After the passionate tears and reunion had run their course, a simple meal was laid out. On the table were bread Elias had cut in rough slices, smoked meat he had cured himself, and a bottle of Quiet Hill from the case I had brought him before.
Now that he had not only washed but changed into clean clothes—his father’s, though they were—and even trimmed his beard, he gave off the air of a rather handsome middle-aged man.
“…Truly remarkable. To think you held such a high position at that French domaine with the difficult name.”
Elias kept nodding in admiration at the story his son had brought out. Daniel lightly swirled his wineglass and, for the first time in front of his father, straightened his shoulders and smiled. In that smile was the pride peculiar to a capable man who had earned enough to make up for the pain of the past.
“Dad, do you know how hard it was for me to be acknowledged at Domaine Leroy? Words can’t even describe it.”
“I imagine so… If you rose all the way to deputy chief at a winery like that, ordinary effort would never have been enough. I’m proud of you.”
At his father’s warm gaze, Daniel’s smile deepened.
“When I was deputy chief maker there, winemakers who’d graduated from France’s most prestigious universities were lined up under me. You know Madame Lalou, right? That old lady is unbelievably picky. But after she saw the proportions of a blend I’d made, she praised me to the skies, saying, ‘You don’t seem like an American—you seem like someone born in Burgundy.’”
Daniel’s excited voice rose higher and higher. Judging by his expression and gestures alone, he might have seemed to be bragging, but if he truly had been the deputy chief winemaker of Domaine Leroy, then it could hardly be called an ordinary career. His behavior was by no means excessive.
“Amazing. Those Harrington bastards, failing to recognize talent like this.”
“That’s what I’m saying. Hmph! In the end, even Harrington’s flagship wine now started from my imagination…”
Elias clasped his son’s hand tightly. To the old man, the fact that his son had trampled down the humiliation he had suffered in a foreign land with his own skill and risen again was a sweeter reward than any success.
As the night deepened and the drunken Elias closed his eyes first, Daniel carried him in his arms and laid him on the bed. Only Daniel and I remained in the living room. He filled my cup with warm tea and quietly opened his mouth.
“Brian, after seeing my father, I’ve made up my mind.”
“……?”
Daniel’s gaze turned serious. The son who had been boasting to the father he had not seen in so long was nowhere to be found, and in his place had returned the winemaker with sharp intuition.
“Take me into Redwood. Not simply as an acquaintance, but as a member of your team. I want to pour every technique and all the know-how I learned in France into Redwood. I made my decision after drinking Quiet Hill. The place I need to go is Redwood in Napa Valley. If I join, I’ll definitely be a great help to Redwood. Think about it. If word gets out that you’ve recruited Domaine Leroy’s deputy chief winemaker, even more talented winemakers will flock to Redwood, won’t they?”
The title of deputy chief at Leroy was like a cheat code in the wine industry. It was obvious that any major winery would offer him a hefty check to recruit him. Perhaps that was why, judging from his confident expression and certain gaze, he seemed to have no doubt that I would naturally be moved and accept his proposal.
“Hmm…”
He had told me not to go home and had me sit down, so I wondered what he wanted to talk about. But when he proposed that he wanted to join Redwood, I honestly found myself at a loss as to how to refuse.
When I could not open my mouth rashly and the silence stretched on, the one who grew flustered was Daniel instead.
“…Brian? Is my offer lacking? If it’s because of the salary or conditions…”
“No, it isn’t a matter of conditions.”
I cut off his hurried attempt to persuade me. Then I spoke to him calmly.
“Mr. Daniel, your career is dazzling. You worked at the pinnacle of Burgundy, so technically, I’m sure you’re perfect. But… Redwood has its own way—my way. In other words, we are building a precision viticulture and winemaking system based on data. As for our lack of specialized personnel, with Mr. Warren joining us, that has been well…”
He was visibly flustered.
“I know Mr. Warren is remarkable, but… isn’t he an expert in Cabernet Sauvignon? When it comes to Pinot Noir, I don’t think I’m inferior to him.”
“The people Redwood needs are those who understand my philosophy and can help produce the best results within my system. To be frank… I do wonder whether Mr. Daniel, filled with pride in the title of deputy chief at Leroy, would truly be able to assimilate into Redwood’s way. Even Mr. Warren only gives me advice; when it comes to winemaking, he follows my system. For that reason, when I already have the help of a master like Warren Winiarski, I don’t see a particular need to go out of my way to recruit the deputy chief winemaker of Domaine Leroy, the pinnacle of French Pinot Noir…”
I explained it as gently as I could, but in the end, it meant: you’re not as good as Warren, so I have no particular reason to hire you.
Naturally, Daniel’s face stiffened in an instant. In the hometown he had returned to after twenty years, the young man who had been the only benefactor to recognize him—and whom he had thought a genius—had judged him lacking. It felt as though his pride had been trampled underfoot, root and branch, but Brian’s eyes held an unshakable certainty.
“Lacking…? Me?”
Daniel let out a hollow laugh in bewilderment.
“No, I’m not saying you’re lacking… I’m saying that since we already have someone like Warren, there’s no particular reason to bring in another winemaker.”
In truth, that was basically the same thing.
“Brian, you must not know me well yet. I’m someone who survived fifteen years under Madame Lalou. My nose and tongue are more accurate than machines!”
“The thing is, we already have another person like that…”
Meaning, even if you say you’re as accurate as a machine, I wonder if you’re more accurate than Warren.
Silence fell, and Daniel clenched his fists. I thought he might get angry, but I could not bring someone into the winery on personal feelings alone. So even if he got angry, I was prepared to simply take one round of curses, but…
“Fine. You can think that. After all, I’m a deputy chief winemaker who hasn’t shown you anything yet. Perhaps it’s precisely because Redwood has this level of extreme perfectionism that a masterpiece like Quiet Hill was born.”
“……”
“Since there’s no wine released under my name, you must think there’s no particular reason Redwood needs me.”
The title of deputy chief winemaker at Domaine Leroy was an incredible one in the wine industry, but if one thought about it carefully, every wine went out under Madame Lalou Leroy’s name, so it was only natural that it would be difficult for Daniel Grendel’s name to become known.
He had admitted, in effect, that since he had never shown the world any philosophy under his own name, the only thing he could put forward was his title.
Daniel took a deep breath and glared at me.
“Fine. Then I’ll prove it. I’ll show you how my senses create synergy on top of your system. How about it?”
“……”
I thought, ‘Is that really necessary…?’
But it felt wrong to tell the middle-aged man with his eyes shining brightly that tests or whatever were unnecessary and he should just give up. He was not some stranger, either; he was the son Elder Elias had spent his whole life searching for, returned after twenty years, and it did not sit well with me to cut him off coldly.
Moreover, when I recalled how desperately I had begged Elias for grapes before…
“Hmm… My friend Armando has a vineyard in Alexander Valley.”
“Hm? Uh… and?”
“It’s called Laguna Creek, and at thirteen acres, it isn’t a very large farm. As you know, the temperature there is high for growing Pinot Noir, and the soil is somewhat rugged. Since taking it over, he’s been making a steady living selling grape vinegar, but could you try making a wine unique to Laguna Creek there?”
It was a project I had intended to do anyway. I wanted to give Armando a gift.
He was talkative and liked women, so he seemed like the type to laze around without working, but Armando had always been diligent when it came to his work. Even now, the Laguna Creek reports he sent every month were packed with carefully written details on grape-growing conditions, fertilizer usage rates, expected yield, vinegar sales, and more.
They were details one could not know without affection for the farm, and this winter, too, he was frantically working the soil for next year. Now that Armando had paid off all his debts despite the grave economic climate of the subprime crisis, thanks to strong vinegar sales, I wanted to help him produce wine instead of vinegar.
“A wine unique to Laguna Creek? Not Redwood?”
“Yes. Try making wine with the grapes from that place. You may have learned aristocratic winemaking methods at Leroy, but this isn’t France. In a way, the rugged land of Alexander Valley can truly be called American soil. So I’ll see what answer you find in that land. If you prove your own excellence there… then I’ll formally bring you in as Redwood’s winemaker.”
Daniel laughed as if dumbfounded, but his eyes were filled with razor-sharp fighting spirit.
“If it’s Alexander Valley, wouldn’t it be Cabernet Sauvignon, not Pinot Noir?”
“Don’t tell me… if you join Redwood, are you only going to touch Pinot Noir? Unless someone excels in multiple areas, I…”
Before I could even finish, he quickly corrected his mistake.
“I was just asking. I didn’t mean I was dissatisfied.”
“…Good. Around now, the Cabernet should be aging in the fermentation tanks. Since you won’t be able to touch it from before maturation, you probably won’t like that, but this test isn’t meant to be put on the market right away, so show me its potential.”
He nodded with a firm expression.
“Fine, I will. I’m a man who survived even in the cellars of Burgundy. You said it was Armando’s farm? I’ll go to that vineyard first thing tomorrow. Once you see my skill, you’ll be the one kneeling first and begging me to join you.”
“I’ll look forward to it, Mr. Daniel.”
At this point, alcoholic fermentation would have just ended, and malolactic fermentation (MLF; secondary fermentation) would be underway. Just how much ability could he show when thrown in midway?
I was a little curious.
---
Located in the northeastern part of Sonoma County, Alexander Valley was a place characterized by a very hot climate and a large daily temperature range: during the day, the blazing inland sun beat down, while at night, fog flowed in along the river. Heat-resistant Cabernet Sauvignon accounted for more than half of all grapes cultivated there.
In autumn, dry, harsh winds blew, making it a place where one always had to be wary of wildfires. Daniel arrived there with the fierce wind whipping through his hair and stepped onto the Laguna Creek farm.
“Are you the man Brian mentioned? The one from Leroy?”
Sun-darkened Armando greeted Daniel with eyes full of suspicion.
He handed over a tasting glass that had been roughly washed and added bluntly.
“I’ll say this in advance: Brian is such a genius that you’ll have to understand why I’m suspicious of you. You know, right? That great… legendary figure of Napa Valley, Mr. Warren Winiarski, knelt before Brian’s genius and joined Redwood?”
Daniel had never heard anywhere that Warren had knelt before Brian, but sensing the faith and reverence Armando had for Brian, he obediently nodded.
“I’ve heard.”
“They say you were pretty successful somewhere in France, but here, it’s better to stay humble. Especially in front of Brian. Anyway, the grapes on our farm are being cultivated strictly according to Brian’s system. If you think they’re grown carelessly just because they’re grapes for vinegar, you’re mistaken.”
“I didn’t think that.”
“…Good. That’s the right attitude. Follow me.”
He followed Armando into the winery. When they stood before a somewhat old-looking aging tank, Armando spoke.
“Since we’re still making vinegar, the tanks are in this condition, but once we start making wine, I plan to switch to the latest tanks. Ones set up personally by Brian, at that. You still don’t know what that is, do you?”
“…Is there such a thing?”
“As expected…”
With a strange smile, Armando opened the valve, and vivid purple Cabernet Sauvignon juice filled the glass. Full of professional focus, Daniel forgot his conversation with Armando and brought his nose to the glass without even swirling it.
A rough, gassy scent still bearing traces of fermentation and the smell of unrefined alcohol rushed up at him. The liquid he tasted next exuded aggressive tannins sharp enough to make his mouth smart, along with piercing acidity.
It tasted, in every sense, like a wild horse.
“How is it? It may be far from the wine French aristocrats drink, but I’m confident there’s no issue with the condition of the grapes.”
Inwardly impressed by Armando’s confidence, Daniel nodded.
“That’s true. It’s juice too good to turn into vinegar.”
Daniel soon took another sip, then rolled the liquid around in his mouth for a long while without moving.
An ordinary winemaker would have imagined adding sugar or dumping in strong oak chips to kill that rough flavor. But in Daniel’s mind, an entirely different blueprint was being drawn.