The Season When Grapes Ripen (5)
What is the single most important element in brewing spirits?
Some would argue it is water. After all, crafting a single bottle of whisky can consume upwards of forty liters of water, and when brewing spirits like Nokpaju—which require only a meager trickle—the water must be of immaculate quality to properly guide the fermentation and flavor.
Others might point to artisanal craftsmanship. Some would cite the climate, while others champion the aging process.
They are all correct.
Yet while those elements make great alcohol, the most decisive factor changes entirely when it comes to selling it.
“Thank goodness. Truly... thank goodness!”
Yeong-gil seemed to have forgotten that Se-jun and I were even standing beside him. His face, far softer and more relaxed than before, was bathed in relief as he muttered the words over and over.
Beside him, Boon-yi dabbed at her reddened eyes with her sleeve, sniffling softly.
Indeed. In this arena, the single most critical factor was money.
Just think of the capital required to produce black raspberry wine: cultivating the fruit, tending the land, processing the harvest, purchasing and maintaining brewing equipment, and bottling the finished product. Every single step demanded money.
In my past life, there was a time when I had obsessed solely over the craft itself, completely blind to the harsh currents of cash flow. If Se-jun had not scrambled across the country securing investments, I would have gone bankrupt long before achieving anything.
Because I had lived through that reality, I understood Yeong-gil's bone-deep relief all too well.
“Of course, this order includes extra spare casks, so future batches won't be quite as large,” I noted gently.
“Of course, of course. I understand. Haha... President Song, you truly are my savior.”
“Thank you! Really, thank you so much!” Boon-yi chimed in, all traces of her earlier wariness vanished. She bowed her head toward me with a beaming, tear-streaked smile.
I offered her a reassuring wave before turning to leave, sent off by the heartfelt gratitude of both man and dokkaebi.
“Still, was it really necessary to go that far?” Se-jun asked once we were on the road.
“What do you mean?”
“Look, I may just be the muscle around here, but even I can tell that contract was overwhelmingly favorable to him.”
“There’s a reason for everything.”
I had resolved to walk a different path to success than in my past life. I wouldn't just stubbornly cling to artisan purism; I had vowed to weigh practical, worldly realities just as deeply. But at the same time, I refused to become someone blinded by profit who cast people aside.
“You tasted his black raspberry wine, didn't you?”
“We drank it together an hour ago. Why are you asking?”
“What did you think when you tasted it?”
“What did I think?” Se-jun gave me a bewildered stare, as if I had asked the most ridiculous question in the world. His answer didn't deviate by a fraction of a millimeter from what I expected. “It was ridiculously delicious!”
“Exactly. That's why.”
“Huh?”
Yeong-gil’s black raspberry wine simply lacked public recognition; in terms of sheer quality, it easily ranked among the top tier of any commercial bokbunja liquor on the market. From its aroma alone, an enigmatic, deep-seated sweetness wafted forth, and the moment it coated the tongue, a rich, velvety body bloomed in the mouth. The fruit's tart brightness and luscious sugar unfurled as vividly as artisanal preserves or fruit compote.
Securing a stable supply of seasoned casks would have been enough on paper.
“But I didn't want to stop at just buying barrels.”
“Then what?”
“For starters, I plan to share our techniques with him.”
Though regression had granted me a decade of future experience, that didn't mean I was omniscient across every category of alcohol. While I could build upon what I had brewed before and assist using the supernatural gifts bestowed by Songha and Moktong, diving recklessly into entirely unfamiliar varieties was a recipe for disaster.
“Exchanging techniques with other masters will illuminate blind spots for both sides.”
“Whoa... you planned that far ahead?”
“To be honest, what I truly want goes even further.”
What I had described so far was strictly from a brewer's perspective. In commercial terms, I was envisioning a far broader horizon built on technical collaboration.
“I want to build a group.”
“Like, become a corporate conglomerate chairman?”
“No. Well... maybe 'community' or 'coalition' is a better word than group.”
Did people realize just how many breweries existed across the country? Over 3,100 entities held liquor manufacturing licenses in South Korea. More than half—over 1,900—held traditional liquor licenses. Yet the number of actively functioning breweries was a fraction of that, barely five hundred, and only sixty-four operated official visitor-friendly programs nationwide.
“Most of them are barely scraping by just to keep the flame alive,” I said.
“It's a shame, but you're right... especially with the economy in the gutter lately.”
When an economic slump drags on, leisure and luxury industries are always the first to bleed. Alcohol is no exception. That was why small craft breweries across the nation were groaning under the strain, and several craft breweries had shuttered their doors in recent months.
“I want to form an alliance with artisans who brew truly exceptional alcohol.”
“Like LVMH?”
“Something like that.”
Headquartered in France, LVMH was a titanic luxury conglomerate encompassing fashion, perfumes, cosmetics, jewelry, and watches—as well as prestigious wine and spirits houses. I knew little about high fashion, but I knew the legendary names in their spirits portfolio: Ardbeg, one of the three kings of peated Islay whisky; Hennessy, a cognac whose name was known even to non-drinkers; and the pinnacle of prestige champagne, Dom Pérignon.
“Japan's Asahi operates under a similar philosophy with its acquisitions,” I added.
“Whoa... if that happens, does that make it the Songha Group?”
“That's the dream.”
Though I kept it to myself, my ambitions were never confined to Korea alone. If dokkaebis existed across our peninsula, then spirits and tutelary beings dwelled within historic breweries and distilleries across the entire globe as well. To save them all, I had to become someone with stature to match. Only then could I brew even greater alcohol.
“For now, think of this as our first step. Let's not get ahead of ourselves.”
“...The moment you said that, I was already imagining Songhadang ruling the world.”
“Haha! I certainly wouldn't mind if it came true.”
Even so, our immediate priority was clear: using the black raspberry wine casks crafted by Yeong-gil and Boon-yi to brew an unprecedented masterpiece.
“Whoa, whoa! Over here! Let's set it down over this way! Good! Stop, stop!”
About a week after our return to Yeongwol, the days at Songhadang grew even more hectic. An already demanding schedule had taken on another heavy task.
“Ah, what a splendid fragrance of fruit,” Songha remarked with a fond smile.
“Sniff, sniff... Where on earth did ye dig up barrels like these? Smells so sweet it'd melt right on the tongue!” Moktong grumbled, hovering close.
The two dokkaebis clustered together beside the black raspberry wine casks hauled directly from Yeong-gil’s farm, sniffing eagerly at the wood. Seeing them swoon confirmed what I had already known: Yeong-gil truly was an exceptional brewer.
“So we're agin' the spirit in these, eh?” Moktong asked, puffing his chest out. “Aye, aye! Then it's time for this old man to step up, ain't it?”
“Do leave some liquor behind this time, Moktong,” Songha teased gently.
“Bah! Ye think I'm that shameless?! Tsk!”
Despite Moktong's indignant snort, his lips smacked with unbridled thirst. I had a sinking feeling our final bottling yield might take a noticeable hit from the cellar dokkaebi's personal "angel's share."
“There are so many of them!” Ha-jeong gasped, eyes round.
“It isn't actually that many,” I replied with a smile. “Only fifty casks.”
“Still, isn't that a massive amount?!”
To be fair, relative to Songhadang’s current scale, it was indeed a tremendous volume. Dongjeongchun was already notoriously low-yield due to its minimal water ratio, and aging it in 225-liter barriques—each yielding roughly six hundred bottles—multiplied the commitment.
Yet there was good reason for such aggressive investment.
“Trust me, this will be a resounding success.”
“You must have witnessed something truly magnificent, my friend,” Songha chuckled.
“Course it'll succeed! Smack, smack. I'm droolin' already just thinkin' on it!” Moktong chortled.
The base Dongjeongchun was already near-flawless. On top of that, the sensory vision granted by Moktong's gift—foreseeing Dongjeongchun matured in these bokbunja casks—had transcended anything I could have imagined. Once brought to market, it would cause an absolute sensation.
“Now we just have to move them all...”
Looking at the mountain of barrels stacked on the truck bed, a weary sigh slipped past my lips. Moving them one by one would take an eternity. Even with Ha-jeong here, the heavy lifting fell squarely on Se-jun and me. We desperately needed to expand our workforce soon.
“We're moving them over there, right?” Se-jun asked.
“Huh?”
“Whoa...” Ha-jeong breathed.
Se-jun hoisted a full-sized oak cask with ease and strode toward the maturation cellar. His complexion didn't even shift; to him, it was no heavier than a bag of groceries.
“You know...” Ha-jeong murmured, watching his broad back. “I really feel Se-jun-nim picked the wrong profession.”
“I've often thought that myself,” I admitted. “What kind of job do you think would suit him?”
“Um... a pro wrestler? You know, the kind that picks opponents up and slams them through tables...”
Ha-jeong's words instantly conjured an unbidden image: Se-jun stripped to the waist in a garish wrestling mask, flexing his mountainous muscles before slamming a rival onto the canvas and roaring to the rafters.
“What could you possibly be imagining to make your lips twitch like that?” Songha asked, amused.
“No... it's nothing...”
“Yeonwoo! Should I just stack these on the top row?”
Se-jun had already deposited the first cask and jogged back, snapping me out of my daydream.
“Are you sure you want to carry them like that? Wouldn't it be easier to roll them?”
“Eh, doesn't feel much different to me. Hup!”
Proving his words were no exaggeration, Se-jun slung two barrels onto his shoulders—one on each side—and strolled off with light, effortless steps.
“Se-jun! Make sure you rack them properly on the cask cradles! It's dangerous otherwise!”
“Got it! That's what I've been doing, don't worry!”
“Boss, shouldn't we start moving ours as well?” Ha-jeong suggested.
Since Ha-jeong and I lacked Se-jun's monstrous physical prowess, we carefully rolled the remaining barrels one by one. With all three of us working together, the unloading finished far sooner than expected.
“So, do we start brewing now?” Se-jun asked, wiping sweat from his brow.
“Yeah. Time to put them to use. I already had one set aside.”
“Oh man, I can't wait. I really can't!”
The bouquet billowing from the bung of the opened cask was nothing short of intoxicating.
Through my enhanced senses, a vivacious spirit of black raspberry aroma hopped playfully along the rim of the barrel as if it were a garden fence. It paused, tilted its head in curiosity, and reached deep into the oak grain, pulling something out.
Emerging shyly from the wood was a gentle note of vanilla, peeking out with timid grace. The native sweetness of the fruit intertwined harmoniously with the toasted tannins of the oak, weaving an aromatic tapestry impossible to find anywhere else.
“If we marry this with Dongjeongchun...”
“I brought it! Let's pour it in!”
“Aye! Ain't this why ye picked the brew with me beforehand?! Pour it in, hurry it up!” Moktong urged, bouncing on his heels.
“Calm yourself, Moktong. Our friend is merely savoring the atmosphere,” Songha murmured placidly.
“Bah! Like yer own heart ain't racin' just as hard, Songha!”
“Ahem...”
Earlier, Moktong and I had carefully selected specific batches of Dongjeongchun best suited for maturation. Knowing this moment had arrived, Se-jun hauled over several ceramic onggi jars brimming with the pristine liquor.
Humans and dokkaebis alike held their breath in rapt anticipation.
“All right, pouring it in now!”
“Pour it, boss!”
“Let's goooo!”
“Oho! It looks delectable!”
“A truly splendid hue.”
Gurgling, golden Dongjeongchun cascaded from the onggi jars into the depths of the oak barrel.
And then...
“Wait, what?”
“What in the blazes?!”
“Good heavens... how could this be...?”
The two dokkaebis and I could only let out a collective gasp of dismay.