Water and Grapes (1)
A large truck arrived at the vineyard.
"It’s here, it’s finally here! Did you check the count?"
My father, who had been up since dawn preparing, beamed with joy.
"Yes, I’ve confirmed 5,000 bottles."
"Good work. I’ll check the invoice and bring it out."
Beside me, Armando and Jacob were sprawled out, completely exhausted. These two had also been up since the crack of dawn, hauling crates.
Of course, my mother and I hadn't been idle either. We had spent days repeating the process of filling the tanks with vinegar and sealing the lids. Even with the semi-automatic bottling equipment, it required a lot of manual labor, and my mother had worked incredibly hard.
"Everything ready?"
John Anderson, who had stepped out of the truck, smiled with satisfaction as he looked at the mountain of boxes stacked in front of the farm.
"Yes."
"You’ve worked hard. 300 bottles sold out in a single day, and after seeing how well it was received at the tasting event, the folks at Bristol Farm are practically begging for more as soon as possible."
"Oh..."
At that moment, my father, who had meticulously checked the bottles in the boxes for any defects, walked over and shook hands with John.
"I’m counting on you."
"I should be the one saying that."
He helped me, my friends, and my father load the vinegar crates onto the truck and immediately wrote out a check for $17,500. This was 50% of the total payment; for large transactions over $10,000, we always required a 50% deposit upfront.
He had been hesitant at first, but after my father argued that he couldn't be sure if we’d receive the full payment at the end of the month given our difficult financial situation, he finally agreed to the 50% advance.
"Where is this being delivered? Is it going to Macy’s department store?"
John Anderson checked the invoice—the proof of our delivery—and nodded.
"Yes, I heard they’re planning to stock a thousand bottles at Macy’s alone."
"That many?"
"They seem to think the consumption of high-end ingredients is picking up."
"It’s a shame. If we had received organic certification, we could have charged double the price."
"Organic? You’re actually trying to get organic certification?"
"Yes."
At my calm reply, he stared at me with a bewildered expression before asking,
"Do you have any idea how difficult and demanding that is?"
"We’re already farming organically."
"Really?"
"Yes. The application has been submitted, and an inspector will be here soon."
"...You’re moving forward step by step, aren't you."
Impressed, he ruffled my hair and climbed back into the truck.
"Perhaps it’s a good thing your family was the one to acquire my vineyard."
"...Drive safely."
After the truck carrying the vinegar departed, I turned to my collapsed friends and said,
"You guys worked hard. I’ll make sure you get a generous daily wage. Let’s go eat."
They looked a bit hesitant.
"We’re having meat! Not Korean food, just meat!"
Only after I shouted that did these two North American boys, who didn't even know what a real meal was, pull themselves up.
"What are you talking about? I liked the food."
"Would you believe me if I said I’ve been waiting for lunch since dawn?"
I dragged the two of them, who were telling obvious lies, back to the house to wash up. When we came out to the yard, my father was already heating up the charcoal. Since the culture of grilling meat over charcoal is common in the U.S., it wasn't hard to find the supplies.
"Just wait a little longer!"
Perhaps because we had made a lot of money, my parents' faces were full of vitality.
"Where’s Mom?"
"She’s in the kitchen washing vegetables."
"Got it."
I sat my friends at the table and went inside to help my mother wash the vegetables and carry out the rice, salt, and ssamjang. When I piled the vegetables on the table like a mountain for the meat, my two friends rolled their eyes.
"Why are we...?"
"Just eat. You guys can stick to the meat if you want."
Soon, the charcoal was glowing, and the meat hit the grill, sizzling with a delicious sound.
"This meat is great. It’s incredibly cheap. I bought 5kg and it only cost $250. And it’s Prime grade, too."
My father was beaming, happy that he had bought such good meat at a low price.
"It’s definitely a perk of living in the U.S. that meat is cheap."
"Alright, you guys usually eat this like steak, right? Give it a try."
I sliced the well-grilled meat into bite-sized pieces, and Jacob and Armando began devouring it frantically. Meanwhile, my family cut our portions a bit thinner, grilled them to perfection, and ate them off our plates.
At first, my friends didn't understand why I had brought the vegetables, but they watched in fascination as I put ssamjang on a lettuce leaf and wrapped the meat.
"What kind of sauce is that?"
"Just dip it in; it’s worth a try."
"Really? It looks spicy."
"It’s not spicy at all. If you think that’s spicy, you’re not a man."
Provoked by that, Jacob did exactly as I did, piling meat and a generous amount of ssamjang onto a lettuce leaf. He slowly brought it to his mouth and took a half-bite, but—
"Don't cut it! Eat it in one bite. In Korea, if you cut a wrap, people say you weren't raised right."
"......"
Jacob eventually stuffed the whole thing in, and his expression gradually filled with satisfaction.
"This sauce... it’s incredible."
"Don't eat too much of it. The Korean market is far away."
Seeing Jacob’s success, Armando tried the same thing, and the two of them ended up polishing off half a container of ssamjang.
When we were sufficiently full, Armando asked,
"Are you not going to check on Chloe’s farm?"
"You said the pest control is done, right? There’s no reason to go. I could go if she asked for help with the harvest, but I’m busy too, and I don't have the time. I can’t skip school."
I couldn't neglect my studies if I wanted to get into university.
"She seemed pretty anxious, though."
"She’ll do fine. Besides, she’s just nervous because she hasn't been hands-on with farming for very long. From what I saw, the harvest shouldn't be a problem..."
I was curious about the results, too. Chloe had to win so that I could put cherry wine into the tanks that would be empty soon.
"If Chloe wins, are you going to make cherry wine?"
"Probably?"
At this, my father, who had been listening quietly, asked,
"Cherry wine? Who is Chloe?"
"Oh... she’s a school friend who runs a cherry farm. Her father made them compete to see who would inherit the farm. The one with the higher yield wins, and I gave her some help. In exchange, if she wins, I get to buy the cherries at cost."
"How much?"
"It was supposed to be about a ton, but her father liked my advice so much he said he’d give me two tons."
"Hmm... that’s not a huge amount, is it?"
"I suppose? I couldn't ask for 10 tons at cost, no matter how much I helped..."
"That’s true."
This time, Jacob chimed in.
"Is a ton not a lot?"
"Usually, when making wine, the minimum batch is around a thousand bottles, right? That’s exactly enough for that. About 1.3 tons?"
"But don't you have to make wine from your own farm once the harvest season ends?"
"The cherry harvest is in May and June. But our harvest season is from late September to October."
Jacob, who now knew quite a bit about farming, tilted his head.
"That’s on the late side, isn't it?"
"Cabernet Sauvignon itself is slower to harvest than other varieties. And while regions with high temperatures and high sunlight harvest in mid-September, our region, which isn't far from the coast, needs a later harvest. Especially if it’s at a high altitude, mid-October is the right time."
"Ah..."
"Anyway, if that happens, the tanks will be empty for five months, so if the timing works out, I can run a batch of cherry wine. If Chloe loses, well, there’s nothing I can do."
"That’s a shame. Couldn't you have made more vinegar?"
"The previous owner sold off all the grapes that had good marketability. And the parts that were rotten and unusable couldn't even be used for vinegar, so we had to throw them away, which significantly reduced the volume. I’m disappointed I couldn't make more, too."
"Then, if you had turned all the grapes from your farm into vinegar, how much could you have made?"
I did a rough calculation in my head and said,
"Probably over 50,000 liters."
At the mention of 50,000 liters, my parents were even more shocked than my friends. The vinegar currently stored in the winery tanks was only 20,000 liters.
"50,000 liters?"
"My goodness, that’s more than double?"
My parents, who had been happy just earning $140,000, had their jaws drop at the thought that they could have made nearly $300,000.
But I just smirked and said to them,
"If we make it into wine, we can earn at least double what I just calculated."
My mother grabbed my hand tightly.
"I’m so proud of our son."
In truth, my mother had supported me becoming an accountant. Like most parents, she was very satisfied with the idea of her child working a white-collar job. But I realized only later that my success was built on the lives of my parents, who had labored on this farm.
"You might be proud, but you’ll have a lot more work because of me."
"Mom isn't tired at all."
"Dad isn't tired either."
Just as I was feeling a wave of emotion, Armando’s mournful voice cut in.
"I’m a little tired, actually. Those crates were really heavy. Ah... my shoulders..."
"...I was going to give it to you anyway, your daily wage..."
I gave my two friends $200 each for their morning’s work and sent them home. Jacob and Armando were so satisfied with the pay compared to the work that they even asked me to call them again next time.
Then, after packing a few more things, I headed to the farm with my parents.
"The soil is firm and we’ve fertilized well, so what’s next?"
My father, who had studied a lot, answered immediately.
"We need to water them."
"That’s right. Sunlight and water are essential for plants to grow. But most fruits are sensitive to water. Simply watering them well might be good for growing the fruit, but it doesn't necessarily help them develop flavor."
"Is that so? John Anderson had set it up so water would come out at certain times, so we’ve been doing that. Is there a problem?"
"It’s not so much a problem, but there are a few more measures we can take to make better wine. If you give the trees a little stress from lack of water, strangely enough, they accumulate anthocyanin and tannin in the grape skins. And those two components are the core elements of wine."
"Oh, really?"
I stood in front of the grapevines and pointed to the drip irrigation hose.
"That releases water at set times, right?"
"That’s right."
"From now on, before we water them, we need to check if the trees are thirsty."
My mother, who had been listening, lifted her sun visor and asked,
"How do we check?"
I showed her the large bag I had brought and pulled a silver foil pouch from my pocket.
"From now on, we’re going to need these two things."