[Cult Wine (1)]
Elias, who had high expectations for Redwood but remained unsure of Mark’s true intentions, felt a flicker of genuine interest.
“Oh, really? Well, it would be absurd to claim you don’t know Redwood after they snagged two Double Golds at once. Especially if you’ve had the pleasure of tasting Sylphide.”
“It seems it left quite an impression on you.”
“Indeed. I originally had no intention of handing over my grapes. Imagine, wanting to use my harvest for a blend! Hahaha. I certainly couldn’t allow that. But that young man... ah, do you know about that young Asian fellow?”
“Of course. He’s a junior to my daughter.”
“I see. Truly the mark of a top-tier institution like UC Davis. Anyway, that young man... he knew that my grapes were the finest in the Russian River Valley. He begged me for just one chance, promising to craft a single-vineyard wine rather than a blend. What was I to do? I signed the contract.”
“...It’s a bold choice, but wouldn’t it have been wiser to be a bit more cautious? No matter how promising a newcomer he is, wine vintages vary wildly from year to year...”
“Oh, if you’re worrying about me, don’t bother. What does it matter if an old man who could kick the bucket any day makes a mistake and loses a bit? At my age, life gets boring. That Asian kid is full of ambition; it’s fun to watch. He reminds me of how our boy was in his youth. Hahaha!”
Mark’s expression hardened further. He wasn’t so foolish as to miss the implication of those words.
“I see. I look forward to it. Another single-vineyard wine from Redwood in the Russian River Valley... I wonder if it will truly be able to differentiate itself from Sylphide.”
“Hmm~ it’ll be fine. Hart’s grapes and mine are different, so even if that young man doesn’t pull any fancy tricks, it will be a distinct wine. That is what I believe.”
“...... Then I shall cheer for you from afar.”
“Thank you. You are certainly a polite man, Mark. Fitting for the head of the Sonoma Pinot Noir Association.”
“You’re too kind. If you’ll excuse me...”
As Mark turned and walked away, Elias’s gaze deepened, sinking into a dark, unreadable abyss. His face, however, betrayed nothing of his inner thoughts.
Just then, someone else approached him.
“Why must you keep bringing me up?”
Elias turned to see the hulking figure of Pinot Noir grower Steven Hart. Despite the cookie crumbs clinging to his thick, unruly red beard, his rugged, menacing appearance made it impossible to mistake him for a child.
“Big as a mountain and yet you spend your time eavesdropping.”
Elias scolded him, and Steven scratched his head with a sheepish expression.
“I wasn’t eavesdropping. I was just standing nearby and happened to hear. But really, did you sell your grapes to Redwood?”
“I did. Don’t worry yourself. I handed them over on the condition that your single-vineyard Sylphide remains in production.”
“I just heard that part. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it...”
“Still, that despicable man... how could he have the nerve to ask you for grapes? People who drink wine need to know just how low-down the folks at Harrington Winery really are.”
“I’m not making a fuss, so why are you?”
“Because you’re staying quiet, someone has to make a fuss!”
Elias scoffed at Steven, who was getting worked up on his behalf.
“Hmph! If making a fuss could actually damage Harrington, why do you think I’d be sitting here quietly? If you throw an egg at a rock, you might at least leave a stain or a foul smell. Since I can’t even manage that, I stay silent. Besides, as long as I hold my ground here, that bastard can’t scrub his past clean.”
“Ugh...”
“In the end, seeing Mark squirm at my age is quite satisfying. Did you see his face earlier?”
“I was behind him, so I didn’t. I turned my head because I was afraid he’d catch me looking if we made eye contact.”
“You really don’t live up to your size.”
“...I apologize.”
“Let’s wait and see. Let’s see what that bastard Mark does next.”
“Yes. It would be refreshing to see a crack in that smug face of his. By the way, any news on Daniel?”
Elias’s face, which had remained cold and composed, suddenly softened into a look of profound sorrow.
“He still hasn’t reached out even once, that wicked boy...”
“He’ll be fine. He always had guts. That’s probably why Harrington treated him the way they did.”
“I suppose so. To think that a boy who caused so much trouble in his youth would still be causing trouble as a grown man...”
The two men sipped their wine and turned their attention to the afternoon session of the Annual Grower Meeting.
At the same time the Annual Grower Meeting hosted by the Sonoma County Winegrowers was underway, another meeting was taking place at a convention hall near Yolon Park. It was a commemorative tasting event hosted by the Napa Valley Grapegrowers (NVG) titled [Beyond the Judgment, Building Napa’s Next 30 Years].
The NVG was an association to which nearly every vineyard and winery owner in Napa Valley belonged. Usually, they held one large-scale event in December, but this year, following their historic, overwhelming victory at the re-enactment of the Judgment of Paris, the event was filled with contemplation on how to sustain that momentum.
To an outsider, it might just look like American wine had beaten French wine, but within the industry, it was effectively a total victory for Napa Valley. Consequently, the faces of the winery owners gathered here were as bright as if they were celebrating their own birthdays.
A large screen hung in the center of the hall, and the banner ‘Beyond the Judgment, Building Napa’s Next 30 Years’ written in gold letters made it clear just how much anticipation for the future this event held for them.
Name tags printed with the logos of Napa Valley wineries were tucked into every chair, and the wine glasses placed at each seat were already diffusing a subtle fragrance.
“I heard professors from UC Davis are coming today?”
“It’s been a while since I’ve sat through a lecture.”
“How are prices lately?”
“Cabernet isn’t moving. Everyone is looking for Pinot Noir.”
“Still, they say the prices for those fifty-dollar wines that are hard to find in stores are creeping up, don’t they?”
“Eh, that’s just talk. They look for them, but when the price actually goes up, they don’t buy. It’s mostly just curiosity.”
“I see...”
The one disappointing thing was that despite winning the 30th-anniversary re-enactment of the Judgment of Paris, popular demand hadn’t shifted significantly. The reason was simple: the American wines that beat the French were, by and large, cult-level bottles costing thousands of dollars, while the general public was looking for premium wines in the range of a few dozen to maybe a hundred dollars.
At that price point, the influence of the movie Sideways meant that Pinot Noir was bound to see much greater volatility.
Just then, the moderator took the microphone and stepped onto the podium.
“Everyone, could you please take your seats? We will now begin the ‘Beyond the Judgment’ session.”
The lights dimmed, and the screen flickered to life.
The first session was led by Professor Richard Thomas of the UC Davis Department of Viticulture and Enology.
“Thirty years ago, the Judgment of Paris was a gift from our climate. But now, the climate is no longer stable. Irregular heatwaves, warming winters, unexpected frosts. We can no longer expect the vines to adapt on their own. As we have always done, we must change ourselves.”
He flipped through the slides, revealing new experimental data.
Graphs of canopy temperature distribution, Brix change rates based on photosynthetic efficiency, and average values for sunlight and humidity by region appeared on the screen one by one.
“Shade Management, Partial Irrigation, and Canopy Layering....”
His presentation was both scientific and practical.
Naturally, as I attended this event, I smiled, remembering the past before my regression. Every single piece of this information was already etched into my brain.
“We must no longer conclude that irregular climate patterns are merely disasters. They are new conditions given to us for grape cultivation, and interpreting and responding to them is our job.”
It was the usual rhetoric, but I knew just how extreme the future climate change would become. Those who focused and prepared during this special lecture would be the ones to survive in Napa ten years from now.
The sessions that followed were focused on practical application: Precision Irrigation, Soil Carbon Retention, and Alternative Rootstock...
Cultivation managers from large wineries presented case studies, and UC Davis researchers shared their data. By the time the session ended, people naturally stood up and headed toward the break area.
Outside, wine tasting booths had been set up, and wines from Napa Heritage, Duckhorn, Beringer, and Robert Mondavi were lined up. In the distance, I spotted a small round table where the owners of the major wineries in Oakville—the very heart of Napa Valley—were gathered.
The winery owners occupying the To-Kalon region of Oakville were effectively the aristocrats of Napa Valley, having formed their own association, the Oakville Winegrowers, to hold separate meetings. And in that group, there was a face I recognized.
“Huh?”
Matthew, a senior from my school, caught my eye and grinned. My father, who saw this, asked,
“Do you know him?”
“He’s a senior at school.”
“Ah, he looks like a decent fellow.”
“Eh, he’s not quite what he seems.”
“Really? Is he a bit racist?”
In America, when you feel like someone dislikes you, the first thing you think of is racism. And it wasn’t necessarily paranoia, either; before the Hallyu wave hit the US, you couldn’t even bring up Korea at school.
There were kids who would shove you just for walking by, and in extreme cases, some would even assault you to the point where you couldn’t attend school at all.
“Not to that extent, I think he’s just jealous.”
“That makes sense. You’re exceptionally talented, after all.”
“You’re telling me. I am pretty outstanding.”
As I was joking around with my dad, I saw someone from that group stand up and walk toward us. It was Joseph Higgins, Matthew’s father. He shook my father’s hand and said,
“Nice to meet you. I’m Joseph Higgins. I heard your son attends the same school as my son.”
“I’m Wooseok Choi. I just heard about that myself. It really reinforces the idea that UC Davis is a prestigious institution. I’m proud to have sent my son to the same school as the son of such a prominent winery owner.”
“Rumor has it your son’s skills are quite remarkable.”
“As a father, I can’t exactly deny it when it comes to my son’s praise.”
“Hahaha! I’d be proud too. I’ll invite you to the winery sometime, so please come and join us for a meal.”
“That would be wonderful. It would be an honor anytime.”
After Joseph left, just as the break was coming to an end, Joseph spoke toward Mondavi, the host of the event. Since the seats weren’t far apart and Joseph had a booming voice, I could hear him clearly.
“Instead of doing this, why don’t we take this opportunity to reshape Napa’s image around cult wines? Because the perception that American wine is ‘cheap’ is what makes people hesitate to pay high prices like they do for French wine.”
Mondavi, at an age where it wouldn’t be surprising if he passed away at any moment, smiled faintly.
“You must realize that we are not the only ones in Napa Valley.”
“I know. But if we strengthen the premium image of Oakville to raise our name value to rival France, the name value of Napa Valley will rise as well.”
“I wonder...”
Mondavi, who seemed to be contemplating, suddenly turned his gaze toward me.
“In times like these, the opinions of experienced elders are important, but the opinions of young friends are just as vital. What do you think?”
“Me?”
I pointed at myself with my index finger, and when Mondavi nodded, the eyes of many people suddenly turned toward me.
‘That old geezer...’
I cursed him inwardly, thinking he was still holding a grudge over me snubbing his granddaughter, but I replied calmly.
“I don’t think I represent Napa Valley, but personally, I don’t believe a wine’s value increases just because you brand it. If there’s a wine consumers want to drink, they’ll pay a premium for it. I understand the intent behind your words, but I can’t help but think that, in the end, only the Oakville-centric wineries would benefit.”
Joseph’s face, which had been smiling just a moment ago, hardened instantly, but I didn’t care. It’s not like I was actually going to his house for dinner... what did it matter if he was offended?
“You heard the boy?”
The old man shrugged his shoulders as if he were deliberately picking a fight and smiled faintly, while Joseph and the other Oakville winery owners nodded with grim expressions.
Since Mondavi had rejected the idea, it became difficult for them to push it any harder. Of course, a few of them shot sharp glares in my direction...
“I think I’ve made some enemies, haven’t I?”
I asked, feeling slightly worried, but my father just patted my shoulder and laughed.
“For something like that? Still, it would be nice if we could produce a cult-level wine of our own.”
“Look forward to it. I have something in mind.”
My father’s eyes widened.
“Really?”
“Why do you think I went all the way to an auction to buy wine? I have to show them. I have to show them that To-Kalon isn’t everything.”