The Re-Tasting and the Path Not Taken
Two days after the 30th Anniversary Judgment of Paris re-tasting and the New Blood of Napa event, Christopher White stormed into the winery, his face flushed a deep, angry red. In his hand, he clutched a folded newspaper, the headline printed in bold, heavy type:
“Did you see this?” He slammed the paper onto my desk, his eyes bloodshot. “That Richard Spencer... he left Redwood out. Only us!”
I picked up the paper slowly. The photo featured the logos of wineries from France, Italy, and the U.S. lined up side by side: Silveroak, Harrington, Duckhorn, Martinborough, Masso. But Redwood’s name was nowhere to be found.
“He cut us out on purpose. He probably didn’t want an Asian-owned winery taking center stage.” His voice was laced with venom. “Do you think I’ll just sit by? I’m going to protest to the headquarters. I’ll fly to New York—”
“There’s no need for that,” I said.
He stopped mid-sentence and stared at me. “What did you say?”
“I said it’s fine. If anything, I think it’s for the best.”
Confusion flickered across his face. “Are you insane? This is a massive promotional opportunity! A chance to be on global television! You’re just going to give that up?”
I scratched the bridge of my nose. “I’m not an entertainer, and I have no intention of becoming one. Besides, I don’t want to appear on TV just to promote wine.”
“But...” He lost his words, staring blankly at my face before letting out a dry laugh. “You really are an impossible person. Turning your back on prestige like that.”
“I don’t want to gain prestige for the winery through a TV show. And to me, this year’s harvest is far more important than appearing on one.”
“......”
I pointed to the stack of files next to my computer monitor. “I have a mountain of work to do. Chloe is looking after the new orchard in Lodi, and Armando is checking the vinegar aging line. Jacob says he doesn’t have enough hours in the day to finish the prototype for his premium soju. I need to help all three of them.”
He let out a long, deep breath and finally relaxed his shoulders. “Well, if you say so... you really aren’t like other young people these days.”
Seeing his profound disappointment, I smiled. “Richard Spencer is a businessman; it’s only natural for him to create a show. But I am a farmer. Richard lives his way, and I live mine.”
A brief silence hung in the air before Christopher let out a hollow laugh and nodded. “Fine. Even if you don’t go on the TV show, it’s not like the wine Redwood releases won’t sell. I understand. I won’t contact that man either.”
He stood up to leave. “Still, you really are a strange man.”
“It’s because I’m a farmer.”
“Don’t you ever forget that.”
After he left, I headed straight for Brentwood. The cherry harvest was in full swing, and the red fruit shimmered under the sunlight even from a distance. The roar of tractors, the clatter of baskets, and the sweet, heavy scent of ripe fruit filled the air.
“Brian!”
Frederick, his thick forearms stained with red juice, waved and walked toward me. Behind him, Chloe took off her hat and wiped away sweat.
“We’ve been harvesting all day. We’ll probably pick 60 tons just today. I’m exhausted!”
I smiled. “That’s a good problem to have.”
There was a time when Chloe would scan her surroundings with fearful eyes, terrified of a bug touching her hand. Now, she simply flicked a flying insect off her clothes with her finger. She seemed to have been reborn as a true farmer’s daughter.
“Let’s go inside. I was just about to head in anyway.”
Frederick put an arm around my shoulder like I was his own son and led me inside affectionately. “This year’s yield is about 80% of last year’s. That’s because we did extra grafting to switch varieties.”
“How was the survival rate for the grafts we did last year?”
“Mostly great. Over 90% are growing well.”
“That’s not a bad yield at all.”
“Indeed. Most importantly, the sugar content and uniformity of the flesh are excellent. I think we’ll get a good price again this time... Even if I hadn’t received the profit share from your Ceracia sales, we wouldn’t have been short. But now, I’m already looking forward to next year’s Ceracia profits!”
“Hahaha!” I burst into laughter. The profit share from Ceracia that went to Frederick this time was a staggering $430,000. It was a profit he couldn’t have dreamed of even after selling a hundred tons of cherries, so his joy was understandable.
“Oh, I heard. You have a friend named Jacob, right? One of your classmates? You’re helping him with his distilled spirits? I heard business is booming thanks to that magazine feature?”
“Yes.”
“Then, over there too...?”
“That’s the opposite. I teach him how to make the spirits, and I take 30% of the profits.”
“Oh, so the structure is similar after all?”
“Exactly.”
“Hmm... I suppose secondary processing is much more profitable than just running an orchard.”
Seeing him nod, it was clear he was envious. Well, his feelings were understandable; no matter how hard he worked selling cherries, walnuts, olives, or tomatoes, he couldn’t see massive profits. Hearing that his daughter’s friend Jacob was turning rice farming into a lucrative spirits business naturally piqued his interest.
Frederick and I entered the office-cum-warehouse building on the farm, and Chloe began washing cherries in the office.
“In about two more years, we’ll be able to harvest the Royal Tioga. I’m already looking forward to it.”
“The profits will be solid. If we produce Coral Champagne, Royal Tioga, and Sweetheart, we’ll maximize our returns.”
“Even this year, people are specifically looking for our farm’s cherries at the market. Among the Bing cherries, ours were clearly the best. William Hartford, the head of the Cherry Growers Cooperative, even asked me about the new farming methods we’re using. You have no idea how satisfying that was, hahaha!”
He let out a hearty laugh, as if a decade of frustration had finally been washed away. He patted my shoulder again and said, very seriously, “I’m never going to tell them. Not ever.”
“Yes... you’re doing well. Actually, I was thinking of trying something a bit different this time.”
“How so?”
“First, we’ll maintain the current form of Ceracia, but I’m also thinking of releasing an additional version that’s aged in oak barrels for over four months.”
Both Frederick and Chloe, who had just brought in the washed cherries, were stunned by the unexpected proposal.
“You’re going to further premiumize Ceracia?”
“That’s right. Ceracia is already differentiated from the cloyingly sweet dessert wines out there, but I want to add a bit more complexity to the aroma.”
At the mention of a more complex aroma, Frederick’s eyes lit up with anticipation.
“That’s a significant volume—is it possible? Besides, if you reduce the amount of the original version, won’t your initial sales drop?”
“That’s why I wanted to discuss it. I want to maintain the 100 tons we’ve been supplying while requesting an additional 100 tons for the premium cherry wine. What do you think?”
Both of them were shocked at my words.
“100 tons plus an additional 100 tons?”
“A total of 200 tons?”
I pulled a photo from my small bag of the Laird Family Estate, where I had originally made Sylphid. It was a photo of the destemming and aging process of the Pinot Noir I’d received from the Hart farm; as one of the top custom crush facilities in Napa Valley, the scale of the operation was massive.
“Originally, we made it at our Redwood winery, but this time I want to use a custom crush facility. Cherry wine itself doesn’t command a huge price, so using a custom crush facility is usually too expensive to be profitable. But if we bring in over 100 tons, we can definitely turn a profit.”
“Does that mean the brand will change, too?”
“Exactly. We’ll keep the existing Ceracia as is, and create a Reserve line.”
Chloe’s eyes went wide. “Ceracia Reserve? That name sounds good.”
“The name is good, too.”
“But isn’t four months of aging too short?”
“If it stays in the oak barrels for more than half a year, the cherry aroma gets buried. We can’t have that.”
“Ah... I see. So you want to preserve the cherry aroma while infusing the complex notes of the oak... That definitely has its merits. But are you going to use all 100 tons for the Reserve?”
“I’ll have to consider that. A significant portion of the demand for cherry wine comes from women, and if it’s too heavy, sales might drop.”
“That could be true.”
At that moment, Chloe held out the cherries she had washed. “Try one.”
“Sure.”
The freshly picked cherries had a deep, sweet aroma, and the moment the skin burst, the sweet-and-sour juice flooded my mouth. Cherries are the kind of fruit you can’t stop eating once you start, so I polished off a whole basket in an instant.
“Delicious.”
“Right? Everyone loves them.”
We spent the time chatting happily while eating cherries, and the next day, I went to school as usual. Perhaps because of the massive event, the UC Davis Department of Viticulture and Enology building felt like a festival from the morning.
A giant banner hung at the campus entrance:
Judgment of Paris 30th Anniversary, U.S. Triumph Again!
Reporters and camera crews swarmed the building entrance, and students were cheering, holding wine bottles and taking photos.
“Thirty years later, we did it again!”
Professors and researchers were hugging each other, and in one corner of the campus, students were popping wine bottles for an impromptu toast.
As the news that the U.S. had defeated France once again at the 30th Anniversary re-tasting spread through the global media, UC Davis had effectively emerged as the “Alma Mater of Victory.”
Half of the judges that day were professors from UC Davis, and most of the wines under evaluation were from wineries that worked closely with the Davis research institute. In other words, this victory was, in effect, a victory for UC Davis.
“Did you see? The school’s name is on the front page of the paper!”
“Davis is now the capital of global wine education.”
“And Brian Choi represented Redwood at New Blood of Napa, didn’t he?”
“Two Double Golds, right? That’s absolutely insane.”
The hallways were literally packed with people. Some were passing around celebratory wine, while others were selling stickers that read ‘Davis 1976-2006.’ Students were plastering the stickers onto their laptops and wine sample bottles.
The faculty was busy preparing a commemorative seminar, and a placard hung on the wall of the department building:
From Napa to the World / UC Davis Made It Possible.
Amidst the heat, I headed toward my lecture hall. Every time I walked through the halls, I heard greetings of “Hey, Brian!” as if I were a celebrity. Most were genuine congratulations, but some were tinged with a hint of jealousy.
‘Brian Choi, the man of the Double Gold.’
That was the headline in today’s campus newspaper.
As I opened the door to the lecture hall, the noisy students all turned their heads at once. And in the middle of the front row sat Elena Elowen, wearing her silver-rimmed glasses.
Usually, even if we made eye contact, she would immediately look away without acknowledging me... but for some reason, today she looked me straight in the eye.
“Congratulations.”
She even offered the first word of congratulation.
“Thank you.”
“Two Double Golds... they’re treating you like a legend at school.”
It was so long ago that it was almost embarrassing to hear it mentioned now. “I was just lucky.”
At that moment, Department Chair Thomas, who had followed me in, saw me and gave me a bear hug.
“Hahaha! Congratulations! Huge congratulations!”
“I should be the one congratulating you. Congratulations, Chair.”
“Thank you. I heard Redwood was selected as the best winery at New Blood of Napa. I looked for you then, but I couldn’t find you?”
“My turn was over, so I went home.”
“My goodness... you really don’t know how to enjoy an event. Regardless, interest in next year’s Echelon and Sylphid is already skyrocketing. It’s a huge blessing for a winery.”
All the students were listening intently to the conversation. Unable to stand it, Elena’s voice cut in.
“Chair, I was at New Blood of Napa, too, you know?”
Chair Thomas turned his head and looked at Elena lovingly. “Oh—Elena, congratulations. I still remember your solid and dignified presence at the event.”
“Thank you. And... I’ll be appearing on [Program Name] this time. It’s a TV show where the wineries selected for New Blood of Napa compete against emerging French wineries.”
“Oh... is that so?”
Naturally, everyone’s eyes turned to me. Since Elena’s Silveroak winery was selected, the reaction was that I should obviously be going, too.
“I didn’t receive an invitation.”
I answered honestly, and Chair Thomas looked taken aback. “Oh, is that right?”
“It’s fine. I’m sure the others will do a great job.”
“I see. If I were to put in a word...”
“No, thank you. The cherry harvest has already started. We have 200 tons coming in soon, so I have to prepare at the winery. Where would I go?”
At the mention of making wine with 200 tons of cherries, Elena’s face stiffened again.
“Th-that’s right. You didn’t just make grape wine.”
“Yes. And I have so much to do that even if I had been invited, I wouldn’t have been able to go. Anyway, Elena, go and win first place.”
As I smiled and cheered her on, she gave an awkward smile and answered reluctantly.
“Uh... yeah.”