By the time we had finished a brief meal and rest at the guest house on the Bell Époque estate, evening had already fallen. Daniel gave me a short rundown of the schedule for the full-scale harvest beginning at dawn tomorrow.
“Master, is four-thirty tomorrow morning all right?”
“Of course it has to be dawn.”
“Good. We’ll start with the Sauvignon Blanc first, and the Sémillon is scheduled from the day after tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.”
After Daniel left, I went out onto the guest house balcony and accepted the glass of wine Warren had opened in advance. It was a white wine from Pessac-Léognan on the Left Bank.
“When did you bring this along?”
“I packed two bottles in my business trip bag. I’m planning to take care of one today and the other before we leave.”
“You brought it to compare with the Sauvignon Blanc, didn’t you?”
“That’s right. I want to remember this Left Bank white properly. I’m curious how its flavor will diverge when we taste the must tomorrow, and then as fermentation progresses the day after and the day after that.”
“That difference will be the essence of the wine we’re making today.”
Hoping for good results, we lightly raised our glasses. The autumn evening sunlight of Bordeaux stretched long across the balcony.
At four-thirty the next morning, Daniel had already gathered with the workers on one side of the estate. Bordeaux’s dawn mist lay suffocatingly over the estate, and headlamp lights were scattered through that fog.
If dawn at California’s Castello had been headlamps in dry darkness, dawn in Bordeaux was a little different. Because of the fog that added weight to the air, the headlamp beams seemed to spread as they cut through it. It was like a landscape painting in itself.
“Refreshing, isn’t it? I didn’t sleep a wink last night.”
Daniel’s voice was filled with excitement.
“I slept well.”
“I’m jealous. Must be nice, sleeping well.”
“You have to sleep well for work to go well. Well, it’s not that I don’t understand being too excited to sleep. It happens.”
When I gave his shoulder a light pat, Daniel put on a somewhat aggrieved expression.
“I’m sure I have far more experience in vineyards, though. But Master, you seem like someone who’s been growing grapes for over twenty years.”
“Hahaha, that’s just your imagination.”
From around five in the morning, the workers began moving in earnest. In the fog, the headlamps followed row after row, and clusters began filling the hand-harvest baskets. Compared to California, their movements were relatively cautious. The Bordeaux workers would take a cluster in hand, examine its color, weight, and even the condition of the skin, and only then cut it with their shears.
When dawn had passed and it was past seven in the morning, the first bundles of clusters were brought into the winery. Standing beside the press prepared in advance, Daniel reported to me.
“As you already know, white winemaking is completely different from red. With red grapes, you take a long maceration to extract pigment and tannins, but with white, it’s the opposite. You have to minimize skin contact and send only clean must into the fermentation tank.”
As if in case there was something I might not know, he explained the basics of white winemaking while putting the first bundle of clusters into the press whole.
Whole Cluster Pressing.
It was a method of gently pressing the grapes with stems and skins still attached, a process Redwood had already been applying since making Sylphid. The stems served as natural drainage channels, helping the must flow out cleanly. Since skin contact was minimized, bitterness and astringency did not mix into the must.
The pressure of the press slowly rose, and Daniel adjusted it while watching the gauge.
“You know this too, of course, but this is the most delicate stage in white winemaking. If the pressure rises too quickly, the seeds break and astringency mixes into the must. If it goes too slowly, must extraction is insufficient and the loss becomes too great.”
For Daniel, who had been an associate head winemaker at Domaine Leroy, the home of Chardonnay white wine, this work was what he was best at.
That was why, throughout the process, his hand movements were swift yet without a single unnecessary motion.
“Yes. That balance changes every day.”
“Exactly. Yesterday’s pressure curve won’t work the same way today. The condition of the clusters changes every day... The gauge is only for reference, and in the end, you have to make fine adjustments while watching the speed and color of the must flowing out.”
I nodded lightly. His explanation was all content I already knew in theory, but because it came from a veteran like Daniel, who had worked directly in Bordeaux for over ten years, it felt even more reliable.
Daniel took his eyes off the gauge for a moment, looked toward the tray, then raised the pressure one level with a short adjustment.
“Today’s clusters are slightly firmer than yesterday’s. Even if I raise the pressure one notch, the seeds won’t break.”
“Yes, I saw it that way too. Looking at yesterday’s measurement data, the moisture content of the berries had dropped slightly. So I think it’ll be safe to raise the pressing pressure a little.”
At my words, Daniel grinned.
“As expected... That’s just like you, Master. To read that much from the data alone.”
The first must began slowly flowing down into the tray beneath the press. It was golden with a slight green tint, and just from the color, the result seemed visible.
Daniel caught some must in a small glass and took a sip, then filled the glass again and handed it to me. The faint smile on his face said he was dying to show it off.
“Try it.”
I received the must in the glass and brought it to my nose, and the aroma was alive. The passion fruit, grapefruit, and boxwood green notes I had sensed yesterday in the winery while tasting the grapes directly were present in the must exactly as they were.
“Hmm...”
Even so, if there was one thing different, it was that the aroma felt heavier. If the must from Pessac-Léognan on the Left Bank evaporated like a light apricot scent, this must seemed to linger more slowly and deeply at the tip of the nose.
Unable to simply watch me drink alone, Warren tasted it, then closed his eyes with a deep smile on his lips. Then he said quietly.
“Master, you remember that glass of Left Bank white we had yesterday, don’t you? Compared to that wine, this is definitely heavier. The concentration of the Right Bank is already showing itself from the must stage.”
As I silently nodded, Daniel answered.
“That’s right. The Left Bank must ripened quickly because of the gravel soil, but in this must, you can feel how the clay supplied moisture slowly and the limestone stabilized the soil temperature, deepening the concentration. It’s the same Sauvignon Blanc variety, but the terroir has created a completely different flavor.”
I took another sip of the must and held it in my mouth.
It was not the quick, crisp freshness one felt when drinking Left Bank white wine, but a deep concentration that slowly unfolded in the mouth, and its viscosity was slightly heavier. The acidity was soft and deep, spreading slowly through the mouth and stimulating the salivary glands in a way clearly different from the sharp acidity of the Left Bank.
Should I say it was shouting that this was Right Bank Sauvignon Blanc? Same variety, different terroir. That difference was captured precisely in a single glass of must.
“It’s good.”
“Haha, I’m already getting a strong feeling from it!”
Under Daniel’s excited lead, the first must slowly flowed into fermentation tank No. 1. Daniel checked the thermometer beside the fermentation tank and reported.
“I set the temperature to 16 degrees. I heard California’s Castello starts at 18 degrees, right?”
“That’s right.”
“We’ll start the Bordeaux white slightly lower.”
“Of course. Fermenting it slowly preserves the aroma.”
His explanation was not something I was hearing here for the first time. I had already received reports on the winemaking design long ago.
For the first vinification of the Sauvignon Blanc, rather than having me intervene as much as possible, the plan was for Daniel, who had long experience in Bordeaux, to take the lead and achieve a stable result. I couldn’t stay in Bordeaux indefinitely, and Daniel would remain here, so I had created an environment where his experience could be brought out as much as possible for this first vinification.
Afterward, next year, once I saw its state after fermentation and aging, I intended to make additional adjustments.
Beside us, Warren added his opinion.
“That’s right. Sixteen degrees is the temperature commonly used by Pessac-Léognan wineries on the Left Bank. But Daniel, this Right Bank must has deeper concentration than the Left Bank. What do you think about being a bit more cautious with the fermentation temperature too?”
When the highly experienced Warren threw out that sharp question, Daniel paused for a moment, thought briefly, then said.
“As expected of you, Mr. Warren. To be honest, I was a little concerned about that part too. Then how about we try this? We keep Tank No. 1 at 16 degrees, and lower Tank No. 2 slightly to 15 degrees. Then we can compare the two textures and confirm which preserves the aroma better, and for future vintages, we can take that line as the standard.”
It was an improvised response in a short time, but it was not bad. Rather than simply continuing with the Left Bank manual he had been accustomed to, making fine adjustments to suit the Right Bank terroir was another step of growth in itself.
A few hours later, after confirming that fermentation had entered a stable phase, we gathered around a desk in one corner of the winery. Daniel was organizing the first few hours of data with a measurement pad in hand, and in the meantime, Warren poured the Pessac-Léognan white from the Left Bank into glasses. It was the same wine we had drunk on the balcony yesterday.
After pouring the wine, he said.
“This wine is certainly a good wine. A classic Pessac-Léognan. But if it has one drawback, it’s that it isn’t a wine that will last ten or fifteen years. It peaks at around five years, and after that, its freshness slowly drains away. That’s the limit of Left Bank white.”
He was right. For a wine to last a long time, it needs sufficient acidity. That is because acidity acts as a natural preservative, protecting the wine from spoilage. The limestone terroir of the Right Bank makes acidity soft and persistent, and the mineral content of the limestone soil gives structure to the wine. This is why Chablis Grand Cru can last for more than twenty years.
That was not all. Wine with deep concentration does not become diluted over time, providing the foundation for the wine to evolve as time passes. In addition, Right Bank whites ripen slowly, stabilizing the balance between alcohol and phenolics. Once Sémillon, which is also strong in long-term aging, is blended in, adding complex flavors like honey, beeswax, and nuts, this wine would become one that received even higher praise after more than ten years.
Warren smiled and continued.
“But the wine we started making today will be different. Imagine when it’s released. When poured into a glass, its golden color with a slight green tint will resemble that of the Left Bank, but when you bring it to your nose, passion fruit, grapefruit, and boxwood will be followed by minerality. Should I call it salinity, or chalk? The power of the limestone terroir will finally begin to reveal itself in earnest through fermentation and aging.”
It was time for his imagination to go to work once again, so I simply listened quietly. It was already the wine I had envisioned, but the wine he expressed with his literary sensibility sometimes drew out something I had not perceived.
“Master, what do you think critics will say five years from now when we officially release the first vintage of this wine? The very fact that a Sauvignon Blanc came out of Bordeaux’s Right Bank will be a topic of conversation, and once the word spreads through critics’ mouths that its flavor is clearly different from the Left Bank, that will determine just how far the price of a single bottle can go. The name Bell Époque Blanc will become a new name in the Bordeaux white wine market five years from now.”
“Bell Époque Blanc... The name isn’t bad.”
At my words that it wasn’t bad, Warren seemed pleased and drained his wine in one long gulp.
Around afternoon, on the way back to the guest house, Daniel spoke in the car.
“This morning, one of the workers went to check the noble rot section, and confirmed that the fungal progression is faster than yesterday. It looks like it’s gone from 35 percent to nearly 50 percent. Grey rot is still under 1 percent.”
“Then...”
“I think we’ll have to start the first round from dawn tomorrow... Master, you’ll be there in person, right?”
It was the first harvest of artificially induced noble rot grapes. There was no way I could miss it.
“Of course.”
After the Sauvignon Blanc, I found myself excited to see what form the artificial noble rot wine would take.