“Where are you talking about?”
Daniel cut in at Warren’s question.
“Do you mean the wine research institute under the University of Bordeaux, the Institut des Sciences de la Vigne et du Vin—ISVV?”
As expected of someone who had been here for a long time, Daniel immediately gave the correct answer. The ISVV was in Bordeaux, one of the world’s foremost authorities in the field of enology, and it was indeed where wineries obtained strains, so it was only natural that he would think of it.
“That’s right. They should have suitable strains there.”
But Warren tilted his head.
“Wouldn’t they refuse to hand them over so easily? Especially if they know who we are.”
His concern was entirely valid. The Bordeaux wine industry was traditionally extremely closed off to outsiders. In particular, Belle Époque, where American capital had come in, pulled out Merlot, and planted white varieties, was a place where an INAO inspector had personally shown up and even threatened to strip its AOC status. There was no way the Bordeaux wine community looked kindly on Belle Époque.
One might wonder what the Bordeaux wine community’s dislike of Belle Époque had to do with a university research institute, but that was not the case. Though ISVV was under the University of Bordeaux, in practice it served as the brain of the entire Bordeaux wine industry. Owners of Bordeaux first-growth châteaux sat on its board of directors and advisory committee, and a significant portion of its research funding came from donations by Bordeaux wineries.
In other words, it was a place where the influence of Bordeaux’s vested interests was strong.
What were the chances that a place like that would simply hand over strains to an outside winery—especially to Americans who had pulled out Merlot?
“Why don’t we go and try first? Who knows? They might give them to us more easily than expected.”
At my words, everyone accepted it with a shrug. There was no loss in at least asking.
At that moment, Katerina, who had been listening from the side, cautiously cut in.
“...Chairman Pierre Lefebvre is there. He used to come to the estate from time to time when I was young, so I’ll go in person and ask him.”
“You, Ms. Katerina?”
“Yes. There’ll be a difference in weight between Mr. Daniel sending an email and me going in person. If I go as a shareholder of the estate, they won’t be able to refuse too carelessly either.”
If she was saying she would do something for Belle Époque, I had every reason to welcome it and none to refuse.
“In that case, that would be good. Please ask him, Ms. Katerina.”
Katerina nodded, picked up her phone, and headed to the reception room. She was going to make an appointment. I stood in front of the whiteboard again and began organizing our self-resolution plan. If ISVV didn’t work out, we would have to do it on our own in the end.
At ten o’clock the next morning, two press technicians arrived as promised. They had brought the missing parts and went into the final stage of installation. The work was expected to take about three hours.
Meanwhile, Katerina appeared again.
“I’m scheduled to meet the chairman at ISVV headquarters at two this afternoon. I’ll go and just gauge the atmosphere for now.”
“Are you going alone, Ms. Katerina?”
“Yes. If I make it too formal from the start, they’ll feel burdened as well. I’ll begin with it as a meeting based on our acquaintance.”
She looked quite confident, and somehow that made her seem reliable to me too. I found myself hoping she would handle this matter properly and come back.
However...
“Haa...”
When Katerina returned to the estate around four in the afternoon, her expression was not good. Letting go of the thread of hope I had held onto, I still asked with a smile at the corners of my mouth.
“How did it go?”
She spoke in a subdued voice.
“...I met him and asked him in person. At first, he said Belle Époque was a place that broke Bordeaux tradition, so it would be difficult to cooperate. But when I told him I wasn’t asking as my father’s friend, but as a business cooperation, the chairman eventually presented conditions.”
Then Katerina took a note from her bag. It seemed ISVV’s conditions were written on it.
I took the note and read it.
[Conditions for ISVV Strain Distribution]
1. Sharing of all data throughout the experimental vinification process (fog nozzle settings, blower operation, soil treatment methods, timing of strain spraying, etc.)
2. Presentation of the results at an ISVV conference after experimental vinification
3. Joint rights to the paper (first author: ISVV side, second author: Belle Époque)
4. Recognition of ISVV’s academic advisory authority for the next five years
As I stared at the note with an incredulous expression, Warren also frowned.
“Oh, dear...”
“How is this cooperation? They’re just taking everything that’s ours.”
“Exactly. And on top of that, ISVV being the first author of the paper means...”
I picked up a pen and pointed to item one on the note.
“This is the biggest problem. Sharing all the data. If things like the nozzle particle size, blower wind-grid pattern, and soil nitrogen-blocking timing—know-how we’ve refined for nearly a year—fall into their hands, other Bordeaux wineries will copy it. That would be the moment our system loses its differentiation.”
Daniel sighed.
“Then what should we do? If we don’t accept, we won’t get the strains.” “Then let’s not accept.”
I handed the note back to Daniel and said,
“We can’t accept these conditions. It means handing over our assets wholesale. Ms. Katerina, please inform ISVV that negotiations have broken down. We’ll go with our own solution.”
Katerina, whose expression had been dark the whole time, looked slightly surprised.
“...You really won’t accept? Without the strains, the experimental vinification...”
“We just need to revive our own strain and even create a backup through additional culturing. If we recover even eighty percent activity, that’s enough. It’s far more beneficial to proceed our way with an eighty-percent strain than to hand over our know-how wholesale just to receive ISVV’s ninety-five-percent strain.”
Warren nodded in satisfaction.
“The Master’s judgment is correct. Protecting what’s ours comes first.”
Katerina, who had expected a bad outcome from the moment she brought the message, accepted it silently.
“Understood. I’ll inform them. Honestly, when I heard their conditions, I also thought this was a bit much...”
I immediately conveyed the self-resolution plan to Daniel.
If we added fresh grape juice to the nutrient medium for the existing strain, stimulated it at twelve degrees for thirty-six hours, and then stabilized it again at four degrees, we should be able to recover its activity to eighty percent. And if we separated a portion of that strain and cultured it further in another incubator, we could secure a backup at one hundred percent activity.
Daniel, who had been diligently taking notes, asked,
“Then when should we try running the blowers?”
“Let’s go now. The press installation is almost finished too.”
We immediately got into a pickup truck within the château and headed to the Sémillon test plot. In the middle of the five hectares stood six enormous Orchard-Rite wind machines in a row. They had never once been operated, merely taking up space.
Standing beside the massive blowers, Daniel said with an embarrassed expression,
“We haven’t been able to run them yet because the neighboring farms would complain about the noise.”
“We can run them now. It’s the perfect timing for a test operation.”
Daniel nodded, went to the console, and flipped the six switches one after another. With a heavy vibrating hum, all six blowers began turning at once.
A powerful wind swept across the five-hectare test area. The Sémillon leaves all leaned to one side in unison, then rose back up, repeating the motion. Beside me, Katerina watched the sight with her mouth slightly open.
“You’re going to make artificial noble rot wine with this, right?”
“That’s right. Instead of natural fog and natural wind, we’re going to artificially create the environment and make noble rot wine.”
I also activated the nozzle system. Fine mist began to spray from one end of the five hectares. The particles were twenty microns. As soon as the mist rose, the wind from the blowers caught it and slowly pushed it toward the other side.
Ten minutes later, the mist had vanished cleanly, and the five-hectare test area became calm again.
The wind grid was forming normally.
Daniel looked around the test area with an impressed expression.
“It works perfectly. When I only heard the theory, it felt overwhelming, but seeing it in person is completely different.”
The sight made Warren admire it as well.
“Amazing. Master, if another winery saw this, they would undoubtedly be shocked and rush in, putting everything else aside.”
In truth, since I had only conceived this theoretically myself, I still could not completely relax.
“Let’s see the results. If it works, that’s good. If it doesn’t... we can think of it as gaining experience.”
Thus, the situation was settled. A slightly uncomfortable issue had arisen, but I judged that it would not affect the overall trend. In the end, I thought everything would be resolved with time.
At the same time, in the conference room on the fifth floor of ISVV headquarters in downtown Bordeaux.
Pierre Lefebvre had just finished organizing his documents and was about to return to his office. But before he could open his office door, a young doctor hurried over and blocked his way.
“Chairman, I have something to say to you for a moment.”
“What is it, Mathieu?”
The young doctor was Mathieu Bernard. He was the deputy head of the Botrytis cinerea research team and a scholar in his mid-thirties who was among the most active in publishing papers within ISVV. The documents in his hand were the very strain distribution conditions that had been delivered to Katerina.
“Chairman, aren’t these conditions far too unreasonable? This is practically a refusal, isn’t it?”
“...I intended it as a refusal, you see?”
His gaze asked why Mathieu was questioning something so obvious. Behind the flustered Mathieu, another colleague and doctor entered. It was Claude Moreau, a yeast expert in his early forties from the same research team.
Having already anticipated what they would say, Pierre frowned.
“Sit down first.”
Pierre sat down and calmed the atmosphere before speaking.
“Mathieu, Claude. I understand your position. But surely you don’t think I rejected the other side’s proposal for no reason?”
“I don’t think that.”
Mathieu, who had no intention of disrespecting the chairman, shook his head. Pierre smiled in satisfaction at that and said,
“Belle Époque is a place that directly denies Bordeaux tradition. If we simply hand strains over to an estate that pulled out Merlot and planted white varieties, how will the entire Bordeaux wine industry view it? It will look as if we are supporting that American capital’s deviation. The board will not permit that.”
But Mathieu immediately pushed back.
“Chairman, if we follow that logic, we can never cooperate with any new attempt for the rest of our lives. That kind of closed-mindedness is exactly what prevents enology from becoming a true academic discipline.”
“Mathieu...”
“And Chairman, let me ask you just one thing. Do you think they will give up on the experimental vinification if we don’t help them?”
As Pierre fell briefly silent, at a loss for words, Mathieu protested even more fiercely.
“They will recover their own strain and attempt it. From what I heard, it wasn’t as if they started with nothing; they requested help because a problem occurred with a strain they already had... In that case, it’s only a matter of timing. If they want, even if it takes time, they will bring a strain over from America. Then what do you think will happen?”
“......”
“There is a high chance they will succeed. Who is Brian Choi? He’s someone who has already received the world’s highest evaluation with Napa Cabernet, and even in Bordeaux, he beat the five first-growth châteaux and got into the Nobel banquet. If he has been refining that system for nearly a year, then nine times out of ten, it will work.”
Claude, standing beside him, also added,
“Mathieu is right, Chairman. And what’s even more important is... what happens if they succeed without our help? We will no longer be able to academically handle the most important achievement in Botrytis cinerea research: artificial noble rot control. They will have no reason to cooperate with us.”
“Then who will cover that case? INRAE in Burgundy? Or the enology department at Davis in California? While we sit idle beside Belle Époque, another research institution will take that place. That would be an academic loss for ISVV.”
Pierre, who had been firmly opposed, subtly changed expression. If nothing else, the words academic loss grated on his ears.
“You have a point. But how do we protect our side’s interests? If they receive our help, make only their own wine, and take the lead in the market, what do we gain?”
Mathieu answered as if he had prepared in advance.
“What if we make the conditions more realistic? Instead of sharing all the data, we ask for the right to inspect the system ourselves and the right to present it at a conference... Provided, of course, that it’s after they release it to the market and a certain amount of time has passed. And in exchange for providing the strain, we negotiate to put a future cooperative relationship in writing. At that level, it would be a picture that benefits both sides.”
“Hmm...”
If things went this way, they would be the ones having to bend and go in, and Pierre did not like that at all. But seeing the two young scholars so forcefully assert their views, he could not simply oppose them unconditionally, which left him in no small amount of distress.
“In that case, you step forward.”
“Pardon?”
“If our official position is withdrawn, the owners of the other châteaux in Bordeaux won’t just sit still. But if you, a young scholar, stepped forward and acted in spite of the official opposition... Well, who knows.”
“Then... Chairman, you’re saying you’ll officially know nothing about this matter?”
“That’s right.”
At that, Mathieu and Claude’s expressions turned strange.
Bordeaux University Wine Research Institute (3)
The next morning, Belle Époque’s fermentation room.
Daniel was examining a petri dish in front of the incubator. It had been eighteen hours since the strain recovery work had begun the night before, so the effects of adding fresh grape juice to the nutrient medium and stimulating it at twelve degrees were slowly beginning to show.
“Brian! Can you take a look at this?”
When I approached, Daniel held up the petri dish. The mycelium, which had been faint until yesterday, had become more distinct.
“I think it’s recovered to about sixty-five percent activity. In thirty-six hours, it might reach eighty percent.”
“That’s good. What about the additional culture?”
“I separated it and moved it to another incubator. That one’s being grown in a stable four-degree environment from the very start, so it should reach one hundred percent activity.”
“Perfect.”
Beside us, Warren nodded in satisfaction.
“Now that it’s come to this, not asking for outside help turned out to be the better choice. This worked out well.”
He was right. Even if we could not receive ISVV’s ninety-five-percent strain, if our own strain recovered to eighty percent and we secured a one-hundred-percent backup through additional cultivation, it would be more than enough for the test brewing. The quantity might be a little lacking, but the quality would be guaranteed.
The press had also been installed yesterday evening, and the twelve-hour compression simulation had operated normally. The blower and nozzle system had also succeeded in a test run yesterday, so everything was falling into place as a self-sufficient line.
Just then, the sound of a car came from the entrance road to the estate, and Daniel tilted his head.
“Who’s that? We don’t have anyone scheduled.”
Looking out the fermentation room window, I saw a small Peugeot slowly coming up the driveway.
The person who got out of the car was a man in his mid-thirties. He wore a neat shirt and jeans. In one hand, he carried a formal document bag, and in the other, a cooler bag.
Wondering who it was, I kept watching through the window. Guided by the staff, he came inside and bowed politely.
“Good morning. I’m Mathieu Bernard from ISVV. I apologize for coming without an appointment.”
Everyone was momentarily stunned. It was unexpected for someone from ISVV to come in person the day after they had notified us that the negotiations had broken down. Moreover, the fact that he had brought a formal document bag meant he clearly had some intention.
“...What brings you here?”
When I asked, Mathieu took a breath and answered.
“There was further internal review at ISVV until early this morning. Opinions were raised that the first set of conditions conveyed to Miss Katerina was too excessive, and our research team has prepared a compromise proposal and brought it here. The strains have also been processed through the official distribution procedure.”
Only then did I feel I understood why this scholar named Mathieu had come all the way here. Seeing that he had finished an additional review late into the night and brought both the research team’s compromise proposal and the official distribution documents, it was clear he had rushed over after quite a fierce preparation.
There must have been divided opinions within ISVV. The conservatives who wanted to maintain the first refusal, and the research team who wanted to proceed with a compromise. And I was rather curious what decision Chairman Pierre Lefebvre had made between them.
Was he embarrassed about having refused and merely sent a junior researcher? Or was he planning to officially deny this deal altogether? Whatever the case, there was no harm in hearing what the other side had to say.
“...I’d like to hear the detailed conditions.”
We moved to the meeting table on one side of the fermentation room. Mathieu carefully placed the cooler bag on the table and opened it.
Inside were two petri dishes. Their labels read BC-101 and BC-207. They were standard Botrytis cinerea strains from the ISVV collection, verified to have an activity level of over ninety-five percent.
Daniel’s eyes widened.
“So these can be used right away?”
“Yes. I’ve brought the official distribution documents as well.”
Mathieu took the documents out of his bag. They were thick, and bore ISVV’s official seal. They had clearly been processed through the proper procedures.
Watching from the side, Warren cut in briefly.
“Mr. Bernard, after you see it, how do you intend to report back to ISVV?”
“As a scholar, I do have a certain obligation to share information with my academic colleagues. However, I absolutely will not disclose the core know-how.”
He gathered his breath, then added one more sentence.
“To be honest, the burden is considerable. Since I’m the one who prepared and brought this compromise, the results need to be good for our research team’s position to be protected as well. That is why we need to produce results quickly.”
I did not know the exact circumstances, but the pressure showed on his face. I could feel the weight of someone who had moved with his scholarly career on the line.
“What are the terms of this compromise?”
As if he had been waiting for that, Mathieu unfolded his notes. It was the compromise proposal ISVV had finalized in the early hours of yesterday morning.
“First is the right to inspect the system. Instead of sharing all data, we have amended it so that I alone will receive the right to inspect the core system directly. Second, regarding the right to present at an academic conference, if the test brewing results are successful, you would cooperate so that ISVV can present them at a conference. Third, we would put a future cooperative relationship with ISVV in writing.”
“......”
When I closed my mouth, he grew even more tense and swallowed before speaking.
“Compared to the first conditions, the sharing of all data and the right to be first author on the paper have been removed, and the academic advisory authority has also been weakened from five years to merely putting cooperation in writing.”
It was certainly much more reasonable than the first conditions. If the first set of conditions had looked like they would take everything Redwood had, this compromise had been reduced to academic prestige and the right to inspect.
Apparently finding it rather impressive, Daniel gave a short nod beside me.
“This much seems acceptable, doesn’t it? The data sharing is gone.”
Even Warren, who had been negative, examined the note with a subtle expression.
“Master, it is certainly a better picture than the first proposal.”
However, I stared quietly at the note for a moment, then picked up a pen and pointed something out once more.
“...The right to inspect is the key.”
“Pardon?”
When Mathieu flinched and asked back briefly, I slowly pointed to the first item on the note and said,
“Mr. Mathieu, the word ‘inspection’ may sound light, but it is actually the heaviest card. For you to see our system directly means you will be able to analyze, with a scholar’s eye, all the most important core details of noble rot wine cultivation.”
“...That may be true, but...”
“Even if you don’t take photographs or notes, it will all go into your head. And considering that you’re a scholar who has studied this strain for five years, that’s even more true. With just one look, you would be able to grasp all the core details.”
Unable to deny it, he closed his mouth. There was a world of difference between a scholar seeing a system directly and receiving a report. It was one step weaker than sharing all the data, but in the end, the essence was similar.
I continued.
“And the same goes for the right to present at a conference. If ISVV presents at a conference, all the Bordeaux oenologists and winery personnel in attendance will come to know the outline of our system. Even if Mr. Bernard does not disclose the core know-how, the smart winemakers of Bordeaux will be able to imitate it based on the outline alone. There may be a time lag, but in the end, they will catch up.”
As my words grew increasingly negative, Mathieu’s expression hardened. He protested briefly.
“But you can negotiate the timing of the conference presentation. If you delay it until one or two years after the market release, Belle Époque can take the market first in the meantime.”
“I have considered that as well. However...”
I tilted my head slightly and continued.
“Artificial noble rot wine is not something you make once and then finish. A vintage will come out every year, and every year, we will refine the system further. If other wineries in Bordeaux learn our outline and begin to imitate us, we will then have to move on to the next stage above that. An endless chase will begin.”
“......”
“When you think about it, that’s how it is. Is there any reason for us to deliberately create that chase? Especially when test brewing is possible with our own strain.”
The last sentence seemed to fall outside his expectations. Judging by the look of great surprise on his face, at least.
“...It seems your own strain is recovering sufficiently.”
“Yes. It had recovered to sixty-five percent by yesterday, and in thirty-six hours, it will reach eighty percent. Additional cultivation is also in progress, so we’ll secure a backup at one hundred percent activity as well.”
“To be honest, Mr. Bernard, the BC-101 and BC-207 you brought are only slightly higher in activity than our own strain. Ninety-five percent versus eighty percent. Exposing information about our system for that fifteen-percent difference is an irrational trade.”
Mathieu was not someone who would fail to understand what my repeated negative arguments meant. Even so, he did not give up and pressed once more.
“Mr. Brian, a ninety-five-percent strain can make a major difference in the stability of the brewing results. If you start with an eighty-percent strain, the spraying efficiency will drop, so you’ll have to increase the amount sprayed, and that process will introduce more variables. Especially for the first test brewing, securing stability would be...”
“Mr. Bernard.”
I gently cut him off. Then I answered slowly.
“I know that too. Because I know it, I made the request to ISVV on the off chance. But the conditions ISVV wants are not something we can bear, so we are choosing to give it up. Think about it. Is there any guarantee that a ninety-five-percent strain will definitely succeed in producing noble rot wine?”
“That is...”
“The same is true for an eighty-percent strain. In the end, what matters is success or failure, and if we fail with the ninety-five-percent strain, we will lose everything. Even if we fail, it is only five hectares, and the investment that went in is something we can fully endure.”
“And to add one more thing, the first test brewing does not need to be perfect. We can start with a strain at eighty-percent activity, look at the results, and then further develop our own strain for the next vintage. I believe that is the way to move forward while protecting our assets.”
Listening beside us, Warren slowly nodded.
“The Master’s judgment is correct. The purpose of the first vintage is to verify the system, not to produce perfect results. Eighty percent is enough.”
With the conclusion reached, Mathieu, who had come confidently to persuade us, fell silent for a long while. At last, he slowly folded the note and put it back in his bag. Then he looked at the cooler bag and let out a short sigh.
“...So you really are refusing.”
“Mr. Bernard, I’m sorry. I know you worked until dawn to prepare this compromise, and I can feel the burden you took on. But from our position, no matter what compromise came, those two cards—inspection and conference presentation—would be difficult to accept. In the end, they would lead to the exposure of our system.”
At the failed negotiation, Mathieu looked at me for a long while. Various emotions were mixed in his eyes. The regret of a scholar, the sense of defeat of a negotiator, and yet at the same time, a faint sign of acknowledgment.
He slowly rose.
“...I understand. I apologize for making an unreasonable request.”
“Not at all. We sincerely appreciate your efforts to prepare a compromise within ISVV. It’s just that, this time, it was difficult for us to accept from our position.”
Mathieu gave a short nod. He picked up the cooler bag again. After all the twists and turns, the two petri dishes he had brought out would be returning to ISVV headquarters just as they were.
Before getting into the car, Mathieu asked,
“May I ask just one favor?”
“Go ahead.”
“Once the trial brewing results come out... whether it’s a success or a failure, would you be able to let me know? As a scholar, I’m genuinely curious. Even if I can’t present it at a conference, I’d like to know personally.”
I could find no falsehood in his eyes. It seemed to be the genuine curiosity of a true scholar.
“...All right. I’ll let you know when the results come out. Privately, though.”
“Thank you.”
With a bitter expression, he bowed his head briefly, got into his car, and slowly drove away from Belle Époque.
After the car disappeared from view, Warren added a short remark.
“You did well. The 95% strain is attractive, but once you hand over the right to tour the place even once, you end up handing over everything. The right answer is to protect what’s ours ourselves.”
“Yes. If we’d accepted it as a compromise, it would have ultimately exposed our system.”
Katerina, standing beside us, also added a brief comment.
“To be honest, I wondered for a moment if it might be okay to accept. They conceded a lot compared to the first condition. But after hearing Mr. Brian’s explanation, I realized that would have exposed everything too.”
“That’s right. A scholar seeing something firsthand is on a completely different level from receiving a report. Once they see it, it all goes into their head.”
That evening, I held a final inspection meeting with Daniel in the brewing room.
After organizing the remaining schedule, we expected our own strain to recover to 80% in 36 hours, and the additional culture to reach 100% activity in a week. Both tracks would be ready for use by the start of spraying in early August.
The brewing yeast—the cryo yeast—was scheduled to arrive next week, and the Allier oak barrels next month. As for securing twenty laborers for the segmented harvest, Daniel had personally requested them through the local labor market in Bordeaux, so everything was being arranged through our own line.
Daniel organized his notes and spoke briefly.
“At this rate, we’ve more or less done everything we can on our end. Even without the ISVW strain, this should be more than possible.”
“Yes. We just need to focus on stabilizing the strain until the spraying begins in early August.”
“When are you heading back, Brian?”
“I’m thinking the day after tomorrow. I need to finish observing the test run of the press and monitor the early stabilization of the strain for a few more days.”
“You’ll come back for the harvest, right?”
“Of course. I have to come in late September for the first harvest and see the start of the spraying myself.”
“Ah... I wonder how it’ll turn out... My heart’s already pounding. The artificial noble rot wine, and then the Sauvignon Blanc and Sémillon that’ll be harvested for the first trial...”
Just like the excited Daniel, my own heart was pounding as well. What kind of results would Sauvignon Blanc and Sémillon grown in the land of Merlot show us...?
Bordeaux University Wine Research Institute (4)
Two days passed. During those two days, I actually had a bit of leisure. Daniel handled the practical work himself, and Warren watched over things beside him, so there wasn’t much for me to do.
Until now, whenever I came to Bordeaux, I had always worked as if I were being chased by something, then hurried back to Napa Valley. This time, however, I had some extra time, so I slowly toured the Saint-Émilion region and visited good restaurants to experience the pairings. It was definitely a valuable experience.
After enjoying that bit of leisure, I went into the final inspection with Daniel. Our own strain had already recovered to 80% activity. By stimulating it with fresh grape juice in the nutrient medium and stabilizing it at 4 degrees, it had produced results in just 36 hours. Compared to when it had first arrived, the mycelium on the Petri dish had settled in clearly.
“...Perfect.”
“Brian, it really recovered well. It’s almost amazing that something that had initially dropped to 50% climbed back up to 80%.”
“What about the additional culture?”
“It’s on its fifth day, and activity has surpassed 90%. I think it’ll reach 100% in a week.”
He pointed to another incubator. In it, the strain separated from our own culture and transferred over was growing stably in its new environment. With the temperature maintained at a steady 4 degrees and the nutrient medium supplied properly, it was the most comfortable condition for the strain.
“Good. At this level, we’ll have more than enough to begin spraying in early August.”
“Exactly. If we’d accepted the 95% strain, our system would’ve had to follow the strain. But if we start at 80%, the strain will be adapting to our system. Maybe this is actually the path that lets us move at our own pace.”
His words were accurate. Brewing was ultimately an ensemble between the system and the strain, and if the 95% strain was too strong, the system would have to bear the burden of supporting it. With an 80% strain, it would naturally fit into the system we had spent nearly a year refining.
The press test run also completed its twelve-hour compression simulation without issue. After the technician from the Modena company came by, the missing parts had been properly installed, and the hydraulic system connection and trial operation were all complete.
As for the blowers, we had already confirmed they worked well, so there was no need to run them any further.
“Daniel, once spraying starts in early August, please report to me every day. Email or phone, either is fine.”
“Of course. And you’ll come back for the first harvest in late September, right?”
“Yes. It would be good to see the start of the spraying in person too, but... with the wedding preparations, that might be difficult. I’ll monitor remotely while receiving the results.”
“Got it. If the results aren’t good, I’ll call you right away.”
The self-reproach and burden that had weighed on Daniel’s face until yesterday had disappeared, and he had returned to the confident winemaker he had always been.
As I was loading my luggage into the car with Warren to leave for Napa Valley soon, Katerina came out of the brewing room. She spoke while slightly averting her gaze.
“My father and I were both very worried. After all, you pulled out Merlot and planted vines that would become white wine.”
“That’s understandable.”
“And on top of that, noble rot wine...”
“......”
“I truly hope the results are good. My father’s reputation is also at stake here.”
I knew she had put in quite a bit of effort for this noble rot wine, but the fact that she prioritized Victor’s reputation over Belle Époque’s future made my expression harden.
“I respect your father, Mr. Victor. And I’m always grateful that he entrusted Belle Époque to me. However, I’m not making wine for Mr. Victor’s reputation. I’m making it for the future of Belle Époque itself. I hope you don’t confuse those two points.”
“That’s...!”
“Are you saying we should have quietly made wine with Merlot like the other estates? Well, perhaps we could have. But I made a different choice, and if so, you should respect that choice.”
Perhaps dissatisfied at being pressed, her brow furrowed.
“I did respect it.”
“If you did, then I’d appreciate it if you only supported us until the wine comes out. Offering critical opinions based on unclear grounds doesn’t seem helpful to either side.”
I didn’t think there was malice in what she said. If there had been malice, she wouldn’t have tried to help.
However, I thought it was necessary to speak a bit firmly in order to clearly show that her purpose and mine were different. If I let this pass amicably here, she would try to cross the line again in the future, not for Belle Époque’s interests, but for Victor’s.
“So, you’re telling me to keep my mouth completely shut?”
“I’m saying criticism requires clear grounds. Remarks like ‘I’m just anxious’ or ‘what if it doesn’t work out?’ aren’t particularly helpful and only increase anxiety on both sides.”
“...It sounds like you’re saying I’m picking a pointless fight right now, but we do hold a full 20% stake in Belle Époque, and we are concerned about the future of this estate. There’s nothing bad for us if the estate develops, so we’re only saying we should move even a little in a better direction...”
I cut her off.
“I know. But your groundless, emotional opinions don’t help me... or Belle Époque. Let’s be honest. I’m focusing everything on Belle Époque’s wine, while you are concerned with Mr. Victor’s reputation. Between the two of us, who do you think is more capable of making better wine?”
“...If I made you misunderstand me, I’m sorry. But I wasn’t only talking about my father’s reputation.”
A moment ago, she had brought up her father’s reputation, and now that she realized she had made a mistake, she was taking back what she had said.
It wasn’t that I couldn’t understand. She had probably boasted heavily about Belle Époque to the wealthy people around her, and it was obvious she thought she would be greatly humiliated if things didn’t go well. But that was Victor’s situation, nothing more.
“Please don’t transfer your own anxiety onto others. I’d appreciate it if you simply watched for now. If it doesn’t go well, it won’t be too late to criticize then. Well then, I don’t know when it will be, but I’ll see you next time.”
“Hah, all right.”
When we arrived at Bordeaux–Mérignac Airport, the chartered G550 was waiting on the runway.
As soon as Warren boarded the plane and sat down, he added a brief comment.
“We’ve crossed a major mountain this time. Master, you truly did well.”
“Thank you. It was only possible because you were there, sir.”
“What did I do? You did everything. Refusing ISVW was your judgment, and deciding to resolve it ourselves was yours too.”
“Still, I always feel at ease when I travel with you, sir.”
Warren seemed pleased by those words and smiled contentedly. The plane slowly began moving along the runway, and outside the window, the July scenery of Bordeaux gradually came into view.
Since a long flight awaited us, Warren lay down early on the private jet’s bed, but I stared out the window for a long while. My mind was complicated. The Bordeaux trial brewing had been settled for the moment, but Castello’s first vintage would soon begin in earnest, and there were only a little over five months left until the wedding.
Shaking the thoughts from my head, I took out my laptop and looked over Castello’s fermentation curve data again. Now that the Bordeaux matter was finished, it was time to move my mind over to Castello.
We arrived at Napa County Airport around morning. When the plane door opened, the hot July sunlight of California poured in. It wasn’t a heat wave, but it was hot enough to make it hard to look up at the sky.
As I exited the gate, Chloe was leaning against a pillar wall at the airport. Wearing a white shirt and denim shorts, she had let her hair fall naturally. In the few days I had been in Bordeaux, she seemed to have tanned a little more. Since she was immersed in farm work, it couldn’t be helped.
“You’re here?”
“Did you wait long?”
When I grinned, Chloe smiled brightly, came over, and hugged me. It was a familiar scent. After not seeing her for a few days, that familiarity struck me anew.
“Not really. Was it tough?”
“Tough? You must’ve had it harder.”
I skillfully loaded the luggage into the pickup truck, and Chloe drove. Normally, for someone like Warren or me, we would have had an employee waiting to take us to the winery, but going with Chloe had its own meaning, so I deliberately didn’t go that far.
“Are you tired?”
“A little?”
“Then just rest today. You don’t have to go to Castello today, do you?”
“Yeah, I should rest a bit today.”
Outside the car window, the ridgelines of Napa Valley stretched out familiarly. Chloe lightly tapped out a rhythm on the steering wheel with her fingers and continued speaking.
“Oh, and some things moved forward while you were gone.”
“What things?”
“We received three drafts for the wedding invitations. The designer brought them in person, but I put them on hold because I needed to look at them with you before deciding.”
“They’re already out?”
“Not already. They’re late. We only have five months left, and they said we need to send them quickly so overseas guests can book plane tickets. My mom couldn’t sleep for days because of it.”
“Ah...”
I felt sorry toward her. I should have been helping her, but I had left it all to her. Chloe, however, continued speaking as if it were nothing.
“And the dress fitting is the day after tomorrow...”
The wedding preparations that kept coming after that were complicated no matter how much I listened. So all I could do was nod and say I understood.
“Is there anything else?”
“Mm... We also have to decide where to go for our honeymoon.”
“Let’s decide tonight. Shouldn’t an hour be enough?”
“An hour? You’re going to decide our honeymoon in an hour?”
I flinched for a moment.
“...Is that something that takes that long?”
Chloe gave a short laugh, as if she found it absurd.
“Seriously, you refine wine brewing for over a year, but you’re going to decide our honeymoon in an hour?”
“Now that I think about it, you have a point.”
“Spend at least one day taking it seriously with me.”
“Okay.”
Only then did Chloe nod in satisfaction. Her profile, caught in the sunlight, glowed softly.
“And one more thing.”
“There’s more?”
“My mom keeps asking what a Korean pyebaek is. I guess she looked it up online a few days ago—how you bow, where to rent hanbok, things like that. She finally decided she should ask your mother directly.”
It was cute how she awkwardly pronounced a word like pyebaek. How had she even learned it?
“You really don’t have to go that far...”
“My mom wants to do it. I think it would be nice too. It’d be unique, and we’d have photos to keep.”
It had been years since I left Korea, and I had never thought much about preserving tradition, but if anything, Chloe’s family seemed more interested in it.
“Do it, then. My mom will like it.”
“Exactly. The two of them talked on the phone for over an hour yesterday.”
“Yesterday?”
“Yeah, while you were in Bordeaux. They spent ages working out the big picture for the wedding. The pyebaek will be a small gathering the day after the main ceremony, and...”
Even as she drove, she never stopped talking. At some point, I looked back and saw that Warren had fallen asleep. He had been sleeping the whole time on the plane too, but maybe the sound of her voice felt like a lullaby.
The next morning, Castello Winery.
Marcus greeted me in the winery. He was holding a report on the stage just before the completion of veraison, the period when the grapes change color.
“President Brian, veraison is almost complete. By the end of July, it should be one hundred percent done.”
“How’s the color?”
“Block C has already turned a deep purple, and the other blocks are over ninety percent along as well.”
Marcus handed me the results from the third GC-MS sampling. The comparative data had been organized against the precursor accumulation curves measured during the first and second rounds, and all three—C13-norisoprenoids, monoterpenes, and thiol precursors—were accumulating stably along the curve predicted in the first round.
“...The curve matches exactly.”
“Yes. I think we’ll be able to complete the final refinement of the fermentation curve by the end of August.”
Perhaps because things were progressing just as expected, Marcus’s expression was full of confidence. Of course, I was satisfied too.
To check the condition of the grapes, I went out to Block C myself. Beneath the hot late-July sun, the purple clusters hung heavily from the vines.
On average, twelve clusters per vine. Each cluster had a weight to it, as if nutrients were concentrated in every single bunch.
When I lightly pressed one berry with my fingertip, it had just the right gentle elasticity. About two months remained until the late-September harvest. If the sugar level rose further and the acidity settled into place in the meantime, I felt they could be completed as the core ingredient for the first vintage.
“Marcus, finish the final refinement of the fermentation curve by the end of August, and let’s inspect it together once more in early September.”
“Yes. As soon as the refinement is done at the end of August, I’ll report to you immediately.”
Beside me, Warren examined the grapes and smiled contentedly.
“Is it because this is the very heart of To Kalon? The aroma is different, the aroma...”
His expression as he flared his nostrils was filled with happiness.
“I’m looking forward to seeing what kind of aroma these grapes will have when they’re aged.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
As if stroking the face of a beloved woman, he touched the ripening grapes with the utmost care and affection. That must have been the heart of a farmer.
Bordeaux University Wine Research Institute (5)
The dawn after Brian and Warren left.
Daniel sat alone on a chair in one corner of the winery. It was still early, before sunrise, so the estate was quiet, and there was about an hour left before the staff came to work.
He stared at the whiteboard for a long time. The native strain recovery plan and additional culturing schedule Brian had written down before leaving yesterday were still there, and beside them were the results of the test run for the blowers, the completed inspection of the press, and the strain spraying schedule.
All of these were things he should have already organized himself, so he did not feel good about it.
“Whew...”
Daniel let out a short sigh. In truth, although it had been an intern who caused this situation, he knew full well that the responsibility ultimately lay with him.
The intern had submitted a report stating that Incubator A was set to 4°C, and he himself had even stamped his approval on it. But because of the inspection for the press installation, he had not gone all the way into the winery to check the incubator personally. The intern had written “4°C setting confirmed,” so he had simply assumed it was correct and moved on. But while the intern knew the manual, out in the actual field he had mistakenly set it not to 4°C but to 8°C, and had reported it under the mistaken belief that he had set it to 4°C.
Because he had failed to catch such a major problem, the strain’s activity had dropped to fifty percent in just five days.
He could deal with something like the press and blowers on his own, but if there was a problem with the strain, Brian’s help was absolutely necessary. After all, there was practically no one on the estate who had any deep knowledge of noble rot wine.
In the end, it had become a situation where the president himself had to take a chartered plane from California all the way to Bordeaux.
Daniel folded his hands on the desk. Those thick-knuckled hands had worked with wine for nearly thirty years. Hands that had started in Burgundy and risen to the position of associate chief at Domaine Leroy. And yet here in Bordeaux, before an artificial noble rot wine he had never once made before, his hands had not been able to do their job properly.
Slowly rising to his feet, he erased an empty section on one side of the whiteboard and began writing new items there.
1. Arrive at the winery every day at 5 a.m. Check the incubators personally.
2. Make one circuit of the test plot at the same time every day. Entire route across all five hectares.
3. Run the six blowers briefly once every day. Accumulate data on rotation speed + vibration patterns.
4. Check pressure on all twelve nozzles every day.
5. Read two papers related to Botrytis cinerea every day.
After writing everything down, he set down the pen. Then he opened his laptop and began composing an email. It was addressed to Clément, a former colleague from his days at Domaine Leroy. The contents asked for advice on yeast activity monitoring and techniques for controlling the microbial environment.
He pressed send.
A month passed from that day.
At five every morning, Daniel arrived at the winery and personally checked both incubators, and at six he drove his pickup truck to the test plot. After making one circuit of the five hectares along the same route, he collected five sample leaves from each of the nine sectors and returned to the winery, where he observed them under a microscope and recorded the data.
After meticulously checking the farm work, he read papers related to Botrytis cinerea at around nine in the evening. ISVV journals, Burgundy INRAE reports, and even UC Davis journals on yeast science... Over the course of a month, he read about sixty papers. Enough to fill an entire notebook.
Then a reply came from Clément. It advised that Burgundy-style yeast activity monitoring techniques could be applied to Botrytis cinerea as well, and he had even attached a monitoring protocol he had personally written. Daniel thanked him again and again.
As an additional gesture of thanks, he sent several bottles of wine stored at the estate and incorporated the materials Clément had sent into his own manual.
After managing the vineyard so fiercely, at last, on D-1, he sent Brian a message.
[Brian, I’ve completed the inspection of every system. The native strain is at 80%, and I’ve confirmed the additional cultured strain at 95%. The blowers, nozzles, and incubators have shown no problems at all during a month of daily inspections. Spraying will begin tomorrow at 4 a.m.]
A reply came about an hour later.
[Thank you for all your hard work. I’ve reviewed the data you sent over the past month. I’m looking forward to it. It will go well.]
As soon as he saw the message, his heart felt much lighter. Brian treated him warmly, but strictly speaking, he was still the president of Redwood. There had been a weight lodged in one corner of his heart, and because Brian was giving him this opportunity, Daniel once again felt the desire to do well.
At last, on the decisive day, he woke at three-thirty in the morning, changed into work clothes, arrived at the winery, and began the final inspection. Beside him was the intern employee, who had also come to work early.
Only after confirming that the two incubators, the pressure of all twelve nozzles, and the simulation of the six blowers were all normal did he arrive at the test plot. The dawn air of Bordeaux was cold.
“Thirteen degrees Celsius... Nice and cool.”
The smell of clay soil felt stronger than usual. Standing before the work console, he slowly flipped up the main switch. Fine mist rose from all twelve nozzles at once. Because the particles were twenty microns in size, the fog mixed with fungal spores began spreading slowly through the darkness of dawn.
It was different from ordinary natural fog. More uniform, and more precise. The sight of the artificial fog slowly covering five hectares was truly magnificent, and Daniel held his breath for a moment as he watched it.
In Burgundy, he would not even have been able to attempt something like this. That was the land of Pinot Noir and Chardonnay, not the land of noble rot wine. There, Botrytis cinerea was simply an enemy to be warded off. But on the Right Bank of Bordeaux, and artificially at that, an attempt to create by human hands what nature had not given was unfolding before his eyes.
Then, after confirming that enough fog had settled, he activated the blowers. Along with the heavy vibration of the six machines, a great wind slowly swept across the five hectares. The fog was gradually pushed in one direction, settling evenly on the leaves and grapes.
After completing the first spraying cycle, Daniel stopped the system from the console. The fog slowly faded, and the blowers stopped as well.
“It’s done.”
The dawn sunlight was slowly rising over the ridge to the east.
Around seven, when the morning sun had fully risen, he walked through the nine sectors along the same route. Following the route he had walked every day for a month, he collected five sample leaves from each sector, brought them back to the winery, and observed them under the microscope.
“Will it be all right?”
The intern employee who had once ruined the work asked cautiously. Knowing that Daniel had suffered serious trouble because of him, he had been extremely subdued ever since.
But Daniel felt no hatred toward him. People could always make mistakes. If anything, he thought of it as a good opportunity, because it had helped him tighten his own loosened resolve.
“It’s good. Very good.”
Sectors 1, 2, 3, and 4 were normal. The fungal spores had settled evenly across the surface of the leaves.
But then...
“Huh?”
When Daniel flinched in surprise, the intern employee startled and asked,
“What is it? Is something wrong?”
“The spore settlement density in Sector 5 is about twenty percent lower than the other sectors.”
Looking at the microscope image of the leaf surface, he could clearly confirm that the spore density had dropped.
“What should we do?”
At the intern employee’s anxious words, Daniel gave no answer. He furrowed his brow and sank into thought.
‘Did I miss something?’
The shadow of self-reproach from a month ago rose again in his mind, but then he shook his head, driving away the negative thoughts, and focused on objective information.
He quickly opened the blower data sheet. Blower No. 4. The blower he had been observing for the past month entered his sight.
He went back out to the test plot and personally inspected Blower No. 4. The motor body was normal, but there was slight friction in the rotational shaft bearing. That was why the vibration pattern had been subtly different since a month ago.
Daniel returned to the console and looked again at the operating data from four in the morning.
“Just as I thought...”
“Was there a problem with this?”
At the intern employee’s question, he nodded.
“The rotation speed of Blower No. 4 was about seven percent lower than the standard value. It was probably a difference small enough not to show up in the simulation, but during the actual continuous thirty-minute operation, that seven percent accumulated, shortening the fog settlement time in Sector 5, which Blower No. 4 covers.”
“Ah...”
“Then what should we do?”
Now that the cause had been identified, the solution was quickly organized.
“It’ll take a few days to procure parts for replacing the bearing on Blower No. 4, so for now, let’s compensate the output by seven percent from the console and match it to the normal rotation speed. And we’ll run one additional spraying cycle in Sector 5.”
“Understood!”
There was just one thing that came to mind. It was a pattern he had often encountered back in Burgundy when controlling yeast: whenever he corrected the concentration of yeast in one area, he had also needed to check the pressure balance with the adjacent yeast. However, it still wasn’t clear how he should apply that to Bordeaux’s blower system.
He immediately picked up his phone. It was six in the morning in California, but he did not hesitate, and Brian answered.
“Daniel? How did it go?”
“Brian, the first spraying proceeded normally, but in Sector 5, fungal spore settlement is about twenty percent weaker.”
“What’s the cause?”
“I think it’s due to slight friction in the bearing of Blower No. 4. It’s a blower I’d marked for observation because its vibration pattern had been changing subtly over the past month, and during actual operation, we confirmed that its rotation speed had dropped by seven percent. I judged that this led to a shortened fog settlement time in Sector 5.”
“Hmm... And your response?”
“For now, I’m going to normalize the rotation speed by correcting the blower output and run one additional spraying cycle in Sector 5. There’s one more thing I’m curious about. Back in Burgundy, when correcting yeast concentration, there was a pattern where you had to check the pressure balance with the adjacent yeast as well. I’m not sure if that applies to blowers too.”
“Hmm... I think you can look at it that way. If you correct only Blower No. 4 and operate it alone, the fog could be pulled toward No. 4, causing the settlement within Sector 5 to become uneven again. It would be safer to run the adjacent Blowers No. 3 and No. 5 slightly as well to balance the pressure.”
A short sigh escaped Daniel’s lips. It was a sigh of relief.
“Ah... I knew it. I wanted to confirm whether the Burgundy yeast pattern applied to the blowers too.”
“You picked up on that part well, Daniel. Anyone else would have corrected only Blower No. 4 and left it at that. Go ahead as planned.”
“Okay.”
Filled with confidence, Daniel smiled faintly.
He went straight to the console, narrowed the nozzle operating range to Sector 5, and activated the blowers. As planned, he made fine adjustments, completed the additional spraying, and then collected leaves.
“Please...”
The intern clasped both hands together and prayed earnestly. Daniel felt the same.
“Looks good.”
The leaves he checked under the microscope showed that the density of fungal spore settlement had recovered to a level similar to the other sectors.
“What a relief!”
“Yeah, it’s a relief.”
Only then were he and the intern able to breathe a sigh of relief.
Later, when afternoon came, he walked around the five-hectare test area, personally inspecting the leaves and grapes. From Sector 1 to Sector 9, the first faint traces of hyphae were beginning to appear on the leaf surfaces. They were thin white thread-like traces, proof that the fungus had successfully settled in a stable manner.
He picked up his phone and sent Brian a message.
[The first spraying and additional spraying are complete, and at the twelve-hour mark, I confirmed the beginning of hyphal traces in all nine sectors. Sector 5 is at a similar level to the others as well. I’ll proceed with additional spraying at one-week intervals from now on and report daily after monitoring the environment.]
A reply came at once.
[Good work. Your diagnosis was correct, Daniel. Please send daily reports.]
Feeling strength surge into both hands, Daniel smiled brightly and started walking. Now he had to check the Sauvignon Blanc, which could be called Belle Epoque’s true asset.
At the same time, in California’s Napa Valley.
I set my phone down on the desk and smiled faintly. Daniel’s report had changed a great deal compared to a month ago. It wasn’t simply that the spraying had gone well; he had personally detected the bearing friction in Blower No. 4, and he had even identified the Burgundy yeast pressure-balance pattern on his own.
That brief phone call conveyed clearly what kind of time he had spent over the past month. Reflecting on how little he had known about noble rot wine, he must have studied quite a lot.
Warren added a comment from beside me.
“Master, Daniel has changed completely in just a month.”
“Yes. He probably blamed himself a lot, thinking he caused a major loss. Even if he didn’t show it... I can see how hard he worked over the past month.”
“At this rate, you should only need to monitor remotely every day. I don’t think you’ll have to go there yourself during the month of spraying.”
“I think so too.”
Warren was right. From here on, I could leave it to Daniel and focus on the Castello farm, the winery construction, and the wedding preparations. After all, there wasn’t much time left until the first harvest at the end of September.