A week had passed since the Tuesday meeting.
Oddly enough, there had been no particular contact from the Saudi side. I didn’t know whether, just as Harry Montis had said, they had truly given up for the time being and were focusing on other targets, but if that was the case, it was nothing bad for us. Al Mubarak had said, as he left, that it was the beginning of a conversation, but it was up to them to decide when that conversation would begin again.
In the meantime, I focused on other matters. September was drawing to a close, and harvest was just around the corner at every estate.
Every dawn, Markus’s measurement data was placed on my desk. Castello’s sugar curve was slowly climbing toward its peak, and the phenolic maturity indicators were following along with it. One morning, Markus came up to the office in person.
“Boss, let’s begin the day after tomorrow. The sugar level has reached 27 Brix, and the concentration of precursors is nearing its peak. I’m estimating five to six days for hand-harvesting the entire estate, and I’m thinking of mobilizing about ninety workers.”
There was confidence in the voice of the man who had been devoted to Castello for nearly a month. Reporting the timing so precisely was also an expression of that confidence.
“Good. Let’s start at dawn the day after tomorrow.”
Two days later, when I arrived at the Castello estate at four in the morning, Markus was already there. Countless workers had been mobilized, each wearing a headlamp and moving with hand-harvest baskets and shears in hand. The sight of the headlamp lights gathered on one side of the estate in the predawn darkness was strangely impressive, almost magnificent.
Markus gave instructions to the workers.
“Everyone, thank you for coming so early today. Before we begin, I’d like to emphasize one thing. Today we start with the eastern section. But the degree of ripeness differs from cluster to cluster. Some clusters are perfect today, while others need three more days to ripen.”
He picked up one cluster in his hand.
“You see this color, this weight? Please pick only clusters like this. If the color is a little pale or it feels light in your hand, leave it as it is. We’ll have to come back over the next five or six days and look at those clusters again. Don’t hurry to pick everything today. You need to look at each and every cluster carefully and make a decision.”
I stood at the edge of the estate, approached the first row, took a purple cluster in my hand, and cut the stem short with the shears. A solid weight settled into my palm.
When I plucked a grape and put it in my mouth, sweetness slowly spread across my tongue, followed by the deep texture of phenolics. The sugar level I had expected from the 27 Brix measurement was reproduced precisely on the tip of my tongue, and without realizing it, I smiled.
Markus, standing beside me, grinned.
“How is it?”
“It’s good.”
“Haha, these are the ones that will make us the finest wine.”
They were grapes worthy of his confidence. He had spent nearly a month designing fermentation curves in the winery, ordering yeast, and preparing enzymes, and he must have been waiting for this moment the entire time.
From around five in the morning, the workers began moving in earnest. The lights of their headlamps scattered along each row of the estate, and clusters began filling the hand-harvest baskets.
By around seven in the morning, the first batch from the eastern section had been moved to the winery, and Markus fed the clusters into the press one ton at a time. The pressing intensity had been precisely adjusted to match Castello’s four-stage fermentation curve. Press too hard, and the astringency of the seeds would mix into the must; press too gently, and the concentration would be insufficient. Markus had spent nearly a month calculating and setting that exact point of balance.
“Here it goes.”
The first must slowly flowed into Fermentation Tank No. 1.
Markus stood beside the tank with a measurement pad and began monitoring. The first twelve hours were the most critical period. He could not afford to miss the signals showing whether the yeast was activating properly and whether fermentation was beginning according to the predicted curve.
Around nine in the morning, after confirming that the first tank had entered a stable phase, I said to Markus,
“Good work, Markus. From here on, I’d like you to take the lead and just send me the measurement data every day.”
I couldn’t stay glued to this place forever. There were more than one or two estates I had to manage.
“Yes, I’ll do that.”
Since he had personally refined Castello in detail for nearly a month, I could trust him. As long as the start of fermentation had gotten onto the proper track, I believed he could carry out the rest with precision.
After leaving the winery, I drove to Silver Oak, where Warren came out to meet me at the entrance to the estate.
“How was Castello?”
“It looks like we can look forward to it.”
“Oh, is that so? Come on in.”
Together, we began slowly making a circuit of the estate. The Cabernet Sauvignon clusters were concentrating into a purple hue along each row.
Leo, the intern winemaker who followed closely at Warren’s side, took out a measuring device.
“Brian, yesterday’s measurement reached 26 Brix. This morning’s numbers are similar. We can begin harvest as early as tomorrow.”
I nodded, then quietly took one cluster in my hand, put a grape in my mouth, and chewed it slowly.
The sweetness was close to its peak. But the texture of the phenolics was just… very slightly short of perfect. Looking only at the 26 Brix sugar measurement, it was possible to harvest, but my palate wanted something more perfect.
I took the seed from my mouth and placed it on my palm. The color was a deep brown, but a very faint green tint remained at the edge. In truth, this much could simply be considered brown, but even that caught my eye. I wanted to bring the phenolic maturity a little closer to perfection.
“Shall we wait one more week before harvesting?”
But Warren smiled as though it were only natural.
“As expected… I thought the same.”
“Yes. A time close to October 10th would be good. Do you know why?”
Leo nodded.
“Yes. I think it’s because you want to draw out the phenolic ripeness as much as possible.”
“That’s right. Is there any rain in the forecast?”
“It says clear all week. But to say there won’t be any rain for the entire week…”
“I know. Keep watching it like this, and if there’s any rain in the forecast midway through, harvest immediately.”
“I understand. If there’s no rain forecast, I’ll set the harvest schedule for a week from now.”
“Good.”
Leo, who had been diligently recording in the notebook in his hand, smiled. If they started a week later, it would not overlap with the Castello harvest.
Silver Oak was the estate that would determine Aether’s fate. A difference of one week would create a subtle difference in phenolic maturity, and that subtle difference would ultimately reveal itself as a clear difference in the wine’s concentration and depth. That was what a cult wine was.
In the afternoon, I personally stopped by Ironwood and Lapis Lazuli as well to check on them, then returned to Redwood in the evening.
The schedule was set for the four estates to proceed with harvest in sequence from the end of September to mid-October. The system was organized so that each estate’s vineyard manager would take the lead, Markus would oversee winemaking as a whole, and Leo would assist at his side.
Late that evening, a satellite message from Daniel arrived on my desk.
[Master, we’ll begin harvesting the first Sauvignon Blanc clusters at dawn the day after tomorrow. We can also adjust the schedule to match your arrival. Since it’s the first trial harvest, it would be good if you could attend in person.]
Perhaps because the first harvest was finally beginning at Belle Époque, even through the message, I felt as if I could sense his trembling excitement. These were saplings he had personally planted right after we acquired Belle Époque three years ago, so it was fair to say the vineyard had essentially been raised by him. How happy must he be, then, now that those young saplings were bearing their first fruit?
[You’ve worked hard. Warren and I will head straight to Bordeaux. We plan to stay for about a week, so keep that in mind.]
The next evening at seven, we departed from Napa County Airport on a chartered G550 and arrived at Bordeaux-Mérignac Airport around noon local time the following day.
Daniel was waiting for us in front of the airport gate. He greeted us briefly and led us to the car.
“Master, Elder Warren, welcome. Let’s go straight to the estate. We harvested a portion of the first clusters this morning.”
“Oh, is that so?”
“Yes, just a small portion at dawn. I wanted to show you the condition of the first clusters before you arrived. The full harvest will begin once you’re present, Master.”
It took about an hour by car to reach the Belle Époque estate. After passing through the beautiful scenery of Saint-Émilion and arriving at the estate, Daniel led us toward the winery. Inside the winery, freshly harvested Sauvignon Blanc clusters were placed in several hand-harvest baskets.
At a glance, the clusters were small. But that was the natural size for young vines in their third year. The color was alive; the golden hue with a slight green tint showed that they had ripened healthily.
I approached the basket, took one grape between my fingers, and put it in my mouth.
“Mmm…”
It had been nearly ten years now since I started growing grapes myself. But until now, I had worked only with red grapes, so tasting grapes for white wine felt completely different.
The moment I chewed, the aroma slowly spread through my mouth. I could sense passion fruit, followed by the fresh texture of grapefruit, and at the end, a very faint green note of boxwood. It was the aroma found in the finest white wines of Bordeaux’s Pessac-Léognan.
That was not all. Warren tasted one grape and spoke with great admiration.
“The weight of the juice is different. Is it because it’s Sauvignon Blanc from the Right Bank? Such concentration and fleshiness of fruit, the kind I’ve never felt on the Left Bank… This is why you insisted on pulling out the Merlot on the Right Bank and planting Sauvignon Blanc.”
Until now, Warren had only agreed with my plan in theory, but after tasting a Sauvignon Blanc grape himself, he seemed to understand completely.
“That’s right. On the Left Bank, the grapes ripen quickly, so they feel fresh but light in concentration. On the Right Bank, they ripen slowly, so just as you said, Elder, the concentration is deep and the flesh of the berries is abundant.”
“That’s not all. The acidity is soft and deep, spreading slowly through the mouth. And because they ripened slowly, the skins are thin and uniform as well. To think you foresaw all this and pushed ahead with the venture even while stirring up controversy… truly remarkable.”
At his admiration, I smiled shyly.
“I did expect it… but honestly, I was lucky too. The terroir turned out to be even better than I’d anticipated. And Daniel knows Bordeaux well, so he raised the Sauvignon Blanc this beautifully. In effect, I should say Daniel made it well.”
Perhaps awkward at the praise, Daniel scratched his head.
“Haha, I only did what I was told. Even I would never have dared imagine pulling out Merlot here and planting Sauvignon Blanc. But once we actually planted Sauvignon Blanc and I started raising it, there were surprisingly many things that suited this place. Now all the Sauvignon Blanc feels like my own children. Sauvignon Blanc is the smart eldest child without any rough edges, Sémillon is the second child who quietly does what needs to be done, and… the noble-rotted Sémillon that might bounce off in any direction is the third.”
It was a truly fitting description. I laughed and replied,
“I think you raised all three well. Ah, now that we’re on the topic, how is the experimental noble rot condition?”
He shrugged. Since he hadn’t made a fuss even after meeting us, I had thought the condition could not be too bad, but just from his expression, I could tell that it was extremely good right now.
“Very fortunately, as of yesterday morning’s measurement, thirty-five percent of the clusters had entered the noble rot stage. The grey rot ratio is below one percent. The control is really going well.”
“Wow, that’s a relief.”
It was a strong signal that the Botrytis cinerea fungus was moving precisely toward noble rot.
“What about the harvest timing?”
“If it’s early, the day after tomorrow. At the latest, we need to enter the first round within three days. Noble rot harvest can’t be finished in one go, so we’ll have to do it cluster by cluster. The progress of the fungus differs for every single berry, you see. I think we’ll have to pick selectively by hand and carry out three or four rounds over five days to a week.”
“What’s the expected yield?”
“For a first vintage from five acres… I’m looking at around five hundred to eight hundred bottles. With noble rot wine, the berries shrink and lose moisture, so the yield drops to about one-tenth that of ordinary wine. Still, wouldn’t that be enough for a first vintage?”
“It’s enough.”
At that moment, Warren added a brief word from the side.
“Master, if it’s around five hundred bottles from a five-acre test block, it would be more meaningful to release them to critics, key collectors, and Michelin restaurants rather than putting them on the market. The first vintage is so small that if it goes through market channels, it may not properly reach collectors and could end up leaking into the gray market.”
Warren’s point was accurate. A minuscule quantity of around five hundred bottles was at a level where a market release itself lost meaning.
“Let’s do that. We’ll release the entire first vintage as an introduction vintage, and begin a full market release five years from now, once the vines enter a stable phase.”
I hadn’t even had a meal since arriving, but already I felt full.