn't heavy at all... and above all, the tannins weren't harsh; they were smooth like oil. I had almost never seen Petit Verdot's razor-sharp tannins refined like that. Do you know about the Left Bank and Right Bank of Bordeaux?"
"I do. The Garonne and Dordogne rivers meet to form the Gironde estuary, and based on that, the west is the Left Bank and the east is the Right Bank."
"And their characteristics?"
"The Left Bank is dominated by a powerful, structured style centered on Cabernet Sauvignon, and the Right Bank is a soft, flavorful style centered on Merlot and Cabernet Franc, isn't it?"
Warren smiled with satisfaction.
"As expected, you don't neglect your studies. Even though you're not American, you might not know, but it's not actually that important anyway. Regardless, after drinking that wine, I reflected a lot. I learned that sometimes, a supporting actor can become the lead. But it's a polarizing wine, so I was disappointed that it hadn't received much public acclaim yet."
I wondered how he knew so much, but it turned out to be quite an impressive story.
"I see... Then, have you met the owner of the winery?"
"Of course, I have. The friend we're going to meet now is also quite unique. No, if you think about it differently... you have to see that it's because of that unique side that she was able to create such a wine."
"What part of her is like that?"
"First of all... she absolutely hates it when Petit Verdot is treated as a supporting actor in a Bordeaux blend. Even in Bordeaux, that variety is treated as the shadow of Cabernet Sauvignon. It adds color, adds tannins, and supports the structure. But that friend denied that from beginning to end. Needless to say, the French were horrified by that."
He chuckled, took a sip of wine, and continued. His smile had a subtle sense of pride, as if he were bragging about someone else's child.
"She was a friend who had a firm philosophy about her wine. You'll have to feel the details for yourself when you meet her in a bit."
After he explained it like that, I became even more curious. After a two-hour flight, we arrived at Tri-Cities Airport, and after driving for over an hour in a rental car we had prepared in advance, we reached our destination.
"Warren!"
Perhaps because we had notified her of our arrival, a woman who looked to be in her mid-50s was waiting at the entrance of the winery to welcome us. With bright curly hair and a tall stature, just looking at her made the other person feel good.
"It's been a while."
"I'm glad to see you look healthy."
"I'm still doing fine."
"I saw the magazine. I thought it was nonsense..."
She glanced at me following behind, then said to Warren in a low voice.
"Was it for real?"
"It wasn't a lie."
"My goodness... so that friend is really like that?"
"You can't tell by looking at the outside. He has something as strange as yours inside that head of his."
"Oh~ is that so?"
She looked at me with surprised eyes, then approached and held out her hand.
"I'm Miriam Cole."
"I'm Brian Choi."
"I don't know how this old man introduced me, but I'm not that much of a geek."
"He didn't introduce you strangely. He told me an old story about how he was quite surprised when he first drank your wine."
She looked at Warren with an expression that suggested it was unexpected.
"He's quite normal, though?"
"I thought you were strange when I first met you, but after meeting this friend, you actually look like a normal person."
I wondered just how strange she was to warrant such a comment, but Warren added while looking at me.
"It turns out this friend wasn't originally a farmer. Didn't you say you were an applied mathematician?"
"Hoho, that's right."
"You're a former mathematician?"
I asked in surprise, and she waved her hand as if it were nothing.
"That's in the past. Shall we go in?"
We followed her into the winery. Warren followed behind her and said,
"I was quite surprised when I met this friend, but as time passed and we entered the 2000s, data analysts with backgrounds in agriculture and engineering began entering the wine industry. Even among UC Davis graduates, the number of people who crossed over from mathematics or engineering increased quite a bit."
Curious, I asked,
"Then what method do you use for grape cultivation?"
She, who was walking ahead, turned around and smiled.
"It was a bit different before, but I've been using the Growing Degree Days (GDD) method for a few years now."
"Ah..."
"Do you know it?"
"Yes, it's an index that expresses the heat accumulation that grapes actually used for growth during the year as a number."
Grapes ripen a lot if the weather is hot and hardly ripen at all if it's cool. GDD could be said to be an index that mathematically quantifies this part.
"As expected, there's a reason why Warren holds you in high regard."
She stood directly in front of dozens of oak barrels in the aging room.
"I'm worried that Warren might have praised me too much... but it still won't be bad."
It sounded humble, but it was a statement filled with pride in her wine. Her expression was the same. Looking at her calm and composed eyes, I felt a mentality that wouldn't be easily shaken even if she received harsh criticism.
The red wine in the glass, poured through a barrel sampler, hit my nose with a deep aroma from the very first moment. When I took a sip, the soft sensation made me understand what Warren meant when he said the tannins weren't harsh and were smooth like oil.
"Wow!"
When I let out an exclamation, she burst into laughter.
"Is it okay?"
"I've never really felt this kind of Petit Verdot before."
"Everyone is only interested in famous things like Pinot Noir, so they have less interest in my wine, but I don't think the quality is low at all."
Her pride was indeed immense. But since she had such great pride, it was hard for me to bring up the idea of using it as a part of my blend.
However,
"I heard the story from Warren here. You're making the best Cabernet Sauvignon blend?"
"Pardon?"
I wondered what he had told her so grandiosely, but on the other hand, it seemed a bit strange that Warren would ask for something that wasn't even that level.
"But I can't give it to you cheaply."
The fact that she was giving it to me at all was a relief. I answered quickly before she could say anything else.
"Thank you. Then, how much...?"
I thought it was a good thing I hadn't spent my money and had saved it up. Because, if I could, I wanted to take every single oak barrel in this aging room with me.