[Advancing for Success (3)]
Seeing him bet 2.5 million dollars in one go, I readily accepted the offer.
“What about the advance payment?”
“50%.”
Just by securing the raw wine, I could get my hands on 1.25 million dollars. It was an offer I had no reason to refuse. And I needed more money.
With both Achelon and Sylphid released this year already selling out, over 2 million dollars had flowed into the Redwood Winery account. It was more than enough to cover the cost of buying part of the burnt Silveroak vineyard, but it still wasn't enough.
If I wanted to consider further winery expansion, I needed more capital.
“Please send over the contract.”
“You made a wise choice. Sylphid is a wine that’s too good to be confined just to California.”
A deep smile spread across his lips after making the difficult decision. The U.S. East Coast, centered around New York, had significant demand for wine, and its base was steadily widening. Furthermore, high-earning professionals in the legal and financial sectors centered in New York preferred wines that looked luxurious to show off their wealth.
That was the basis for Christopher being able to bet 2.5 million dollars on Sylphid. There weren't many wines that could hit the mark for the ever-increasing demand for Pinot Noir and the discerning tastes of young, high-earning professionals, and he was convinced that Sylphid was the perfect fit for those constantly seeking new alternatives.
He sighed slightly and said in a regretful tone:
“At this point, I’m starting to regret it myself. If I hadn't written a review for Achelon, I could have bet on that, too.”
“Ah, I was grateful for the Achelon review.”
“I didn't write it favorably on purpose. I just reviewed it as it was. Since the objective evaluation came out at the San Francisco Chronicle Wine Competition, my score of 90 points could even be considered stingy.”
He felt a bit embarrassed that he hadn't been able to give it 92 points at the time. It felt like he was facing his own prejudices, which he hadn't even known existed.
“Well, everyone has different standards, so you can’t really call it good or bad. But I guess you don’t handle the wines you review?”
“Because people might talk. If I recommend it and then sell it myself, what a ridiculous sight that would be?”
“Ah... you have a good principle.”
“More importantly, you’re doing custom crush for your Pinot Noir, how is your contract structured?”
“It’s a 3-year fixed contract with a 2-year option. This is the second year, and since the price of Pinot Noir is rising, I’ll be exercising the 2-year option to extend it.”
“Hmm... what’s the volume?”
“Around 45 tons.”
“45 tons... so that’s why you only produced 3,000 cases?”
“I want Pinot Noir from the Russian River Valley. Other regions are a bit... I have a desire to contract more Pinot Noir here, but I’m worried because it doesn’t seem easy.”
I wasn't worried about failing to secure an additional contract because the price had gone up. The price I contracted for at the Heart Vineyard in the Russian River Valley was 2,400 dollars per ton. 45 tons was just over 100,000 dollars, and since I sold the wine made from it for over 1 million dollars, the profit was over tenfold.
If I tried to contract Pinot Noir by the block now, I’d have to pay at least 3,000 dollars or more per ton, but considering the price of the wine sold at Redwood, it wasn't an unaffordable price.
The problem was that since contracting by the block was the standard, and considering the popularity of Pinot Noir, I thought it would be nearly impossible to find a block that hadn't already been contracted with someone else.
“By any chance... if I find such a place and connect you, would you be interested in a deal?”
I was slightly surprised. How far did he see the potential of Sylphid that 45 tons wasn't enough and he wanted to funnel even more Pinot Noir to me?
“Oh, you’re going to look into it for me, Christopher?”
“Do you know this? Usually, wine distributors are concentrated in the U.S. East Coast. Large cities like New York, Boston, and Washington D.C. are clustered there, and historically, because of the geographical characteristics that made it advantageous to import wine from traditional wine-producing countries like France and Italy, and because the main ports where wine entered the U.S. from Europe were on the East Coast, large wine distributors are mainly located in the East.”
“I see.”
“However, distributors located here in Western California have one advantage that distributors in the East don’t. Because they are located in California, the center of U.S. wine production, they know the situation of the wineries very well.”
“So that means you can find out well?”
“Exactly. It’s hard to give you a guarantee, but I think I can connect you with a decent block before spring. There are a few blocks where the contracts end this year and need to be renewed next year. However, you’ll have to pay a good price.”
“How much...?”
“You’ll have to pay at least 3,500 dollars.”
That’s a price that has jumped by over a thousand dollars per ton compared to the block I contracted last year.
“Wow, that’s a huge increase.”
“The demand for Pinot Noir is exploding. It’s not just any place, it’s Pinot Noir from the Russian River Valley, so 3,500 dollars per ton isn’t that expensive. In fact, it’s not even certain if you can get it at that price. They might even demand 4,000 dollars.”
4,000 dollars per ton was a price that went beyond being burdensome, making me wonder if it was okay to pay that much, but since I could make a huge profit even if the wholesale price of Sylphid stayed at 33 dollars, it wasn't a problem. Until now, I hadn't been able to contract because I didn't have the money or couldn't find a suitable block, but otherwise, it was unconditionally profitable to secure as many blocks as possible and make a large quantity of Sylphid.
“Since the price of Sylphid has risen that much, I have to accept it.”
Since I had proposed a cult-level price of 70 dollars per bottle, Christopher probably thought I would accept even if it were 10,000 dollars per ton. That must be why he had such a matter-of-fact expression at my consent.
“Understood. I’ll go and look into it.”
“Why don’t you eat something now? It’s a bit much to just talk with food in front of us.”
“Hahaha, I guess I was too impatient. Please, go ahead.”
Since I wasn't driving, I ate plenty of meat with the wine, but he stopped at the half-glass I poured for him.
After the meal was appropriately finished, he glanced at me and asked:
“Actually, I do have some concerns... I’m a bit uneasy about whether there will be any problems with Brian executing all the contracts with me.”
It sounded like a question of whether it was okay for me, the son, to decide everything when my father wasn't there, but in reality, he was secretly asking what my exact position was at the winery.
“Don’t worry. The content of today’s meeting will proceed exactly as planned without any setbacks.”
Christopher, who had been playing tug-of-war with me until now while vaguely wondering if that might be the case, had a slightly surprised expression at my answer even though he had guessed it. Because it meant that there was essentially no technical gap between father and son, meaning I was effectively the owner of the winery.
“...I see. That’s surprising. It’s not an easy thing to do at that age...”
“I’ve always been very interested in this field, ever since I was young.”
It must have been an incomprehensible answer, but Christopher nodded and moved on, accepting it. Even if he didn't understand, he couldn't argue with it.
After dinner, Christopher, who left Brian’s house around dusk, turned his head once before starting the car.
“It’s a mystery...”
Thinking it over, he realized that he had talked about most of the work with Brian rather than Woody Choi, the owner of the winery, and he even thought that perhaps the real core of the winery might be Brian, not Woody Choi.
“No way...”
He tilted his head and left the farm like that.
The streets of Sacramento at sunset were covered in a red glow. Under the orange sky, signs lit up one by one among the old brick buildings.
Jacob Miller walked down the street carrying an icebox in both hands. Inside was the first liquor he had distilled a few days ago, ‘Gold Grain Vodka’.
“I’ll just have to face it head-on.”
He hadn't built the distillery with the naive expectation that everything would sell if he just sat still and produced it. Jacob remembered everything his mother had said when she stood as a guarantor at the bank when he was building this distillery.
To not be ashamed of himself, Jacob set out into the market today for the first time with the liquor he had made.
His gaze stopped in front of a sign.
The Copper Glass.
The old copper-colored sign glowed softly. Through the glass window, a long bar counter was visible. The wooden walls, dim lighting, and the hand movements of a woman cleaning a glass.
He caught his breath and pushed the door. As the door opened with a small bell ringing, a deep scent of whiskey mixed with the smell of citrus brushed against his nose.
“Welcome. You’re a new face at this hour.”
The bar owner looked to be in her early 40s. Her hair was neatly tied back, and her eyes looked very seasoned, perhaps due to the experience of dealing with countless customers.
Jacob took off his hat and said politely:
“Hello. I’m Jacob Miller, and I run a small distillery north of Sacramento. By any chance... would you have a moment?”
The woman put down the glass, smiled, and gestured with her head.
“Come in.”
Jacob opened the icebox and took out a bottle. The liquid inside the transparent bottle shone brightly. On the bottleneck was a label he had attached by hand.
Gold Grain Soju House – Grain Vodka.
“It’s a liquor made with rice I harvested myself. It’s refined like vodka, but it retains the texture of the grain. It doesn’t have a name or a brand yet, but I’m going around because I want to get some market feedback.”
“You brought it for tasting, so I can try it, right?”
“Of course.”
She took out a crystal shot glass and poured it carefully. As the transparent liquid filled the glass, a subtle scent spread. It was a slightly sweet grain scent that was hard to find in regular vodka.
“The scent is smooth.”
“Existing vodka is too odorless and tasteless, so I brought out the grain scent to highlight our distillery’s own personality. If you drink it, you’ll feel that it’s definitely different.”
She lifted the glass and took a sip. After rolling it in her mouth for a moment, she raised her eyebrows slightly.
“Wow... this is interesting. It’s clean like vodka, but the finish is sweet. Is it the sweetness of the rice?”
“That’s right. Because some grain components remain during the refining process, a slight sweetness remains at the end. Should I say it’s a liquor somewhere between Korean soju and European vodka?”
The bar owner put down the glass and laughed.
“This would be good to use as a cocktail base. Especially if you mix it with citrus or herbal liqueurs, it seems like it would have a unique scent.”
She looked at Jacob with serious eyes.
“How much are you planning to sell this for?”
Jacob brought up the words he had prepared in advance.
“I’m thinking of a wholesale price of 11 dollars per bottle. If the distribution takes 5-6 dollars, it would come into the store for 16-17 dollars, right?”
“16 dollars?”
She lifted the glass, held it up to the light, and smiled.
“Not bad, right? Since 750ml of Absolut goes for 21 dollars. This... 23 dollars? You could sell it for about that much. In the vodka market these days, completely odorless and tasteless is already saturated. But this... has character. Wouldn't customers be curious about it?”
“Ah, that’s great.”
“I’d like to say leave a bottle or two... but you can’t sell it, right?”
Jacob had a regretful expression.
“I’m sorry. Because of liquor laws, I can’t sell it directly. I’d like to just leave it and see the customers’ reactions, but I can’t do that either.”
“It can’t be helped. But I like it. If it’s officially sold, I think I’ll buy a few bottles.”
“Thank you.”
As he left the store with a glimmer of hope, darkness had already settled. Streetlights along the road turned on one by one, dyeing the streets of Sacramento yellow.
Jacob walked slowly, carrying the icebox with one bottle emptied. It was quite heavy because it was full of liquor, but Jacob didn't mind. Since his dad told him to be a strong man, this much was nothing.
“I’ll go around to all of them.”
His goal was to have everyone taste all the liquor inside by the end of today. If he worked hard like this for just one month... he planned to make his real move then.