As soon as we passed through the main gate of Castello Winery, head winemaker Marcus Vale came striding out almost at a run.
He was in his early fifties, sturdily built, with a sun-darkened face. Seeing as he had come out with an apron tied around his waist, it seemed he had been working in the tank room until just before we arrived. The moment he saw us, he held out his hand, and the motion of his handshake was excessively proper.
He was nervous.
Understandably so. If one were to look for the cause of Castello Winery’s downfall, it would naturally be the Higgins father and son, but either way, one could not say Marcus bore no responsibility for the wine turning out the way it had. If he lost his job here, he must have known it would be practically impossible to find employment at another winery under good terms.
“President Brian, Mr. Warren. I’ve been waiting for the day you would come.”
“You’ve been working hard, Mr. Marcus.”
I said as I shook his hand. He bowed his head, then immediately pointed toward the vineyard.
“I’ll show you the vineyard first. I walked through it myself this morning and prepared.”
Warren walked alongside me, leaning on his cane. He murmured in a low voice.
“He’s very nervous.”
“Tell me about it.”
Marcus began his explanation as we entered the vineyard.
“Of the entire To Kalon acreage, Castello owns a total of forty-seven acres. It’s broadly divided into three blocks.”
He stopped walking and indicated the directions with his hand as he continued.
“Block A to the north is eighteen acres. The soil here is a well-draining gravel mix, so the tannins come out refined. Mr. Higgins mainly made the flagship line from this block. The vines are about twenty-two years old on average.”
He led us farther inside.
“Central Block B is fifteen acres. The soil has a high clay content, so its water retention is excellent. Even during droughts, the grapes in this block ripen the most steadily, making it an area that produces abundant fruit aromas.”
Warren stopped in front of one vine and examined its branches. Marcus did not miss his gaze.
“That vine is thirty-one years old. It’s the vine I cherish most in Block B. Last year, the internode spacing became a little shorter, so I was worried the root pressure might have increased, but the new shoots came up well this spring. I think it’s thanks to more meticulous vine training last winter.”
Warren raised his eyebrows slightly. The fact that Marcus understood the age and training history of the vines on an individual basis seemed to have made an uncommon impression on him.
Marcus continued.
“Southern Block C is fourteen acres. What’s unusual about this area, even within To Kalon, is that if you dig down about one and a half meters, you find an ancient river deposit layer. It’s a layer of gravel and sand piled in strata, and while drainage is extremely fast, once the roots reach that depth, they absorb the coolness of this deposit layer. That’s why the grapes in this block maintain their acidity the best, even in the height of summer.”
At those words, I stopped walking.
“Wait. What did you just say?”
“The ancient river deposit layer? A fast-draining gravel and sand layer deep underground...”
“No, the part about the coolness beneath it.”
Marcus, wondering what I meant, blinked for a moment before continuing.
“Ah, yes. It’s especially pronounced at the southern end of Block C. Even when the surface temperature exceeds thirty-five degrees at midday in summer, the leaves of the vines in that block don’t dry out. I believe it’s because the roots run along that cool layer. It’s something I’ve felt over the fifteen years I’ve worked here, but the acidity of the grapes in this area is distinctly different, so President Higgins always included grapes from this block in the blend. He said they anchored the overall freshness, and I agree with that assessment as well.”
I stared for a moment in the direction of Block C.
“Do you have data on the exact depth of that deposit layer?”
“We do. Former President Joseph Higgins conducted soil core sampling several years ago, and the data is in the office. There are also stratigraphic cross-sections.”
“Show me later.”
“Of course.”
Marcus answered briefly, yet a hint of relief passed through his eyes. It must have been the moment when the knowledge he had accumulated over fifteen years was being received as meaningful.
Warren came up beside me and said quietly.
“Did something occur to you?”
Tilting my head, I listened while bending down and scooping up soil from beneath a grapevine. It was gravelly soil mixed with the clay characteristic of the Napa flats. I placed it on my palm and smelled it. Along with the mineral scent unique to soil, a faint aroma of organic matter rose from it. And somewhere beneath that was the smell of living things.
It resembled the distinctive scent produced by the mycorrhizal fungi and microorganisms I had planted every night when redesigning the vineyard at Redwood, as they formed symbiosis with the roots. But To Kalon’s was different. It had not been artificially created, but had accumulated naturally over decades. It was deeper and more complex.
I set the soil back down and gently cupped a cluster of grapes in my hand. The grapes were not yet fully ripe. When I applied a little pressure with my fingers, the skin burst and juice seeped out. The moment I smelled that juice, something caught in my mind.
The fruit aroma was indeed intense. But it felt blocked somehow. That deep and complex scent rising from the soil should have been present inside the grapes as well, yet I could not sense it in the juice. It was as though something abundant lay behind a thick curtain, but the curtain had not been opened.
“These grapes haven’t fully opened.”
The words slipped out before I realized it.
“What does that mean? They haven’t fully opened?”
Warren turned his head sharply and asked. I furrowed my brow.
“It’s...”
I looked at my juice-stained fingers and thought for a moment. I had sensed that deep, complex aroma in the soil, so why was it absent from the grape juice? The gap between what the land held and what the grapes expressed. I knew where that gap came from.
“Let’s go inside. There’s something we need to discuss.”
The tank room Marcus led us into was cool. He drew a sample of the 2009 vintage wine from a barrel and poured it into a glass. The deep ruby liquid slowly settled in the glass. I lifted the glass to my nose, took in the aroma, and drank a sip.
The fruit aroma was abundant, and the tannin structure was firm. Though it was a young wine, there was no doubt it was a good wine. But the deep, complex scent I had smelled earlier from the vineyard soil was not here.
“The 2009 vintage was a year with favorable climate conditions even for Napa, so tannin ripening was especially good.”
At Marcus’s explanation, which carried a note of pride, Warren asked.
“What do you think?”
“It’s good. But... something feels lacking.”
“Lacking? In what way?”
I set down the glass and said.
“It feels like not even half of the aroma this vineyard can give is coming through.”
As head winemaker, Marcus’s expression stiffened. I spoke to him.
“I’m sorry if that sounded offensive, but I don’t think what I’m pointing out is a problem with the winemaking method. When I picked up the soil in the vineyard earlier, the scent I smelled was a complex one produced by a microbial ecosystem accumulated over decades. I’m certain of that... but I can’t sense it in the grape juice. There’s an enormous gap between what the land holds and what the grapes are actually releasing.”
“Why do you think that gap exists?”
Warren asked, arms crossed, and I took a moment to organize my thoughts. I needed to decide where to begin.
“Most of the aromas grapes produce don’t come directly from the grapes themselves. Bound aroma compounds locked inside the grapes are released by specific enzymes during fermentation, and only then do they become aromas. In other words, grapes don’t directly emit aromas; rather, they contain the materials that can become aromas.”
Marcus, who had been listening, tilted his head.
“I’ve heard of the concept of precursors, but... I know research on thiol precursors in Sauvignon Blanc is underway, but isn’t Cabernet an entirely different matter?”
“That’s right. There are still no cases of systematic research on Cabernet Sauvignon precursors.”
Warren cut in again.
“I also know that the University of Bordeaux is studying Sauvignon Blanc thiol precursors. Did you see a paper there?”
“I went to Bordeaux before you came to our winery, Mr. Warren. At that time, I saw a paper on Sauvignon Blanc precursors from a University of Bordeaux research team, but there were no cases where it had been applied to Cabernet. But today, while smelling the vineyard soil, I became certain. The microbial ecosystem built up in To Kalon’s soil must be accumulating inside these grapes in the form of precursors.”
“How much do you think there is?”
“When I squeezed the juice earlier, I felt as though the aroma was blocked. Like there was something more behind the fruit aroma, but it wasn’t opening. I think the original form of that complex scent I sensed in the vineyard soil is locked inside the grapes as precursors. This wine lot hasn’t properly opened that up.”
After hearing my explanation, Warren fell into thought. This time, Marcus asked.
“And how can that be opened?”
“Depending on which enzymes are used, how the fermentation temperature curve is designed, and when the enzymes are introduced, the degree to which the precursors are released changes completely. Until now, winemakers have adjusted fermentation conditions based on experience and instinct, but no one has reverse-engineered the process with these precursors in mind.”
Warren, who had been lost in thought, asked.
“So you’re saying you’ll try that? You’ll first identify the precursor profile of To Kalon Cabernet, then reverse-engineer fermentation conditions to match it?”
“That’s right.”
At a statement that could even be called absurd, the two men gaped. They had no choice. With the technology of 2010, it was impossible to fully identify a precursor profile. But I already knew. In my head was the data from before my regression, when I had analyzed hundreds of Cabernet precursors in the laboratory over several years. Even the types and concentrations of precursors that To Kalon’s unique soil composition would create.
Of course, I did not say that out loud.
“I think if we analyze the microbial composition of the vineyard soil, we’ll get a rough direction. And this is something we’ll complete by adjusting it little by little with each harvest, so... I don’t expect it to be perfect in the first vintage.”
Warren listened, then looked at me for a moment.
“Well, now... If anyone else had said that, I probably would’ve shouted at them not to talk nonsense. But when the Master says something like that, I find myself with nothing to say. Then what will you do with this wine lot?”
“As you said, sir, we’ll blend part of it into Astra Vale, and sell the rest through Redwood Holdings Asia under the name To Kalon Cabernet Sauvignon 2009. We won’t attach the Castello name. The fact that it’s To Kalon wine already has value in itself.”
Marcus seemed about to say something, then closed his mouth. It must have been complicated for him, knowing that the wine the Higgins father and son had made over fifteen years would be sold without the Castello name. But he nodded.
“Understood.”
Leaving Warren and Marcus behind, I went back out to the vineyard and returned to the spot where I had stopped earlier. It was an area where thirty-year-old vines stood in rows. I stood before them without saying a word for a while.
A design began to unfold in my mind. The types of precursors held within To Kalon Cabernet. The aromatic materials that this soil’s microbial ecosystem had accumulated within the grapes over decades. The enzyme conditions needed to open them to the fullest. The fermentation temperature curve, the timing of yeast inoculation. The maceration period.
And the aroma and flavor map of the wine that would be created when all those conditions were calculated in reverse.
At Redwood, I had designed the land for the finest wine. I had built up strata, planted microorganisms, and designed the paths along which roots would descend. That had been a design for growing good grapes.
What I intended to do at Castello was a design of another stage. Good grapes already existed here. Grapes that To Kalon had created over decades existed here. This was a design to draw out what lay locked inside those grapes. A design to go beyond good grapes and capture even what those grapes were hiding within the wine.
Until now, no one had ever made Cabernet Sauvignon in this way.
I lightly touched a grape leaf with my finger. The leaf trembled slightly. The May sunlight slipped through the leaves and made mottled patterns on the ground.
“Let’s begin this year.”
There were still more than four months left until harvest. During that time, I had to identify as much as possible of this year’s grape precursor profile and complete the fermentation design. I did not expect it to be perfect in the first vintage, but I had to begin.