Even after the lights in the awards hall went out, the heat in the Palace Hotel’s main hall showed no sign of cooling. If anything, the moment the official event ended, all the suppressed fervor burst out at once.
“Brian Choi! Please look over here! How does it feel to win the first-ever overall championship in the history of the San Francisco Chronicle?”
“How much help did Mr. Warren Winiarski give you?”
The gazes of the reporters surrounding me were hotter and more blatant than ever.
Their barrage of questions was like a bombardment, and amid the recorders and camera lenses thrusting toward me, I tried to maintain my usual expressionless face. In truth, my head was busy with calculations other than the joy of victory.
Things like the per-bottle premium Astra Veil would command because of this win, and where I would secure the premium Merlot needed to maintain this quality next year.
“I’m sorry. We’ll arrange a formal interview at a later date.”
As I answered briefly and waited for them to clear a path, Warren, who was standing beside me, lightly tapped the floor with his cane. At that small sound alone, the momentum of the veteran reporters faltered and subsided. So this was the dignity of a master, I thought, inwardly impressed.
“Now, now, let the young genius breathe. The star of today is the wine, not this fellow’s lips, isn’t it? Save your questions for later and direct them through the distributor, White & Company.”
Thanks to Warren’s deft handling, we were finally able to make our way out to the middle of the lobby. But waiting there were people even more difficult to deal with than the reporters.
“Congratulations, Brian. And Elder Warren. So this is how you prove the path you’ve chosen.”
At the low, heavy voice, I turned my head and saw Timothy Mondavi, Robert Mondavi’s second son, standing there. Beside him was Emily Mondavi, clutching a laptop tightly to her chest.
Timothy’s expression was complicated. On his face, the sense of defeat felt by a member of the family that had once defended Napa Valley’s throne and the awe felt by a wine lover were clashing fiercely.
“Timothy, a man must learn and strive until the day he dies. I’m not finished yet. Don’t talk as if you’re looking at an old man about to drop dead.”
When Warren replied with a relaxed smile, Timothy gave a bitter smile and extended his hand to me.
“Brian, I have no choice but to acknowledge it. What Robert Parker wrote—‘Napa’s New Era’—was enough to shock me. And interpreting Pinot Noir in two different ways and having both win Double Gold... Sonoma must be going even crazier than we are, but in any case, it was truly astonishing. We’ll do our best to catch up.”
Timothy of Continuum Estate, who carried on Robert Mondavi’s orthodox legacy, revealed his feelings with a resolute gaze to a junior far younger than himself.
“Thank you. I’ll do my best to continue maintaining the winery’s quality as well.”
At my reply, Emily Mondavi, who had been standing beside him, took a step closer. Her eyes were far sharper than before, but it was not hostility. It was an intense curiosity.
“Brian, my grandfather... would like to invite you to the estate this weekend evening. He said it won’t be an official occasion, and that he only wants to talk with you about wine. Would you be willing to come?”
An invitation from the godfather of Napa Valley, Robert Mondavi. Warren’s eyebrows twitched as he looked toward me. After finishing a brief calculation, I nodded.
“It would be an honor. I’d be glad to visit.”
No sooner had the Mondavi family moved away than another group approached from the opposite side with rough strides. It was William Harlan of Harlan Estate. He glared at me with eyes far colder than before. Instead of the naked sneer I had seen earlier, his gaze now resembled an abyss, frighteningly calm and deep.
“Warren, in the end, you’re the star of tonight.”
Harlan opened his mouth. His voice was gentle, but there was a sharpened blade hidden within it. He glanced at me, then fixed his gaze on Warren again.
“No, to be precise, is the star the eye that chose him? To shake Napa’s order once again after 1976... Your old age is truly splendid.”
Warren adjusted his grip on his cane and smiled faintly.
“William, that’s an unusually long preamble for you. And you’ve even made a mistake... The star of tonight isn’t me, but this young man here, Brian.”
“Oh, Warren. We all know, don’t we? When the entire American wine world points to Redwood, the one beside it who truly shines is you.”
“In time, everyone will come to understand the essence of it... So what is it you want to say?”
“I’m curious. About the true nature of the magic that young man is wielding.”
Harlan slowly approached me. The thick scent of cigar smoke emanating from him pressed down on me. He stared straight into my eyes and whispered in a low voice.
“You said you were Brian Choi? Impressive blending skills. And what lies even deeper is that imagination of yours. How did you present such a combination? And... Redwood... How did such an intense Cab with that kind of structure come out of that land?”
He turned back to Warren and twisted his mouth.
“Warren, you’re a man who sang of terroir your entire life. Yet now you don’t seem like the man I knew. I obtained the noblest soil in Napa, but today Robert Parker’s score sheet gave a higher score to your retirement plan than to my soil. It’s an unbelievable result, but I’ll try to understand it. I’d like to thank you for giving me a good shock.”
It was a statement that foretold a change in Harlan Estate, the representative of Napa Valley cult wines. Even Warren looked slightly surprised by the astonishing declaration.
“It won’t be easy... The methods of this young man here have many unique aspects, enough that even I want to learn from him.”
At those words, William Harlan glared at me, then said,
“The history of Harlan Estate is only just beginning.”
He turned sharply and walked away. Warren watched William’s receding back and said,
“Did you see that? That’s the disgraceful behavior of a man whose crown has been taken. But be careful. William is the sort of man who always gets his hands on land he sets his sights on. His target now will be Redwood’s soil. He’ll be dying to know how a Cab that doesn’t fall behind To Kalon came out of Redwood’s land.”
“In truth, it still hasn’t reached that level... It’ll take a few more years before a Cab comes out of true To Kalon soil. That’s a shame.”
The quality of the Cab at the heart of this Astra Veil was indeed outstanding, but even so, I couldn’t confidently say it was on par with a Cab from To Kalon. If I were to coolly assess for myself why Astra Veil received such high praise, it was novelty. A new kind of Cab-centered blend that hadn’t been shown before. That was probably the reason for the high score.
Perhaps after a few more years, once people’s palates grew accustomed to it, the trend would move on again. But it didn’t matter. By then, the restructuring of Silver Oak Farm would be complete, and a Cabernet Sauvignon close to perfection would be born.
When we stepped outside the hotel, the cool night air greeted us. Just then, my phone rang. It was Christopher White, the person who would be happiest about today’s evaluation results.
“I heard the results! What on earth is going on... It feels like I’m dreaming!”
From the sound of his voice, it felt as if Christopher, not I, had received the award.
“I expected it to reach Best of Class, but even I didn’t expect it to win Best of Show.”
“Why on earth didn’t you contact me? I had to hear the results from a Sotheby’s auction representative in New York!”
“What? What do you mean...?”
“I just got a call from a Sotheby’s auction representative in New York. They want to put an unreleased lot of Astra Veil up for a special auction! They say the starting price will be eight hundred dollars a bottle! Does this make any sense? It became a cult wine legend the moment it was released!”
“Calm down, Christopher.”
As if he simply couldn’t calm down, he continued pouring out words.
“Don’t worry. Managing scarcity is my specialty, isn’t it? Orders are flooding in from London, Hong Kong, and Tokyo at the same time right now, but I’ll control the volume and prevent the price from dropping.”
“Yes, yes. Do that.”
After hanging up and getting into the car, Warren gave me a benevolent smile.
“Now Redwood has become, in name and reality, a winery that represents Napa Valley. I knew this moment would come someday, but I never imagined it would arrive so quickly, less than a year after I joined.”
“I think this all happened because you balanced it at the very end, sir. If we had released it exactly as I made it, it might have received a good evaluation, but Best of Show would have been impossible.”
There might not be that much difference in technical ability between a world-renowned master and someone just a little below that level. But between them existed a difference in sensibility that was difficult to put into words. Warren had filled that gap, one I wasn’t sure I could reach even if I worked for another dozen years.
“Even if it weren’t for me, it’s a level you would have reached someday. It’s nothing special.”
“Of course it is.”
“By the way, now that I think about it, it’s a shame there was something I didn’t get to say to William.”
“What? What did you want to say?”
“He kept saying he was paying attention to me, but all he talked about the entire time was Astra Veil, didn’t he? In truth, that wasn’t what I wanted to show him.”
“Ah...!”
“He’d have to taste Ruby Quartz to know where I’m standing now. It’s truly a pity I won’t get to see his face after he tastes Ruby Quartz.”
“Hahaha! I feel the same way.”
And so, we returned to Napa Valley in a luxury sedan.
When we arrived at the farm, Mom and Dad, who had already heard the news, were waiting for us. As soon as Dad saw my car in the distance, he popped a bottle of champagne and ran over.
“My son! Brian! You really did it! All of Napa is plastered with our Redwood name! Is this the trophy? Let me touch it!”
“Dad, calm down. You’re going to break the trophy.”
“Hohoho, your father is excited.”
Dad looked at the Best of Show trophy I had received with an ecstatic expression, holding it up this way and that to the light, while Mom also stared at it in wonder.
“My goodness... To think our son would bring home something like this...”
“My heart feels so full.”
Dad, who had never shown tears in his life, had tears welling in his eyes, and Mom wiped the corners of her eyes with her hand. At that sight, I too felt my chest soften for no reason and turned my head away.
“We can’t let this pass like this.”
“Then?”
“In America, no matter what, it’s all about parties, isn’t it? We have to throw a party! It’s late today, so... tomorrow! Let’s hold a party tomorrow. I’ll go buy a ton of meat tomorrow morning. As for drinks... Well, we’re Redwood. Would we not have drinks?”
Now that I heard it, everything Dad said was right. This place was already the finest liquor cellar, so there was no better place to hold a party.
From the next morning, Dad and the employees were busy preparing for the celebration. The sight of Dad setting off in a rented truck, saying he would procure a massive barbecue grill and whatnot, and Mom bustling about busily for the party food was extremely pleasant to see.
I, on the other hand, did not join in those hectic preparations.
“What are you thinking about?”
Before I knew it, Warren had come to stand beside me as I blankly looked down over the vineyard.
“Just... thinking about grapes.”
“Thinking about grapes?”
“About how to get through this winter... I suppose you could call it dormant-season management.”
Warren looked impressed.
“As expected... There’s a reason the finest Cabernet Sauvignon came out of this place.”
Then Warren lifted his cane and pointed somewhere in the distance.
“Do you see that over there? Those people moving?”
“What? You have good eyes, sir.”
“It’s not that far away.”
Just as Warren said, I could see several people moving near the boundary of the farm.
“From the look of it, they seem to be investigators sent by William Harlan.”
Looking closely, I saw an unfamiliar SUV parked beside the people. They seemed to be examining the condition of the soil with binoculars.
“They must have brought a soil composition analyzer. But it’ll be useless. What they’re seeing is only the dirt exposed on the surface. Even if they died and came back to life, they’d never understand the organic relationship between the drainage system I buried three meters below and the microbial colonies.”
“Haha, how very master-like. But don’t let your guard down. Money may not be able to change terroir, but it can buy terroir wholesale. William is probably drawing up a plan right now to swallow the land beneath our feet in its entirety.”
I nodded silently. William Harlan’s checks, the invitation from the Mondavi family, and the orders pouring in from all over the world. Wearing a crown also meant enduring that many arrows.