Saturday afternoon, south side of the UC Davis campus. The lawn in front of the Robert Mondavi Institute for Wine and Food Science was packed with white tents.
“Why am I nervous?”
“Seriously. Why are you nervous?”
Armando held an icebox filled with wine in one hand and looked around the showcase venue, tense.
At each tent, banners bearing the names of alumni wineries fluttered lightly in the wind, and near the entrance, student volunteers in black aprons were checking tickets and IDs and fastening wristbands. At the end of the line, carts carrying buckets and water pitchers came and went, while Chardonnay and sparkling wines sat half-submerged in polycarbonate tubs full of ice.
“All the wineries participating here must be incredible, right?”
“No. I’m participating too, aren’t I? Mondavi is hugely famous, sure... but there are plenty of places that aren’t like that.”
“If I’d known it would be like this, I should’ve majored in Viticulture and Enology like you instead of Agricultural Science.”
“Agricultural Science is good too. If you learn every farming method overall, you’ll feel confident growing anything.”
“Then I’ll be able to grow grapes well too, right?”
“If you’re not sure, you can just ask me.”
“Right, right, true. I think I chose Agricultural Science well.”
“...... Is it okay for your ears to be that thin?”
Just then, a DEVO (Davis Enology and Viticulture Organization) volunteer pointed at my wrist.
“Here, please show me your wrist.”
When I showed him my blue STAFF band, he smiled.
“Your booth location is this way. You know that only volunteers are allowed to serve tastings today, right?”
“Yes, I know.”
“And this person is...?”
“He’s a student in the college.”
“May I see your ID?”
Unfortunately, Armando, who was not yet of age, couldn’t get a wristband that would let him taste wine, and had to enter looking dejected.
Beside the table handing out glasses, cheese, olives, thinly sliced baguette, and ham were neatly arranged, and people wandered freely from booth to booth with glasses in hand.
“Where’s the spot for Redwood Winery?”
“The department head said he’d set up a side table for us instead of an official booth.”
“Come on, that’s too much.”
“It’s not really too much. If anything, it means he wanted to show our winery somehow. It’s not even a finished wine, and on top of that, it’s a wine made by a student. People might complain that it only ruins their palates, so the fact that he went out of his way to squeeze in a place for us actually makes me feel burdened.”
“I get that, but...”
By the time we arrived at Redwood Winery’s spot, all that was there was a long white table and a few chairs.
Redwood Winery
Cabernet Sauvignon (Barrel Sample)
Only the description card sat forlornly on the table, letting people know that this was my spot.
“It’s too much.”
I gave a small laugh at Armando, whose lips were jutting out, then took a bottle of wine from the box he had brought and set it down. Instead of a label, the bottle had a simple note reading Redwood Foundry 1.
“I’m fine, so why are you getting worked up? Don’t do that. Go look around and get a feel for the atmosphere. I’ll stay seated here.”
“Why don’t you go around instead? There are alumni here and everything.”
As Armando said, this showcase was an extremely important event for majors. First of all, the participating wineries were owned by alumni who had received degrees in Viticulture or Enology from UC Davis, or were places where those alumni worked as winemakers. They personally greeted guests at their booths and told stories about their wines. For current students, even those conversations became valuable experience.
The best part, in particular, was that many students studying Viticulture and Enology participated, allowing them to meet potential employers or mentors before graduation. That was why the eyes of the current students walking around now were sparkling, their expressions radiant enough to shine.
Of course, there were wine lovers and members of the general public who had bought tickets in advance, but the protagonists, one could say, were the wineries introducing new wines and the current students.
“I’m fine.”
Before my regression, I had already tasted and analyzed all kinds of wines. Among the Pinot Noirs that would be hottest thanks to Sideways, I knew Spellbound Vineyards’ Santa Barbara Pinot Noir, Littorai’s Vineyard Series Pinot Noir, and Rochioli’s Little Hill Pinot Noir well. And I had tasted them after much more time had passed, when they had become more fully mature, so there was no way for curiosity to arise.
“Yeah? All right. Then I’ll go take a look around.”
He wouldn’t be able to taste anything, but visiting many winery booths and learning each winery’s unique character would still be helpful to Armando.
But not long after Armando left, a group of people crowded into a booth a little ways away. Looking closely, I saw Matthew among them. It was the Castello Vineyards booth.
Castello Winery possessed the same To Kalon terroir and held an influence as impressive as Robert Mondavi, so the booth itself was large and glamorous.
Their booth, which I was sure secretly considered Mondavi their rival, had been decorated like an entire showroom, and on a large banner, [Castello Riserva Cabernet Sauvignon] was written in gold lettering.
“You brought enough wine, right?”
“One-third of a glass per person. Don’t give any more than that!”
“Check tasting wristbands.”
After noisily finishing their preparations, they began pouring the wine they had prepared for the people flocking in. Then, suddenly, my eyes met Matthew’s as he was pouring wine for a current student. Was it my imagination that the corners of his mouth rose ever so slightly?
He soon said a few words to the student, put down the wine, and came over this way.
“Brian? So there was a booth here too. Did you ask for one? You should’ve asked me. Then I would have spoken to the higher-ups about assigning you a decent spot.”
“No. It’s fine.”
“Yes, well, everyone starts out like this. If guests don’t come by, should I send some over?”
He spoke very kindly, but I clearly felt the subtle sense of superiority exuding from Matthew’s eyes.
“You don’t have to do that. It looks like you’re getting a lot of visitors, so you should hurry back, shouldn’t you?”
Matthew turned his head to check his booth, then shrugged.
“Haha, I suppose more people are gathering because we’re unveiling a new wine today. I’ll be going, then. If there’s anything you need help with, come find me.”
“Thank you for your consideration.”
Matthew turned away like that, then soon spoke with members of his family before taking out a new wine.
“We are introducing Castello’s next-generation wine, the Castello Aurora Blend.”
As the Castello family’s exclusive sommeliers filled the glasses, exclamations of admiration burst out here and there.
“The balance is truly excellent.”
“The aroma is so sophisticated.”
As praise continued, the front of the booth grew even more crowded. Even applause rang out, and in time with it, I could see Matthew’s shoulders rising even higher.
That was when it happened. As if the crowd were parting to make a path, Sienna and her father, Mark of Harrington Vineyards, appeared. Dressed in a stylish suit, Mark entered while receiving greetings from several people, and Sienna surveyed the area with her characteristic cool expression.
“You said you prepared a secret weapon today. Is this it?”
Mark burst into laughter as he spoke to a middle-aged man. The elderly man, tall and aging with style, looked quite a lot like Matthew upon closer inspection.
“That’s right. Have a taste before you go.”
They received glasses of wine in front of the Castello booth. The moment Mark took a sip, his eyes shook greatly.
“...... Amazing.”
Sienna was the same. Even she, who always wore a cool expression, raised her eyebrows slightly this time.
“It’s as if... I’m holding several layers of flower petals in my mouth.”
“Yes, it certainly shows Castello’s next generation.”
The people around them murmured as if in agreement. Words like “As expected of Castello” drifted from all sides.
At that moment, Sienna’s gaze happened to slide to the side. Her eyes met mine as I sat at the small white table placed in the corner. Seeing the roughly attached label on the sample bottle, she tilted her head, then slowly began walking toward me. Mark, too, followed his daughter’s movement and looked at me.
As I bowed my head slightly in greeting, Sienna came up in front of me and asked.
“You weren’t assigned a booth? Why are you in this kind of...?”
“I didn’t apply in the first place because I don’t have a finished wine.”
“But then?”
“The department head asked me to participate.”
Only then did she understand the situation, and her lips parted slightly.
“Ah... I see. Then what is this?”
“A wine our winery will release in a few months. I suppose it needs about three more months before it’s finished.”
“It’s that wine from then, right? Pinot Noir.”
“No... not that one. Look carefully. It says Cabernet Sauvignon.”
When I tapped the card on the table with my finger, surprise appeared in her eyes.
“Ah! I can taste it now, right?”
“Of course.”
She quickly rinsed a glass in the water container and held it out, and I poured wine into it. Her expectant eyes moved back and forth between me and the wine before she slowly tilted the glass. And then,
“Huh... huh?”
There was neither doubt nor cynicism in her expression. There was only surprise and admiration. Then, after drinking more of the remaining wine, she looked at me with a bewildered gaze and asked.
“How many months old is it?”
“Mm... six months?”
“Don’t lie.”
“All of the Cabernet Sauvignon from the year before last was sold as vinegar. It was made from grapes harvested last year. And you know, don’t you? That I shaved off the edges with blending.”
But the answer came not from her, but from Mark, who had arrived behind Sienna.
“You brought a six-month-old Cabernet Sauvignon close to completion through blending?”
When the low, firm voice came from behind her, Sienna turned around.
“Dad... this... I can’t believe it. Try it.”
“When I tasted your Pinot Noir, I already thought you weren’t a friend without skill. It seems you’ve cast another kind of magic this time.”
Mark glanced sideways at me for a moment, then washed a glass and held it out to me. Wine from an unlabeled bottle. It might look shabby on its own, but he smelled it with a gaze tinged with doubt, then soon tilted the glass.
The moment he held it in his mouth, his expression changed. His pupils trembled slightly, and his fingertips gripped the glass more tightly.
“So there was a reason my daughter couldn’t believe it was only six months old.”
“Yes, it’s a barrel sample. It needs a little more time before it’s finished.”
Mark steadied his breathing and set the glass down. But soon, he picked up the glass again and requested a second tasting.
“One more time.”
It was a little funny that he was asking for another glass with such an extremely serious expression, and I said with a wry smile.
“I’m sorry, but I only brought exactly three bottles, so I can’t give two glasses to one person.”
“What? Hey... wait...”
Just as he was about to say something, people who had approached without my noticing thrust their glasses out.
“Please give me some first.”
“Me too!”
For a moment, I wondered if bringing only three bottles had been the wrong choice, but in any case, I poured only about a quarter of a glass for each of them.
“What winery did you say this was? Redwood?”
Just then, a young student who had just tasted it stepped right in front of me and said,
“I’d like to know more about Redwood Winery...”
At last, a current student about to graduate was requesting a conversation with bright, sparkling eyes.
“Ah, just a moment.”
“Shall I help you?”
“No. It’s fine.”
For now, I distributed the wine to the people who had gathered, little by little, saving as much as I could. Then a weighty voice came from behind the people.
“What sort of wine is it, for everyone to be acting so serious?”
Strangely, the people who had crowded in stepped back as if opening a path. And the person who appeared was, astonishingly, Robert Mondavi, a figure like the symbol of California wine. He had been looking around the event himself and, seeing this scene, had come over. And standing beside him, Department Head Thomas furrowed his brow and said,
“Oh dear, look at this... You’ve bewitched people already. I told you, didn’t I? I said there was an incredible fellow.”
Robert Mondavi, who was over ninety years old, slowly approached with a cane and looked at the unlabeled bottle on the table. Then he extended his hand and asked a volunteer for a glass.
The air at the scene changed. The murmuring stopped, and dozens of pairs of eyes turned toward Mondavi and my table. Even Sienna and Mark Harrington watched him in silence. And from afar, the father and son of the Castello family were also staring this way as if spellbound.
The matter had grown bigger than expected, but I calmly lifted the bottle. The red liquid slowly fell into the glass. Once the wine filled the glass, Mondavi brought it close to the tip of his nose, closed his eyes for a moment, and inhaled deeply.
Then, he tilted the glass.
Everyone held their breath.