[The characters, places, organizations, events, and other elements appearing in this work have no relation to reality and are fictional creations of the author’s imagination.]
For Benjamin, who had only just turned twenty-two, to be ordering around the middle-aged Theodore felt rather strange to Henry, a Korean in his previous life—a Confucian boy, no less. But Benjamin was Theodore’s direct superior, so he let it pass.
When Benjamin heard Henry’s sudden burst of marketing ideas, he seemed to realize something. The moment Theodore left, he swept a satisfied gaze over the storehouse, then approached Henry almost as if clinging to him and asked,
“But Henry, the 1945 vintage Theodore’s bringing is definitely good. I picked out only the best ones. But some of the 1934 stock here was made in secret and hidden away during Prohibition. After aging for over fifty years, too much tannin has leached out of the oak barrels, so the woody taste is incredibly strong. Do you have any ideas on how to handle those?”
“Blending. First, we try blending them. If we mix this with freshly made spirit, that bitterness can turn into a deep, weighty flavor. And if it still tastes bad? Then it has no commercial value. In that case, we make it have commercial value. We mix it with a large amount of new spirit, stabilize the flavor, and increase the volume. Among our own liquors, we sell it as the cheapest. But in the market as a whole, we sell it as the most expensive.”
Henry paused briefly, then fixed Benjamin with a sharp look and added,
“What I want is to use this chance to strip away applejack’s shabby image. We erase the drawbacks like ‘the alcohol taste is harsh’ and ‘the hangover is terrible,’ and hammer in the image that ‘Devenzer’s applejack is different. Everything else is garbage!’ We can put ‘Premium Applejack’ on the label and advertise it with something like, ‘The greatest applejack you’ve ever known.’ Giving it an entirely new name is another option.”
Benjamin fidgeted with his hands, running calculations in his head, then immediately replied,
“In that case, we need to install a continuous still and an activated carbon filter first. If we mix the clean spirit drawn from there with the poorly conditioned old-aged spirit, we should get the liquor you’re talking about. Something with less of a hangover and a strong apple aroma. What I’m wondering is… what about our family’s traditional method? The one that produces 1,200 barrels every year. If we’re going to feed apples into the new stills, we’ll have to buy them from outside.”
“Cut the traditional-method production down to exactly 300 barrels. But don’t stop producing it. The will is one thing, but if we succeed, we’ll keep running short on spirit to age, so we need to keep replenishing it steadily. Send the rest to the new factory. But we have to make a clear distinction. For the traditional method, we’ll use only Grade-A apples, and we’ll attach the story that the most skilled craftsmen distill it painstakingly, drop by drop, with traditional equipment. All the other apples can go into the new factory. We’ll do the same at the large distillery later, so keep aging a portion of the New York Calvados you made as well.”
Henry explained in detail to Benjamin the grading system he had envisioned.
A top-tier limited edition aged fifty years, with only exactly one hundred bottles produced each year.
A luxury premium grade made with forty-five-year-aged spirit.
A master blending grade, meticulously blended from spirits aged twenty-five to thirty-five years.
A signature grade based on twelve-year aging, with a slight touch of high-aged flavor added.
And even an entry grade that would use over-aged, bitter spirit as a “natural seasoning” and blend it with young spirit.
“It’s not confirmed yet, so it may change little by little, but I’m thinking of selling it with a lineup roughly like this. The large distillery will take time to purchase land and build, so for the time being, take care of this place. I’ll formally bring up the matter of recruiting a blender at the family meeting, but if you have anyone to recommend, tell me in advance. Ah, thank you, Theodore. I’ll taste this on the way. You keep up the good work too, Theodore.”
Seeing Theodore hesitate, unable to interrupt the flow of conversation, Henry quickly wrapped things up. After receiving two brown liquor bottles from Theodore, Henry patted Benjamin’s shoulder once more as Benjamin nodded with a firm expression, then left the storehouse.
Together with Jay, who approached from beside him and carefully took the bottles, Henry retraced the path they had come and climbed into the Rolls-Royce Bentham VI. The next item on the schedule was the apple farm in the neighboring area.
As soon as he entered the farm’s rest building, Henry once again set about making his presence known. Most of them were veteran employees who had suffered over the past three years changing the apple tree varieties because of Benjamin’s stubbornness. Henry silently listened to the complaints they poured out about Benjamin and chimed in at the right moments.
“That bastard’s always been a little extreme, hasn’t he? Still, thanks to all your hard work, the apples have grown splendidly. When the brandy made from these apples is finished, I’ll be sure to send you some as a gift, so please have a drink. This is a liquor that never could have even begun without you.”
Henry’s way of speaking, appropriately defending Benjamin while giving the credit to the employees, gradually eased the stiff expressions of the veterans. Only after he had barely escaped the seemingly endless swamp of complaints could he get back into the car.
“Whew, Jay. Since we’re in the north now, let’s start from the west next and go counterclockwise.”
“Understood, Master. But didn’t you make too big a promise to Benjamin?”
Jay asked while checking on Henry through the rearview mirror.
“You’ll understand once you taste the brandy Ben makes later. It’s that good. And I haven’t tasted this one yet, but I hear this is quite something too. I’ll give you a bottle later, so try it. Then you’ll understand why I’m trying to build another distillery. Whew, I’m exhausted. The one fortunate thing is that the manager of the western winery is Uncle Richard. With his personality, there shouldn’t be any trouble.”
To the west of the family estate stood the Devenzer Winery, with 1,500 acres of Riesling vineyards used to produce white wine.
This place, too, had a long history and had weathered many storms. It had changed names four times during the Prohibition era alone. It had begun as “Devenzer Wine,” made from a hybrid variety mixing native and European grapes, and during Prohibition, it had even used the disguised name “altar wine” to be distributed secretly.
Afterward, it was sold again under the name “Hudson Ridge,” but by the 1950s, the market began turning away from it. The man who came in as its savior at that time was Richard, the finest craftsman of the era. At his insistence, Dr. Konstantin Ivan, a Ukrainian, was recruited, and he succeeded in cultivating Riesling in New York for the first time. Thus born, America’s first Riesling white wine, “Old Chad,” seized the New York market in one fell swoop.
This premium brand, which had secured the title of “first,” produced four million bottles a year, filling New York’s liquor stores, restaurants, and hotels, and its reputation was spreading to other states as well.
There were only two subsidiaries that could put a smile on Henry’s face at all. The other three were marching miserably in the red.
The distillery, where investments had been poured in due to Benjamin’s stubbornness, was expected to see $500,000 in sales this year and a deficit of $3.5 million. Devenzer General Construction, struck directly by the real estate slump, was also certain to post a $2 million loss, and the three hotels with aging facilities were on track to incur losses of $3 million as well.
And yet there were two cash cows, the leading contributors that filled all those enormous holes and ultimately turned the family’s finances into a surplus.
The first was the security company, expected to post a $3 million profit thanks to New York in ’79 boasting the worst public safety.
The second was Devenzer Winery, which produced an average annual revenue of $16 million and spat out a staggering $5.6 million in net profit. This place, boasting nationwide recognition and an overwhelming market share within New York, was the true heart that sustained the family.
“Master, the situation is serious. Because of that damned Farm Winery Act of 1976, there are now hundreds of kinds of Riesling being distributed in Manhattan alone. I’m not saying it’s serious because I’m afraid of competitors. Annie! Bring me those documents I drafted last time!”
Henry was dumbfounded. The driving force that maintained the estate, the enormous cash cow. Richard Smith, the Wintner who had guarded the winery for more than half a century, was synonymous with thoroughness and fastidiousness.
[Wintner = a “wine expert” who oversees the entire process from grape cultivation to winemaking and sales]
The reason the previous family head had not paid much attention to this place was because Richard was a dutiful son who maintained first place on his own. Henry, too, had only intended to stop by lightly and show his face, so he had never dreamed he would be met with such a sharp reaction.
“It was something the previous Master permitted, but my friend and adviser, Konstantin Ivan, has been in poor health. The winery in the Finger Lakes that we gifted him in honor of his hard work has been repurchased by us, and he has now returned to the family and is devoting himself to sapling research. Not long ago, that friend succeeded in cultivating Chardonnay and various other varieties in New York, among the high-end European Vinifera varieties! But…”
Richard’s deeply wrinkled eyes stared at the grapevines beside him. He let out a small sigh and continued.