Moving Forward for Success (2)
The car sped smoothly down the road, the view outside the window a rhythmic alternation of endless plains and rolling hills. Here and there, orchards that had already finished their harvest stood with bare branches, bracing themselves for the coming winter.
Chloe was behind the wheel, while I sat in the passenger seat, cross-referencing the map with the road signs.
"I was told to turn right here. The name is... Sandy Hill Nursery. Oh? That’s it!"
As we rounded the bend, we passed a small grove of oak trees and emerged into a wide, open expanse of land. In the center stood a white wooden building lightly dusted with soil, clearly serving as both a warehouse and an office. The roof was faded and weathered, and on one wall, the word NURSERY was painted in large, vivid red letters.
In front of it, rows of greenhouses stretched out, their transparent plastic shimmering under the sunlight, revealing dense rows of young saplings inside.
As we pulled the car to a stop, a middle-aged farmer wearing a pulled-down hat walked out from the building. His boots were caked in dry dirt, and he held a pair of work gloves in his hand.
"Welcome. You’re here to see the pear saplings?"
"Yes."
"Follow me."
We followed the farmer into the greenhouse. The interior was longer and wider than I had expected, with thin pipes for irrigation crisscrossing near the ceiling like a spiderweb. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and living wood.
Small saplings, about waist-high, were planted in even rows. The farmer gestured toward them as he explained.
"The row on the right is Asian pear, and the left is Western pear, which we mainly use for rootstock. Rootstock is better for drainage and disease resistance, so it makes for much more stable grafting."
Chloe stroked one of the tree trunks and said, "They look sturdier than I thought. It’s hard to believe this is the first step of the farm I’m about to start."
I smiled and nodded. "For Shingo pears, the rootstock for grafting is crucial. If you just plant them in soil with poor drainage, the roots will rot in no time. Grafting them onto Western pear rootstock will help them survive much longer."
The farmer pulled up one of the saplings and shook off the soil to show us. Beside the straight, primary root, fine root hairs were densely packed.
"This one grew just this summer, and the root condition is excellent. If you graft it well, it’s guaranteed to take root by next spring."
Chloe nodded and looked at me. "This should work, right?"
"Yes. You just need to manage the graft site properly. Sir, how much stock of Shingo pear saplings do you have here?"
The farmer took off his hat to wipe the sweat from his forehead and replied, "We’ve secured about 5,000 this year. How many do you need?"
"We need about 14,000."
At my answer, the middle-aged farmer stared into the distance for a long moment before speaking.
"I think that’s possible. We can supply the rest by grafting them onto rootstock that will be ready by next spring. But you have to sign the contract now. Once spring hits, reservations flood in and they disappear in an instant."
Chloe’s eyes sparkled as she asked, "How much per plant?"
"Around 18 dollars."
Just as I was about to say it was too expensive, Chloe frowned and interjected.
"We’re making a bulk purchase of 14,000 units; surely there’s a discount? For your information, I’m the daughter of the Harris farm in Brentwood, which owns a 200-acre cherry orchard. We also have walnuts, tomatoes, olives... I’m not some inexperienced rookie."
Taken aback by her confident introduction, the farmer gave an awkward smile.
"Haha, I just quoted you the retail price because you asked. Of course, for a scale like this, a bulk discount applies. I can set it at 12 dollars per plant. In return, if you put down a 30% deposit, I’ll make sure the entire quantity is ready by next spring."
"So, for 14,000 units, the total is...?"
The farmer pulled a calculator from his large pocket and said, "168,000 dollars. You’ll need to prepare about 50,000 dollars as a deposit. Also, transport will have to be by truck; we’ll bundle them in trays of 500. A truck can carry about 2,000 at a time, so you should know that if the location is Brentwood, it’ll take about 7 round trips."
Chloe muttered as if taking notes, "30% deposit, balance due upon delivery in the spring. 12 dollars per plant, 14,000 units..."
She immediately reached out to shake the farmer’s hand.
"That’s great. Let’s sign. I’ll write you a check for the deposit right now."
A smile spread across the farmer’s face. "At this scale, you’ll have a proper orchard built by next year. Shingo pears are selling quite well in Asian markets these days, so I think it’s a fantastic choice. If you grow Shingo pears properly, the fruit gets this big. You’ve probably never seen one, right?"
He gestured with his hands to show how large the pears could get, but Chloe, who had already seen them, just shrugged and laughed.
"I have. I’ve tried the exported pears from Korea."
"Oh, really?"
The capital required for Chloe to cultivate Shingo pears was at least a million dollars. She couldn't commit such a large sum without having tasted the fruit, so she had gone to LA with her father to eat Shingo pears imported from Korea.
The feeling she had when she first saw a Shingo pear was one of pure astonishment. The fruit was incredibly large. On top of that, the richness of the juice and the deep sweetness convinced her to declare to her father right then and there that he should hand over the land to her.
She had developed a burning desire to cultivate this fruit herself.
Of course, the fact that a single large, well-ripened Shingo pear cost nearly 7 dollars also played a decisive role in her decision.
"Let’s write the contract right now."
"Let’s do it. Come on."
I had confirmed that the condition of the saplings was acceptable, so I gave Chloe the sign that it was okay to proceed, and she confidently followed the farmer into the building. The old building smelled musty, but neither Chloe nor I cared.
The farmer brought out a contract and spread it on a small desk. It was a cheap folding desk, and the ink stains here and there were signs of long use. Chloe signed without hesitation and wrote out a check on the spot. Even though she was still young, her movements as she stamped the contract and wrote the check were unwavering.
As we left the farm and got into the car, Chloe, who had carefully placed the contract in the backseat, looked at me and beamed.
"From now on, call me Farmer Chloe."
"You seem very excited."
"Of course I am."
She stepped firmly on the accelerator and headed toward Brentwood.
Around the time Brian and Chloe were driving to find saplings, at White & Co. Wine Trading in LA.
"Heh heh..."
Christopher White, who looked like a madman to any observer, had been chuckling to himself for the past few days. However, his employees didn't find their boss’s behavior strange. They understood how happy he must be, having gone all-in on 2,000 cases of wine that had just received a Double Gold.
The office was bustling. Order forms coming in by fax were piling up, and the sales team was busy raising their voices as they negotiated prices and quantities over the phone. Helen from the logistics team was busy all day rescheduling air freight and truck schedules.
"Sir, I’ve secured the air freight schedule to JFK Airport. 200 cases are going out just tonight."
"Good. Check the volume for Boston and Philadelphia as well."
Even just this was enough to make him feel good, but Christopher was looking at the latest issue of Wine Enthusiast on his desk as if he were in love. On the sleek cover, the clear print greeted him.
[Redwood, the Dark Horse of Napa Valley]
Christopher slowly flipped the cover with his finger, and the landscape of Redwood Winery filled the photos that covered two pages. The bottles of Echelon and Sylphide sitting on a table bathed in light, and the face of the young Asian man laughing during an interview caught his eye.
"This is it... This is exactly it. Buying up all of the Sylphide was a stroke of genius."
Just then, the phone rang. Sales Manager Mark’s voice was urgent.
"Sir, orders are exploding. 200 cases from New York alone, and an additional 150 cases requested from Boston. D.C. wants 300 cases, saying they’re preparing for the banquet season."
"Mark, what’s the inventory status?"
"We have about 800 cases left in the East Coast warehouse. But at this rate, it’ll all be gone within the week."
"Regulate the shipments. Don’t send them all at once; keep them hungry."
"Understood."
After hanging up, Christopher opened the magazine again and read a passage from the article aloud.
"Redwood Winery, Double Gold winner with the 2004 vintage Echelon and Sylphide. An exceptional achievement for a new winery. Echelon shows surprising structure and balance even with short aging, while Sylphide displays the delicacy and complexity of Russian River Valley Pinot Noir. These wines prove the new possibilities of Napa Valley... It’s a bit dry, but not bad."
From a critic’s perspective, they have to write as dryly as possible, but as the head of a wine distribution company, he wanted them to be as enthusiastic as possible. Still, this was good enough. Weren't the reactions already coming in?
Around noon, the phone rang again. This time, it was a sommelier friend working in New York.
"Christopher, it’s chaos here. Customers are flocking to find Sylphide. Some shops are already trading it at 150 dollars a bottle. You’re crazy. How did you get your hands on something like this?"
Christopher suppressed a laugh and replied, "I’m not crazy; I just made an accurate choice. This is just the beginning."
Wine distribution isn't about aiming for one big hit. It’s about watching the history and development that a winery builds year after year and growing alongside them. That is what wine distribution is.
The most necessary point in that process is an eye for quality. Finding and investing in small but clearly promising wineries. In a sense, wine distribution could be seen as managing the winery.
In that respect, Christopher knew how much of a stroke of luck meeting Redwood Winery would be for him. And investing a massive sum of 800,000 dollars to bet everything on Sylphide—this would be the best choice of his life.
"I can’t just sit here."
He immediately jumped up from his seat.
"Where are you going?"
"To Redwood!"
It takes over 6 hours to drive from LA to Napa Valley, so it would be evening by the time he arrived, but he didn't care. He called Brian just in case to secure a dinner meeting, then drove his car toward Napa Valley with a relaxed mind.
Arriving in Napa Valley as it grew dark, he entered Brian’s house, located not far from the Redwood farm.
"Welcome."
Christopher sniffed at the aroma of roast chicken that filled the house warmly.
"It seems you have a talent for cooking as well?"
I cut a piece of the freshly made roast chicken and gave it to Christopher, saying, "I’ve always been more interested in cooking than wine."
For me, cooking was a joy and wine was a study, so food was more familiar. But since my regression, things are changing a bit. Could it be that wine is becoming a joy now, too?
I took out a Ridge Vineyards Zinfandel I had acquired when I went to the San Francisco Chronicle Wine Competition.
"Since you’re a wine critic, I’d like to offer you an expensive wine, but I tend to be a bit frugal in that regard... but this should have a good pairing."
Christopher gave a faint smile.
"Zinfandel’s unique rich fruitiness and spiciness, combined with a balanced structure, go well with meat dishes. You’re young, but you have a deep knowledge of pairing?"
"I just like it. But what brings you here? At this late hour."
He drank a sip of wine with a serious face, then looked at me with deep, settled eyes.
"The Sylphide to be released next year. I want to pre-purchase all of it."
"All 3,000 cases?"
"Yes."
"The price will be different from this year’s."
"What are you thinking?"
It’s a Double Gold medal-winning wine. There’s no reason for it to be cheap.
"I’ll raise it to 70 dollars. Will you still buy it?"
When I immediately doubled the price from 33 dollars, Christopher was surprised. At this rate, the retail price would soon reach 100 to 150 dollars. For all 3,000 cases, that would be over 2.5 million dollars.
But he said, as if he had made up his mind, "Yes, let’s do that. I’ll take the whole lot at 70 dollars."
Christopher was certain. This contract would be a win-win for both Redwood and himself.