The Auction of Potential

The news that Redwood Winery had released a premium red wine based on Cabernet Sauvignon spread faster than I had anticipated. It traveled by word of mouth among industry insiders, reaching restaurants, wine bars, and eventually even the East Coast.

Echelon.

The name alone was enough to pique the curiosity of those in the business, and Christopher White, a critic for Wine Review West, was no exception.

"Let's go. I've already made a reservation for tonight."

Since it wasn't any special occasion, Jane blinked in surprise and asked, "What's this? What wine are you hunting for now?"

Having had his true intentions exposed, Christopher looked away sheepishly. "It's nice to have a date and set the mood once in a while."

"It's not me you're after, it's the wine, isn't it?"

"One thing is certain: you're the one I love. Think of the wine as a catalyst to deepen our love. Plus, wine is both my hobby and my job—what's not to like?"

"Oh, you smooth talker... Fine, let's go. But where?"

"That place we liked before."

"Ah! Serasia!"

"Exactly."

"Great!"

By evening, the couple entered the restaurant, gave their names to the manager, and were promptly shown to their table.

"We'll have two of the B-course with the Filet Mignon. Could you recommend a wine?"

Christopher deliberately avoided naming a wine to see what would happen. Sofia, the sommelier, spoke without hesitation.

"We have a new red wine that has been receiving high praise from all our guests. The heavy, structured body of this Cabernet Sauvignon will pair beautifully with the steak."

"And the name is...?"

"It's Echelon."

Christopher smiled, confirming that it was indeed the product he had heard rumors about. "Please, bring it."

"I'll prepare it right away."

Before the courses arrived, Sofia brought the bottle of Echelon to show Christopher. Jane stared at the label with wide eyes. "Echelon? Does it mean a step toward the top? The name itself sounds quite luxurious, doesn't it?"

"It does."

The heavy pop of the cork echoed through the quiet air. As it was poured into the decanter, the red liquid flowed down the glass walls, casting a subtle glow.

The meal progressed from appetizers to the main course. After taking a bite of the tender filet mignon dipped in wine sauce, the couple lifted their glasses and took a slow sip.

Deep notes of blackcurrant and the sweetness of ripe plums, followed by a faint, charred oak finish, instantly and powerfully stimulated his senses.

"......"

When the first sip hit his tongue, his nerve endings tingled. A tightly woven structure, tannins that were never harsh, and a subtle, lingering acidity. Considering Redwood's short history, the aging was unbelievable. The long finish, which unfolded softly in the mouth, was no different from that of a high-end Napa wine.

He set his glass down and remained silent for a long time. A subtle look of surprise flickered in his eyes, followed by a tightening of his lips. Shock was quickly followed by a wave of suppressed anger.

"...Are they out of their minds?"

His low mutter wasn't filled with admiration, but with fury. To possess such brilliant technique and such potential, and yet...

"Wow, this is really good. I'm glad we came today."

Jane was thoroughly satisfied, but she tilted her head when she saw her lover's stiff expression. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"I'm just flabbergasted."

"Why are you flabbergasted?"

"Do you know? The winery that made this... they made it with only half of their grapes. Do you know what they did with the other half?"

"What did they do?"

"They made vinegar."

"Vinegar? Why?"

"Under the guise of ensuring the winery's stable operation."

"Really? Why would they do that? If it were me, even if it were tough, I would have found a way to survive with loans. If they have a wine like this, they could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠have solved everything in no time."

"That's exactly my point. To produce something like this and yet... vinegar."

He lifted his glass again and forced a laugh, but the bitterness couldn't be hidden. He took another sip. And another. The more he drank, the more certain he became. This wasn't just some impulsive act by a new winery. Redwood had clearly found its direction. Echelon was the proof.

When he sliced the meat again and swallowed it with the wine, the smoky flavor remained in his mouth, wrapped in the oak scent of the Echelon. It was a harmony that felt as if they were one. For a moment, his hand trembled. It was a perfect pairing.

Even after emptying his glass, he stared blankly at the remaining decanter. Anger, surprise, and a sense of respect he didn't want to admit were all swirling together.

'This small winery... and even worse, an Asian man who isn't even American, making a wine like this...'

Whether it was anger at them using such good grapes and technique to make vinegar, or perhaps because the owner was Asian, he didn't know the reason himself, but he felt an strange, rising heat of frustration.

"Anyway, it means the wine itself is excellent, right?"

Jane, oblivious to his inner turmoil, smiled while drinking the wine, and he awkwardly followed suit.

Late that night, back home, Christopher White turned on his laptop, still reeling from the conflicting emotions at the restaurant.

To think such quality could come from barely a year of aging... and that the person who made it was an Asian youth. He didn't want to believe it, but the lingering taste in his mouth from just moments ago was shattering his denial.

His fingers began to tap slowly on the keyboard.

As he hit the period, Christopher let out a long, unconscious breath. 90 points. It was by no means a light score. His readers would be surprised, but he was the most surprised of all. Because of his principle of objective evaluation, he couldn't force the score down.

Honestly, 92 points or higher was possible. But his own pride wouldn't allow it.

He stared at the screen for a long time before adding one more sentence.

- If there is one lingering question, it is the fact that a winery with such excellent technology used half of its high-quality Cabernet Sauvignon to make vinegar. That choice at the time is still hard to understand, but today's 'Echelon' declares a new possibility for Napa Valley, as if mocking that past.

This sentence, more than any other, revealed his true feelings. Anger, confusion, and a reluctantly suppressed respect. Christopher hesitated for a moment with his cursor over the send button, then clicked, transmitting the article.

Although Echelon had been released, there wasn't much for me to do since a distributor was handling the middleman work. All I could do was focus on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠moisture control for the upcoming harvest and prepare for any potential wildfires.

September is a time when you can never truly relax, as wildfires occur frequently all over California. I cleared the area around the farm with a tractor and checked the weather and wildfire status every few hours.

However, these tasks were not the end of it.

With the launch of Redwood's flagship, Echelon, the farm's finances had started to loosen up, so I couldn't just sit still.

"Let's go, Dad!"

"Alright."

I packed my laptop, an Oakton portable acidity test kit, and a mini spectrophotometer. My father and I left the farm in the morning and arrived at the designated event venue.

The venue was decorated like a small, temporary village. A banner reading [Napa Harvest Gala & Barrel Auction] hung at the entrance, and staff in stylish suits were checking invitations and attaching ribbon bracelets to wrists at the information desk.

My father looked around and whistled softly. "Wow... this is truly grand. It's more like a festival than an auction, isn't it?"

"That's right. At this Barrel Auction, Napa wineries put up unreleased vintage barrels for sale."

"Ah, so this isn't for individual consumers, but for winery industry insiders?"

"Exactly."

Passing through the entrance, I felt the unique energy and tension of a festival. Winery representatives, importers, restaurant sommeliers, and journalists were all gathered, exchanging laughter-filled greetings. Well-tailored suits, dresses, and jackets with winery logos were everywhere.

While their specific criteria might differ, their fundamental goal was the same: to find the barrels they wanted.

"What are you looking for here?"

I looked at the long table placed on one side of the venue. On it were small glass decanters and tasting glasses, with young wines drawn directly from barrels lined up, labeled only with a small paper tag indicating the vintage year and the winery name.

"When we did the blending before, we signed a contract for wine that came out reasonably well from a place introduced by Mr. Pierce Morgan of the Agricultural Extension Office, right?"

"That's right."

"But honestly, that wasn't necessarily the perfect combination."

"Not perfect? Do you know how Echelon is being evaluated right now?"

My father asked, as if he couldn't believe it. In fact, he wasn't wrong. John, our distributor, relayed the feedback he heard directly from restaurants and wine bars, and the common consensus was that the Value for Money was outstanding.

Echelon had a wholesale price of $30, and John Anderson distributed it for $37, but it was being sold in restaurants for between $80 and $100.

This price range falls into the premium category, often called Accessible Premium. Being evaluated as having excellent Value for Money in this price range meant it provided high-end quality at a relatively reasonable price.

"I know. But if we can make it even better, shouldn't we try? We could sell it for more later."

"If it's possible, then yes."

"That's what I'm looking for here. I'm raising the quality of our Cabernet Sauvignon, which is the main component of the blend and accounts for over 80%, but wouldn't we get more synergy if we found the best of the rest here and combined them?"

"Wouldn't that be expensive?"

"If it's too expensive, we'll give it up."

At my cool response, my father nodded. As is the case everywhere, it's hard to find something cheap and good. Still, the reason I was interested was that the taste of wine changes between now and a year from now, so even experts find it difficult to predict accurately.

Since I could predict it to some extent with scientific analysis equipment—something others would find hard to notice—I entered ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the massive warehouse-style building with the hope of finding a good barrel for a low price.

"This is incredible."

Once inside, the massive hall felt like a wine expo. Each winery had set up a small booth and prepared barrel samples in decanters for tasting.

Walking between the barrels, snippets of conversation drifted in.

"Did you hear the Pantesca lot went for $5,000 a barrel last year?"

"I'm going to check out the Rutherford side this time; it's hot."

My father was greatly surprised at the mention of thousands of dollars per case.

"I guess cult-level wines participate too?"

"They say wines that go for $10,000 a case show up often."

"$10,000 a case? Wow..."

"But barrels from lesser-known places are often ignored."

"Well... they look like unfinished wine, so if there's no fame, people will easily pass them by."

"But what if you succeed with a wine that came out cheaply from a lesser-known place? You can make a huge profit, which is why industry people all flock here."

"Ah..."

"Shall we try tasting with the resolve to drink all the wine here?"

And so, my father and I began to walk around diligently. My father tasted and evaluated everything one by one, but I was a bit different. While my father tasted the wine, I measured the acidity, color, polyphenols, and tannin concentration of the wine with the portable measuring equipment I had brought.

It was when we reached the Kenaz Vineyards booth. People were finishing their tastings and leaving without asking any particular questions.

"It's a killer Merlot. Would you like to try some?"

A woman who looked over fifty was diligently promoting it in front of a large barrel and offered a decanter. My father took a sip, and his brow furrowed slightly, perhaps because it was too astringent.

He had a look that suggested it wasn't quite right, and perhaps that was why no one was staying there. However, I inserted the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠portable spectrophotometer into the wine my father had tasted and measured the values.

"Oh?"

After checking the spectrophotometer's reading, I quietly led my father away from the booth. A while later, my father showed me the booth he had given a good evaluation in his notebook.

"This place was pretty good... it'll be expensive, right?"

"Probably."

And then, at the appointed time, the auction began.