Robert Mondavi’s estate, with its deep ocher walls that emphasized the texture of earth rather than ornate decoration and its Spanish-style exterior, formed a curious harmony with the endlessly spreading vineyards. After getting out of the car and being guided inside, I saw black-and-white photographs of Napa Valley in its early days hanging throughout the corridors like medals.
The place I was led to was Robert’s private study, located deep within the mansion. When the heavy oak door opened, the first thing I sensed was the antique scent of paper exuded by thousands of old books, the smell of aged leather sofas, and the subtle aroma of matured wine permeating the room.
In the center of the study, with a large window at his back, sat an old gentleman in a wheelchair. It was Robert Mondavi. His weakened body was reliant on the wheelchair, but the eyes with which he calmly looked at me still seemed firm, not having lost their vigor. Beside him, his second son Timothy Mondavi and his granddaughter Emily Mondavi stood in courteous postures, waiting for me.
“Welcome, young master of Redwood.”
Robert’s voice was cracked and low, yet it possessed the power to seize control of the air in the study in an instant. I bowed my head and greeted him politely.
“Thank you for inviting me, Elder Mondavi.”
“Hoho. Every time Warren spoke of you, he couldn’t praise you enough. In all my life, I’ve never seen that stubborn old man call anyone ‘Master.’ Now, have a seat.”
Feeling Timothy and Emily’s gazes on me, I sat in the leather chair across from Robert. Timothy’s eyes still held a complicated sense of awe, while Emily was observing me intently, like a doctor holding a scalpel for dissection.
Just as the atmosphere threatened to grow heavy, I carefully took a crystal bottle from my bag and placed it on the table.
“This is a gift Elder Warren asked me to make sure to deliver to you, Elder Mondavi. It’s Ruby Quartz, a brandy developed at Redwood and released by the distillery in Sacramento. It’s the first liquor Elder Warren developed after joining Redwood.”
At the unexpected gift, everyone tilted their heads. Mondavi in particular furrowed his brow, looking as though he could not understand.
“Brandy?”
“Yes. A friend of mine runs a distillery in Sacramento, and Elder Warren developed this after being inspired while watching the process of mass-producing fruit soju there. It has received very favorable reviews internally and was officially released a few days ago. A large-scale advertising campaign will begin soon.”
Perhaps because of expressions like “favorable reviews internally” and “large-scale advertising campaign,” Robert’s eyes were fixed intently on the ruby-brown Ruby Quartz. It was curiosity he could not hide.
“The distributor must have given it quite a good evaluation?”
His question was brief, but it contained many implications. A large-scale advertising campaign was not something a small distillery could undertake. Nor was it an expression a small regional distributor would dare mention lightly. In other words, his question was asking who the distributor was and what kind of promotion would be carried out.
But with a faint smile, I only intensified his curiosity.
“Yes, apparently so.”
As I deliberately avoided answering and simply pushed the bottle forward, Emily hurried out of the study. Soon she returned, carrying a tray with three crystal rocks glasses on it.
She immediately and deftly removed the seal from the mouth of the bottle, poured only a quarter glass each into the rocks glasses, and handed them to Robert and Timothy. Then, lastly, she poured some into her own glass, sniffed the aroma first, flinched in surprise, and then turned her gaze to Robert.
“Can brandy have an aroma this strong?”
Even without bringing one’s nose to the glass, from the moment Emily poured the liquor, a bright cherry fragrance spread through the study, as if purifying in an instant the air filled with the scent of old books. Timothy wore an expression of disbelief.
Robert, on the other hand, who had been silently staring at the brandy all along, lifted his glass with a thinly trembling hand and smelled it. After remaining motionless for a long while, sinking into its aroma, he took a very small amount into his mouth.
And then came silence... Only the sound of the clock’s pendulum in the study seemed unusually loud. Robert closed his eyes and fully savored the lingering finish before slowly setting the glass down. Yet at the corners of his mouth was a deep, bitter smile that seemed difficult to erase.
“Warren... That damned old fox manages to astonish me even on the verge of death.”
When such a harsh phrase as “damned old fox” came from the mouth of Robert, who was always dignified and like a pillar of Napa Valley, Timothy and Emily looked at him in great surprise.
“Haha. Everyone, including me, was amazed after tasting this brandy.”
I spoke as if it were only natural, and Robert furrowed his brow as though facing someone he did not want to see.
“To think brandy could have such a rich cherry aroma... What on earth did he do?”
“I’m sorry, but that’s a trade secret.”
When I refused with a smile, he looked deeply regretful.
“Damn it... I thought I’d lived long enough and had little attachment left to life, but then I encounter something like this when the end is approaching. I... lived far too complacently.”
When even the words that he had lived complacently came from Robert Mondavi’s mouth, his second son Timothy strongly denied it.
“What are you saying? Father, you’re a legendary figure in Napa Valley.”
“But at some point, I became satisfied with myself and stopped trying to advance further. I leaned on past glory and contented myself with protecting it. And in the end, I failed to keep up with changes in the market and had to hand over the winery.”
“That was... a problem of management, not a problem with the wine.”
“No, it included a problem with the wine as well. It’s true that the reserve wines we sold were evaluated lower compared to Screaming Eagle or Harlan Estate. If that was the result from the same To Kalon area, then there was a problem.”
Without making the slightest excuse, Robert coldly pointed out the facts, then looked at me and continued.
“I should have kept striving to grow, like that Warren fellow. If I had, Robert Mondavi Winery and the golden To Kalon vineyard would not have been sold off. I’m so envious of that fox Warren I could go mad.”
“......”
As for me, facing his remorseful expression, there was nothing I could say.
“Father...”
“That’s enough.”
Robert Mondavi lightly raised his hand, as if cutting off Timothy’s words. Then he brought up the main subject in earnest.
“Brian, now resolve my curiosity for me. Ever since I drank Astra Veil, I haven’t slept properly. Redwood’s terroir is certainly excellent, but to be honest, isn’t it not land with overwhelming power like our To Kalon in Oakville? Then how did that wine gain such a strong structure comparable to To Kalon? It didn’t feel forced, nor were there traces of over-ripening.”
His question struck precisely at the heart of the matter. As expected of the king of Napa, he had accurately read the limitations of the soil hidden behind the taste of the wine. I glanced at the map filling one wall of the study and organized my thoughts.
Was it right to tell the truth to an old man nearing death? Or should I lie to this legendary old man of Napa?
He had not called me here because of a curiosity he had before dying. He had called me to provide a foothold for his descendants to grow further than they were now.
After organizing what I would say in my head, I slowly opened my mouth.
“I can’t tell you everything, but I can tell you at least one thing.”
“What is that?”
“I thought about what the ideal terroir for making wine would be.”
“Hm?”
“People say terroir is a gift from God. Different terroirs give birth to different wines. But we know that among them, there are places created for top-class wines. That is precisely To Kalon.”
“That’s right.”
“Mr. Robert, you probably know that as well. That must be why you did so much research into what had to be done for a cult wine to emerge from Pritchard Hill, where Continuum, run by your son, is located.”
Robert nodded.
“That’s right too. When we first chose that place, I laughed and said, just because Colgin or Bryant Family got some points, could that place really replace To Kalon?”
Pritchard Hill was by no means an area with a poor reputation. In the 1990s, Bryant Family and Colgin consecutively received 100 points from Robert Parker, and there was even talk that “Napa Valley’s greatest wines do not come from the plains, but from this barren mountaintop.”
Even so, however, its status could not compare to To Kalon. Moreover, for Timothy, who had been handling grapes from the plains and then acquired the vineyard in 2005, controlling the rough tannins unique to mountainous terrain must have been an extremely difficult task.
“I think I can put it this way. I was not satisfied with Redwood’s terroir.”
“You were not satisfied with the terroir?”
“Yes. Just as Napa Valley overcame its given environment through various scientific technologies and defeated the wines of Bordeaux, France, I made various efforts to overcome the terroir given to Redwood. And the result is Astra Veil.”
This was the utmost sincerity I could offer Robert. But even this alone seemed to make Robert realize something; he nodded and began to ponder deeply.
At that moment, Emily, who had drunk about half of the brandy and was showing a full sense of defeat, asked,
“Brian, I want to ask about the texture of the tannins. Astra Veil’s tannins were like finely polished silk. That kind of texture usually comes only from decades-old old vines, or from painstakingly delicate racking at the winery. How did a young winemaker like you find that threshold?”
I fully understood her desperation, but there was not much I could say. If I mentioned the degree of polymerization of polyphenols at this point in time, UC Davis would immediately hound me about how I had derived those results.
“All I can say is that it is the result of unceasing research.”
“I’m sorry. I know it must be a core secret of the winery, but I was too curious.”
“I completely understand.”
As though he had finished thinking to some extent, Robert Mondavi lifted his glass again and took a sip of Ruby Quartz. Then he gazed blankly out the window at the vineyards of Oakville, the empire he had built.
“Warren said he had something he wanted to learn when he entered Redwood. At the time, I couldn’t understand those words. Probably not just me, but everyone in the wine industry failed to understand them. But now I know. Warren didn’t join for the sake of his own research. He joined because there truly was something he could learn from you.”
“......”
“Honestly, I couldn’t believe it. Especially every time I saw your face, I became even more convinced that this couldn’t be the answer. What are you, only in your mid-twenties? And Asian, at that, just about to graduate? That’s why there’s talk going around that it isn’t you, but your father, who is the true power behind Redwood. But anyone who knows the real story knows that you are the key.”
He gave a bitter smile as he looked down at the brandy, then continued.
“I found it even harder to believe that Warren, of all people, had been captivated by you and joined... But perhaps I can’t deny that such prejudice clouded my eyes.”
“You flatter me.”
“Hmph! You made Astra Veil and call it flattery... If William Harlan were listening beside us, he would probably curse. A stiff-necked and greedy fellow like him would want to dissect Astra Veil down to the molecular level and uncover its secrets.”
“You can’t uncover a wine’s true secrets that way.”
“That’s what makes it interesting. Because wine begins in the vineyard.”
Still, perhaps because he had gained a certain hint from me, he spoke with a face a little brighter than before.
“Thank you. For giving my children important advice.”
“I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.”
“This much is enough. And...”
He swallowed the brandy once more. Timothy, worried, tried to stop him, but because of Robert’s resolute expression, he only hesitated and did not dare.
Even though the fiery, high-proof alcohol must have been burning his esophagus, Robert enjoyed its impact without so much as a frown and opened his mouth.
“Tell that damned Warren fellow that I received his very impressive gift well. Damn it... I’ll be thinking of it even before I die.”
“I’ll be sure to tell him.”
I regretted that I could not take a photograph of Robert’s bitterly smiling face, but I was already thrilled at the thought of delivering the news of victory to Warren.