Cherry Wine (3)
Two days later, at Redwood Vineyard.
Since commuting to the farm the moment I woke up had become my daily routine, I was out in the fields as soon as the sun rose, continuing to check the condition of the grapevines with Armando.
Armando had been showing up at our farm at the crack of dawn every day since graduation. He was actually grateful for the work, especially since I paid him a higher daily wage than other farms.
It wasn't a bad deal for me, either. I hadn't realized it at first, but the more time we spent together, the more I saw that Armando had a genuine passion for farming. Or, more accurately, he had a hidden desire to be someone useful to society, and it seemed to be manifesting through his work in the fields.
"The leaves are so vibrant... what on earth could be causing such massive damage?"
Walking between the rows of vines, Armando touched the lush leaves as if in a daze. I crouched down, pressing my hand against the soil, and replied.
"The scariest ones are the ones you can't even see. Take Phylloxera, for example. They hide underground and gnaw on the roots. The tree looks perfectly fine from above, but once the roots are damaged, it can't absorb water or nutrients, and eventually, it just withers away."
"Then we should just catch them. Can't we just spray some pesticide?"
"No. You can't catch that one with chemicals. It already wiped out European vineyards back in the 19th century. That’s why everyone uses resistant rootstock now. Simply put, we use American grape roots that are strong against pests, and graft the variety we want on top. We stop it right at the roots."
Armando looked down at the soil beneath his feet, looking startled.
"Starting from underground... that's terrifying."
I moved to the next vine and held up a cluster of grapes that were just beginning to take shape, the berries the size of small peas.
"There are ones you can see, too. It’s called the European Grapevine Moth (Lobesia botrana). The larvae burrow into the grapes and eat them from the inside out. The damaged berries get moldy, and sometimes the entire cluster rots before harvest."
"That sounds incredibly harmful. How do we stop that?"
"There’s a way. If we hang pheromone traps throughout the vineyard, the males can't find the females, which prevents them from breeding. We call this 'mating disruption'."
"Whoa—the name itself sounds pretty impressive, doesn't it?"
"Exactly. And when the larvae first hatch, we can use microbial agents like Bt (Bacillus thuringiensis; a natural microbial insecticide)."
"Bt? What's that?"
"It's a bacterium that produces protein toxins only for specific pests. It’s completely harmless to humans, animals, and plants."
"So, we just spray that on the ground?"
"No, we spray it on the leaves. When the moth larvae eat the leaves, the toxins activate in their gut, paralyzing their digestive system. They can't eat anymore and end up starving to death. Done. How about that? Pretty amazing, right?"
I made a slicing motion across my throat when I mentioned them starving to death. Armando’s jaw dropped.
"You really are like a teacher. There’s nothing you don't know."
"You have to know everything to run a farm this big. Farming is a war. A war fought with knowledge instead of swords. If you prepare properly, you can prevent the damage."
I usually didn't bother explaining these things to the laborers, as they would just give a cursory glance and move on. But because Armando was diligent and genuinely curious about farming, I didn't mind teaching him.
Just then, my mom called me.
"The cherries are here! Come down quickly!"
"Understood, I'm coming. The cherries are here. Let's go."
Armando and I ran straight toward the winery. Before long, we saw a large truck parked in the distance.
"Wait, something this big came?"
My mom and dad were staring in shock at the 53-foot trailer attached to the back of the truck.
"I told you it was 10 tons."
At that moment, a young, beautiful woman hopped down from the passenger seat.
To my surprise, it was Chloe.
"Huh? Why are you here?"
While I was busy being surprised, Chloe greeted my parents.
"Hello. I'm Brian's friend, Chloe. Since the shipment was coming from our farm, I decided to come along myself."
Since I had already explained why the cherries were coming, my parents immediately understood the situation.
"Oh my! You are so beautiful!"
My mom kept saying "beautiful" and held Chloe's hands, clearly delighted, while my dad looked at me with a slightly suspicious gaze.
"Friend, friend..."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, we're friends. I'm telling you, it's for sure..."
Armando, who was standing nearby, chimed in.
"They're really just friends. Brian isn't interested in Chloe at all."
My dad made a strange expression at that. Just then, the truck driver jumped down with an invoice in his hand. He handed a pen to my dad and said,
"Please sign here to confirm the safe arrival."
"Ah, one moment... let me check the condition of the cherries. Alright, let's start unloading!"
Since the arrival was scheduled for today, I had already hired laborers in advance. Because of someone reporting illegal immigrants, the number of available workers in Napa Valley had dropped significantly, so I had to pay 20% more than usual to get anyone to come.
Armando, my dad, and I started unloading the cherries, while my mom and Chloe had a halting conversation using basic English.
Inside the refrigerated trailer, wooden crates filled with a deep red hue were stacked high. As we pulled them out one by one, the sweet and tart scent unique to cherries wafted through the gaps in the crates.
When we moved the crates into the winery, I looked over and saw the fermentation tanks and bottling equipment that had been used for vinegar just a short while ago, now sparkling clean.
The stainless steel panels caught the sunlight, gleaming like brand-new equipment. There were traces of detergent and multiple rinses on the floor, and the hoses hanging on the wall lay silently, still holding a hint of moisture.
I had hired a professional cleaning service to ensure everything was perfectly prepared for making cherry wine.
My dad picked up a cherry from a crate and examined its color with interest. Reflected in the sunlight, the cherry skin shimmered like a transparent glass bead, and the tiny droplets of moisture on the surface added to its ruby-like glow. My dad popped it into his mouth, chewed, and smiled with satisfaction.
"Oh... the sugar content is incredible."
Chloe, who had approached us, smiled proudly. Perhaps because she felt a sense of pride in the cherries she had grown, it showed clearly on her face.
"Right?"
"This is why Brentwood cherries are so famous."
I picked one up and put it in my mouth, too. As the soft flesh burst, what spread across my tongue wasn't just a simple sweetness. It was a deep, clear sweetness that felt like it had captured the sunlight, accompanied by an acidity that tingled the corners of my mouth. I could already imagine how rich the flavor would be once it was brewed into wine.
Once all the crates were moved inside the winery and my dad signed the driver's invoice, I approached Chloe.
"Thanks for your hard work. The cherries are all unloaded, so you can head back now."
"Already?"
"Yeah, we're finished..."
I was about to ask if she had intended to stay longer, but my mom stepped in.
"We have a guest, we should at least treat her to a meal."
"...Well, do as you please."
At that moment, Chloe asked with wide, curious eyes.
"Making wine... can't I watch for a bit? I brought these cherries, so I'm curious to see how it's done."
"That's not possible."
"Why?"
"Wine-making is a secret. It's our farm's know-how."
Chloe pouted as if she felt slighted, but I didn't care.
"This is business, business..."
My mom, unable to watch any longer, started telling Chloe all about how our son was this and that, and dragged her off to the house. My dad looked at me as if he were seeing me in a new light.
"You're cold even to women, aren't you?"
"Dad, this is business. Business has to be cold, sharp as a knife..."
I made a gesture of cutting something with a hand-knife, and my dad chuckled.
"Alright, now that we've finished unloading, let's start the sorting! Everyone, take one crate each, and put the sorted cherries into this large bin! Remove the leaves and debris, and make sure to discard any that are severely damaged or rotten!"
As I shouted, the laborers who had finished unloading sat in a row along the line I had prepared and began the fruit sorting process. If this were before my regression, I would have used an optical sorter, but in 2004, such equipment didn't exist.
My dad and Armando were also sitting there, sorting the fruit.
"Excuse me! Is anyone here?"
Hearing the voice from outside, I went out to find a group of people coming up from the farm entrance. Among them, I recognized a few faces.
"Ah, Brian! We meet again. The vinegar you gave me was delicious. My wife really loved it."
The person walking at the front of the group was Pierce Morgan from the Agricultural Extension Office. As I shifted my gaze past him, he continued.
"The government has selected your farm as a pilot site for the regional organic conversion project. So, we've decided to show the neighboring farm owners how you're implementing organic farming."
"Ah..."
I glanced at Elowen, the owner of Silveroak Hills, who was standing in the back. Perhaps noticing my gaze, Pierce Morgan spoke kindly once more.
"We should include the farms that are reapplying for organic certification, right?"
"I see. That's fine. Please, come on up."
Aside from the future knowledge buried in my head, all the techniques I was using were already available in the present, so I had nothing to hide. My dad came out to see what the commotion was, and after hearing the explanation, he told them to look around freely before returning to the fruit sorting. I also spoke to Pierce Morgan.
"I'm a bit busy right now trying to make cherry wine, so please feel free to look around on your own."
"Cherry wine? That's unusual."
It wasn't strange for him to say it was unusual, as the perception at the time was strongly that wine was made from grapes. Therefore, cherry wine was generally categorized as a separate 'Fruit Wine' and was mostly evaluated as a sweet, light dessert drink.
Even before my regression, it was true that it was classified as a fruit wine, but as natural wines gained popularity and became recognized as sophisticated, trendy drinks in the gourmet market, they appealed to the younger generation, so the perception was very different from back then.
The reason for this difference in perception might be due to the changing times, but a major reason was that, in 2004, high-quality cherry wine simply wasn't being produced.
In that sense, it was quite unique that Chloe's father, Frederick, didn't have a negative perception of cherry wine. Most wine enthusiasts value tradition and view anything 'heretical' negatively.
Instead, the fact that he accepted my words about lowering the sugar content and increasing the acidity without any negativity, and immediately thought of wine, was something rarely seen among wine enthusiasts of this era.
If that wasn't the case, perhaps he was approaching it purely from a commercial standpoint to find a large-scale cherry supplier.
"The wine we're making won't just be a sweet dessert drink. Once it's finished, you'll probably understand what a proper cherry wine is."
At my words, I heard a sudden scoff from behind. It was obvious who it was—it had to be Elowen from Silveroak.
He realized his mistake and quickly turned his head, but I didn't care.
"A proper cherry wine? That sounds intriguing. I'll be able to taste it later, right?"
"Of course, absolutely. Oh, but could I ask you for one favor?"
"What is it?"
"Since you know many high-end restaurant owners who want organic ingredients, I'd like to host a tasting event for them once the wine is finished."
"Oh ho, you want me to arrange it?"
"You won't be disappointed."
"...I'll think about it."
Pierce Morgan grinned, and I scratched the bridge of my nose, smiling back before heading inside.