The Winkler Dinner and the Vinegar Rush
A strange silence settled over the Robert Mondavi Institute once the young Asian man had departed, leaving the two of them alone. Emily didn't particularly care for the way he had just stormed off like a petulant child, but his parting words lingered in her mind with an odd persistence.
Before the memory could fade, Emily scribbled down what Brian had said on a notepad and turned to Chef Daniel Roca.
"He's suggesting we actually prepare it and try the pairing, isn't he?"
"That's right. I apologize for creating such a situation."
To be honest, Daniel Roca was the most bewildered of them all. He had come at the invitation of the Mondavi family, and being treated like this didn't exactly put him in a good mood. However, the strange things said by the student—the one who was supposed to be helping with the pairings—had piqued his curiosity more than his annoyance.
"But first..."
Daniel submerged the Fumé Blanc into an ice bucket filled to the brim.
"Could you check the temperature for me?"
"Oh? Yes, of course."
Driven by a sudden surge of curiosity, Daniel began to quickly prepare the chicken liver mousse, green peppercorns, and apple confit. As he worked, he kept glancing at Emily, clearly using his eyes to ask about the wine's temperature.
"Not yet..."
She did as she was told, waiting while monitoring the wine's temperature drop with a clip-on digital thermometer. As soon as the Fumé Blanc hit 10℃, she pulled it out. She expertly uncorked the bottle and poured the wine into the narrow glasses Brian had specified.
Daniel and Emily stopped their cooking and speared the appetizer—balsamic herb scallops—with their forks.
"Hmm..."
Daniel’s eyes widened even more than Emily’s. He took a closer look at the bottle of vinegar the young Asian man had left behind.
"Redwood Vinegar..."
Nodding to himself, he took a sip of the Fumé Blanc. And then...
"Wow... Haha... Did you feel that?"
Emily set her glass down, her brows furrowed as she tried to savor the lingering aftertaste in her mouth.
"The Fumé Blanc is amplifying the presence of the balsamic. The aroma is much richer. And..."
She couldn't finish her sentence. The point was that the flaws of the Fumé Blanc, which had been so poorly received, were not at all apparent in this context. It meant that, at least for this appetizer, the pairing was a perfect match.
"That kid isn't just all talk, is he? Let’s do more. Let’s follow his instructions exactly."
Daniel Roca began to cook with renewed excitement. He was fascinated by the confidence of the young Asian man who had constructed a pairing just by glancing at the menu and ingredients without even tasting them. He was dying to see the result. Matching his pace, Emily decanted the Private Selection Cabernet Sauvignon at 16–17℃ for about 30 minutes.
Daniel finished the next dish quickly, placing a spoonful of chicken liver mousse and confit on a thin slice of toasted baguette, finishing it with a few peppercorns, and handing it to Emily. He prepared one for himself, and they both took a bite.
"Mmm..."
"This is good."
Both Emily and Daniel were highly satisfied with the chicken liver mousse, which was rich in fat and carried the distinct, heavy scent of iron. As soon as they sipped the wine, the tannins melted into the mousse as smoothly as if they were wrapping around it. The spice of the pepper suppressed the metallic scent, leaving a clean finish.
"Haha, this is amazing! That Asian friend of yours is incredible!"
"......"
The pairings for the main courses—the smoked duck breast with cherry glaze and the skirt steak with Pecorino—were nearly perfect. Of course, this was limited to the wines prepared for this event, but even so, it was nothing short of astonishing.
Having run restaurants in San Francisco for quite some time, Daniel had met many sommeliers, but he had never encountered anyone with such skill, which made it all the more surprising.
And there was one more thing that shocked Daniel even further.
"Let's try one last thing."
For the final course, Chef Daniel had originally planned a lemon semifreddo, but he decided to use the vinegar the young man had left behind instead.
The frozen semifreddo was placed on a plate, and a thin drizzle of elderflower syrup was poured over it. The syrup had been mixed with a drop or two of the grape vinegar; even just smelling it, the subtle floral scent combined with a sharp, tingling edge made its presence strongly felt.
Daniel couldn't wait and took a bite with his fork.
"Haha... To think there could be a vinegar with such a luxurious and deep aroma... You must try this."
But Emily Mondavi had lost interest in the sweet dessert. If the shock Daniel felt was a positive one, hers was the opposite. The young Asian man had finished the pairings just by looking at the menu and ingredients as if it were a chore, then vanished from the lab, leaving her unable to even grasp the instructions her grandfather had given her.
"Haa..."
It had been a long time since Emily had felt this helpless. Watching Daniel enjoy the dish she had helped create, she could do nothing but offer an awkward smile.
A week later, on the day of the Winkler Dinner, I was at the Brentwood cherry farm instead of the school event. And the person most surprised by my presence was Chloe.
"You don't have to go to school? Did you come here because of me?"
She asked with sparkling eyes, and I tapped her straw hat.
"It's a strategic investor relationship. I came to check if the grafting is going well."
"Still, shouldn't you be there?"
"That's why I finished all the pairings before I left. There's no need for me to be there."
If I had been the only one responsible for the pairings, I wouldn't have been able to slip away like this, but funnily enough, Mr. Robert Mondavi had assigned his granddaughter to me, which actually gave me more breathing room. The food was the chef’s job, and if there were any issues with the wine, she could handle them.
"Oh-ho—I thought it was such an important day that you absolutely had to be there."
"It is an important day, but it's not an event tied to grades. It's a fundraiser to support educational activities for students. The money raised goes toward immersion trips to wine-producing regions, international internship scholarships, and managing the student vineyards. They sell food and hold auctions, but I only agreed to it because the department head asked; I don't necessarily have to be there."
Of course, that was just an excuse. While it's good for the winery's brand value to grow, I didn't want to be like a lab rat, constantly observed by someone at my side.
"Well, that works out then."
Whatever the reason, Chloe was happy and showed me the grafts she had worked on.
"I did everything from here to way over there."
"Alright, let's see if it's done well. Where's your father?"
"If you walk in this direction for about 20 minutes, you'll find him."
"Got it. Let's look as we go."
Chloe claimed she had done everything up to the point where you couldn't even see, but that was just one line; it didn't mean she had done the whole area. Even a man couldn't do that much work alone.
"You didn't use the chainsaw yourself, did you?"
"The workers cut those. Why? Were you worried I might have?"
"...You're becoming just like Armando."
"Me? Like him? No way."
"You're exactly the same. Did you disinfect the blades and shears?"
"Of course."
"What did you use for disinfectant?"
"70% isopropyl alcohol. I already learned all that at Zaiger Genetics."
Her memory wasn't half bad.
"Right, if you run out, you can use a 9:1 diluted bleach solution. Just so you know, the 9 is the water."
"I know."
As I walked by and inspected them, they were generally done quite meticulously. The cross-sections where the main stems had been cut with the chainsaw were well-coated with wax to seal the wounds, and the moisture evaporation was carefully blocked with grafting tape and Parafilm.
As I nodded and walked on, Chloe smiled broadly and said,
"Not bad, right?"
"Better than I thought. From the photos, I thought you only brought the ones that turned out well."
"I told you!"
"Oh? You made a mistake there."
I pointed to a graft that had been done incorrectly, where the bark had turned brown and shriveled, and Chloe jumped up and down.
"They said a success rate of over 80% is amazing."
"Check it and re-graft it."
"I will."
Chloe looked dejected as she checked the tree's location and wrote it in her notebook, and I resumed walking. After walking for a while and checking the state of the grafts, I saw Mr. Frederick and his workers wrestling with some trees in the distance.
But as I got closer, something felt off. The workers were surrounding Mr. Frederick. I quickened my pace, and as I got near, I saw a worker wrapping Frederick's hand in a bandage.
"Dad!"
Chloe ran over in surprise, but Frederick said it was nothing.
"It's nothing. Just a small cut."
But the worker wrapping the bandage frowned and said,
"It's more than just a cut. It was bleeding profusely earlier."
"Doesn't everyone have a few scars like this from working?"
"That may be, but..."
"That's enough. Just wrap it up quickly."
Most Americans hate going to the hospital, so they usually handle minor injuries with first aid. But considering the wealth Mr. Frederick had, there was no need to go that far. Perhaps because he had spent his whole life farming, he was used to treating small wounds with makeshift first aid in the field and didn't think much of it.
"...You have to go to the hospital."
Chloe said, her eyes red as if she were about to cry, and Frederick said dismissively,
"I told you I would. Oh, Brian. You saw it on your way here, right? How is it?"
He asked with a bright expression, seemingly more satisfied with the transformation of the farm than concerned about his own injury.
"It's going well."
"Right? Did you know I went to San Francisco a few days ago and received a $300,000 down payment? Everyone was mesmerized by our cherries. Anthony! Go and bring some cherries."
A moment later, a worker appeared holding red, plump cherries. Chloe was staring at her father's hand, which was stained red with blood, but Frederick smiled as if he weren't hurt at all.
"What do you think? Last year, we had some good ones, but there were also mushy ones and small ones, but this year, they're all like this. It’s certain that since I followed your advice, they’re plump and the sugar content is high."
"That's great."
"Exactly! Once these guys grow properly in two or three years, I won't have anything to worry about."
He tapped the tree he had grafted and laughed heartily.
"It will go well. Let's go. I have something to talk to you about."
"Oh? Then let's go."
His vehicle was parked nearby, so we rode in that.
"So, what did you want to talk about?"
"Nothing special, just that you need to go to the hospital."
"What? I thought... When did I say I wouldn't go? I just wanted to show you what I had to show since you were here. I know I'm hurt."
"Yes, yes..."
Frederick seemed a bit deflated, but he soon smiled. Just then, his cell phone vibrated with a message.
It was a message from Sienna, which I simply ignored. But the second message I couldn't ignore.
It was a message from Mr. John Anderson, who was distributing the vinegar. Had the 6,000 bottles he took been completely exhausted in less than two weeks?
"Could you drop me off at my car?"
"Why don't you stay for a drink since you're here?"
"I think I need to get to the winery urgently. And I've checked the grafting and soil conditions to a certain extent, so I've done what I needed to do."
"That's a shame. Very well."
A while later, as I got out of his car, Chloe waved at me with a smile and urged her father to hurry to the hospital.
"She's finally growing up."
I chuckled and called John Anderson.
"It's me. Have the 6,000 bottles already been sold out?"
A welcoming yet urgent voice came through the receiver.
"Don't even ask. Bristol Farms already swept up 5,000 bottles. We only had 1,000 left to stock in the markets around Napa, but suddenly, a massive order is coming in from San Francisco!"