After spending the night at the estate of Château Margaux, Warren and I exchanged brief morning greetings with her, then crossed the river and headed to Saint-Émilion.
As always, since we had come all the way to Bordeaux, France, there was no way we could pass up a visit to Château Belle Époque. If Margaux on Bordeaux’s Left Bank was a fortress of aristocratic dignity and tradition, Saint-Émilion on the Right Bank across the river was a place where one could feel a somewhat more rustic, farm-like roughness and the vigor of fertile earth.
Sixty hectares. This land, by no means small even in Bordeaux, was now sprouting pale green leaves from Sauvignon Blanc and Sémillon saplings that had only just begun to take root.
“I’ve been waiting for you to come!”
A man wearing boots caked thick with mud greeted us. It was Daniel, Belle Époque’s manager and winemaker.
“Have you been well?”
“Me? Same as always. And how have you been, sir?”
Warren patted him on the shoulder and smiled kindly.
“You look even sturdier than before. Good to see. Your face looks brighter—are you dating someone?”
“No, how did you know that? Actually, I have been seeing someone nice.”
“That’s good news.”
Watching them with a smile, I asked,
“Do you go back and forth to Sonoma often?”
He had an elderly father in the Russian River Valley of Sonoma who worried about him, and that had weighed on my mind as well. So I had been supporting Daniel so he could regularly take flights and visit his father.
“Haha, don’t worry. My father seems even a little healthier now. And I go to Sonoma at least once every three months. It’s all thanks to you, boss.”
“Since you’re taking good care of the vineyard, that much is only natural. How are the saplings?”
“As you can see, they’re very healthy. It’s their third year, so their roots have gone fairly deep too. Once we get proper Sauvignon Blanc next year, everyone is going to be shocked. Just thinking that a white wine capable of long aging, grown in this cool clay soil, will come from here already has me excited.”
Just as Daniel was brimming with excitement, Warren, standing beside him, rested a hand on his chin and chimed in.
“When everyone else was clinging to red wine, we said we would use Saint-Émilion’s cool soil to set a new standard for Bordeaux whites. That was quite some time ago, and the saplings are already entering their third year. Time passes quickly, and there isn’t much longer before the vines bear fruit. I’d wondered when the day would come.”
“Exactly. Shall we take a look at the vineyard first?”
“Without even resting?”
Daniel stared at me in puzzlement, his eyes widening.
“We already had a simple breakfast at Château Margaux.”
“You came from Château Margaux? Why did you go there?”
“I’ll tell you as we walk. There’s a lot to talk about.”
“Hahaha! I’m always glad to listen. We have plenty of time.”
And so Daniel led us with light steps into the middle of the vineyard.
“This is all Sauvignon Blanc, and…”
“How’s the growth? In the third year, the First Harvest should be possible this year.”
At my question, Daniel pulled out a tablet PC, and my eyes lit up when I saw it.
“Oh? You bought one?”
“Of course. You practically forced all the winery staff to buy them, boss.”
What I had strongly urged them to buy was the iPad. From the moment Steve Jobs unveiled the iPad, I had known its usefulness and instructed everyone at middle management level and above to purchase one.
Daniel grinned, turned on the tablet PC, checked the data, and said,
“For now, thanks to this cool clay soil in Saint-Émilion, the acidity is being maintained steadily. We expect this year’s trial yield to be around thirty-five hectoliters per hectare, and we’re already anticipating that the wine’s flavor will be very sharp and elegant.”
Beside us, Warren, who had been touching the leaves of a sapling, nodded.
“Third-year saplings are just reaching the point where their roots touch the subsoil. They still lack strength, but that makes it the optimal time to draw out the pure aroma inherent to the varietal. Master, when you marked this land three years ago as a sanctuary for white wine, everyone laughed, but seeing this acidity now, all those fellows will have to shut their mouths.”
I nodded, then said,
“Shall we take a look at the Sémillon?”
“The Sémillon? All right. Then we’ll have to take the car.”
“Good. Let’s move that way, then.”
Since Sauvignon Blanc was the main varietal planted across this vast land of nearly 150 acres, the area where the Sémillon vines were planted was quite far from the château entrance. Only after driving for more than ten minutes did we finally arrive at the Sémillon section, where we got out of the car and walked at an easy pace.
Beneath my feet came the soft, damp sensation of clay. Daniel stopped, bent down, and pointed to one of the Sémillon vines.
“Sémillon has thinner skin and is more sensitive than Sauvignon Blanc, but strangely, here it’s growing very cleanly without a single pest or disease. Its sugar concentration is also about fifteen percent higher than expected. If we make a dry white from this Sémillon this year, I think we can achieve a body comparable to Château Haut-Brion’s white.”
Daniel’s voice was filled with excitement. He looked like a winemaker completely captivated by the potential of this land. But I stopped in front of one Sémillon vine and bent down.
“Daniel, have you planned the entire Sémillon harvest this year for dry white?”
“Hm? Isn’t that obvious? With quality like this, we could seize the top spot among Bordeaux dry whites.”
As he said, it was an obvious choice. But I had a slightly different idea.
“I’m not saying the idea of making dry white is bad. It’s just… I’m thinking we might take part of the area in a different direction.”
“How different?”
“The total Sémillon area is about fifteen hectares, right?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m thinking we could experiment with about five hectares of it…”
Sensing something unusual in my words, Warren asked,
“What kind of experiment are you talking about?”
“I’m thinking of making a noble rot wine with the Sémillon.”
“A noble rot wine?”
Both Warren and Daniel widened their eyes in surprise.
Noble rot wine, as the name suggests, is the world’s finest dessert wine, made from grapes that have “rotted nobly.” Simply put, it is golden honeyed nectar made from moldy grapes.
The price range for noble rot wines varies wildly. Ordinary Sauternes châteaux cost around 85 to 120 euros, roughly 150,000 to 200,000 won, for 750 milliliters, while famous Premier Cru wines such as Château Rieussec and Château Coutet can reach up to 300 euros depending on the vintage. In addition, Château d’Yquem, called the emperor of noble rot wines, usually goes for more than 350 to 600 euros in ordinary vintages, while old vintages or wines from legendary years can command thousands of euros.
One might ask how it differs from other kinds of very sweet dessert wines. In noble rot wine, when moisture evaporates, not only the sugar but also the acidity of the grapes becomes concentrated, creating an exquisite balance between sweetness and acidity. That is why it is incredibly sweet, yet supported by a mouthwatering tartness. Thanks to this acidity, noble rot wine cleanses the palate and gives a sense of infinite depth.
Moreover, noble rot fungus undergoes metabolic activity inside the grape berries and creates unique aromatic compounds not found in ordinary grapes. Dried apricot, honey, orange marmalade, roasted nuts, and above all, the signature aroma of noble rot wine known as the Noble Rot bouquet—a mingling of subtle mushroom, earth, and exotic spice scents. Because of this, noble rot wine possesses flavors and aromas that sugar could never imitate.
Warren immediately took a step closer and asked,
“Noble rot? Master, that is the story of Sauternes. This isn’t the place where the Ciron and Garonne rivers meet, so how can you expect noble rot here?”
Warren’s objection was perfectly reasonable. Botrytis cinerea, the fungus at the heart of noble rot wine, occurs only under very exacting conditions. During the night, cold river water and warm air must meet to form dense fog, that fog must soak the vineyard throughout the morning, and then in the afternoon, intense sunlight must drive off the moisture. Only when this process repeats can the berries lose moisture without rotting, concentrating their sugar in the phenomenon known as noble rot.
Sauternes is a blessed place where natural Noble Rot occurs more stably and perfectly than anywhere else on earth. The reason is that the Garonne, a large river with relatively warm water, meets the Ciron, a small tributary with very cold water after passing through the shade of the forest, and the temperature difference generates an enormous amount of dense fog. This fog blankets the vineyards of Sauternes all night, maintaining humidity above ninety percent. At that moment, the noble rot fungus adheres to the grape skins. Since I was now saying I would create this artificially, both of them were shocked.
“Look, Boss Brian, Mr. Warren is right. This isn’t Sauternes. Fog does appear sometimes, but it’s nowhere near enough for noble rot fungus to settle stably. Even if the fungus attaches by luck, if rain falls in the afternoon, it won’t be noble rot—it’ll just become Grey Rot and ruin the entire crop. This is practically gambling!”
Daniel cried out desperately. In the centuries-long history of Bordeaux, noble rot wine had been regarded as a gift granted only by heaven. Since it was considered common sense here that this was a realm humans could not artificially control, his reaction was only natural.
I smiled as I touched the small metal nozzle installed beside the sapling.
“Daniel, how long are we supposed to keep looking up at the sky and praying? If nature won’t give us fog, then we’ll make the fog ourselves.”
“Make fog?”
“Look here. These nozzles installed under the saplings are connected to the château’s central control server, aren’t they?”
“Don’t tell me… you intend to make fog with those?”
“That’s right. If the humidity drops below a certain level at four in the morning, when fog is insufficient, these nozzles will begin ultra-fine misting. It won’t just be spraying water. Mixed into that water will be noble rot spores that we have cultivated in advance.”
Daniel’s eyes filled with astonishment.
“You’re going to… spray the fungus directly? My God, I’ve never heard of winemaking like that…”
“Spraying the fungus is only the beginning. The real key comes after that. At ten in the morning, when the sun rises and humidity becomes excessive, large fans will operate and force warm air to circulate throughout the entire field. On top of that, the high-performance drainage system buried beneath the surface will draw the sticky moisture characteristic of clay soil downward, and special reflectors installed between the vines will concentrate sunlight onto the lower portions of the grape berries, evaporating every last bit of residual moisture. We’ll rapidly control the moisture on the surface of the grapes through artificial wind and radiant heat.”
At my explanation, Warren slapped his knee and let out a groan of admiration.
“Hah, so you mean for humans to perfectly imitate the climate of the terroir. You intend to implement Sauternes’ complex mechanism as a system?”
“That’s right. Natural noble rot has a low success rate, and the quality fluctuates wildly every year. Even Château d’Yquem has years when it gives up on a vintage. But we are different. If we forcibly control humidity and temperature, we can obtain perfect noble rot every year. The sharp acidity given by Saint-Émilion’s cool clay soil will meet the explosive sweetness of artificially concentrated Sémillon. A dessert wine far more precise and far more powerful than Sauternes will be born.”
But Daniel still scratched his head, looking confused.
“But Brian, even if you make fog, noble rot fungus can only penetrate when the grape skins become extremely thin. The Sémillon in our vineyard is too healthy right now, so the skins are firm. If the fungus can’t penetrate, it’ll simply rot on the surface.”
As if I had been waiting for that, I nodded.
“That’s right. That’s why, from now on, we’re going to change the soil design for about five hectares of the test area.”
“Change the soil design?”
“Yes. From now on, completely stop supplying nitrogen fertilizer to this area. We’ll deliberately starve the vines and give them stress. If we make the trees redirect nutrients to their roots rather than their fruit in order to survive, the grape skins at next year’s harvest will be much thinner and more sensitive. We’ll create a state of zero defense—perfect for the noble rot fungus to penetrate.”
“No…”
After hearing my explanation, Daniel blinked and could not continue. The idea of a winemaker starving grapevines to weaken the skins was the exact opposite of Bordeaux orthodoxy.
“What do you think? Is there any theoretical problem with it?”
At my question, Daniel slowly shook his head.
“None at all… Theoretically, there’s nothing wrong with it.”
“Good. Then let’s do it.”
And so, part of Belle Époque’s Sémillon area was designated as a trial cultivation zone for noble rot wine.