Cleaning House in the DeVenger Family (6)
Even for a Korean guy from his past life, it felt strangely awkward to have a twenty-two-year-old like Benjamin ordering around a middle-aged man like Theodore. As a boy raised on Confucian values, the dynamic was bizarre, but since Benjamin was his direct superior, Henry simply accepted it and moved on.
After listening to Henry’s explosive marketing plan, Benjamin seemed to have realized something. The moment Theodore left, he scanned the storage room with a satisfied expression, then approached Henry almost clingingly and asked,
“By the way, Henry, the 1945 vintage Theodore’s bringing is definitely solid. I picked out only the best ones myself. But some of these 1934s were secretly made and hidden during Prohibition. After aging over fifty years in oak barrels, the tannins have leached out so much that the wood flavor is overpowering. Any ideas on how to handle these?”
“Blending. We have to blend them, obviously. Mix them with freshly distilled spirit and that harsh bitterness turns into ‘deep, mature complexity.’ If it still tastes bad after that? Then it has no commercial value. In that case, we make it commercially viable. We blend in a ton of fresh spirit to balance the flavor profile, increase volume, and ensure consistency. We sell it as the cheapest in our lineup, but the most expensive in the entire market.”
Henry paused for a moment, then stared straight into Benjamin’s eyes and added,
“What I want is to completely strip away Applejack’s shabby image with this opportunity. Erase the stereotypes that it’s harshly alcoholic or gives terrible hangovers, and hammer in the message that ‘DeVenger’s Applejack is different. Everything else is garbage!’ We’ll put ‘Premium Applejack’ on the label and market it with lines like ‘The greatest spirit among all the Applejacks you’ve ever known.’ Or we could just give it an entirely new name.”
Benjamin fidgeted with his fingers, mentally running the numbers, then immediately replied,
“Then we’ll need to install a continuous still and an activated carbon filter first. Blend the clean spirit we get from that with the over-aged stock that’s gone bad, and we’ll get exactly the liquor you described. Something with minimal hangover and a strong apple aroma. But I’m curious… what about our family’s traditional method? The one that produces twelve hundred barrels every year. If we want to run apples through the new stills, we’ll have to source them from outside.”
“Cut the traditional production down to exactly three hundred barrels. But we can’t stop it completely. It’s not just because of the will. Once we succeed, we’ll constantly be short on aging stock, so we need to keep replenishing it steadily. Send the rest to the new facility. In return, we have to create a clear point of differentiation. For the traditional method, we’ll only use Grade A apples, and we’ll build a story around how master distillers carefully craft each batch using traditional equipment, one drop at a time. All other apples go to the new plant. Later, when we build the large-scale distillery, we’ll do the same thing, so make sure you keep aging some of that New York Calvados you created.”
Henry explained in detail the tiered system he had envisioned to Benjamin.
A super-premium limited edition with only a hundred bottles produced each year from fifty-year-aged stock.
A luxury premium tier using forty-five-year-aged spirit.
A master blending tier that precisely combines twenty-five to thirty-five-year-aged spirits.
A signature tier based on twelve-year-aged stock with a touch of high-aged flavor added.
And finally, an entry-level tier that used over-aged stock with excessive bitterness as a ‘natural seasoning’ mixed with young spirit.
“It’s not finalized yet, so it might change a bit, but I’m thinking of launching with roughly this lineup. The large distillery will take time to buy land and build, so focus on this place for now. I’ll officially raise the hiring of blenders at the family meeting, but if you have any recommendations, let me know in advance. Ah, thank you, Theodore. I’ll taste this on the way. You’ve worked hard too.”
Henry quickly wrapped up his words, noticing Theodore hesitating because he couldn’t find a gap in the conversation. After receiving two brown bottles from Theodore, Henry patted Benjamin’s shoulder once more as the young man nodded with a determined expression, then left the storage room.
Together with Jay, who had approached to carefully take the bottles, he retraced their steps and climbed into the Rolls-Royce Bantam VI. Their next destination was the apple orchard next door.
The moment he stepped into the orchard’s break room, Henry once again began stamping his ‘face seal.’ Most of the veteran employees present had suffered greatly over the past three years because of Benjamin’s stubbornness about changing apple tree varieties. Henry quietly listened to their complaints about Benjamin and chimed in supportively.
“That guy’s always been pretty ruthless, hasn’t he? Still, thanks to all of you working so hard, the apples turned out truly excellent. Once the brandy made from these apples is finished, I’ll be sure to send you some as a gift. Please enjoy a glass. This liquor wouldn’t have even started without all of you.”
Henry’s skillful way of appropriately defending Benjamin while giving all the credit to the employees gradually softened the veterans’ stiff expressions. Only after barely escaping the seemingly endless swamp of tattling could they get back in the car.
“Whew. Jay. Since we’re in the north now, let’s head west first and go counterclockwise.”
“Understood, my lord. But… didn’t you promise Benjamin a bit too much?”
Jay asked, glancing at Henry through the rearview mirror.
“You’ll understand once you try the brandy Ben makes later. It’s that good. And this one I haven’t tasted yet, but I hear it’s quite something too. I’ll give you a bottle later, so try it. Then you’ll see why I want to build another distillery. Whew, this is exhausting. At least the good news is that the manager of the western winery is Uncle Richard. With his personality, there probably won’t be any trouble.”
On the western side of the family estate lay a fifteen-hundred-acre Riesling vineyard and the DeVenger Winery that produced white wine from it. This place, too, had a long history and had seen its share of turmoil. Its name had changed four times just during Prohibition. It began as ‘DeVenger Wine,’ a hybrid of native and European varieties, then used the disguised name ‘Altar Wine’ for secret distribution during Prohibition. Later it was sold under the name ‘Hudson Ridge,’ but by the 1950s it had begun to be ignored by the market.
The person who stepped up as a savior at that time was Richard, the greatest craftsman of his era. Thanks to his stubbornness, he brought in Dr. Konstantin Ivanov, a Ukrainian expert, who succeeded in growing Riesling in New York for the first time. The resulting ‘Old Chard,’ America’s first Riesling white wine, instantly dominated the New York market.
This luxury brand, which had seized the title of ‘first,’ produced four million bottles annually. It filled the shelves of liquor stores, restaurants, and hotels across New York and had earned a reputation in other states as well.
Henry could only smile at two of the family’s subsidiaries. The other three were suffering devastating losses.
The distillery that had received heavy investment due to Benjamin’s stubbornness was projected to generate only five hundred thousand dollars in revenue this year while running a staggering three-and-a-half-million-dollar deficit. DeVenger General Construction, hit hard by the real estate recession, was certain to post a two-million-dollar loss, and the three aging hotels were expected to lose another three million.
There were two cash cows that would fill all these massive holes and finally turn the family’s finances into the black.
The first was the security company, which was expected to generate a three-million-dollar profit thanks to the terrible public safety of New York in 1979.
The second was DeVenger Winery, which boasted average annual revenue of sixteen million dollars and a staggering net profit of five-point-six million.
This place, with its nationwide recognition and overwhelming market share within New York, was the true heart that sustained the family.
“My lord, the situation is serious. Because of that damned Farm Winery Act of 1976, there are now hundreds of different Rieslings being distributed in Manhattan alone. It’s not that I’m afraid of the competitors. Annie! Bring me the document I wrote last time!”
Henry was stunned. The driving force behind maintaining the estate and its massive cash cow. Winemaker* Richard Smith, who had protected the winery for over half a century, was the very definition of thoroughness and strictness.
*Winemaker: A wine expert who oversees the entire process from grape cultivation to winemaking and sales.
The previous family head hadn’t paid much attention to this place precisely because Richard was such a dutiful son who maintained their number-one position on his own. Henry had only planned to lightly stamp his face here as well, never dreaming he would encounter such a sharp reaction.
“It was something the previous lord permitted, but my friend and advisor, Konstantin Ivanov, has fallen ill. To honor his hard work, we repurchased the Finger Lakes winery we had gifted him. He has now returned to the family and is devoting himself to seedling research. Not long ago, that friend succeeded in cultivating various high-end European Vitis vinifera varieties—including Chardonnay—right here in New York! However…”
Richard’s heavily wrinkled eyes stared at the grapevines beside him. He let out a small sigh and continued.