May 24, 2006. The early-summer air in Napa Valley was warm, yet strangely tense. The large banner hanging over COPIA’s front entrance glittered in the sunlight, flaunting its grandeur.
[Judgment of Paris 30th Anniversary Retasting 1976–2006]
Golden letters engraved on a white background. That single line was enough to send a shiver through anyone who knew the history of the wine industry.
Christopher White was no exception. Adjusting his tie, he slowly climbed the steps. In front of the main entrance, reporters and officials from various countries had gathered in small groups, taking photographs,
and inside the hall, preparations were already underway to recreate “history.”
“Mr. White, this way, please.”
Following the guidance of an NVV Association official, he moved forward, and COPIA’s grand auditorium gradually came into view. At the center of the hall, long tables were arranged in a U-shape, and atop them, wine bottles marked with blind numbers were lined up in order.
Each glass held the same amount of wine, and the lighting was maintained at an even brightness.
It was precision preparation, like a laboratory experiment.
Soft music flowed from the ceiling speakers. A classical melody of piano and cello seemed to ease the tension in the space, but not one of the judges looked at ease.
At that moment, someone stepped to the center of the stage, taking the microphone with a calm motion of the hand. It was Margaret Durie, president of the NVV Association. She wore a gray suit and held an old wine glass in one hand.
Her voice traveled through the speakers and echoed throughout the hall.
“Ladies and gentlemen. What happened thirty years ago, in a small hotel in Paris in 1976, changed our lives to this day. That day, the tradition of France and the youthful courage of California were placed upon the same table, and the world was made new.”
The atmosphere in the hall settled into silence. Margaret lifted the glass and gently swirled it.
“Today, we will open those bottles once more. Wines that have overcome the passage of time, and the dreams of the people who made them, will be poured into this glass again.”
She paused for a moment and bowed her head toward the elderly man seated in the front row of the audience. It was Robert Mondavi.
His white hair neatly combed back, he slowly rose from his seat with the aid of his cane, and applause broke out.
He waited for the applause to subside, then opened his mouth.
“Time has passed, and the wines of that day now greet us with deeper aromas. Today’s event is also an occasion to ask how much we have grown since that day, and where we must go from here. But we must recognize our reality with clear eyes, and if we are lacking, we must strive harder and move forward. That is the mindset of those who love wine.”
Applause spread once more. Margaret then raised a hand and made a calm gesture.
“We will now begin the judging. Judges, all the wines before you will be served for blind tasting. Vintages from France and California, from the 1970s, have been prepared under identical conditions. For today’s evaluation, please remember only one principle. Wine is judged not by the name of a country, but by the philosophy of a generation.”
The lights slowly dimmed, and from behind the stage, servers appeared in a line. In their hands were bottles marked with number tags and wine decanters. Each time the red liquid was poured into a glass, the sound of it striking crystal and the aroma spreading through the air created a subtle stillness that enveloped the entire hall.
Christopher closed his eyes.
His heart was beating a little faster. He could feel it. At this very moment, he thought he could almost see that day thirty years ago.
---
The retastings held simultaneously in the United States and France had come to an end. The result was shocking enough to astonish the world.
From first place to fifth, every single wine chosen was American. For France, it could only be called a devastating result. The phrase “the second Judgment of Paris” began to flow naturally from people’s lips.
The next morning, Napa Valley was still buzzing with the aftershocks of the previous day, and conversations continued without pause in COPIA’s lobby.
“To think the result was exactly the same as thirty years ago!”
“I can’t believe it. Who would’ve thought Stag’s Leap would take first place again?”
“The French wines were excellent too, but America did it once more.”
Some were moved, and some were astonished. Everyone was excited, and amid the laughter and murmuring, the words “a recreation of history” drifted through the air.
A new banner hung over the stage at the center of the hall.
[New Blood of Napa, The Future Beyond Judgment]
Now, the protagonists of the day were not the masters of the past, but the newly emerging young winemakers. Christopher White stood at one side of the audience, holding a glass.
The excitement of the previous night had yet to fade, but today’s stage held a different kind of tension.
He murmured quietly.
“Now, the generation is changing.”
Behind the stage, three young winemakers were waiting for their turns. I stood quietly with my arms crossed, while beside me, Elaina Elowen, who had come as the representative of Silver Oak Winery, was organizing her notes.
‘She’s changed, hasn’t she?’
I was quite surprised when I looked at her. Her thick glasses were the same as ever, but the sharpness and anxiety that used to lash out in every direction had disappeared, and her expression now carried both poise and confidence.
It seemed that the immense disaster of the wildfire had broken something inside her. With calm eyes, she checked what she needed to do. In the past, it would not have been strange for her to pick a pointless fight with me, but now she merely gave me a slight nod in greeting and focused on her preparations.
When the panel talk ended, the host’s voice rang out.
“Now, the first winery to take the stage today is Silver Oak, and Elaina Elowen!”
As the light shone on her, the audience grew quiet. Elaina slowly walked to the center of the stage. The sound of the hem of her long dress brushing the floor was caught by the microphone.
“Hello.”
After a brief greeting, she took out a bottle of wine.
Silver Oak Revival Cabernet 2004.
“This wine was made from grapes grown on land that had been burned by fire. In 2004, flames swallowed half of our vineyard. But the land remained, and the roots remained. This wine is the first new sprout to rise again from those ashes.”
Her voice was quiet, but firm and compelling.
“The fire took the grapes, but it could not change the soil. This is not a record of despair, but a record of survival. That is why Silver Oak Revival Cabernet 2004 possesses an even firmer structure and a complex flavor profile. I hope all of you will be sure to remember this wine today.”
People tasted the wine she had brought, nodding or exchanging comments. Soon, her time ended, and as Elaina came back behind the stage, she met my eyes again.
“I heard you received two Double Golds. Congratulations.”
“Uh… thanks.”
Now she was even greeting me warmly. At this point, I briefly wondered if perhaps she, too, had regressed like me.
“This year will probably be different.”
“Huh?”
“We brought in an incredible winemaker last year. Just you wait.”
As expected, people did not change that easily. Still, at the very least, I grew curious about this winemaker she had brought in. Just how skilled were they?
Second up was Duckhorn Estate, which was difficult to call a mere newcomer. It seemed they had thought that if only brand-new wineries appeared, it would be hard to draw people’s attention.
And then, as the lights dimmed, the host spoke.
“Next is winemaker Brian Choi of Redwood Winery.”
Brian stepped onto the platform with calm strides. On the table were two bottles.
Echelon 2004, Sylphide 2004.
“Hello, I am Brian Choi of Redwood Winery. The two wines I will show you today were made in the same year, by the same hands. However, they possess completely different ‘directions.’”
I lifted the first bottle.
“Echelon is a blended wine based on Cabernet Sauvignon. The reason it was able to gain such deep structure and concentration despite its short aging period is that I controlled the bonding structure of the tannins during fermentation. Thanks to that, it could achieve a fully mature balance in the short span of a single year.”
Then I set the bottle down and picked up the second.
“Sylphide is a Russian River Valley Pinot Noir. With this wine, I wanted to capture the ‘time of light and air’ as it was. The morning fog of the Russian River makes the skins of the grapes thinner, allowing the delicate aroma compounds inside to linger longer. I call this wine a ‘wine of air.’”
I phrased it exactly the way wine lovers would like. Sure enough, the wine enthusiasts who had attended the event smiled with satisfaction as they tasted Echelon and Sylphide.
They were wines already difficult to find on the market, so for them, being able to take even a sip here was an excellent opportunity.
“When will next year’s release be?”
“Is there any inventory left at the winery?”
A barrage of questions poured in from the crowd. Those tasting them for the first time in particular stepped forward as if they had to buy the wine immediately.
Among those watching this situation were Chloe and her two friends, but there were also two completely unexpected people.
They were Michael Lowell and Richard Spencer, chairman of Apex Creative Holdings, the largest entertainment group in the United States.
“So that Echelon is the wine you picked as the next representative wine of Napa Valley?”
Michael Lowell was a senior editor at Wine Enthusiast, one of America’s top two wine magazines, so it was only natural for him to attend yesterday’s and today’s events.
But it was unusual for Richard Spencer, who absolutely worshipped French wine, to remain at the venue for another day. I had thought it would not be strange if he had gotten thoroughly offended and left for New York immediately.
“By my standards, yes.”
“Aside from Echelon, Redwood’s Sylphide spread throughout social circles centered around New York late last year. To be honest, I found Sylphide more impressive than Echelon when I tasted it.”
“Sylphide… It is certainly a good wine.”
“I don’t believe yesterday’s result means that America has surpassed France. However… I can acknowledge, at least, that American wine has risen to a position where it can challenge the traditions of France.”
“Even though every wine from first to fifth place was American?”
“Ahem… Life, by its nature, always has a way of producing unexpected rules. In that sense, while this second Judgment of Paris is indeed surprising, it cannot overturn the reputation built up over all these years.”
Michael wondered what on earth he was trying to say and looked at him, and Richard Spencer raised one corner of his mouth as he spoke.
“But I am a businessman. Where people’s interest goes, money follows.”
“Pardon?”
“What do you think about having the two wineries that appeared in New Blood of Napa compete against rising French wineries? Doesn’t that sound interesting?”
“So, since thirty-year-old wines competed against each other, you want to have emerging new wineries compete this time?”
Michael Lowell’s expression said he had no idea what kind of nonsense that was. It was understandable. Wine blind-tasting events like this might receive attention around the world, but in the end, they were only famous among wine enthusiasts.
He had thought it was not the sort of matter Richard Spencer would involve himself in.
“I’m not talking about some mere blind tasting. We determine the skills of the winemakers one by one. As a TV show.”
“A TV show? Ah…”
Reading Richard Spencer’s intent, Michael was inwardly impressed. His aggressive business sense, trying to connect even this event to money somehow, was simply astonishing.
“What do you think? Doesn’t it sound fun?”
“But why exactly two wineries?”
He glanced at the Asian man standing on the platform and saying something, then spoke.
“On a day when we Americans ought to be enjoying ourselves, an Asian is becoming the center of attention. Isn’t that ridiculous? People who have never even made wine before… If this continues, the initiative in American culture won’t belong to Napa Valley, but to that Asian’s winery. So I intend to proceed without that place.”
Michael’s mouth fell open. In other words, because he could not stand seeing that Asian become the topic of conversation, he intended to create an additional event and make white people the center of attention instead.
“Haha… Since you praised Sylphide, I naturally thought you would include Redwood in the event.”
“I am cold-headed. I have no intention of disparaging Sylphide’s quality. I simply have no intention of helping it stand out.”
Then, taking a sip of the Sylphide wine provided for tasting by Redwood Winery, he smiled in satisfaction.