The Season When Grapes Ripen (3)
A liquor competition.
It was, quite literally, an arena where spirits of every kind were laid bare before the public eye to be judged. Winning brought immense prestige to a brewery—and far more than just prestige. It paved the way for robust, wide-open distribution channels.
"Our next goal is the Korea Grand Sool Competition," I said.
"Goodness..."
It was only natural for Ha-jeong to be wide-eyed. Hosted by the Ministry of Agriculture, Food and Rural Affairs and organized by the Korea Agro-Fisheries & Food Trade Corporation, the Korea Grand Sool Competition was an event where the nation itself officially certified quality. In the world of traditional Korean liquor, it was practically regarded as the national team trials.
"If we enter, will we be submitting to the takju category?" she asked.
"For Dongjeongchun, yes. Nokpaju will go into the yakju bracket."
"The requirements are notoriously strict, but since we've already met the criteria, we should be fine."
The competition's standards were notoriously rigorous, demanding not just the exclusive use of domestic agricultural produce, but also scrutinizing quality certifications and checking for any prior administrative infractions against the brewery. Yet Songhadang had either already fulfilled every single condition or was well on track to do so. All that remained was the taste of the brew itself—and if there was one thing I possessed boundless confidence in, it was the quality of my liquor.
"From what I recall, the official announcement and registration period for the competition opens toward the end of June," Ha-jeong noted.
"That's right. We have a few months left, so we need to prepare thoroughly until then."
"Ah. I always assumed you could just whip up delicious alcohol on the fly whenever you felt like it, Boss."
"Hardly."
Had she taken my words to mean we were entering right this second? Even with the ten years of brewing experience I had accumulated in my previous life, I had no intention of rushing headlong into this like parching beans over a flash of lightning.
"For starters, I'm thinking of submitting another version alongside this original, unrefined Dongjeongchun."
"Another version?"
"Yes. It's still just an idea, but I have a strong feeling that aging it in a very specific cask will elevate the flavor to something extraordinary."
Even now, Dongjeongchun was delicious enough to earn universal acclaim wherever it was poured. But I had no intention of resting on my laurels. The intuition Moktong had imparted to me with that sharp forehead flick was already granting me a faint, prophetic glimpse into its future.
"There's something I need to track down first, so it might take a little time."
"Mmm... I don't completely understand, but if it's you, Boss, I know you'll pull it off!"
Despite tilting her head in slight puzzlement, Ha-jeong beamed at me with unshakeable trust. I offered her an affectionate smile in return.
"Thanks. It'll all work out. Sejun's been pulling his weight, and I've got you here with me."
Besides, even if Ha-jeong couldn't see them, I also had Songha, who was currently standing beside me idly fiddling with the brim of his fedora, and Moktong—whose absence at this moment meant he was almost certainly filching liquor in the aging cellar.
"First, let's call Sejun over."
"Ah! Great idea! I'll go fetch him right away!"
Ha-jeong dashed off, and it didn't take long for her to return with him in tow. At the mere mention that an exquisite brew was ready, Sejun had practically sprinted over, pumping his long legs in record time.
"Dongjeongchun is done? That stuff we broke our backs making?"
"It's not completely finished—just an interim check. Take a whiff for now."
"Oho."
Sejun took the glass of thick, unrefined Dongjeongchun and inhaled deeply. A low, appreciative groan immediately slipped past his lips.
"Damn, this is no joke."
"Right? The taste is incredible too!" Ha-jeong chimed in.
"Why does it smell like grapes? It has that distinct aroma right around the grape seeds..."
"It was made using only rice."
"That's what I'm saying! I helped you make it, so I know!"
That was precisely the magic of Dongjeongchun. Because of its unique brewing technique that called for almost no added water, the yeast produced a massive burst of ester compounds within a mash densely packed with grain solids. Those very esters were the reason that a sip delivered the fragrant notes of sweet, sun-ripened pears, crisp oriental melons, and fresh, vibrant grapes.
"Man, this is seriously top-tier."
"Not yet. It needs about ten more days of maturation."
"Ah, what a bummer. But that means it'll taste even better once it's done, right?"
"Yeah. And to make it truly unforgettable, I'm going to need your help."
"Huh? My help? If it's heavy lifting, just say the word! I've got you covered!"
"No, it's not that kind of help."
I shook my head at Sejun, who had flexed his arm to show off a bicep as thick as an ordinary man's thigh. Muscle wasn't what was required here.
"Come on a trip with me."
"Where to?"
"Gochang. You're driving."
Gochang County in North Jeolla Province. That was where the final puzzle piece for my Dongjeongchun was waiting.
"Don't tell me... the only reason you told me to just smell it was because..."
"...Sorry."
In the end, I had to promise him a generous share of the raw spirit the moment we returned.
"Whew. It's nice and breezy down here."
"Sure is."
The drive from Yeongwol down to Gochang was a considerable journey, and the climate shifted noticeably along the way. Coming from the deep mountain hollows of Gangwon Province, it was only natural that this southern plain felt far warmer than Songhadang.
"By the way... are you seriously planning to use that?" Sejun asked.
"Yeah. It's absolutely essential."
"When you say it with that much conviction, I can't even argue..."
"Trust me. I'm the guy who made Meari."
"Did I say otherwise? I decided to trust your liquor instincts from day one, so don't sweat it."
After parking the car, I stepped out and surveyed the surroundings. A cool breeze swept across the wide expanse of fields. The rows of plants appeared to be undergoing ground layering to propagate new saplings, a clear sign that every vine rooted in this soil was thriving with vigorous health.
"We came to the right place."
"Are all of those black raspberries?"
"Yep."
"I had no idea bokbunja grew on bushes like this."
Sejun scratched his head. Most people were probably in the same boat; the majority had never tasted fresh black raspberries raw, knowing the fruit only through the dark, sweet wine brewed from it.
"Usually, bokbunja wine is made right after harvest around May or June, just before the summer monsoon hits," I explained. "So right now, they're probably gearing up for the season."
"You certainly know your craft, don't you?"
A hearty voice called out from behind. I turned to find a man dressed in soil-caked work overalls, clearly having just stepped out from tending the fields. He beamed with a broad, welcoming smile.
"You're the folks who called earlier, right? The ones visiting all the way from Yeongwol?"
"Ah, yes. I'm Song Yeonwoo, the master brewer of Songhadang."
I offered my hand. He briskly dusted the dry dirt from his palms before taking mine in a firm clasp.
"My, my! You've traveled quite a distance! I'm Shin Yeong-gil. I make black raspberry wine here in Gochang. Welcome to Seonunsan Bokdeongi Farm."
The handshake conveyed the unvarnished, honest strength of a lifelong farmer, yet beneath that rugged grip lay the delicate sensitivity of an artisan vintner.
"Haha. To be completely honest, I've been eagerly looking forward to meeting you," Yeong-gil added.
"Oh? Me?"
"Of course! I happen to be an enormous fan of the liquor you brew! Hahaha! That bottle was something else entirely!"
His face had lit up with unmistakable delight the moment we introduced ourselves; as it turned out, he was an ardent devotee of Meari. Sure enough, the second he released my hand, Yeong-gil launched into passionate praise of its character.
"It was so majestic it gave me goosebumps! Just taking in the aroma made Mount Seonun rise right before my eyes!"
"Haha. I'm glad to hear that."
"Glad doesn't begin to cover it! Just how on earth did you coax out such depth? Was it the fermentation profile? No, no, you must have infused it with something truly extraordinary. Regardless! It easily ranks among the top five spirits I've tasted in my entire life! Meeting the person who crafted such a masterpiece... how could I not be thrilled? Hahaha!"
At this rate, it sounded less like flattery and more like reverence. Heartwarming and gratifying as his praise was, I had to steer the conversation back to our purpose. I was here on business, after all.
"Would it be all right if we discussed our business now?"
"Ah, goodness! Look at me getting carried away. Hahaha. Shall we go take a look right away?"
"Before that, would you mind if I took a brief look around the farm first?"
"Hm? Sure, by all means. This way, please."
I couldn't head straight to what I had come for, however. Not when something impossible to ignore was unfolding right before my eyes.
"Who on earth is this guy?"
A petite woman dressed in an exquisite hanbok was glaring straight up into my face.
"Right this way," Yeong-gil said, leading us down the path.
Even as I followed him, the woman trailed after me relentlessly, muttering under her breath.
"Hmm. Hmmm..."
Neither Yeong-gil nor Sejun seemed capable of seeing her. They simply walked ahead, chatting amiably about the local weather and the terrain.
"How strange... Nobody ever comes out here."
To make matters worse, she was now floating completely upside down in midair, staring directly into my eyes.
"Whew... I really wish Songha had come along," I muttered quietly under my breath.
"Hm? Songha? Who's that?" Sejun asked, catching the name.
"Just someone I know. A kind-hearted, good-natured heavy drinker."
"Well, that's wild! That's the exact same name as your brewery! Hahaha!"
Sejun broke into hearty laughter without the faintest hint of suspicion. Well, that was because our brewery belonged to that very gentleman—or rather, that Dokkaebi. Naturally, I couldn't say that out loud.
"I need to keep an eye on him," she grumbled, her porcelain face scowling. "Can't have anyone bringing harm to us."
I fought to ignore the piercing glare of the Dokkaebi, which felt intense enough to drill holes through my skull. Still, I had anticipated this. Whenever I visited another artisanal brewery or winery, running into its resident Dokkaebi was always a strong possibility. Hadn't I heard it before? Any truly exceptional brewing ground had at least one Dokkaebi watching over it.
"Here we are," Yeong-gil announced, pausing at a vantage point.
"Wow. It's vast, isn't it?"
"My absolute pride and joy! From here all the way to that ridge, it's all black raspberry bushes. Haha!"
Yeong-gil smiled with a mix of deep pride and a touch of weathered melancholy. His pride was thoroughly justified. Even at a glance, neat, immaculate rows of robust black raspberry bushes stretched out across the gentle hillside.
"You have every right to be proud," I said sincerely.
"Thank you for saying so. From the roots to the trellises, I tend every single corner of Bokdeongi Farm with my own two hands."
It was no empty courtesy. The view was breathtaking enough that I wanted nothing more than to swat away the hovering Dokkaebi circling my head just to admire it in peace. Anyone looking at this land could tell it was showered in genuine love—and that was precisely why I had insisted on seeing it with my own eyes.
"By the way," Yeong-gil asked, turning to me, "what made you so curious to see the fields first?"
"If I said I wanted to be certain I was doing business with a good person, would that make sense to you?"
"Hmm... I think I understand."
Stroking his chin for a moment, Yeong-gil nodded in quiet comprehension.
What did a 'good person' mean to an artisan brewer? Someone with deep pockets? Someone of immaculate moral character? None of that mattered. In our world, a truly good partner was simply someone who poured every ounce of their heart and soul into crafting exceptional spirits.
In that regard, Yeong-gil had passed with flying colors. I had researched and vetted farms thoroughly before making the trip, but seeing his devotion in person settled the matter. Once I verified one final detail, our deal would be struck.
"In that case, would it be all right if I sampled some of your black raspberry wine?"
"Ah, that is another great pride of Bokdeongi Farm! Right this way."
The maturation cellar where the wine was stored sat just a short walk away. The heavy iron-banded door swung open with a long, low creak.
"Whoa."
"Man, this is insane..."
My breath caught first, followed immediately by Sejun's stunned gasp. Stretching out before us in the cool, dimly lit cellar was an endless, majestic corridor of stacked oak barrels. A single glance was all it took.
"We came to the right place," I murmured. "These are incredible spirits."
"Huh? How can you tell just by looking at the barrels?" Sejun asked, bewildered.
"A brewer has his ways."
Atop every oak barrel, spectral sprites of aroma and flavor were dancing together in vibrant, luminous harmony. When the candied, tart brightness unique to ripe black raspberries took the opening step, the deep vanilla richness and toasted caramel coaxed from the oak wood peeked out to match its rhythm. And just as their intertwined waltz reached its crescendo, a gentle, grounding cedarwood warmth took center stage, elevating the entire performance into pure harmony.
Even without tasting a single drop, one couldn't help but know: this was extraordinary craftsmanship.
"Here, have a taste," Yeong-gil said, popping the bung from one of the center barrels and drawing the deep, crimson bokbunja wine into a prepared glass with a glass wine thief.