LA, White & Company Wine Trading.
Since morning, Christopher had been staring at something with a furrowed brow. It was Blender, a magazine that, though not exactly suited to his age, any company dealing in alcohol naturally subscribed to every month.
There was a reason he was reading the magazine with such gravity.
[The One, Four Young Farmers of California.]
It was an article fresh enough to catch the eye: a twenty-one-year-old young man who had started on a rural rice farm, built a distillery, and began selling spirits... and in that feature appeared someone he knew very well.
Brian Choi, the young winemaker of Redwood Winery—it was that very young man.
In addition, through this magazine article, he learned things he had known nothing about: Jacob Miller, the Sacramento brewery owner who was the main subject of the article; Chloe Harris of the Brentwood cherry farm; and Armando Cortes, the vinegar maker of Alexander Valley.
“I completely missed it.”
“Redwood” and “The One.”
Wine and vodka were different liquor markets, but they were names that might one day stand at the center of the future, and they had been bound together in a single article.
“Damn it... I should have found out first.”
There had certainly been opportunities. If he had stayed closer to Brian and dug a little deeper into that young man, he could have understood the relationship between them much better. He could not help but look back on himself, who had focused only on securing Sylphid as if he were a customer buying goods at a store.
It was regrettable, but it was already in the past. He let out a deep sigh and closed the article.
“I’m heading to Napa!”
As if shaking off his lingering regret, he left the company and headed for Napa Valley. He had a scheduled appointment. A gray building located in downtown Napa Valley.
The American Center for Wine, Food & the Arts. Founded by Robert Mondavi, it was a nonprofit cultural center, but people called it COPIA.
It was a place where wine, food, art, and philosophy breathed together, and the building resembled an enormous wine cellar. Its exterior walls, a blend of glass, steel, and Napa’s red clay tones, shimmered softly under the winter sunlight.
Inside the spacious lobby, a massive steel sculpture stretched up to the ceiling, and the walls were hung with photographs chronicling the history of American wine and maps showing the distribution of grape varieties.
On each table lay badges printed with winery logos, and at a glance one could tell that today’s gathering was an extremely formal and important occasion.
Christopher White, who was attending, adjusted his tie slightly and presented his invitation at the reception desk.
“Christopher White of White & Company. This is the invitation sent by Chairman Robert Mondavi.”
“Welcome.”
Beyond the staff member’s bright smile, the glass door opened smoothly. As he stepped into the hall, familiar names entered his sight one by one.
Robert Mondavi, Joseph Phelps, Chuck Wagner of Caymus, Warren Winiarski of Stag’s Leap. Figures who could be called the very history of Napa were gathered in one place.
In one corner, members of the UC Davis faculty were holding wineglasses and engaged in discussion, while on the opposite side, sommeliers were busy checking the tasting tables.
“Welcome, White!”
A low yet warm voice came from behind him. When he turned around, an old man in a gray suit stood there leaning on a cane. Robert Mondavi.
“Thank you for inviting me, Chairman Mondavi.”
“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? Seeing you, who were once nothing more than a college student, grow into a major figure in the wine industry really makes me feel how much time has passed.”
“You still have to see the American wine industry grow even further.”
“I’ve lived too long for that. But it’s all right. Even after I’m gone, there are many outstanding people, so I’m not too worried. In any case, I’m glad you came. Go and have a seat.”
“Yes.”
After Christopher took the seat marked with his name, quite some time passed before Robert Mondavi stepped up to the podium. Then he slowly took the microphone and calmly looked over the people gathered that day, while black-and-white photographs changed one after another on the large screen behind him.
[1976, Paris Judgment.]
In the famous photograph of the “Judgment of Paris” were Mondavi, Phelps, and Winiarski of Stag’s Leap in their younger days.
“My dear friends, this year marks exactly thirty years since the Judgment of Paris was held. That day in 1976 when the wines of California broke through the walls of the world.”
Robert Mondavi’s voice was low, but even at his advanced age, an intense passion still remained in it, and the people in the hall listened in silence, as if holding their breath.
The scores from that day appeared on the screen.
Chateau Montelena Chardonnay, first place.
Stag’s Leap Wine Cellars, first place.
As if the astonishment of that time had been recreated, subtle exclamations escaped here and there.
“This coming May, we will hold a thirtieth anniversary event. It will be a stage on which Napa wines challenge the world once again. On that day, here at COPIA, we will taste French wines and Napa wines together.”
Applause burst out among the people. Whether they would reproduce the glory of that day once more, or kneel before the greatness of French wine as before, their expressions were half anticipation and half concern.
Even so, they could not help feeling excited.
At that moment, someone approached him.
“Mr. Christopher?”
When he turned his head, it was Mark Harrington, a white man with an extraordinarily handsome face. He was the most influential Pinot Noir producer in Sonoma, but considering that all ten wines participating in this event would be Cabernet Sauvignon, it was, in truth, a little surprising that he was here today.
“It’s been a long time, Mr. Mark.”
After they shook hands, Mark sat down beside him and asked in a subtle voice,
“What do you think of this event?”
“What do I think?”
“I meant, how do you think the results will turn out?”
“Well. The French wines will certainly come prepared, but I think we may get good results this time as well. Mr. Mondavi will undoubtedly stake Napa’s honor on winning.”
Even if it was not necessarily the honor of Mondavi Winery, if Napa Valley’s reputation rose, the reputation of the Mondavi family would naturally rise with it. So for this event, regardless of which winery it was, what mattered was that a Napa wine won.
“I see. It will be a blind tasting anyway, but I hope, Mr. Christopher, that you will be impressed by American wine.”
“Hahaha, I’m simply honored to have been allowed to participate.”
“Be that as it may... there will probably be linked events held before and after the main event.”
Only then did Christopher understand why this man had attended. Indeed, if one thought just a little more deeply about it, there was no reason to miss the opportunity to showcase wines of other varieties from the Sonoma region at such a large and important event.
At a time when the eyes of the entire world would be focused on Napa and France, they would surely hold other events to raise the atmosphere around the main event.
Mondavi must have asked Mark Harrington for his opinion on a sub-event to be held in Sonoma and the wineries that would participate.
“Ah... I see. What kind of event will it be?”
“First, as part of the Judgment Revisited Series, there will be a tasting called California’s Future Icons for one week before and after the main event. There will be talks with wine panels, and you may be invited to that as well, Mr. Christopher.”
“Ah, then...?”
“That’s right. It seems our Harrington Winery’s wine will be presented at California’s Future Icons.”
Mark, who explained this proudly, soon straightened his shoulders and said confidently,
“I’m not trying to ask you to look favorably on us. I simply hope that you, Mr. Christopher, who will be participating in the main event’s blind tasting, will also be sure to attend the California’s Future Icons tasting, the sub-event.”
Underlying his words was the belief that if Christopher only attended, he would inevitably rate Harrington Winery’s wine highly. It was tremendous confidence, and Christopher actually found that appealing.
Wine was something that never showed results easily. Wasn’t wine a product whose evaluation for the year could be sent to opposite extremes by even a slight difference? Even so, he could see how much effort Mark must have put in to have such confidence in the wine from his own winery.
“Understood. If such an opportunity comes to me, I will not refuse and will participate.”
“Haha, thank you.”
“By the way, other than the tasting, what other events will there be?”
Mark paused for a moment, then soon gave a faint smile.
“I heard that your company is distributing Redwood’s Sylphid on the East Coast, Mr. Christopher. How is it? Is it doing well?”
“Yes, very well.”
“Ah, really?”
To Mark, who asked with widened eyes, Christopher answered honestly.
“It’s difficult to say to what extent, but a considerable portion of the volume we received from Redwood has been sold, and in New York, a premium has already begun to form around Sylphid.”
“To that extent? By any chance, have you deliberately held some inventory back?”
“That is difficult for me to say.”
In other words, he had even kept inventory on purpose. That meant the distribution company saw an extremely high premium in this wine. Literally, if a hundred-dollar wine became a two-hundred- or three-hundred-dollar wine, not only could a distributor leave a substantial margin, but if, five or six years later, after being kept in storage for a long period, it suddenly received a high evaluation like a work of art, the profit could be no different from winning the lottery.
“Haha, is that so?”
Mark looked at Christopher for a moment with a strange smile, then slowly opened his mouth.
“In fact, there is an event scheduled that you may like, Mr. Christopher.”
“Me?”
“Yes, there is a session called New Blood of Napa that invites young winemakers.”
“Oh, that sounds interesting.”
Wasn’t this an event tailor-made for Redwood Winery?
“It’s a session where new-generation wineries introduce their wines, and I have a feeling Redwood, which received two Double Golds at the same time, will be the star of the event.”
“Haha... Thank you for letting me know. Now I want to hurry over to Redwood and tell them this news. Since it happens to be not far, I’ll stop by Redwood on my way back.”
And so, anxious to deliver the news as quickly as possible, Christopher headed straight for Redwood as soon as the event ended.
---
A long fence with no end in sight cut through the farms. Roughly every thirty meters, panels that read “Do Not Cross” along with the words Silveroak Hills Vineyards hung on the fence, clattering whenever the wind blew.
Whenever I saw that sight, I gave a bitter smile, but in a way, I also felt grateful that they were diligently maintaining the farm boundary on their own.
Honestly, if they had often come out to the fence and watched me firming up the soil, it would have been extremely awkward. But as if they were trying to keep my secret, they did not come anywhere near, and I found that very nice.
In any case, after spending a year creating the soil environment like this, I had returned the land to a perfectly normal state, to the point that one could hardly believe it had been swept by a fire, and at last I began planting saplings.
They were only one-year-old saplings, so they still had a long way to grow, but from the moment I bought this land, I had already given up on commercial profit for five years. So even when planting the saplings, I was not impatient at all. I simply hoped they would take root well and adapt to the new soil.
As I was planting saplings with the workers, I saw someone walking over from afar.
“Brian!”
Since he was wearing a suit, an outfit that did not suit the farm at all, I watched the approaching figure closely, and soon realized it was Christopher, who should have been in LA.
He had walked over quickly, and when he came near, he was panting as if out of breath.
“Phew, that was tough.”
“Hello. How did you know to come here?”
“I know, right? I went to Redwood, and Mr. Woody told me you were somewhere else and gave me this location. But... you have a new farm site in Napa? I had no idea.”
“I bought it last winter. It was cheap because of the wildfire.”
“Ah... I can’t imagine this was a place where there had been a fire.”
He looked around at the farm, where it was difficult to find any scars at all, and shook his head.
“It’s thanks to a lot of effort. But what brings you here?”
“Ah, it’s good news. This coming May, the Judgment of Paris 30th Anniversary Retasting will be held in Napa.”
“Ah.”
To be honest, I did know that event would be held around this time. And I also knew the results.
“And at that time, there will be a session called New Blood of Napa that invites young winemakers, and Redwood Winery will be invited. The eyes of wine lovers all over the world will be focused on it.”
It was certainly good news, but I did not understand whether it was enough for him to be this excited.
“Ah... yes...”
“Hahaha! You’re stunned, aren’t you? It’s all right. I’ll help you.”
Just when I had no idea what on earth he was going to help with, he spoke with a triumphant smile.
“I received word from the farm in Russian River Valley. They said you can contract by the block for as much as you want!”
At those words, I realized why he was so pleased.
“I’m the one spending the money. Aren’t you a little too happy about it?”
“Hahaha! Won’t that money come back several times over?”
For him, now that he thought every bit of Sylphid made would become money, he could not help but be that delighted.