[Sylphide]
The auction soared like a wildfire the moment it began. As soon as the auctioneer called out the name of the first barrel, paddles shot up into the air from every corner of the room. The hushed silence lasted only a few seconds before the hall was filled with a cacophony of murmurs and shouted numbers.
“Eight hundred dollars per case!”
“One thousand!”
“Twelve hundred!”
In the blink of an eye, the price doubled, and the auctioneer’s voice spilled out with increasing speed. People around me gripped their numbered paddles high, engaging in a battle of nerves, while importers in the front row and collectors in the back nodded at each other, keeping a close watch on the competition.
“We have a bid of five thousand dollars per case!”
“Six thousand!”
The hall erupted in a buzz. Someone whistled in surprise, while another tapped away at a calculator, whispering to their colleague.
“Eight thousand, any higher? Very well. Sold to the gentleman in the red suit!”
As time passed, the intensity only grew.
“Next is a barrel from the dark horse of Oakville, Glory Vineyards. Lot number 17...”
When the next barrel was introduced, applause and cheers erupted. It was a winery that represented the prestige of Napa Valley. Before the auctioneer could even state the opening bid, paddles rose simultaneously, as if a firework had gone off.
“Seven thousand dollars!”
“Eight thousand!”
“Ten thousand!”
People glared at one another with grins, and someone stood half-up from their seat, waving their paddle. The heat of the competition flushed their cheeks. Wine and money, fame and pride—all mixed together to thicken the air.
The more famous the winery, the more mercilessly the prices climbed, and the faces of the participants who had yet to secure what they wanted began to show signs of desperation.
And finally, it was Kenaz Vineyards’ turn. The auctioneer smiled and called out.
“Kenaz Vineyards, 2004 Merlot Barrel. Lot number 27. The opening bid is 300 dollars per case.”
A sudden silence fell over the hall. No one raised a hand. Most of those who had tasted the barrel sample had shaken their heads. The auctioneer called out the price a few more times, but there was still no response.
“300 dollars per case, anyone?”
The auctioneer’s voice was tinged with impatience. After a few more repetitions, it felt as though the word ‘unsold’ was about to be uttered.
I steadied my breathing and raised my paddle.
“Right here.”
Suddenly, all eyes turned toward me. Everyone wore a look of bewilderment. Someone whispered to the person next to them.
“Why is that Asian kid bidding?”
“Let him be, he’s probably just a beginner.”
Dad looked at me, appearing a bit nervous, but I just nodded. I was certain.
The Total Polyphenol Index (TPI), which represents the total amount of phenolic compounds (tannins, anthocyanins, etc.) in the wine, was over 70, and the chromaticity—the value indicating the color intensity of the wine—had reached 18. This meant that while it was rough now, it would soften after aging, and as time passed, its color and aroma would develop beautifully, making it advantageous for long-term blending.
In conclusion, this barrel might look like an unwanted nuisance that no one wanted right now, but next year, it would combine with Redwood’s Cabernet Sauvignon to create an incredible synergy.
The auctioneer confirmed once more.
“300 dollars per case, any further bids? ... None. Sold!”
The moment the gavel struck, people’s interest immediately shifted to other barrels. But my heart was beating with fervor.
“We did it.”
“Good work.”
I was certain. This barrel, which no one had bothered to look at today, would be the key that would elevate the Redwood of tomorrow to the next level.
Having secured a better outcome than I had expected, I left the auction house with my father.
Brian wasn't the only UC Davis student attending the Napa Harvest Gala & Barrel Auction. Many wineries were present, including Harrington’s Sienna and Castello’s Matthew. Both had come with members of their families, but when it came time to bid, they were sitting right next to each other.
Both of them had watched clearly as Brian, sitting ahead of them, happily bid on and won the astringent and unpopular Merlot.
“Does that make any sense to you?”
Matthew asked, his tone filled with disbelief.
“There must be a reason.”
Sienna had her arms crossed, her eyes fixed on the ongoing auction, but Matthew knew. He knew that the auction currently taking place wasn't even registering in her mind.
“If you thought there was a reason, why didn't you jump in?”
“Me? Why would I?”
“It’s just… hard to watch someone buy something so cheap.”
At Matthew’s slightly dissatisfied tone, Sienna turned her head to look at him.
“Then why didn't you jump in?”
“Well, for me…”
“You didn't jump in because you don't know how to use it. Even at 300 dollars a case, buying the whole barrel costs a fair amount of money. If you take it without knowing where or how to blend it, you’ll just get scolded, right? It’s not like you’re here alone.”
In truth, the reason Matthew hadn't jumped in was largely because, as she said, he wasn't alone; he was with his family. If not for that, he would have participated in the auction, pushed the price up to at least a thousand dollars, and then backed out.
“That’s not it. I didn't jump in because I’m planning to get something better.”
“I’ll be watching to see just how ‘better’ it is.”
“…But aren't you actually curious? Why on earth did he take that Merlot?”
“……”
She didn't say it, but she was the one most curious about the reason. If she could, she would have followed him out right then and there to grab Brian and ask him.
Why on earth are you buying that? Have you even tasted it? What are you going to do about that flat aroma? She wanted to ask. But she couldn't. Brian wasn't a professor, nor was he a winemaker worthy of universal respect, and she felt it would be too humiliating for her to ask him something like that.
“If you don't want to talk about it, don't. But I think it’s quite interesting.”
“What is?”
“Here in California, specifically Napa, wineries look like they’re all doing well and are wealthy, but that’s not the case. It’s hard to enter, and the wine is even harder. People keep failing because they chase foolish dreams, yet stars like Redwood are being born.”
Sienna scoffed.
“Ha, are you calling them a star? Redwood?”
“Of course. Do you think I lack the discernment to judge that? People who can't acknowledge talent are destined to be weeded out.”
“The more I see of you, the less I understand you.”
“That’s probably because you have prejudices against me. I’m an objective and logical person. And I’m generous.”
“Ugh…!”
“If you don't believe me, that’s your problem.”
Matthew, who was watching the auction floor with a smirk, had a slightly twisted expression on his lips. He, too, was well aware of the Astra Vale that had become the talk of the town, and he had even tasted it already. So, he was dying of curiosity about how that Merlot would be used, but he forced himself to hold back.
‘In the auction house, you only believe what you see.’
That was what his father, Joseph Higgins, always said. He claimed that if you weren't careful, you’d be led by wishes rather than predictions, causing you to make the wrong choices. The only downside was that if you followed the reality you saw right now, the price could be quite high—but the Castello winery was a family that could easily afford such a price.
“Ten thousand dollars again!”
Matthew smiled at the high-priced wine he had just won. He was certain that this wine would be his hidden card, one that would receive even better reviews than last year’s.
September and October are my busiest months. It’s not just our farm; I had to determine the harvest timing for the Pinot Noir farms I’d contracted with, so I had to visit and check on them at least once a week. On top of that, unlike last year, the release date for the Pinot Noir was right around the corner, making me even busier.
I was busy enough with that, but there were other farms I had to look after. I had to check if the Laguna Creek farm that Armando had acquired this year was doing well, and the same went for Chloe’s farm.
Fortunately, Jacob’s farm was just entering the harvest season, so I didn't have to worry about it as much.
“Busy, so busy…”
I had just arrived at the Brentwood farm after stopping by the Hart farm in the Russian River Valley, where I’d contracted the Pinot Noir, and telling them I’d be back next week.
I needed to check if the cover crops planted between the rows were sprouting in the right places so we could prepare for the coming winter, and I also had to verify that the drainage ditches were properly maintained.
If you let your guard down at this time of year, winter rains can erode the soil, which would affect the grape clusters for the following year.
Vroom!
The sound of a tractor came from one side of the farm. As the workers clearing the drainage ditches turned off the engines, the scent of earth spread thickly through the silence. I touched the leaves of a few vines with my fingertips to gauge the irrigation status. The veins weren't dry, and the color of the leaves was uniform.
Seeing Frederick and Chloe approaching from afar, I smiled and said,
“Pest control has been excellent this year. The pheromone traps definitely had an effect.”
“It’s all thanks to you. Just take a look as we walk.”
I was meticulously checking the state of the farm, but for some reason, Frederick’s expression wasn't very good. I remembered Chloe saying that her dad was happy because she had made a pretty good profit this year, so I tilted my head in confusion.
He called us over to the shade next to the warehouse and let out a heavy sigh.
“Thanks to you, the cherries were great this year. But the tomatoes are the problem.”
“Tomatoes?”
I had heard that in addition to the cherry farm, Frederick grew walnuts, tomatoes, and olives. I hadn't bothered to ask about the location or size of those farms, but judging by his worried expression, it didn't seem to be the size of a vegetable garden.
“We had a long stretch of high temperatures this summer. No matter how much I watered them, the balance was off. The harvest yield dropped sharply. On top of that, the cannery cut the unit price, saying the quality had dropped. Thanks to that, I went through all that trouble for nothing, and there’s not much left.”
As of 2005, California tomatoes are a massive industrial crop, accounting for over 90% of the world’s processing tomato production. In that sense, it might seem like a good idea to grow tomatoes, but the unit price, as is the case with most American agricultural products, isn't very high.
“How bad is it?”
The answer came from Chloe, who was standing with her arms crossed.
“He said he couldn't even get 45 dollars per ton this time.”
Even knowing that tomato prices wouldn't be high, I gasped at the price of 45 dollars per ton.
“45 dollars…”
As of 2005, 45 dollars is less than 50,000 won. Even if these weren't fresh salad tomatoes but tomatoes meant for large-scale industrial ingredients like ketchup, pizza sauce, pasta sauce, or canned tomatoes, it was a shocking price point.
“That’s why I’m worried. Usually, I could get around 50 to 60 dollars, but this year, there’s nothing left. No, I should say it’s almost a deficit.”
“I see. That’s certainly something to be worried about.”
“Anyway, it’s a relief that thanks to you, I made a pretty good profit from the cherries this year. Besides, this isn't the end, right? If I add the 30% profit from the Serasia we’re releasing at the end of the year, I’m very satisfied. Even though I can't use a significant number of trees this year due to the grafting, the profit has actually increased compared to last year. It’ll be fine next year, right?”
“Just looking at it, the farm is in great condition. You’ve worked hard, sir.”
Chloe interjected, clenching both her fists.
“I worked hard!”
“I know, I know… you worked hard. Good job.”
When I patted her arm, Chloe beamed.
“You should have said that sooner.”
At this, Frederick sighed and said,
“I’m actually considering switching that area to cherries instead. What do you think?”
“Cherries? Hmm…”
It would certainly be far better than tomatoes.
“That would be good. But there must have been a reason you were growing tomatoes instead of cherries, sir.”
“It was for risk diversification. If I put too much into cherries, the losses would be too severe if a crisis hit.”
“That’s true.”
“What do you think? Should I switch to cherries?”
He asked with a serious face. Seeing how well he had followed my advice so far, it seemed like he was ready to change the land use immediately if I recommended cherries.
“Where is the tomato farm located? And what’s the acreage?”
“It’s in Lodi. It’s on the smaller side, at 70 acres.”
“Ah… that’s a 40 to 50-minute drive, right? Hmm… by any chance, would you be open to something other than cherries?”
“Hm? I mean… but what would you…?”
I furrowed my brow and tentatively tested the waters.
“There’s a Korean fruit called a pear.”
“A pear?”
“Yes. Among them, there’s a variety registered with the USDA called the ‘Shingo pear’… You could just go with cherries, but since it’s a fruit that isn't very common in the US, if it gets a bit of recognition, the profit could be much better than cherries.”
At my words, Frederick wore a puzzled expression.
“Shingo pear…”