Others praised Redwood Winery for achieving a three-peat in the San Francisco Chronicle and ascending to legendary status, but inside Redwood itself, we were mired in worries.
“Hmm... inefficient and bloated...”
On my desk lay the “2010–2011 Harvest and Winemaking Capacity Report” Leo had prepared.
At present, Redwood’s estate holdings included not only the original 15-acre vineyard, but also Ironwood Cellars’ 30 acres, Silver Oak’s roughly 50 acres, and Lapis Lazuli’s 12 acres, putting us well over 107 acres in total. At that scale, the amount of grapes coming into the winery each year would be at least 200 tons, and at most over 250 tons.
Add to that the roughly 90 tons of Pinot Noir we purchased every year from Sonoma’s Russian River Valley, and Redwood’s existing winemaking facilities had already passed their critical limit.
Even if Redwood’s 15-acre vineyard rested for at least three or four years, that only meant a reduction of about 40 tons, so in a way, we had barely managed to keep our precarious winemaking capacity under control. But that was not enough. Once Redwood’s vineyards started producing normally again later on, we would truly exceed the breaking point.
In the early days of the winery, there was nothing strange about using custom crush—contract winemaking—but for a winery with our current status, relying on custom crush no longer fit.
“Boss, without expanding our tanks right now, we’ll be dumping grapes on the roadside during this fall’s harvest. The volume coming in from Silver Oak alone this year is twice last year’s.”
Leo’s report was accurate. In Silver Oak’s first year, we had significantly limited yield in consideration of the condition of the vines. But last year, the yield had increased, and this year, the Silver Oak vines had finally reached the point where they could use the full energy of their prime.
And that was not the end of it. When we first purchased Silver Oak, the estate was only about 15 acres. After that, we bought an additional 35 acres and had been cultivating that land the way we had with To Kalon. In truth, we would only be able to conduct the first trial harvest from that land next year, so in a few years’ time, grapes would be coming in from those additional 35 acres as well.
“How many tanks do we need?”
“At minimum, we need to bring in one more 10,000-liter tank. There is space for about one 10,000-liter tank.”
Leo presented a solution, but I was not simply thinking of bringing in a few more stainless steel tanks. In order to perfectly separate and mature the essence of the different terroirs pouring in from an estate of over 100 acres, I felt we needed a fundamental change in the vessel itself.
“All right for now. I’ll think about it.”
“Yes, sir.”
We had come this far by continuing to expand and expand again, but I did not like the idea of adding yet another extension now.
From then on, I holed myself up in the aging room again and began agonizing over it. Then, after spending several weeks going in and out of architectural firms in Napa Valley, I brought one result and placed it before Warren.
“What is this?”
“A winery blueprint.”
“A blueprint? From what I heard from Leo, you’re short on tanks. Is this because of that?”
“That’s right. We are short on aging tanks, but... honestly, it’s a good thing our wines sell well and the barrel-aging period is short. Otherwise, we would’ve had to make the aging room three times bigger than it is now.”
“That’s true enough.”
“So I’m thinking of building an entirely new winery.”
“Then what about these facilities and the wine?”
“I’m not saying we’ll build it here. We’ll leave this as it is and build it somewhere else. Please take a look at the blueprint.”
Only then did Warren turn his eyes to the blueprint I had brought.
“Where is this?”
“You know the rocky mountainside behind our Redwood vineyard? There.”
He stared blankly at the blueprint, and gradually his mouth fell open.
“What is this? You’re going to bore into the mountain?”
“Yes.”
The blueprint depicted a four-level underground gravity-flow wine cave burrowing into the rocky mountainside.
“You’re crazy. This isn’t a winery. It’s an underground fortress.”
Warren muttered after seeing the blueprint. With a magnifying glass perched on the tip of his nose, he pointed with his finger to the vertical fermentation tank area, where the ceiling height alone reached 15 meters.
“Are you saying you won’t use pumps at all? You’ll drop the grapes from the top, extract the juice, and use that force to send it all the way to the oak barrels?”
“That’s right, sir. The physical pressure of mechanical pumps extracts unwanted harsh tannins from the grape seeds and accelerates oxidation. Gravity is the most precise pump nature has given us. It’s the only method that can move the grapes without damaging their original form.”
Warren shook his head.
“Well, the theory is good, and it’s a method we’ve used before, so that’s all well and fine... But to dig an underground cave of this scale, you’ll have to pass Napa County’s Agricultural Preserve Act and groundwater contamination regulations. The state government bastards will throw a fit, calling even one hole in a mountain environmental destruction. And what about the funding? This construction will cost at least 40 million dollars.”
I showed him the numbers I had already calculated while preparing the blueprint.
[Tunnel excavation and special bedrock structural reinforcement: 15 million dollars
Gravity-flow system: 4 million dollars
French Taransaud custom oak and concrete fermentation tanks: 10 million dollars
Geothermal loop and central control system: 7 million dollars
Contingency and legal consulting: 5 million dollars
Total budget: 41 million dollars]
After confirming the budget, Warren let out a hollow laugh.
“Forty-one million dollars... You’d be short even if you poured in every cent from Aether 2008 preorders.”
“Well, we also have funds from sales of Astra Veil and other wines. If I pour in all the money we have, it’s not impossible.”
“I understand using Taransaud oak barrels, but by custom, do you mean you’re planning to order them exactly the way Master made them?”
He was asking about the method I had personally shown Warren in the backyard when making Aether, toasting the barrels using deep-heat penetration.
“That’s right. We’ll go with T5 grade. But that won’t be the only thing we use. We’ll also use American oak barrels. Aether absolutely needs American oak.”
Taransaud, headquartered in the Cognac region of France, is one of the most expensive and prestigious oak barrel manufacturers in the world, with Bordeaux First Growth wineries such as Château Margaux and Château Latour among its main clients.
Among them, the T5 barrel is practically Taransaud’s signature product. Unlike ordinary oak barrels, where the wood is dried for two to three years, T5 uses only top-grade French oak that has been naturally seasoned for a full five years. Naturally, the price is steep. While an ordinary oak barrel costs around 800 to 1,000 dollars each, a Taransaud T5 commands 3,000 to 4,000 dollars apiece. So ordering just 1,000 of them would easily consume three to four million dollars.
“So that’s why it’s this expensive. And you’re using concrete for the fermenters too?”
“Yes. If we’re doing it anyway, we might as well spend properly.”
Ordinary people who did not know much about winemaking might ask, “Why old-fashioned concrete instead of stainless steel tanks?” But in modern premium winemaking, concrete can be considered the most sophisticated choice.
Concrete fermenters are usually made in an egg shape, known as “concrete eggs.” Thanks to their curved structure with no corners, the wine naturally swirls during fermentation and remains in constant contact with fine lees, and through that process, the texture of the wine becomes silky smooth.
Moreover, while stainless steel blocks oxygen completely, concrete made through special methods can breathe microscopically like an oak barrel. As a result, the wine can be aged fresh and elegant while preserving the grapes’ inherent fruit beauty without imparting oak aromas.
On top of that, concrete has thick walls and high density, so it is barely affected by outside temperatures. Combined with the coolness of the underground cave I designed, perfect constant-temperature fermentation becomes possible.
“What is this geothermal loop system?”
“Ah, that... The temperature on the surface changes drastically depending on the season, but 5 to 10 meters below ground, the temperature remains almost constant year-round at 13 to 15 degrees Celsius, doesn’t it?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m going to install high-density polyethylene, or HDPE, pipes with high thermal conductivity like a net between the bedrock of the cave walls. Then, if we circulate water or antifreeze inside the pipes, in summer we can send the hot surface heat down underground to cool it, and in winter we can draw up the underground warmth to maintain a constant temperature. Once this is set up, we can manage the fermentation zone and oak-aging zone separately.”
“It sounds good, but... then condensation will form.”
“I’ve already thought of that. We’ll implant radiant cooling panels linked to the loop system into the walls. Then we can completely prevent condensation as well.”
After confirming my firm resolve, Warren was silent for a moment, then took an old notebook from his pocket.
“All right. The legal issues aren’t something some half-baked young lawyer can handle. I’ll introduce you to an old fox the Napa County bureaucrats fear the most.”
“Huh? Is he one of the three great lawyers of Napa Valley, along with the Rainmaker?”
He grinned.
“That’s right. The Gatekeeper. When it comes to lifting development restrictions, there’s no one better than him.”
In the past, he had told me about the three most capable lawyers in Napa Valley and introduced me to one of them, the Rainmaker. Considering the Rainmaker’s outstanding abilities, there was no reason to doubt the abilities of the Gatekeeper he was introducing now.
“Oh, thank you.”
“The only flaw is that he’s a bit expensive, but if that man can’t solve it, you should assume no other lawyer can either.”
“You’re saying if I consult him and it seems difficult, it would be better to change the blueprint?”
“Exactly.”
For me, that was enough. It was not as if I intended to do anything illegal, nor did I plan to force something that simply could not be done.
---
Napa County legal district, Arthur Vanderbilt Law Office.
It was an office with an atmosphere as overbearing as its nickname. The man seated behind a desk that looked, at a glance, like it belonged to some high-end European furniture brand was Arthur Vanderbilt, a development specialist lawyer in Napa who had passed sixty this year.
With silver-gray hair smoothly slicked back, he stared at me with sharp hawk-like eyes.
“I’m Brian Choi of Redwood.”
After shaking hands and taking a seat across from him, the elderly gentleman opened his mouth with a calm expression.
“I’ve heard a great deal about you from Warren. The protagonist of a myth who rose from Napa Valley idol to legendary figure.”
“You flatter me.”
“Mm, flatter you... If anything, that’s an understatement. I heard about you from Harry as well. He said you’re a man with clear goals who ultimately achieves them. Thanks to you, Harry’s younger brother’s restaurant is doing quite well, and he seemed so pleased he might roll around.”
Harold Harry Montis. He meant the Rainmaker. Since the two of them were grouped together as two of Napa Valley’s three great lawyers, they seemed to be close. The bit about rolling around was probably a joke made because he knew Harry’s build.
“Haha...”
“Good. As for me, as long as I’m paid, I have no reason to refuse anyone’s request. What do you want to do?”
To the confident man, I handed over the blueprint I had prepared. But after staring at the blueprint for a long time, his brow furrowed deeply.
“This is... difficult. The Napa County Environmental Management Agency has seizures over large-scale excavation that interferes with groundwater flow. On top of that, the wastewater treatment facility design exceeds the standard by more than three times. The moment this is recorded in a state government report, it will become prey for environmental groups.”
Without panicking, I slid over the “Sustainability Report” I had prepared in advance.
“This is not environmental destruction, but preservation, Mr. Arthur. This wine cave does not touch the vegetation above ground at all. In fact, compared to constructing aboveground buildings, it can reduce land occupancy by 80 percent. Furthermore, the geothermal loop system I designed cuts the winery’s total energy consumption by 90 percent. This will become the standard for the ‘green winery’ Napa Valley should aim for in the future.”
Arthur Vanderbilt’s eyebrows twitched. He had reacted to the words “green” and “standard.” It was a strategy meant to stimulate the pride of an ambitious old legal professional by making him feel he was personally designing Napa’s future.
“A 90 percent reduction in energy. Is that truly possible?”
“I’ll stake my name and Redwood’s honor on it. Please take charge of the legal permits, Mr. Arthur. I’ll prepare the funds.”
Arthur twirled his pen and fell into thought for a moment.
“My retainer will be high. And you’ll need to be prepared to contribute to environmental funds to silence the state officials. But if I open the gate for you, then at the very least, the law won’t trip you up.”
The moment I signed the contract he offered, the 5-million-dollar legal consulting fee was confirmed. But as the price for obtaining Arthur Vanderbilt, the “Gatekeeper,” it was enough.