Redwood Winery had already undergone three expansions. Naturally, each of those expansions had been carried out with state government approval, and each time, a considerable sum amounting to hundreds of thousands of dollars had been spent.
The reason such large sums could go out several times without dealing a serious blow was partly because the wine produced sold without leaving any inventory, but the profit dividends coming in from cherry wine, vinegar, and Golden Grain Soju House also played a major role.
In any case, the expanded Redwood Winery—its aging room in particular—had grown large enough to house six ten-thousand-liter tanks, twelve five-thousand-liter tanks, and several hundred oak barrels. In one corner, there was even enough space to bring in experimental equipment for developing new types of liquor, and this was the space Warren mainly worked in.
The workspace was quite precise, with stainless-steel pipes intertwining in S-shaped curves and thin cables leading to thermometers and vacuum gauges. The floor was covered with waterproof mats, and sample vials and unlabeled glass bottles stood in rows on the tables. Most of the equipment had been touched by Warren’s hands.
“Brian! Come over here!”
Two days after Warren had been saying something about liquor speaking, he called me over. I had been reviewing the bottling process for the blended wine from the barrels selected for Astra Veil’s release, and when I approached, Warren was standing in front of a table with his arms crossed.
His gaze had settled low. Instead of his usual relaxed smile, he wore a tense expression, as if he were facing a mortal enemy.
“This... is really working.”
He murmured in a low voice.
“What is? You haven’t even tasted it yet.”
As I put on my gloves, Warren shook his head.
“I can feel it even before tasting it. Vacuum distillation is delicate work. If you get the pressure just right, the fruit aroma comes alive in your mouth.”
I moved toward the equipment and checked the vacuum gauge.
“How many Torr did you set it at? (Torr: a unit of pressure; the lower the number, the stronger the vacuum.)”
“I tested it around the 80-to-120 Torr range. If I lower the pressure more than that, it does boil quickly even at low temperatures, but when it comes to collecting the aroma, the yield becomes unstable. Rather than the scent becoming clearer, it feels as if the substance has been hollowed out.”
“So if the pressure is too low, the aroma doesn’t come alive—you’re just left with the skeleton?”
“Exactly.”
Watching him nod, I asked,
“So how is it going right now?”
“The base is a wine distillate made from Cabernet Sauvignon, but it’s not just any distillate. It’s a raw spirit drawn out close to neutral spirit—a very clean, pure state of alcohol. Like an extremely thin, transparent sheet of drawing paper.”
Muttering that, he stared intently at the beaker and continued.
“The key is to layer aroma on top of it. As you know, we’ll be using cherries, but I don’t intend to simply mix them in. I’m going to extract only the most fragrant essence from the cherries and bind it to the spirit.”
“How did you extract it?”
“I fermented a small amount of cherry wine, then distilled it at low temperature under vacuum. Keeping the temperature low, around thirty-two to thirty-eight degrees... You’ve made distilled liquor before, so you understand what I mean, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“This is why it’s comfortable working with someone who speaks the same language. Anyway, while keeping the temperature low like that, I collected only the first fraction—the esters—where the brightest aromas burst out. At this temperature, the natural vitality of the cherry doesn’t die.”
As if the time had come, Warren opened the valve slightly. The equipment hummed softly. It was the sound of the vacuum pump running. Then, from inside the tank came a faint bubbling sound. It was not water, but wine—and the liquid to be distilled—boiling at a low temperature.
The distillate began to drip. From the end of a thin tube, a transparent liquid fell drip by drip into a vial. When I brought my nose close, a cool, clean scent of fruit peel brushed very faintly past it.
Warren reached out, took the vial, shook it carefully as though handling a relic in a cathedral, smelled it, then placed only the tiniest drop on the tip of his tongue.
And for a long while, he said nothing.
“How is it?”
“Quiet.”
“......”
Seeing him raise one hand silently, I simply watched. He closed his eyes gently and exhaled slowly. He was confirming the brandy’s aroma in his mouth.
Slowly opening his eyes and nodding, he brought over a small blending beaker he had prepared in advance.
“This is the body fraction mixed with the neutral base at the ratio I decided on. If I add the aroma like this... it’s still too early to call it a product, but it’s a sample that shows the direction.”
Warren poured it into a glass. It was a small tasting glass. He held it up to the light to examine the color, then swirled it slowly.
“Good. The viscosity isn’t excessive. Proof that this isn’t liquor made with sugar.”
He took a sip. This time, too, he said nothing. But this time, his expression was different. Before, he had looked analytical. Now... he looked like he was suppressing admiration.
Then, without a word, he handed the glass to me. His shoulders were subtly straightened, and his chin was raised; he was unmistakably brimming with excitement.
“Taste it.”
“You know your face right now is practically saying, ‘Worship me,’ right?”
“...Just taste it first. Hurry...”
The corners of his mouth twitched, and it was obvious he was forcing himself not to laugh. Wondering just how good it could be, I took the glass and brought it to my nose. At the fragrant cherry scent drifting from the alcohol, I flinched without realizing it.
At the sight, Warren’s smile deepened.
“You can’t be surprised already. Hm? Go on...”
At his urging gesture, I took a sip of the brownish brandy. The refined high-proof alcohol sliced sharply past my throat like a well-honed silver dagger. Immediately afterward, a hot surge of heat flared up from deep in my chest. It was intense enough for me to feel clearly the path of the liquid as it traveled down my esophagus—the distinctive impact of brandy over forty percent alcohol.
But the astonishing part came next. In the place where that flame had passed, scorching my uvula, the suppressed cherry aroma erupted like a volcano.
It was not the muddy sweetness that came from simply mixing in fruit juice. The very high-proof alcohol instantly volatilized the moisture in my mouth, pushing the delicate esters extracted from the cherries up into my nasal cavity. Along my heated esophagus, the bright afterscent of cherry surged back upward and circled through my nose.
“Wow!”
It was strong liquor, yet it did not carry the unpleasantness of being harsh. The fiery heat of the alcohol was nothing more than the firepower needed to spread the cherry aroma wider and farther.
“Killer, isn’t it?”
His playful eyes contained a strong pride.
“...It really is killer.”
“Hahaha!”
At my exclamation, he pointed at the brandy and burst into loud laughter. It was a laugh filled with pride that he had made something so remarkable himself.
I could understand why he had looked the way he did earlier. A man who had spent his whole life being recognized for wine had created brandy of this quality in just a few months. How could he not be delighted?
“No one in the world would expect liquor made by you to come out of our brewery.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. You have to promise me one thing. My name has to go on the label.”
“Yes. Of course.”
It seemed I would have to call Jacob to the winery soon. He needed to come in person and learn the production method. And we would have to expand the brewery’s scale as well. Even now, we were struggling because production couldn’t keep up with demand, and if we were going to produce brandy on top of that, we would need to be at least twice as large as we were now.
“Ah, and when are you planning to release Astra Veil?”
“I’m coordinating the timing with Christopher right now. We’re aiming for early November, but...”
At that, Warren touched his chin and thought for a moment before speaking.
“I’ve been thinking a little...”
“Yes?”
“Just promoting it in magazines or places like that after release isn’t interesting.”
“Then? A tasting, perhaps?”
“Something like that. Invite VIPs and show it to them first. They can’t just be anyone, after all.”
We were still adjusting the sales price of Astra Veil, but Christopher and I shared the opinion that we should set it at a minimum of about three hundred dollars a bottle. Even that was slightly lowered at Christopher’s suggestion. At first, I had suggested over two hundred dollars wholesale and four hundred retail.
“VIPs are...”
Inviting VIPs was a good idea, but the problem was that I didn’t know who the VIPs were. How could I invite anyone when I didn’t know who the big players in this field were or who the wine enthusiasts were?
Maybe Christopher might know, at least...
“I know them.”
“Ah...!”
“The clauses Stag’s Leap placed restrictions on regarding me concerned matters related to wine blending owned by the winery, not the use of my personal connections.”
Certainly, if it was Warren’s network, it had to be full of impressive people. Even the lawyer he had put Chloe in contact with had been someone like a rainmaker.
“Ooh, they must be incredible people.”
At my expectation, Warren shrugged.
“Every single one of them is no pushover. For example, a fellow like Edward Miller could be called a real hardcase in the hedge fund world, and when it comes to wine, his eyes light up and he charges in. Last year, the madman rented an entire château because he wanted to buy every box of a vintage he liked. The funny thing is, he can never find a wine that suits his own palate, so he’s always pouting.”
“You’re close with people from hedge funds too?”
“I had no choice but to get to know them because they kept begging me for limited-edition wines, even when I didn’t particularly want to know them. And there’s Ken Satomi, a high-end audio designer from Tokyo, who is not ordinarily obsessed with wine. Besides him, there’s Isabella Rossi, famous in the perfume industry, and Viktor Karlov, the youngest son from a Russian steel company. They’re all people who pester me.”
“Ah...”
“If I tell them we’re unveiling a decent new cult wine and they should come, they’ll come running at once. Besides them, I can immediately draw up a list of more than ten people.”
A thought suddenly occurred to me.
“I’m grateful, but... isn’t it a bit bothersome? It’ll be a hassle for you, too.”
At my words, Warren’s eyes widened as if to say, What are you talking about?
“Bothersome? Some of them probably think I’m past my prime. There are probably people who find it strange that I joined a small winery like Redwood. I need to bring them here quickly and show them. I have to let them know something like this is coming out of the winery where I work, so those loose-lipped bastards will go around talking about it, don’t you think? And they’ll like seeing that I’m still hale and hearty, too.”
“You’re just like a celebrity, sir. Lots of people look for you, and you take care of them the way a celebrity takes care of fans...”
“Hahaha, you could see it that way, but in truth, experts in other fields are the same. Chefs are like that, and so are carpenters. If there are people who seek me out, isn’t that something to be happy about in itself? On the other hand, if my skills fall short and they no longer seek me out, there’s nothing sadder than that.”
That was probably why he could live so passionately even at over seventy years of age.
“All right. Let’s do it that way. I’ll contact Christopher. As for the venue...”
“Obviously, it should be here. There’s no need to look only for overly fancy places. Sometimes, this kind of dirt floor and grapevines give a unique feeling.”
“...Understood.”
Though Warren certainly would not be the main character at this wine tasting, he looked utterly excited. Seeing the old man so thrilled lifted my mood as well.
“I’ll have to raise the price a little more...”
If such famous VIPs were coming, I thought, all the better.