2005 Vintage Cerasia (2)
A wholesale market near San Francisco.
Before the sun had fully risen, forklifts darted back and forth, their harsh engine roars and piercing whistles cluttering the air.
Frederick carefully backed his 53ft Volvo VNL reefer trailer into the designated dock. As he stepped out, Chloe, who had ridden in the passenger seat, hopped down to help him open the rear doors. A sweet, intoxicating scent of cherries wafted out the moment the seal was broken.
“Just one crate for now.”
Frederick pulled a cherry crate from the stack. It was tightly wrapped in shrink film, with a blue stamp on the side:
HE Harris Orchards
Pack Date: 05/18
Block: C-4 / Var: Bing
Chloe poked the stamp with her finger. A bit of ink smudged onto her fingertip.
“How much was the pre-ordered volume?”
“320 tons. 100 tons are going to Redwood, and since our total production this year is 980 tons, that leaves 560 tons to sell.”
“Dad, isn’t it amazing? We cut down 30% of the farm for grafting, so how is it that the production volume barely changed?”
Even Frederick was stunned by the incredible results.
“It’s an absurd outcome. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it. It’s not just about the yield; until last year, we had a significant amount of waste even after harvesting.”
“Oh, you mean there were a lot of cherries that weren’t marketable?”
“Exactly. But now, almost everything we harvest has excellent quality, so there’s nothing to throw away.”
As he proudly presented the crate in his hand, a market inspector approached with a clipboard. A small thermometer hung around his neck, and a utility knife was clipped to his belt.
“Shipping origin... Mr. Frederick? Did you come with your daughter?”
The two seemed well-acquainted.
“That’s right. This is my daughter, who will be taking over the cherry farm.”
Frederick smiled proudly, gripping his daughter’s shoulder. Chloe felt both proud and touched by her father’s display.
“You’ve raised her well. Alright. Origin is Brentwood. HE Harris. I’ll open one sample.”
The inspector sliced through the tape on the crate. He peeled back the thin sheet covering the ice packs and lifted out the entire top row. He poked the thermometer into the center of the flesh. A moment later, numbers appeared on the screen.
“6.1℃.”
He picked up two cherries, pressed them slightly with his fingers, and bit into one. A quiet, crisp sound of firm texture echoed.
“Freshness is good, and they’re firm. What’s the volume?”
“We brought 20 tons now, and an additional 540 tons are available.”
“Good. Bring over two pallets.”
“You got it.”
Frederick had his staff bring over two pallets of cherries from the refrigerated truck, then stepped back with Chloe and whispered.
“From here on, we just wait. Once someone comes over, inspects them, and starts talking, that’s when it begins.”
Sure enough, people who had been browsing from a distance began to gather one by one. A buyer with a purchasing company’s logo on his cap, a middle-aged man who seemed to represent a small merchant association, and even a young man in a chef’s jacket despite the early hour. Each of them put on plastic gloves, opened the crates, and picked up a cherry. They rolled them in their palms, pressed them, and bit into them whole.
“The color is uniform.”
“Brix level is 18? That’s high for Bing cherries. No bitter aftertaste.”
One buyer spoke up.
“Today’s market price, per flat... starting at fifteen (15).”
Another immediately countered.
“Sixteen.”
“Sixteen-fifty.”
“Seventeen.”
The numbers didn’t jump drastically, but the expressions grew increasingly serious. The fact that the price was rising was a sign that the cherries in this sector were quite good, so Chloe exhaled softly and gripped her father’s arm.
“What does that mean?”
“A ‘flat’ is the standard unit used in cherry distribution. One flat is 11 pounds (about 5kg). When he called out fifteen, he was offering $15 per flat.”
“Ah...”
Regardless of their whispering, the scene continued.
“Seventeen-fifty.”
Another buyer crossed his arms and tilted his head back.
“Eighteen.”
Frederick’s eyes narrowed slightly. His expression remained stoic, but his hand didn’t leave his waist. Just then, another buyer intervened, lifting a row from the crate.
“This one is size 9.5. You have to pay a higher unit price than for 10.5.”
“The sizes aren’t mixed. It’s printed on every row, so check it yourself.”
“Then I’ll calculate it by the row.”
A light war of nerves ensued, and the numbers moved again, incrementally.
“Eighteen-fifty.”
“Nineteen.”
The inspector returned, opened a second crate, and placed a handful of dew-covered cherries on a plastic tray. Frederick took a half-step toward Chloe and whispered low.
“It’s already over 20% above market price.”
“Right now?”
“Yes. If it goes higher, great, but closing here isn’t bad either.”
Chloe forced back a smile that threatened to spread across her face at the news that the cherry price had formed 20% higher.
“Nineteen-fifty.”
“Twenty.”
The buyer who had been crossing his arms earlier spoke for the last time and handed over a business card.
“What’s the total volume?”
The card he handed over identified him as an MD for Whole Foods Market, a leading premium supermarket chain in the U.S., causing Frederick to smile faintly.
“It’s about 3,900 flats (roughly 20 tons).”
Arithmetically, 20 tons should be 4,000 flats, but due to grade sorting, loss, and packaging margins, it usually ends up being 3,600–3,800 flats. He had estimated 3,900 flats, assuming the grades were uniform and losses were minimal.
“Then how about we take the whole lot today at nineteen-fifty?”
“That’s doable.”
In a single contract, they sold the 20 tons of cherries they had brought for $76,000. The purchasing manager crouched down and hand-wrote the invoice, noting the company name, quantity, row standards, size, unit price, and total amount.
“The deposit is thirty percent.”
The buyer unbuckled a gray money belt and handed over an envelope of cash.
“And the balance?”
“We’ll pay by check once the incoming inspection is complete.”
Frederick signed the signature line neatly. Before the ink was dry, Chloe watched the stamping process with a dazed expression.
“Wow... it went well, right?”
“Yes. Someday, you’ll have to come here and do what I just did all by yourself.”
“I can do it. I can do it well.”
A happy Frederick patted his daughter’s shoulder. He had felt the same way when signing the 320-ton pre-purchase contract, but having secured such a good price again, countless thoughts raced through his mind.
And the same was true for Chloe. Having witnessed the cherries she had spent a year raising bear such good fruit and sell at a price higher than the market rate, an inexplicable emotion welled up inside her.
Just as Chloe’s eyes began to well up, someone appeared to wash away their warm sentiment like cold water.
“Frederick?”
Turning around, William Hartford was approaching with his large belly protruding. The paper in his hand looked like an invoice, and he wore a somewhat annoyed expression.
“I heard you sold them at quite a high price?”
“Haha, I was lucky.”
“Well done. If you raise the value of Brentwood cherries like that, it’s good for us. But is this it?”
William had known that Frederick’s Harris farm was up to something strange, but he hadn’t paid it any mind. He was a man who believed in traditional farming methods and thought any other ‘weird tricks’ were useless.
That was why he had finally checked the cherries from the Harris farm this time.
“Hmm...”
The average cherry price was around $15 per flat. He hadn’t believed the rumors that the Harris farm had received over $19, but seeing it for himself, he could clearly feel that they were distinctly different from the cherries grown on his own farm. The freshness, the texture—if they weren’t already sold, he would have wanted to try one himself.
“How did you do it?”
“I’m sorry, but it’s because I received training on farming methods through a strategic collaboration with another farm. It’s difficult to say.”
“My goodness... to tell such a lie in this day and age...”
“No. It’s the truth. I didn’t get it for free; I paid quite a lot of money for the consulting.”
At the mention of paying for consulting, the request to be told the secret died on his lips.
“I see...”
“Then, if you’ll excuse us...”
Frederick quickly took his daughter and left the exchange, fearing William might say something strange. And William stood there for a long time, staring at the cherries guarded by the broker.
A week later, it was to the point where my whole body smelled like cherries from dealing with the endless influx of them. Even when I first made 10 tons last year, I thought it was a lot, but making 100 tons into wine was hard to describe with just the word ‘difficult.’
The process of pitting the cherries with machines and turning them into juice felt like it would haunt my dreams as a monster.
The result of collecting all the cherry juice in the existing winery equipment and the recently acquired stainless steel fermentation tanks was a total of 65,000 liters. Strangely enough, it fit perfectly into the capacity of the newly expanded tanks.
If we account for a 9% loss rate here, we’ll end up with just under 60,000 liters of wine.
“Let’s do well this time, too.”
It was when I was fermenting in front of the final 5,000-liter fermentation tank, using three types of yeast and a fermentation starter—Lalvin RC212, Lalvin 71B-1122 Narbonne, and Torulaspora delbrueckii—just like before.
“Brian!”
I heard Armando’s voice from outside. The aging room was off-limits to anyone but authorized personnel, so aside from me and my father, no one could enter. That’s why he had to call me loudly or call my phone, just like Armando.
When I stepped out of the aging room, an unexpected person was standing next to Armando. It was Sienna, a beauty with long legs who always wore a smirk.
“Why are you here...?”
“The Agricultural Extension Office asked students to participate in an organic farm tour for young farmers. I brought my juniors along.”
“Ah, so you’re like a kindergarten teacher?”
“You could say that. And I have business with you, too.”
“With me?”
For a moment, Armando pursed his lips and made a bizarre face. I waved my hand at Armando to leave.
“If you talk for more than 10 minutes alone, I’m calling Chloe.”
“Shut up! Get out!”
“I’ll be watching! Chloe will...”
After chasing Armando away, I returned to find Sienna looking intrigued.
“Are you dating that girl named Chloe?”
“...If you’re going to say something weird, can you just leave, Senior?”
“Oh my, you don’t look it, but you’re quite prickly, aren’t you?”
“.....”
“Fine. Well, it’s nothing serious, but you... why didn’t you show up on the day of the Winkler Dinner event? Your advisor was very disappointed.”
I shrugged.
“I did everything I could, didn’t I? I matched all the pairings for you.”
“When a problem arises on-site, you have to handle it. That’s a sommelier’s job.”
“I’m not a sommelier. I’m a farmer and a winemaker. I only helped because Department Chair Thomas asked me to.”
“Ha, you’re hilarious. Wasn’t just attending the event a chance to look better to the professors?”
It was a valid point, but what I needed was decent grades and decent connections; I wasn’t looking for anything more. I believe that the only thing that can provide more than that is my own skill. Attending school and getting grades is just a minimal safety device to avoid being looked down upon as an Asian winemaker.
“Well-made wine gets talked about even if you just sit still. I don’t care about looking particularly good to the professors.”
“Tsk...”
For some reason, she looked frustrated as she pulled something out of her bag and handed it to me.
“What is this?”
“A ticket. The results of this year’s Winkler Dinner were good. So, we gave a few students the opportunity to tour the Château Latour winery in France, but...”
I didn’t let her finish and handed the ticket back to her.
“I don’t need it.”
“What?”
Sienna’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“I don’t have the luxury of leisurely going to France for a tour right now.”
“What are you talking about? Can’t your parents handle the farm? It’s Château Latour!”
“I know. It’s the winery that makes Château Latour, considered the essence of Bordeaux Premier Cru Classé wines and recognized as one of the greatest wines in the world. But... I told you I’m busy, didn’t I?”
“No, how busy could you possibly be...”
“I have a lot to do. I’ve been juicing cherries and running fermentations all week. Now I have to keep checking the fermentation status, and I have to redo the vinegar production plan for next year. I also have to make labels for the wine I’m releasing soon; I wouldn’t have enough time even if I had ten bodies. France in this situation?”
“......”
Sienna’s jaw dropped at Brian’s attitude of treating an opportunity everyone would kill for like dog poop abandoned on the side of the road.
“O-okay... if you say so...”
“Please tell the Department Chair well. If that doesn’t work, I’ll tell him myself.”
“By the way, are you making cherry wine again this year? The reviews were good last year, so people will be looking forward to it, right?”
“Well... we couldn’t produce much last year, so 8,000 bottles was the limit, but I think 80,000 bottles will be possible this year.”
Sienna blinked at my grinning face. After finishing her calculations in a split second, she said:
“Was it $18 last year? That’s right, isn’t it? 80,000 bottles... one point four million dollars?”
“Wow, you’re fast at calculating.”
Thinking of the $1.4 million in annual revenue, Sienna gulped.