Moving Forward for Success
On his way out of Redwood Winery, Michael Lowell climbed into his SUV and spoke to the cameraman who was handling the driving.
“We’re going to make one stop on the way. It’s a place called Ironwood Cellars, not far from here.”
“Understood.”
Inside the bag sitting next to Michael in the car were two bottles of Astra Vale he had just received. The golden lettering and the pyramid symbol on the label shimmered strangely. He had paid for both bottles himself, but one was for his own collection, and the other was something he had bought specifically to show someone else.
“Haa...”
The name that surfaced in his mind, pressing heavily against his chest, was that of a single person: his old friend, David Hoffman. David ran a winery under the name Ironwood Cellars, but he was a man who always lived with his head bowed.
Although he cultivated Cabernet Sauvignon on a modest 30-acre plot, unfortunately, the evaluations of his wine were never very good. They always ended with the word “average.”
Perhaps he was just barely holding on, relying on the reputation of the Napa Valley name?
I have to show him. Redwood is a new, small winery... and yet it achieved this result. If I show him that, David might be able to find his strength again.
The road to Ironwood Cellars wasn’t long. It was just a short drive north from Redwood, up a small hill.
The road was winding, and the vineyards visible outside the window were already desolate, the harvest having long since ended. In the distance, the faint letters on an old sign came into view.
Ironwood Cellars.
Upon arrival, the winery building looked even more humble than Redwood’s. The aging room looked like it had been tacked onto an old wooden warehouse, and weeds sprouted sparsely throughout the vineyard. Even so, in every grapevine, one could see the years and sweat David had poured into the land.
As Michael stepped out of the car, his heart grew heavy for a moment. It felt unfair that the world didn’t recognize the value of the sweat his friend had shed.
“Michael?”
The door to the aging room opened, and a man in rough work clothes appeared. With silver-streaked hair and a sun-tanned face, it was David Hoffman.
“Long time no see, David.”
“What brings you all the way out here?”
The two men patted each other on the shoulders and laughed, but the laughter was short and felt somewhat lonely. David wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief and asked.
“You’re supposed to be in New York, so why are you here?”
“Why else would a journalist be here? I’m here for a story.”
At those words, David’s face darkened slightly.
“Ah, I see. You were at the San Francisco Chronicle recently. Did you stop by while you were in the area?”
“That’s right. And there’s something I want to show you.”
“Something you want to show me?”
“Yeah. Let’s go inside first.”
Once inside the winery, Michael took the Astra Vale he had prepared out of his bag. The golden logo on the black glass bottle glittered in the light of the aging room.
“It’s Redwood’s Astra Vale 2004. A wine that won a Double Gold with only one year of aging. Besides this, Redwood’s Sylphide 2004, made from a Pinot Noir single vineyard, also won a Double Gold. In one winery... and a small one like Redwood at that, we received two Double Golds at the same time. Since we are both small wineries, I wanted to tell you this because we achieved such results. It’s not too late yet.”
David’s eyes wavered. He didn’t speak for a moment, then quietly took out a wine glass.
“Sure, let’s have a taste.”
The cork was pulled, and the wine flowed into the decanter. As the red light traced the glass walls, the air in the aging room seemed to change for a moment.
The two spent some time talking about other things. They had walked different paths since college, but their bond hadn’t faded. Michael listened intently, especially to the stories David told about farming—stories that were incredibly realistic and steeped in the hardships of life.
Then, at one point, Michael picked up the decanter, poured the wine into David’s glass, and said,
“Try it.”
“......”
David lifted the glass and brought it to the tip of his nose.
The moment he caught the scent, his eyes widened. The clarity of blackcurrant, the subtle spice of oak, and a fragrance where fruit and structure were perfectly intertwined filled the air. But soon, his face stiffened. He took a sip, stared down at the glass, and then slammed it down hard on the table.
“This is impossible.”
Michael, slightly startled, asked,
“What is?”
“There’s no way a Cabernet blend with only one year of age could taste like this. This is a fix, you must have put something in it in a lab.”
“David, you know that’s not true. You know that for Gold-level awards and above, they strictly check the production schedule after the awards are given. This wine has already been verified by the association.”
“Damn it! It makes no sense! You studied wine, and you believe this? Are you an idiot? How can you balance it like this in just one year! If this were possible, Mondavi would have been the first to make it this way! You don’t even deserve to write about wine!”
The glass hit the table hard again, and wine splashed out. The air in the aging room sank heavily.
A moment of silence passed. Michael caught his breath and looked at his friend.
“David, wine is constantly evolving. It isn’t stagnant. So, you shouldn’t see this as a fix, but as a possibility. You’re right about the monopoly of the large wineries you always talk about. But that’s not everything. This shows that a small place like Redwood can do it too. I’ve seen it myself; Redwood’s farm was different from Oakville’s To Kalon.”
The reason David had lived in such despair was that he attributed everything to terroir. He believed that no matter how hard he tried, he could never beat the large wineries that owned the optimal terroir.
In truth, Michael Lowell had partially accepted his friend’s opinion until now. Most of the countless cult wines that had appeared in the world were born from grapes gifted by the heavens.
But this time was different, which was why he wanted to show the evidence to his friend.
“Then what am I? I’ve poured fifteen years into this vineyard, and I’ve never been recognized once. There is no hope for a small winery like mine. If this wine is real... then what the hell was my life all this time!”
David’s voice was a mix of anger and despair. He turned his back, opened the door, and walked out. The cold autumn wind rushed into the aging room.
The red wine remaining in the glass was trembling. Michael stood there for a long time, letting out a deep sigh, and muttered to himself,
“Whew... he has to face reality... if he turns away from it, he’ll only be left behind.”
Michael quietly rose from his seat, left the wine where it was, and exited the winery. He hoped that one day, David would drink the remaining Astra Vale and come to his senses. He thought that was the last thing he could do as a friend.
Sacramento Gold Grain Soju House.
Even after selling half the rice, the remaining 200 tons of rice must have been weighing heavily on Jacob’s heart, but he didn’t show it in front of me. Jacob, always wearing a hopeful expression, showed the will that they could do it.
“Our rice quality is so good this year that they wanted to take the remaining 200 tons, too. The M-206 variety is definitely good. I heard other farms are switching to this one now, too.”
“That’s how it will be.”
I looked up at the distiller and said,
“Now the problem is how much of the distilled liquor made from those 200 tons we can sell.”
“That’s... well, I think it might be surprisingly okay. I did some market research in advance.”
“Oh, really?”
Jacob unfolded the California map he had brought and said,
“Here in Sacramento, San Francisco, and besides that, Santa Rosa, Stockton, Modesto... I called all the shops and asked if they would consider trying our rice vodka if we made it.”
“And what did they say?”
“Most of the answers were similar. First, they said it had to have something different from existing vodka. That’s the only reason to buy it. And second, the price. They said if it’s similar liquor but the price is expensive, there’s no reason to buy it.”
I was slightly surprised that Jacob had prepared this much. I had thought he might just be focusing on the rice harvest, trusting only in me.
“Oh, you looked into it well.”
“So, the appropriate price is exactly $11 wholesale. I thought we could use that as our base.”
I nodded at the price point that didn’t get greedy from the start.
“Good. I’ve thought about it too, and rather than a general vodka distillation method, I’m going to try something a little different for the sake of Gold Grain Soju House’s own competitiveness.”
“Try something different?”
“Most vodkas only use a continuous column still. That’s why they are completely odorless and tasteless. But if you think about it, if you make a liquor without any unique flavor or aroma, you can’t have any competitiveness other than price. So, the vodka made at Gold Grain Soju House is going to be a hybrid type.”
“Hybrid?”
“The first distillation will be in a pot still to leave behind the rice’s inherent softness and a slight fragrance, and in the second rectification, we’ll refine it highly with a column still. By doing this, it becomes a clean vodka with personality, not a liquor that’s just completely odorless and tasteless water.”
“Ooh-”
“If I say it like this, it won’t really hit home, so I’ll explain while we make it. Just wait a little.”
“Wait?”
“Yeah, someone has to come. So, let’s look at the fermentation state first.”
Jacob was puzzled by what I was saying, but he followed my opinion and let me check inside the fermentation tank. The inside of the tank was spitting out bubbles like a living thing; this state was possible because we had gone through the process of washing the rice, cooking it, and evenly sprinkling koji mold to turn the starch into glucose.
“Looks like it’s in good condition?”
“Right?”
As I opened the fermentation tank and the smell of grain mixed with the scent of alcohol wafted out, the brewery gradually filled with a smell like a tavern.
About 10 minutes later, a group of people entered the brewery.
“You called for us?”
The people who arrived were from the company that had installed the distiller in the brewery.
“Could you adjust the distiller as I asked?”
Honestly, I could have modified the machine by myself without these people, but if I did that, Jacob would be surprised, and for safety, I had the people modify the equipment. Since it wasn’t a very difficult task, the people adjusting the equipment finished the modification quickly and left.
“Watch closely. Now, we distill it once from the bottom like a pot still. Then the subtle scent from the rice remains. And we send that vapor up the column and pass it through the plates (distillation stages) to refine it. Let’s do it.”
We started running the machine right away. To move the fermented liquid into the distiller, we opened the lid of the fermentation tank, connected the hose, and the cloudy mash flowed into the copper pot still.
A clear liquid dripped one drop, then two, from the top of the distiller. I picked up the liquor pooling in the bottle and handed it to Jacob.
“Try it. What do you think?”
Jacob took a sip and his eyes widened.
“Huh? It’s definitely different, right? It’s different from vodka that’s just like water.”
“Right. You’ll feel the texture of the grain at the end.”
“Wow... it’s smooth. As it goes down my throat, a slightly sweet taste remains. We can definitely appeal to people that this is a vodka made from rice, right? I’ve actually drunk a lot of real vodka in my time, too. But this is definitely different.”
Intense anticipation filled Jacob’s face as his eyes sparkled.
“It seems possible, right? Make a few bottles like this and go around to the nearby cocktail bars and pubs to see the reaction.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
“What’s there to be thankful for... it’s work that obviously needs to be done.”
“Still, I’m thankful. You must be busy, too.”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“My side is actually a bit free. The problem is you guys. Armando has to be helped because it’s the time to make vinegar, and the same goes for you...”
“What about Chloe?”
“Actually, she’s the busiest. She caused a big accident this time.”
“A big accident?”
“Yeah. She took out a bigger loan than you.”
At that moment, the door to the brewery burst open.
“Brian! Let’s go!”
Chloe, who had suddenly stormed in, ran inside with a flushed face, looked at the liquor coming out of the distiller, and said,
“Ooh- the scent is pretty good? Give me a small bottle. I’ll let my dad taste it.”
“If you do that, I’m happy.”
“My dad, if nothing else, is very well-versed in alcohol. If it’s good, I’ll help you recommend it to people around us.”
“I’m counting on you, Chloe.”
Chloe, who had obtained a bottle of Korean-style vodka in an instant, led me away.
“Let’s go.”
Watching me being dragged away, Jacob asked,
“But where are you going?”
Chloe answered for me instead.
“To get Shinko pear saplings and rootstock. I’m not just a farmer’s kid anymore. I’ve become a farm owner like you, a pear farm owner.”
She tossed her long hair back and dragged me out of the brewery.