Joseph Higgins of Castello Winery had been savoring the finest moments of his life these past few days. Ever since the New York tasting, all of Napa Valley had been chanting his name. On the desk in his office, where the red glow of sunset streamed in, preliminary contracts sent by heavyweight sommeliers from New York and San Francisco, as well as by top-tier restaurants, were piled high as a mountain.
“Father, look at this. With the preliminary contracts alone, we’re already sold out through next year’s harvest. Hahaha!”
His son, Matthew, came in with a flushed face, waving a bundle of documents. Joseph, a premium cigar clenched between his lips, blew out a plume of smoke in satisfaction.
“It’s only natural. I’m almost ashamed I was shaken for even a moment when that greenhorn Brian from Redwood bought up the bonds. Now that Emperor’s value has been proven, seventeen million dollars in debt will soon be nothing but pocket change.”
A mad pride gleamed in Joseph’s eyes. He believed his gamble had succeeded. After all, the overwhelming body and deep color of Emperor, created through cryo-concentration technology, were power itself—the very thing modern wine critics had been thirsting for.
Joseph was now waiting only for the score from Robert Parker, the symbol of wine authority across the world. Not long after the tasting, Anthony had said he would be dining with Robert Parker and drinking Emperor with him, so Parker’s evaluation would be posted soon. Joseph believed that the moment that score was announced, Castello would rise to the same rank as Screaming Eagle and Harlan Estate.
That was when it happened.
“It’s up!”
The father and son looked at each other as they saw Markus, the chief winemaker, rush into the office. Joseph, filled with anticipation, sprang up from his seat—only to read the despair in Markus’s eyes and stop in his tracks.
“What is it? What happened?”
“Well…”
“Don’t tell me Robert Parker gave it a low score?”
“……”
Understanding that silence was as good as affirmation, Joseph’s face hardened in an instant. But he had to see it with his own eyes, so he moved to the computer where he could check online articles.
Robert Parker’s Wine Advocate had been operating a website since the mid-2000s. Because printed magazines took time to print and ship, important tasting reports or Parker’s personal reviews were often released first to paid online subscribers in the form of Previews or Articles.
Wine investors and importers of this period waited for these online updates, refreshing the page in real time. The moment a score appeared, wine prices around the world shifted in real time. So Castello Winery was not the only one waiting anxiously for Robert Parker’s score, and that was how tremendous Robert Parker’s influence was over the world of wine.
The piece by Robert Parker filling the computer monitor was not the tribute Joseph had expected. It was closer to a sentence.
“…In Napa Valley this time, I encountered two monstrous wines. One was Aether from Redwood Winery. This wine displayed a precise resolution and structure almost impossible to believe for a first-year vintage, and the longer the tasting went on, the more its vitality bloomed in layers, sending a shiver through me. With Astra Vale, a former cult wine, I engraved the name of Redwood Winery onto my soul. But with this Aether, I am certain: American wine will soar out into the world. Without hesitation, I award this wine 100 points. It is the most astonishing birth in the history of Napa Valley.”
Joseph’s hands began to tremble. The news of Aether’s 100 points stoked his rage, but the paragraph that followed pushed him into the abyss.
“On the other hand, Castello’s Emperor gave me both a great shock and a deep sense of skepticism. At the first sip, I thought I had seen the majesty of an emperor. But that was a grand illusion. As I continued tasting it with steak, Emperor’s structure collapsed miserably. Within barely two hours of contact with air, a fishy metallic odor became mixed into its aroma, and it clearly tasted different from the beginning. I cannot determine the exact reason, but I suspect there was a problem during the aging process. Perhaps only the wine I drank was like this, but unfortunately, I must state that I find it difficult to give a score to a wine that feels like a defective product.”
“A defective product…?”
The cigar fell from Joseph’s mouth. From that moment on, the phone in the office began to ring off the hook. Sommeliers who had been proposing toasts just moments ago, buyers who had been sending contracts, all called one after another to notify them of cancellations. There was not a single fool in New York who would put a wine branded as defective by Robert Parker on their list.
“This is impossible… That old bastard Parker must have lost his mind! Did he take money from that son of a bitch Brian?”
Joseph roared, overturning his desk. But deep in his heart, he already knew. The low-temperature concentration equipment he had forced into operation out of fear of bond foreclosure, the excessive extraction—perhaps it had scraped away the soul of the wine. That faint doubt had returned as reality through Parker’s merciless tongue.
“Markus!”
At the sight of Joseph, whose eyes were bloodshot, Markus froze where he stood.
“Y-yes!”
“What happened?”
“Well…”
“I’m asking you what happened!”
Startled by the shout that felt as though it would tear his eardrums, Markus blinked frantically and answered.
“It seems… it seems that in the a-aging process, there was a p-problem…”
“When we tasted it then, there wasn’t a single problem!”
At Joseph’s roar, Markus hunched his shoulders and backed away. Joseph’s eyes had already lost all reason and were gleaming like those of a beast.
“T-that was… because at the time of the tasting, the molecular structure had been forcibly bound together under low temperatures. But as Mr. Parker pointed out, once it came into contact with air and the temperature rose, and decisively, when the salt and fat of the steak acted as catalysts…”
Swallowing dryly, Markus watched Joseph’s expression and continued cautiously.
“The tannins and proteins we forcibly condensed began to separate again. This goes beyond the limits of winemaking technology… Protein instability is a kind of chemical collapse. Because we recklessly extended the cryo-concentration time, it seems the grapes’ inherent stability was completely destroyed.”
“Are you saying that to me right now? You’re my chief winemaker! Are you telling me you didn’t know this would happen?”
At that, Markus’s own temper flared.
“T-that is why I warned you! I told you that if we increased the extraction pressure, the cell membranes could be destroyed and suspended matter could form during aging… But you, Chairman, insisted that we had to draw out a color denser and more overwhelming than Redwood’s no matter what… Didn’t you say exactly that?”
At Markus’s protest, Joseph’s fist stopped in midair.
It was true. When the guillotine of seventeen million dollars in bonds had been aimed at his neck, Joseph had dismissed Markus’s cautious advice as the words of a coward. The greed that had tried to obtain in mere weeks through mechanical manipulation the density nature took decades to create had ultimately crushed the wine’s very bones.
“So in the end… incomplete technology killed the wine?”
Realizing there was no turning back, Joseph’s voice trembled weakly. Markus lowered his head in place of an answer. That silence gouged into Joseph’s chest more painfully than Robert Parker’s sentence of “defective product.”
“Father, Sotheby’s in New York just contacted us as well. They said they’re canceling the entire special Emperor auction section scheduled for next month. Khh…”
Matthew’s report, as he wiped away tears with his sleeve, was the final confirmation. Joseph staggered toward the window. The vast vineyards of Castello visible beyond the glass were still dazzlingly beautiful, but the fear that no wine made from those grapes would ever sell again swept over him.
The thirty years he had built up, declaring he would become the emperor of Napa Valley, were being washed away like a sandcastle because of a single online article and one glass of collapsed wine.
“Brian…”
The despairing Joseph quietly murmured that name as he looked at his own shabby face reflected in the window. That greenhorn who had driven him to the edge of a cliff while holding the bonds now seemed to be laughing at him from the very summit of the world of critics.
In truth, the cause of the bond problem had been his son Matthew, but because he needed someone to resent, Joseph did not think that far. He simply regretted everything.
“Father… khh…”
And Matthew, who had in effect been the cause of all of this, wept like a child.
---
At the same time, the predawn hours before harvest at Redwood Winery.
I was walking through the misty vineyard. In a few hours, the first harvest of the 2009 vintage would begin. And the phone in my pocket, too, had been vibrating nonstop. Messages from school officials and nearby winery owners congratulating me, along with calls informing me that the world had been turned upside down by Robert Parker’s 100-point score.
“Brian.”
Beyond the fog, Warren appeared, driving his old truck. He got out and approached me. Normally, Warren would have popped champagne at news of a 100-point score, but his expression was strangely subdued.
“Did you read Parker’s article yesterday?”
At Warren’s question, I nodded.
“I couldn’t exactly not read it. I didn’t even expect it, but I found out because Armando called me.”
“I didn’t know Robert Parker would ambush us like that and post his evaluation of our wine either. I only found out before going to bed yesterday.”
Warren smiled broadly, but I only gave him a bitter smile.
“Aether’s 100 points is something to be happy about… but his harsh criticism of Emperor was far more severe than I expected.”
“That’s true. He called it a wine like a defective product… But it isn’t completely without a chance. Wine doesn’t always taste identical in every bottle released. If, by truly unfortunate luck, only that particular bottle had an issue, then there’s a chance to recover. If the other wines are fine, even if they can’t get a high score, the winery’s honor can be restored.”
“I hope so. When I took Joseph’s bonds from the bank, Joseph came to see me in a frenzy. At the time, Joseph believed I was trying to bring down Castello. But… I don’t want an ending like this. I hope Castello restores its honor.”
“I hope so too. It’s a winery that represents Napa Valley while owning To Kalon.”
Warren nodded as he spoke, then asked,
“But if they can’t restore their honor, what will you do? If things end like this, there’s no way they’ll be able to repay the seventeen million dollars in principal and interest.”
“…This may sound cold-blooded, but I’ll have to exercise my rights as a creditor. It would be unfortunate for even the history he built to be thrown into the trash. From my perspective, holding such a large bond worth seventeen million dollars, it would also be a loss if the Castello brand itself were shattered. So… its honor needs to be restored.”
“Oh? You’re going to restore the honor of Castello Winery in their place?”
“The grapes of To Kalon aren’t going anywhere.”
“That’s appealing. I’d be curious to see how a master handles the artificially created terroir of Silver Oak’s grapes and the innate grapes of To Kalon.”
“I might handle them the same way. I could use them for Astra Vale.”
“Or you might not, right?”
“Well, that’s true.”
When I shrugged and spoke calmly, Warren let out a laugh with a dumbfounded expression.
“By the way, aren’t you a little too calm for someone who got a perfect 100-point score? If you act as if it was only natural, people will have things to say. How about showing that you’re at least a little happy?”
“Haha, I am happy. More than enough. But…”
“But?”
“Hmm… From the moment I first conceived of the wine, I thought it was the kind of wine Robert Parker could like.”
At my words, Warren’s mouth fell open.
“Wow… So from the moment you put it out, you expected it wouldn’t be strange if it got 100 points?”
“Um… something like that…?”
“Haha, hahaha! Yes, that’s about what it takes to be my master. Of course!”
Bursting into hearty laughter, he turned his head toward the voices of the workers approaching from afar.
“Now, let’s get to work.”
“Yes, work comes first.”
Robert Parker’s 100 points were encouraging, but for now, the harvest came first.