Page 93 of Red Mountain Burning
The Politics of a Tasting
“Château Smooth,” Brooks said, saying it out loud for the first time. “It’s like someone is playing a cruel joke on our AVA.”
He sat with Jake, Carmen, Emilia, and Pak at the gorgeous solid-slab walnut table in the kitchen of Lacoda. Like the tasting room, the kitchen was modern and almost industrial with exposed concrete and steel. Several large windows looked out over the courtyard, the sheep pasture, and vineyards to the north.
Though they hadn’t walked down to attend the press conference, they’d seen it on the local news.
“It does seem impossible, doesn’t it?” Jake said. “After all we’ve done to defend this place.”
Brooks ran a hand through his hair. “It’s definitely getting harder and harder not to be an elitist. We should have drawn up plans to require approval before a winery could buy land in the AVA.”
“Probably should have worried about that before we pushed for organized organics,” Pak said, adjusting his visor.
“Or even the same bottle shape,” Brooks admitted. “I just never could have imagined this.” He thought about the details Bellflour had mentioned, the wordpinkreally sticking out. Brooks had tried to call Otis to see how he was taking the news, but Otis hadn’t picked up his phone. Brooks, however, was beyond sure that his mentor wouldn’t be taking the news well at all.
Ready to move on to better things, Brooks reached for one of the many glass containers full of wine sitting in the middle of the table. This one read:SY-01-ANG. He unscrewed the small black cap and poured a small amount of wine into one of his polished crystal glasses, then passed it around.
“This is the Angeline block. Thought it would be a good place to start.”
So it began. As was typical, all who participated in a tasting were supposed to keep a poker face and not reveal their feelings on the wines until it was time to share. The power of suggestion was too strong otherwise. If Brooks looked up and said he smelled cranberries, the others might smell cranberries. That’s why it was suddenly as quiet as a library in the kitchen.
They’d come together to make the decision on the varietal percentages for their red blend. Though they often bottled single varieties as well, it was their red blend that captured the entire essence of Lacoda. The forty or so glass containers held wine lots from all the varying fermentations from the different red grape blocks, and it was their job today to figure out how to best express the property.
These bottles contained the results of all their hard work for not just the previous vintage, but from all the years of Lacoda that had led to this moment.
And yet…
There was Carmen. Thankfully, she wasn’t partaking in the tasting, but her presence felt like a corkscrew twisting into Brooks’s side. Yes, it was her winery, and she was the boss, but did she need to sit there and peck at her computer while the rest of them tried to concentrate on the wines?
Finally breaking free of Carmen’s poisonous tentacles, he put his full focus on the wine before him. He’d found that the Angeline block gave a brilliant window into the entire vintage. He couldn’t explain why, only that he knew with one sip what kind of wines they’d be working with throughout the property. Angeline was the mystery that kept Brooks coming back year after year. Even with all the science Otis and others had taught him, he couldn’t explain this enigma.
He stuck his nose into the glass, and a bouquet of flavors that might not even have names delighted him. The vibrancy and liveliness was exquisite, and he knew he’d made a wine that was alive and ever changing.
Taking in the first sip, he was pleased with the evident roundness. There was certainly crunch, but there was a sexiness, too, this kind of velvety blanket that coated the tongue. Holy hell, this was a good wine. He picked up the red Solo cup in front of him, spat into it, and then wrote a few notes in his notepad. A few minutes passed, and he saw that the others had set down their pens and were ready to talk.
Jake went first. “This is why we’re here. I think it’s exactly as it should be. Well done, Brooks.”
“Well done to all,” Brooks said. He looked to his right. “What about you, Emilia? What’s the new kid on the block have to say?”
Emilia blushed. “You love to put me on the spot lately.”
“Otis used to do the same thing to me. Don’t worry. No judging here. Besides, you’ve already proven yourself. I love the way you speak about wine. Let’s have it.”
“No pressure.” Emilia said, sniffing the wine again. “This is the heart of the vineyard, right? I think it’s incredible. I mean, I don’t really have tons of tasting experience, but it’s very different from the other wines I’ve tasted from Red Mountain. Or anywhere else for that matter.” She looked at her dad. “I really think I would know this wine anywhere.”
“This is your home, Em,” Jake said.
Emilia opened her mouth but chose not to speak. Instead, she smiled and stuck her nose back into the glass.
“Okay,” Carmen said, looking up from her computer. “Let’s not get all metaphysical. You guys and your wine talk can get a little ridiculous.”
Brooks nearly snapped. How dare she intervene right now?
“Mom,” Emilia said. “Have you seen Angeline? Something crazy is going on up there.”
“Of course, I’ve seen it.” Carmen shook her head with disgust. “Your father tries to drag me up there all the time.”
Emilia glanced at Brooks and then back at her mom. “Well, I think that vine is something to be taken seriously. And since when was metaphysical a bad thing?”
