One day in June, countless people flooded into the Sacramento Convention Center, located at the intersection of 13th Street and J Street in downtown Sacramento. Upon entering the front doors of the massive convention center—a heavy structure of concrete and plate glass—the first thing one saw was the lobby with its soaring void space.
In the center of the lobby, a massive banner announcing the [60th ASEV Annual Conference] hung long from the ceiling, and wine experts gathered from around the world swarmed beneath it. But the atmosphere was quite different from other expos; instead of glamorous dresses or tuxedos, the hallways were packed with people in wrinkled shirts and cotton slacks, wearing vinyl name tags that read "ASEV (American Society for Enology and Viticulture) Annual Conference."
And along one wall, hundreds of academic posters were lined up like a folding screen.
"A Study on the Correlation Between Night Temperature During the Harvest Period and Anthocyanin Synthesis"
"A Statistical Significance Analysis of Clone-Specific Resveratrol Content"
Passersby stopped in front of the posters holding laptops and thick abstract books instead of wine glasses, engaging in light conversation or sometimes heated debate.
"As expected, the conference atmosphere hasn't changed."
Warren Winiarski smiled, adjusting his name tag. Standing beside him, I looked around with my hands in my pockets.
"It's definitely quite a different atmosphere from before."
"Exactly. Winemaking is gradually adopting scientific methods as well. I think it's a good direction."
"Me too. Look over there—it's the poster from Professor Linda Bisson's team at UC Davis, 'Changes in Volatile Aroma Components According to Sequential Inoculation of Non-Saccharomyces Yeast.' It's a hot topic in the industry these days."
Warren nodded at my words. Just then, something caught my eye. In the middle of the exhibition hall, a large crowd was gathered, buzzing with noise.
"Oh ho, what's that?"
"Shall we go?"
"Let's."
Pushing through the people to check, we found the French-made optical grape sorter, the hottest topic in the wine industry right now, showing off its imposing presence under dazzling lights.
And there, I saw some unexpected figures standing there.
"So, you're saying the lens focal length and shutter speed are adjusted in increments of 0.01 seconds? If immature berries with low anthocyanin density are mixed in, how does the compressed air pressure value react?"
The woman densely jotting down notes in a thick abstract book while asking about the machine specifications was none other than Sienna Harrington, the Ice Princess of Sonoma. And beside her, Mark Harrington stood with his arms crossed, watching the equipment company's technician answer his daughter's questions with an interested expression.
The funny thing was that Armando was also standing next to Mark. Armando was staring only at Sienna, not even noticing my arrival, so I tapped his shoulder in disbelief.
"What are you doing here?"
Startled, Armando soon found me and grinned.
"You surprised me. I followed Sienna here. It's a place where they present the latest papers, so there's a lot to learn. I come every year, so..."
"I know that... but since you didn't say anything about going together this year, I thought you were focusing only on vinegar. Yet you followed Sienna?"
"Well, I..."
As he subtly changed the subject, my eyes met Mark Harrington's.
"Hello."
"Good to see you. Ah, my... Mr. Winiarski is here too. A pleasure."
"Mark... I heard you had a hard time last year. How is this year?"
"It's good. I was anxious because of frost in early spring, but fortunately the temperature stabilized from May onward. If it keeps up like this, I think it will be a legendary vintage."
"That's good to hear."
He greeted Warren first, shaking his hand, then looked back at me.
"The idol of Napa Valley has arrived. You're already doing well, but if you don't miss events like this either, just how high are you planning to climb?"
In the past, his eyes had been openly wary, but now he seemed somewhat liberated. Perhaps because he had suffered heavy losses last year.
"You're exaggerating. I have to keep working hard too."
Just then, Sienna approached and said.
"I'll have to think about it some more. It's definitely good, but..."
"Why?"
"If this machine moves exactly according to my manual, I feel like the quality of our Pinot Noir would change completely... but it's too expensive, which is the problem."
"It wouldn't hurt to think it over."
When Mark showed respect for his daughter's opinion, Sienna's gaze turned to me.
"What do you think? Does Redwood have any plans to bring in expensive equipment like this?"
I shrugged.
"It's a good machine. But I'm worried that if the machine's sorting thresholds are set too high, it might filter out the wine's character as well. Things like the subtle acidity that a very small amount of underripe grapes can provide."
At my answer, Sienna's lips twisted slightly. My words, ambiguous between praise and advice, seemed to stimulate her competitive spirit.
"Hmph, isn't winemaking left to chance like that antiquated? Honestly, I'm a bit surprised. I thought Redwood was the most modern winery in Napa Valley."
"You could see it that way."
"Then I thought equipment like this optical sorter should feel like a dream machine to you. But your reaction is more lukewarm than I expected?"
"Well... just consider it not being my style."
"So, you have no interest in this equipment at all?"
"Yes."
At my firm answer, Sienna's eyes showed surprise. She was slightly taken aback to realize it wasn't an answer meant to posture in front of a competing winery, but that I truly had no interest. And my answer to her was the truth without a hint of falsehood.
The optical sorter picks out only grapes that are flawless according to data, which isn't the sorting method I want. Because it's the acidity of very slightly underripe grapes mixed among well-ripened ones, or the concentrated flavor of slightly dried grapes, that creates the wine's special character.
Moreover, the optical sorter judges only by external appearance such as color and shape, whereas I place more importance on the tannin ripeness inside the grape berry and the condition of the cell walls. So rather than spending money on this expensive equipment, it's better to spend that money on controlling the terroir more precisely.
When Sienna fell into deep thought with a strange expression at my answer—
"The talents of UC Davis have all gathered here. Mr. Winiarski is here too. Still attending places like this in such fine health—it's practically a blessing to Napa Valley."
I turned at the dignified voice and saw two men walking in through the crowd. Joseph Hagins, with a sturdy build and ample weight, and Matthew Hagins, who looked like a British elite.
"This old man gets restless if he stays cooped up at home. I'm seeing you again after our meeting at the end of last year."
Since Mark and Sienna had no knowledge of the meeting that had taken place at the end of last year, the two merely blinked their eyes. But Joseph gave a strange smile, as though a vital point deep inside had been struck.
"Exchanges about wine are helpful to everyone, then as now."
After glossing over it like that, he turned his eyes toward the French optical grape sorting equipment, and at that moment, Joseph's son Matthew picked a fight with Armando.
"Oh, Armando? What's a vinegar maker doing here? Did you come to get inspiration watching this optical sorter pick out rotten grapes? You don't need something like this in your family's warehouse."
I was somewhat bewildered, as I had assumed they were merely school seniors and juniors without any real connection between them, yet Matthew was mocking him so openly.
But Armando's response was also unexpected.
"I haven't given up on wine yet. Understanding vinegar means knowing the end of fermentation, and that is merely a process for making perfect wine. I understand the desire to keep me in check, but you shouldn't think Sienna will like you just because of that."
At those words, Matthew's face flushed red, and Sienna glanced at Armando's face, flustered.
"Ah, seriously..."
What kind of spectacle was this? I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut at the thought of witnessing such an unsightly scene.
It seemed Joseph Hagins found the spectacle unsightly as well; he grabbed Matthew and made him take a step back. At that simple action, Matthew clamped his mouth shut, and Armando shrugged his shoulders like a triumphant general.
Then Joseph greeted me briefly.
"See you again."
His gaze and expression seemed filled with more resolve than ever. I understood his state of mind. Because I could well imagine how desperate he must be right now, having incurred a debt of 17 million dollars.
So Joseph left the venue with his son, and I pulled Armando aside and whispered quietly.
"Are you two really dating?"
Armando smiled brightly.
"I got permission."
"Sigh..."
I looked at Mark with a pitying expression, and he, who happened to be looking at me, shrugged with a complicated face. His expression clearly said there was nothing he could do if his daughter liked him.
Then Sienna, looking back and forth between me and Mark, snorted.
"Hmph! That's hilarious. Don't you think it's strange that Chloe likes you too?"
"That's... a bit different, I think."
"What's different about it? I think it makes even less sense."
"People have different tastes, that's all."
Then Mark intervened in his daughter's childish bickering.
"By the way, it looks like we'll be digging a well this time too. Along with the Rainmaker you made into Napa Valley's top lawyer."
"Oh, is that so?"
"It took nearly a year, waiting for that lawyer. Anyway, it seems like it will cost a lot of money, but this year alone, thanks to this, we overcame the frost damage well, so it doesn't seem like a waste. And if the climate becomes more unstable and a drought comes, won't a well be a great help?"
"Of course. It was a good choice."
Since he said they had already decided to dig the well, it was right to support that decision. Showing a disappointed expression just because others had started besides us would only seem petty.
"From what you've seen, any notable papers from last year or this year?"
"Well. I'm looking forward to the afternoon session on the 'Polysaccharide Stabilization Model in Tannin Polymerization Reaction,' at least. They say it will present a new formula for how tannins bind with proteins during oak aging, so there are aspects I'm looking forward to."
"Oh ho, I see. By the way, have you seen any UC Davis papers on mixed fermentation with Non-Saccharomyces yeast?"
In that instant, I gauged the faces of Mark and Sienna. Unlike Mark's unreadable expression, Sienna's face held a hint of anticipation.
"Yes... I know of it."
Usually wine is fermented with standard yeast called Saccharomyces, which is safe but receives criticism for producing standardized aromas. At this time, UC Davis was actively conducting research on enhancing complexity, and among it was research on increasing complexity using Non-Saccharomyces yeasts found in nature.
The fact that he mentioned this—didn't it mean that Harrington Winery had tried making wine with Non-Saccharomyces?
"Could I hear... what you think about it?"
I looked at Sienna and marveled.
"Did you make wine with Non-Saccharomyces? It probably wasn't last year... perhaps the 2007 vintage?"
Sienna briefly met eyes with Mark before answering.
"That's right. Not a lot... just a portion?"
Perhaps Mark had given Sienna, who would one day lead Harrington Winery, a portion of the harvested grapes to try making wine.
"An excellent choice."
"Excellent?"
Mark made a surprised expression, and Sienna widened her eyes with anticipation.
"Yes, perhaps... it could turn out to be an incredibly good wine."
I meant it. 2007 was hot. The grapes ripened well, but there was a risk that the aroma could become simple and blunt. It was a brilliant move that could overcome the monotony Pinot Noir might possess with explosive aromatics.
I even thought it could become a competing wine for Sylphide and Quiet Hill.
"Of course, that's if it was made well. Wild yeast is quite difficult to control..."
Sienna's face immediately darkened. But right then, Armando butted in and asked stupidly.
"But what exactly gets better if you do that?"
"Sigh..."
I was about to shake my head in pity when something surprising happened.
"Ah, well. The wild yeasts naturally attached to grape skins have various..."
Wasn't Sienna explaining kindly to Armando like a private tutor? Was she originally such a gentle person? In the midst of my disbelief, I detected a very subtle arc at the corner of Armando's mouth. And seeing that, I received a shock like lightning striking in my head.
I realized. That he already knew about wild fermentation. Because what Daniel had made and brought from Laguna Creek was wine produced through the selection and strengthening of indigenous Saccharomyces.
Him grinning and listening to the explanation was nothing more than a cheap act!
'That scary bastard...'