The Harvest Fair
The next morning, at dawn.
The sound of steel shears rhythmically snipping grape stems echoed through the vineyard, and clusters of Cabernet Sauvignon began to pile up in the crates. I moved slowly down the first row, carefully selecting the bunches. When I lifted them into my palm, the grapes shimmered with a deep, dark indigo hue.
"Send them to the winery as soon as the bins are full," I instructed.
A forklift moved with a low, mechanical hum. A one-ton bin, cradling the harvested grapes, was soon whisked away toward the winery.
"How much do you think we'll get?" Dad asked, walking up to me with his gloved hands.
"Somewhere between 45 and 50 tons, I’d say."
"That’s about the same scale as the Pinot Noir we bought, isn't it?"
"That's right. It'll be close to 50 tons. Oh, and I got a call. The owner of Silveroak Hills Vineyards said they'd let it go for 1.1 million dollars."
"Is that so?"
Dad showed interest, but his expression quickly clouded with worry. "Will it be okay? We've been pouring money into it for the last five years with no profit to show for it."
"That's exactly why it's cheap. If it weren't, it wouldn't be at that price."
"I know, but... it's an area that was hit by wildfires. I'm just uneasy about buying land there."
Dad's concern was perfectly natural. In fact, large wildfires would go on to ravage Napa and Sonoma, so he wasn't wrong.
"You're right. But it’s still worth it. And I don't just mean we're taking a risk—the land itself has intrinsic value."
"The land itself?"
"Yes. We're buying real estate, after all."
Perhaps because he’s Korean, Dad nodded at the mention of real estate.
"Your words aren't wrong, but..."
"Real estate is the one thing whose value doesn't disappear if you hold onto it. If we keep up with the loan principal and interest, even if we do nothing else, we'll eventually be able to sell it for at least what we paid."
In truth, if one didn't have the knowledge from my past life, it would be a high-risk investment. Just as few people had the foresight to scrape together every penny to buy apartments in Gangnam twenty years ago, knowing how much they would skyrocket in value, it was a bold move.
"But we aren't buying it just for that. The restoration costs are substantial, too."
"True. But the government covers a significant portion of the restoration costs, so we don't need to worry too much about that. Plus, we'll have the cherry wine, we're going to make vinegar, and we have the Pinot Noir."
"Hmm..."
"And I have a dream. I want to transform our vineyard into something like To-Kalon."
"To-Kalon? That place that sells wine for a fortune?"
"Oh? You know it?"
"Kid, I’ve studied a lot, too. Of course I know it. What is it... isn't that the name of the vineyard built by that guy who settled in Napa a long, long time ago?"
It began in 1868 when a man named Hamilton Crabb established a 500-acre vineyard in the Oakville region of Napa Valley, naming it the To-Kalon Vineyard. After his death, the land was divided and sold off in pieces, and currently, it remained under the ownership of several different estates.
"Exactly. Since the fire burned everything down, I plan to acquire it and rebuild the soil from scratch. Just like To-Kalon. It’ll cost some money to set it up, but the value of the land will be immense."
The current price of Cabernet Sauvignon in Napa Valley is nearly $4,000 per ton, but in 20 years, it will be more than double that. Even this $4,000 price tag is three times higher than other regions, which is why AVA land in Napa Valley is so expensive compared to elsewhere.
Going further, Cabernet Sauvignon grown in To-Kalon, the heart of the Oakville AVA, would be recognized as a super-premium grape worth over $50,000 per ton after 2020.
Even within the same Napa Valley, which is already a premium grape-growing region, the price difference was fivefold. It had reached the point where farms in the Oakville region were locked in legal battles over who had the right to use the name To-Kalon.
Therefore, making our terroir like To-Kalon meant completely changing the future value of the land.
Come to think of it, the soil I had been conditioning with Biochar Compost and air-fertilizer packs was essentially a makeshift version of the core elements of To-Kalon.
"That’s going to cost a lot of money. The money for the Pinot Noir... the loan principal, the interest... the labor costs for the workers... our living expenses... your tuition... the restoration costs for the fire-damaged land..."
As Dad counted on his fingers, I looked up at the sky for a moment before speaking with confidence.
"We'll hold a tasting for the Pinot Noir and cherry wine around November. If we sign contracts with restaurant owners there and get deposits, a significant portion will be resolved."
"So, everything depends on the wine's price and sales?"
"That's right."
"Phew... I'm scared, Brian. It's 1.1 million dollars. That's well over a billion won in Korean currency."
"Just trust me. And since we bought fire-damaged land, we can get a deferment on the principal repayment for up to five years. We'll also get support for the restoration costs."
After a long moment of contemplation, Dad finally nodded.
"Alright, let's do it. It's not just anything, it's real estate, so..."
"...... You made a good choice."
It seemed that the fact that the object of the purchase was real estate was the biggest factor in moving Dad's heart.
Over the next two days, I harvested nearly 50 tons of grapes and moved them to the winery. I planned to turn half of the grapes that seemed even slightly less than top-tier into vinegar, and the other half into wine.
I set aside the most beautiful, robust clusters and packed them into boxes. They were the products I would enter into the Sonoma County Harvest Fair, which was to be held a few days later.
Three days later, our whole family headed to the Sonoma County Fairgrounds in Santa Rosa. We had the grapes we’d harvested carefully tucked away in the backseat, and none of us could wipe the smiles from our faces.
It was a heart-fluttering, joyful feeling just to be bringing the fruits of our labor after a long, difficult year of farming.
"Are your friends coming, too?" Mom asked.
"Just Chloe, I think. Armando is busy keeping up with his studies, and Jacob is in the middle of rice harvest season, so he's swamped."
"They should have made time for at least one day."
"Eh, they already played plenty at the Sunset Fest."
"True, you were looking for them constantly. How are you holding up without playing?"
They had begged me to hang out several times, but knowing how busy I was, my friends couldn't insist anymore.
"I don't really have a huge urge to play, anyway."
"But I heard Jacob's farm is huge? Does Jacob operate big machinery and stuff?"
"You shouldn't think of it like rice farming in Korea. They can't function without a combine harvester. Jacob said he started driving a combine when he was 15."
"My goodness, America is certainly different."
"Exactly."
"If Chloe said she was coming, couldn't we have picked her up?"
"Oh, Mom. It's a long way from our house to Chloe's. She has a car, too."
Chatting away with my parents, we arrived at the venue, which was so packed with people that it was hard to move. Rows of bins and wine bottles from each region, along with the names of wineries printed on large banners, caught my eye.
Amidst the crowd, Chloe, who had arrived early as promised, waved at us. Her white shirt and jeans stood out today.
"You're here!"
"Yeah. The traffic was a bit heavy."
"Hello!"
My parents greeted Chloe warmly as she gave a spirited greeting.
"When does the blind test start?"
"At the very end."
"I saw some of your classmates walking around earlier."
"Probably. Not many of them would have entered grapes, so I can just join the class later."
"I see."
The class was a requirement to participate as a student in the blind test announced by the professor. As Matthew, a senior, had said, it wouldn't be reflected in the judging score, but it was an evaluation of a student's sensory perception; students who produced scores similar to the judges would receive extra credit.
"Let's submit the grapes first."
In one corner of the venue, farms were lining up to submit their grapes and wines, and under a large tent, dazzlingly arranged grape clusters sparkled as they greeted the visitors. The opening ceremony, unfolding with flashy music, felt like a festival, but the people who appeared to be farm owners had quite tense expressions.
I entered the venue with my parents, carrying the grapes we had harvested with such care. Dad's eyes were shining with tension, and Mom was doting on the grape clusters, wiping them by hand to ensure not a speck of dust remained. An entry table, already numbered, awaited us.
"Will it be okay?"
I smiled at Mom, who was full of worry. "Mom, don't worry. These aren't table grapes, so they won't get much attention anyway. I just entered them to add a line to our history when we make the wine later."
"Still..."
Even for wine grapes, receiving a good score at an event like this basically boosts the brand value of the farm. Farms that have spent many years steadily building their brand wouldn't enter such events, but it wasn't strange for small farms to participate to get their name out.
As the judging began, the noise in the hall subsided, and judges in refined coats lined up to taste each farm's grapes and record their scores.
"That's our turn."
When the judges reached our grapes, Mom, tense, grabbed my hand tightly. Evaluating everything from color and shape to the sensation and aroma when tasted, they calculated the grapes' value as wine ingredients and nodded to each other.
"These grapes... the aroma is different."
"The balance of acidity and sugar is excellent."
The expressions of the professors leaving small notes were unusual.
"Looks like they're pretty good?" Chloe, who was nearby, whispered in my ear.
"Who knows."
I said I didn't know, but I was certain. These were grapes grown in optimal soil conditioned with Biochar Compost and air-fertilizer packs, harvested at the most appropriate time through perfect water stress. If they weren't of the highest quality, the dozens of papers I had written would have been a waste.
A moment later, the host's voice rang out.
"Now, it's time for the awards for the wine grape category at this year's Sonoma County Harvest Fair! This year's first place is..."
The host paused for a moment before shouting.
"Surprisingly, it's a tie for first place! Castello Winery! And Redwood Winery!"
The participants were momentarily taken aback, but soon applause erupted. Matthew, who hadn't been visible, walked onto the stage with a relaxed air. Seeing our family walking up to the stage, he wore a look of bewilderment.
It was clear from his expression that he couldn't accept the fact that our farm had created grapes good enough to be compared to the Cabernet Sauvignon produced by the Castello farm, which belonged to To-Kalon.
"I would have been satisfied with second place... but it's an honor to tie for first."
I said quietly to Matthew as I stepped onto the podium. And I meant it. When I heard he was participating, I thought the best result would be second place. I hadn't expected a tie for first.
Professor Thomas Edward, who served as the head judge, looked at me and Matthew with a look of renewed interest.
"Matthew is our student... and it says here that Redwood Farm is also our student?"
"That's correct. I'll be participating in the blind test later, too."
When I said that, he showed a benevolent smile.
"You grew them surprisingly well."
He said that and then continued to Dad with a look of great surprise. "I want to express my respect for growing Cabernet Sauvignon comparable to this outside of To-Kalon."
"Thank you."
My parents offered their thanks, and he turned his head back to Matthew.
"Strictly speaking, first place would be yours, but since it's a farm that has been writing history for a long time, we judged that a tie for first was appropriate if the difference was slight. Do you think it's unfair?"
"No, sir."
Matthew shook his head as if he had no complaints, and Professor Thomas awarded both farms a plaque and a $5,000 prize.
"Well done!"
Seeing Chloe waving from far below the podium, my parents waved back with both hands. Anyone would think she was their daughter.
As we stepped down from the podium, Matthew walked past us without even a word. He knew that a tie for first place was, in effect, a defeat.
"He's got a sharper personality than he looks."
I chuckled and approached my excited parents. And UC Davis students and Matthew Higgins were watching this scene intently.