Sweet, Solemn, Sad

by Shingo

Terroir

Cheerilee couldn’t help but smile as she was working. The cerise mare stood in one of the many rows of a vineyard. She had a small wagon behind her full of baskets, each filled to the brim with spherical green grapes. Cheerilee would cut the grapes from the vines and place them in a basket. When all of the fruit was gone, she would take her wagon and baskets and move along the row. There was something about the repetitive work that Cheerilee found soothing. It was a drastic change from teaching, but it was one that she embraced rather than push away. She was busy cutting the last of the fruit from a row when her ear twitched.

“Cheerilee!” a voice called in the distance. Cheerilee turned her head and found the silhouette of an earth pony waving to her. “Come over here!” Cheerilee cut the final bunch off of the vine. She placed her basket into the wagon with the others before heading towards the silhouette with the fruits of her labour. As she got closer to the silhouette, details of the pony became clearer. A mulberry earth pony mare was waiting for her with a smile on her face.

“Hello Berry,” Cheerilee greeted. She unhooked herself from the wagon. “I just finished harvesting the last of the courbu grapes.”

“Your productivity in my fields astounds me,” Berry chuckled. “How is it you’re able to harvest so much in so little time?”

“It’s a lot easier than grading elementary school work, trust me.” Cheerilee looked out at the rows of vines. “And there’s something relaxing about working there. I can’t really put my hoof on what that is.”

“A je ne sais quoi quality?”

“Something like that. So, what’s up?”

Berry started walking away. “Follow me.” She gestured for Cheerilee to follow. “There are some things I need you to taste.” Cheerilee quickly followed Berry. The two walked in a comfortable silence towards a small cottage overlooking the vineyard. In front of the cottage was an oaken table with four wine glasses on it. Three were empty while one was full of water. Cheerilee stopped at one end while Berry walked to the other side. She pulled up a silver bucket full of ice and three dark wine bottles. Berry pulled one of the bottles out and opened it.

“I need you to taste this for me.” Berry poured dark red liquid from the bottle into a glass. “Tell me what you think of it.” She stopped pouring and Cheerilee picked up the glass. She held it up and tapped her chin. After a few brief moments, she started swirling the glass.

“Dark rich colour.” Cheerilee brought the glass to her stout. She closed her eyes and inhaled. “Smells like a variety of berries and… black pepper? Wait, this can’t be what I think this is.” Cheerilee sipped from the glass. She swished the liquid in her mouth a bit before swallowing.

“High alcohol content. Tastes of raspberries, blackberries, plums, and a hint of oak.” Cheerilee stared at the glass. “This is zinfandel.”

“That it is,” Berry acknowledged.

“Why do you have zinfandel? You hate zinfandel.”

“Yes I do,” Berry sneered. “I hate zinfandel with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns. I hate zinfandel like good writers hate the misuse of a comma or semicolon. I hate zinfandel like a Windigo hates love. If all of the drinkable alcohol disappeared from the world and zinfandel was the only kind of drink left, I’d choose being sober over drinking that swill.”

“Don’t you think you’re being over dramatic?”

Berry shrugged. “Meh. As for why I have it,” she continued. “There’s two reasons. The main reason I made it was to improve my wine making skills. If I can make good quality wine of a type I loathe, then I’ll improve.”

Cheerilee sipped from her glass again. “That’s fair.” She looked at the glass. “It’s actually really good. It’s the right age and the flavours are perfectly balanced. Is it five years old?”

“Actually, I made that out of the grapes you picked for me two days ago.”

“That’s impossible. If that’s true, how’d you age it so fast?”

“Let’s just say I made a deal with Father Time.” Berry took the glass from Cheerilee. She picked up the water filled glass and held it out. Cheerilee swiped the glass.

“If you didn’t want to tell me, you could have said so rather than being cryptic,” she pouted. Cheerilee sipped from the glass.

“I wasn’t being cryptic, I actually made a deal with Father Time.” Cheerilee raised an eyebrow. “There’s an old unicorn in the village who goes by Father Time. He and I have an agreement. If I give him and his family a bottle of chardonnay, moscato, merlot, and gewürztraminer every week, he’d put continue casting a spell on my cellar to help speed up time.”

“That’s one of the smartest deals I’ve ever heard you make.” Cheerilee placed the glass on the table. Berry opened up another bottle and poured its contents into one of the glasses.

“I have my moments.” Berry motioned to the other glass. “Try this one and tell me what you think.” Cheerilee picked it up stared at the glass.

“The colour’s the same,” she said. Cheerilee took a quick whiff from it before drinking a small amount. She again swished it in her mouth. “This is another zinfandel.”

“Notice anything different?” Berry asked.

Cheerilee smacked her lips. “Actually, yes,” she admitted. “This one primarily tastes of blackberries and the smell of black pepper is stronger. The other one had a balanced mix of berries and plums as well as an aftertaste of oak while the smell of black pepper was barely there.”

“Damnit!” Berry screamed. “I just lost a bet.” Cheerilee motioned her to continue. “The grapes that you picked for the previous zinfandel are nearly identical to the ones in that one. They were planted at the same time, harvested at the same time, fermented at the same time, and given the same amount of water and sunlight. The only difference between them is the quality of the soil they grew in. I didn’t think that that would make a difference.”

Cheerilee opened her mouth. “I know,” Berry interrupted. “I’m a wine maker and I don’t believe in terroir. It’s strange, I know, you don’t have to say it. Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Just do it.” Cheerilee closed her eyes. The last bottle was removed from the bucket and its contents poured into the final glass. Berry placed it into Cheerilee’s hoof. “Drink up.” Cheerilee brought the glass to her lips. Immediately after its contents passed her lips, she spat it out.

“Are you trying to poison me?!” she shrieked.

“It’s only white zinfandel.”

“And it’s poison!”

“And you said I’m over dramatic.” Berry took the glass from Cheerilee and replaced it with one of the others. “Better?” Cheerilee drank half of the glass in a single gulp. She gasped for breath and nodded. “Good.”

Berry held out the white zinfandel filled glass. “Here’s hoping that my lost bet won’t come to bite me in the flank,” she said. “Cheers.”

“Is that really the best thing to toast to?”

“A toast a day keeps the doctor away.”

“That’s apples.”

“I dunno, a toast with a glass of red wine daily seems to be doing wonders for me.” Cheerilee shrugged before tapping her glass to Berry’s. The two brought the other’s poison to their lips with a smile on their faces.