Chapter 15 of the R.M. Dolin novel, "Trophic Cascade"
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Even though Sympatico’s empanadas are divine, Jake pulls in at the truck stop on San Filipe Pueblo as much out of respect for tradition as the fact that they won’t eat again until after dark and both energy and stamina are necessary to survive the grueling day in front of them. The first time Jake did the Albuquerque Wine Fiesta he came down with Emelia and fifty cases of wine, which they sold out on the first day and had to go home for more. Today he’s hauling over two-hundred cases, and his tasting line consists of six servers, with him working the bar-back. His servers spend their day pouring free samples as they explain wines and promote product. The Bar-back works behind them keeping each server station stocked, completing bottle purchases, and running credit card transactions. In addition, the Bar-back manages ice; making sure ice buckets stay fresh, white wines stay chilled, and they always have plenty of Sangria to sell. Jake attempts to give each server a break every couple of hours by filling in at their station. If each server takes a ten-minute break that means he spends half his time on the serving line. The Bar-back works considerably harder than the people on the serving line, of course after six hours on the line, his servers probably have a much different perspective.
Jake’s two hundred plus cases of wine span three red wine varietals, three white wines, two sangrias, two dessert wines, and two Ports. Red wines and Ports are lightly chilled to keep them around 68 degrees. The other wines are served chilled. Other wineries don’t cool their red wines, but Jake’s found that afternoon sun overheats them, elevating a tannin a bitterness that lays in stark contrast to the refreshing sensation one desires on a hot afternoon.
Between his six serving stations, Jake has seventy-two bottles of open wine on the line. Not only are samples free, but he also must pay a rental fee for the privilege of giving his wine away. It’s a pretty screwed up business model and for years he’s tried organizing winery owners to boycott festivals until a more equitable arrangement can be negotiated. Unfortunately, most wineries barely get by, and fiesta revenue represents half their annual income, which means they can be exploited by event promoters. This would never happen to distillers who are far more rebellious, which probably has something to do with why New Mexico doesn’t have spirits festivals.
Each fiesta-goer is limited to five samples per winery, which is equivalent to a five-ounce glass of wine. If you multiply that by twenty-two wineries, managing consumption becomes an enormous undertaking with serious consequences. This why the state deploys secret police to keep wineries on their toes and ensure they don’t serve intoxicated people. Of the thousands who attend, a small group are true wine enthusiasts, the rest are there to party. For the drunks, Jake brings Sangria, a refreshing drink for a hot day that pairs well with festival food. For those who come to enjoy the wineries and perhaps learn about wine, he brings an assortment of dry wines and two dessert wines. For the sophisticated with a more refined appreciation, there’s Port. Jake charges for port samples, otherwise, the drunks would demand Port to maximize alcohol intake. The event promoters tried stopping him from charging, but he told them to go screw themselves.
Jake’s Ports are different than those made by other wineries as he adheres to all the rules set forth by Portuguese Port production authorities, such as fermenting grape juice to three percent alcohol and then adding brandy at 70% alcohol until the mixture is at 20%. This process kills the yeast, leaving a lot of unfermented sugar. American Ports tend to taste like any other sweet wine because wineries ferment the juice all the way out, add very little brandy, then backfill with sugar to make it sweet, which results in a Port lacking depth and a full mouth feel. Jake’s the only Port producer in America, and quite possibly the world, who makes both the wine and the brandy in his Port, which enables him to instill even more taste and feel precision. His Sangria has a similar philosophy; rather than soak fresh citrus in red wine as most wineries do, Jake extracts the citrus juice and oils with brandy. He then adds the fruit extract to red wine resulting in a mixture that remains at standard table wine strength, is fuller and richer than other sangrias, and is why his is the top festival wine.
The most profitable way to sell wine at a festival, is by the glass. A bottle of Sangria sells for $17, but a glass sells for $7. A bottle of sangria contains five glasses, which makes the selling price when sold by the glass $35, or twice more profitable.
Wine Fiestas attract a younger demographic with people mostly there to enjoy an afternoon drinking outside with friends, listening to music, and enjoying festival food. This event’s held at the International Balloon Fiesta Park, a flat expansive bowl at the north end of town. The grounds are covered with lush grass, and by late afternoon ladies enjoy removing their shoes to feel real grass against bare feet, a rare treat for desert dwellers. There’s something special about a finely dressed woman walking barefoot in the grass holding a glass of wine in one hand, and a pair of high heels in the other, it’s shear happiness on beauty. On the downside there’s no shade trees at Balloon Fiesta Park, which means on hot days there’s no place to escape, except for the large tent in the center of the grounds where bands perform.
The first step in setting up is to unload the trailer, which Dario and Chance dig into once their tent location is found. They unload the tables and serving materials first, then start off-leading the wine. Jake and Sympatico hang banners around the inside of their twenty-by-twenty-foot tent. Interspersed between wine tents are smaller food and craft vendor tents, which together are laid out to form a rectangular perimeter around Balloon Fiesta Park like an old west fort; the open center is where the music tent is located. The gap between the music tent and perimeter tents creates a sort of plaza for attendees to mill around in. Which winery gets which tent is randomly determined, but Jake’s noticed that larger more influential wineries consistently draw the best spots.
This year Jake’s tent is midway along the east side of the plaza facing west, which sucks because his servers will be staring into the late afternoon sun as it bakes his wines. The advantage is that people naturally congregate with the sun at their back, and that can mean thousands of extra dollars in sales. Jake’s neighbor to the left is an artist specializing in southwest silver jewelry. On the right is a Hatch chili vendor specializing in jelly.
The tent’s side and back walls are ten-foot-high and along the open front, he has a twenty-foot-long row of tables representing his serving line. The back wall’s lined with wine cases stacked five high in places. In front of the wine are five four-foot ice chests used to chill wines and stockpile ice. Jake hangs banners along the back wall as well as some dropped down banners from the center roof. The banners are enlarged renditions of his wine labels to help customers know what’s being offered. He also hangs a few banners promoting his distillery, which always stimulates customer conversation. He’s quick to point out that he’s a distiller who makes wine, rather than a winemaker who distills. It annoys other wineries that he openly promotes spirits being healthier than wine; his saving grace is everyone agrees both are healthier than beer – at the least they don’t contain hormones causing men’s boobs and guts to grow.
Once the banners are hung, Jake has Sympatico open the seventy-two wine bottles that each need a pouring stopper. The State Alcohol and Gaming Commision require stoppers to prevent over-serving because bureaucrats can’t understand that pouring stoppers regulate the rate of a pour not the amount poured. Once Jake has Sympatico trained on bottle prep, he leaves to place his ice order. Dario smiles knowing Jake will start out on a journey to get ice, but along the way will stop to visit with other winery owners and won’t be back until just before the gates open. There’s no doubt Jake’s a genius, but Dario often wonders how he ever even managed to make it to school on time. Taking the initiative, as soon as the ice guy comes by in his ATV and trailer, Dario puts in an initial order. Meanwhile, he and Chance raise a twenty-foot-long banner above the front roof line of the tent. It’s just about hung when Armando arrives. “About time your lazy ass shows up,” Dario grouses looking down from the ladder.
“Buenos dias to you too,” Armando laughs. “I agree, it is a wonderful day for a fiesta.” Armando watches Dario and Chance work.
“We open in forty minutes,” Dario says in anxious frustration knowing he has too much to do in that short amount of time.
“It will be a wild day for sure, Cabron; the parking is horrible and the people, eee, they are already lining up. And so many, where do they find so many people who like wine.”
“Wait till tomorrow,” Chance adds, “that’s when the weather gets weird.”
“Ah, the weatherman,” Armando sings. “You must be To-.” He catches himself. “Who are you?”
“Chance.”
“Chance who?” Armando prods.
“Just Chance.”
“Then I am just Armando,” the cagey bar owner responds.
“You own the Al Azar?” Chance says somewhat surprised. Based on Jake’s description he had a very different image.
“Si, only don’t tell your friends,” Armando lowers his voice. “I don’t need wine lovers showing up at my cerveza bar.”
“No worries,” Chance laughs trying to focus more on ladder duties. “My only friend is Dario here.”
“That is very sad senor, a man is measured by his friends is he not?” Armando takes a moment to survey the banner. “So, tell me, Just Chance, do you know what Al Azar means in Spanish?”
“No.”
“Chance,” Armando happily informs him. “As in game of chance, not chance encounter,” Armando’s tone shifts to tough and relentless. “Which are you, Cabron?”
“You decide,” Chance answers annoyed he gets asked that all the time.
“Well, you’re into weather, which is a game of chance, but meeting you at a wine fiesta is a chance encounter, que no?” Armando’s about to continue hazing when he spots Sympatico busy opening wine boxes and loading bottles into the ice coolers. “Ay caramba,” he mumbles. He looks up at Dario. “Is that Sympatico?”
“Really something huh?” Dario grins down at his friend as he tightens tie-wire around the banner pole.
“No wonder Jake’s in such a good mood these days.” Armando is so entranced by the woman whose transformation is so dramatically stunning that he ignores Dario and Chance. “Senorita,” Armando gallantly says as he approaches. “Tu eres muy linda.”
Sympatico glances up not fully realizing who he is. “Gracious senor,” she softly says, but immediately returns to work. She can’t help but smile, it’s been a long time since a gentleman told her in formal Spanish that she’s beautiful.
“It’s me, from the Al Azar. You came in my bar the night of Cinco de Mayo, well stormed in is perhaps more accurate.”
Sympatico looks up embarrassed. “I could never forget you, Senor.” She says hoping she’s believable.
“I should think not, especially after the way I rescued you from Miguel and his dangerous men.”
“I seem to recall you had some help.” Sympatico lightly teases.
“Who Dario?” Armando scoffs, “he’s an old woman, those desperadoes were far more worried about me.”
“No doubt you worried them.” She pauses before shifting to a more seriousness tone. “I can never repay you for what you have done. It was very brave. You didn’t have to get involved, but you did. You are brave, honorable, and if every man were even just a little like you, the world would be safe.”
The never at a loss for cute comebacks bartender finds himself barely able to respond. “Well, ya know, it’s not that I was brave.” Like languages lost on ice, his words slip and slide grasping for footing. “I mean I am brave, but it wasn’t because I am. I mean between you and me,” Armando steps closer to Sympatico while lowering his voice. “And don’t tell Dario, but I was so nervous I could not have signed my name to a million dollar note. I just knew something needed to be done is all.”
“Is that not the very definition of bravery, it’s what sets you apart from others.”
“Maybe,” Armando replies accepting her assessment. “But let’s talk about you. You are like a sun blossom, so alive and festive. You shouldn’t be working at a festival you should be part of the celebration.”
Sympatico blushes. “I am looking forward to today. Are you here for tasting?” She asks since it doesn’t appear he’s here to work.
“No, I always help Jake at fiestas, you know, provide a little professional mentoring.”
“I am sorry,” Sympatico says somewhat embarrassed. “With everyone so busy and you just visiting, I assumed you weren’t part of our team.”
Armando is neither embarrassed nor shammed. “I’m management.” He takes a step back and looks up to survey the job Dario and Chance are doing with the front banner. “Hey, you up there! Lower that bottom bungee cord to remove the wrinkle.” Armando looks back at Sympatico. “See, it is good I am here to supervise.”
“What was that all about?” Chance asks Dario.
“Just ignore him, he’s showing off.”
“She does have that effect, doesn’t she?” Chance teases.
“I notice you strutting around like a Rhode Island Red whenever she’s near.”
“What can I say.”
Dario finishes the banner and starts down the ladder. “Now where the hell is Doc, we’re about to go live?”
For the last twenty minutes Jake’s been making his way to the fiesta gates where he’s supposed to meet his two additional servers. Along the way he gets pulled off course by other winery owners who want to talk about grape sourcing and just generally gossip. They don’t chat often, and fiestas are good for impromptu meetings. New Mexico wineries are a close-knit group that for the most part, collectively share a rare sense of cooperation over competition. There’s of course always a few who don’t play particularly well with others but being a remote and isolated state instills a pioneer spirit that is heavily codependent. For example, if you just had ten thousand dollars’ worth of grapes delivered and your crusher breaks, you need to borrow one from another winery pronto because there’s no time to wait for spare parts to be shipped. If you’re in the middle of bottling and run out of bottles, you need to borrow some from another winery because it can take weeks to get new ones delivered. The same goes for chemicals, storage tanks, or other equipment. The only way a small niche industry can survive and be profitable in remote places is to lean on each other.
For the New Mexico wine industry to remain vibrant there needs to be a critical mass. If the industry falls below critical mass, there aren’t enough to maintain a credible supply of products people are willing to make the effort to experience. Beyond that number and each winery’s slice of the economic pie is unsustainable. Every year three to five wineries start up in New Mexico, and three to five wineries go out of business, which makes the critical mass around fifty. It’s interesting to see the different business models each winery employs at a festival, some come with their best wines while others off-load last year’s surplus or peddle a less than premium batch from this year’s product. Some wineries bring a large contingent of servers while others go small. Some offer gimmick wines like a green chile infused white wine to mask low quality while others only provide their best reserve wines.
Jake focuses on selling wine by the glass and promoting his distillery. Everyone who stops by his tent gets a poker chip that can be redeemed for a free tasting. Most wineries charge people for tastings and treat that as an income stream, while ironically complaining about not getting enough visitors. Jake charges as well, but then constantly hands out free tasting chips to create a sense of value. If people think they’re getting a deal, they’ll make the drive from Albuquerque and then once there, will most likely buy something, especially when not getting charged creates a sense of obligation.
Its twenty minutes from gates-open by the time Jake gets to the staff entrance to escort his two additional servers, who he found online, to their tent. Finding servers online means he doesn’t know what to expect; sometimes they’re so old or out of shape he wonders if they can withstand the rigor of three full days. Other times he gets a tattooed, punk-rock person with bizarre hair and piercings. When a punk-rocker shows up, he sends them home opting to work short-handed because that’s not the image he’s trying to promote. Jake caught a break this fiesta, because both Monica and Bridget are in their early thirties, pretty, dressed appropriately, and appear physically up for fiesta rigors. On their walk from the gate to his tent, he checks their credentials to make sure their licensed to serve. As they round the corner of the music tent, he points to his banner prominently displayed over the roof above the serving tables. Seeing the ice ATV parked in front, he appreciates that Dario anticipated he’d forget. While explaining something to his servers, he unexpectedly runs into Padre dressed in his black priest frock.
“Padre!” Jake exclaims, “what the hell you doing here?”
“Really,” Padre scowls, “this is how you talk to your priest? What must these fine young ladies think showing such disrespect?”
“Ladies,” Jake says unphased, “my humble apologies; I should not have talked to Padre Paul like that. Padre’s a “small” parish friar from Española.”
“Yes ladies,” Padre defends. “My parish is small, but size is not what matters, it’s the sincerity of sermons and the souls saved.”
The girls are uncomfortable being caught up in such a bizarre conversation, and relieved when Jake directs them to their tent while he remains.
“So why are you here?” Jake returns to his initial question.
“Got a gig man.”
“You’re playing the festival?” Jake laughs. “Boy, they’re really reaching.
“If you want authentic New Mexico muscia, you hire the northern bands.”
“I suppose, what time you go on?”
“Three,” Padre confirms. “I’ll come get you.”
“As long as I’m not busy. You’re not wearing that I hope?
“How else will people relate to my cause,” Padre taps the three-inch button pinned to his frock. He’s always promoting some cause, so Jake doesn’t notice the button with an image of a bald fat Friar in a brown robe with a tan rope belt smiling gregariously. The friar’s hands are together and it’s clear from the dove flying forward that it’s just been released. The image of the dove in flight is like Picasso’s ‘Dove of Peace’. The button is set against a light blue background, and around the circumference is a slogan that reads: “Padres for Peaceful Protest (P2P)”
“Really?” Jake scoffs.
“It’s my new charity. I’m selling these for five bucks to raise money for those wronged by social injustice.”
“Isn’t that pretty much everyone?”
“Seriously?” Padre ridicules. “What’s your social injustice?”
“I’m a white guy in Northern New Mexico, I got a priest who refuses to let me slip away after communion, I live in a country and state that’s increasingly oppressive, I’m being taxed to the point of bankruptcy, and the country I love is being driven to destruction by anti-American politicians. By my calculus, I got me a plate full of social injustice.”
“The white dude part’s a bit of a stretch don’t ya think? Besides, if it’s pretty much everyone I should sell a ton of these bad boys. Here,” Padre says handing Jake a button, “take one.”
“No thanks, I’m not one for causes.”
“Seriously dude? You’re involved in more causes than anyone I know.” Padre again gestures for Jake to take the button. “Consider this a get out of jail free card. I’m tight with the head of security. If anything happens, you show your button to ‘soften the landing,’ if you know what I mean.”
“Does it work with S.I.D.?” Jake asks sarcastically.
“S.I. What?”
“Special Investigations Division,” Jake elaborates, “the secret police. They run scams to trap wineries at these events. Keep them off my back for the next three days and I’ll buy all your buttons.”
“Can’t help with that Bro, but the button can’t hurt.”
Jake thinks about it and decides to put it on. “What the hell, right?”
“That’s the spirit, even if poorly articulated. If anyone asks where to get one, send them to the music tent.”
Padre shakes Jake’s hand, leaving him with a warning. “Be careful today mi amigo.”
“You to, and don’t preach on stage like last time.”
“Hey,” Padre says turning around, “it’s part of my shtick.”
“You really need to find a new tag line,” Jake shouts as Padre walks away.
Jake watches Padre engage people in the music tent, marveling at the ease in which he operates. It seems odd that the church would waste his talent and passion on a small rural church, but then again, men of true passion and talent often are banished to obscurity because they challenge the status quo and threaten those in power. Jake’s own career is proof of that in spades. Institutions recognize the need for men like Jake and Padre to thrive, they just have no place for them in positions of prominence.
Jake arrives at his tent finding things mostly set up. Monica and Bridget have introduced themselves and are visiting with Sympatico. As expected, Armando’s arranged the serving line with Dario at the far-right end, followed by Sympatico, and no surprise, followed next by Armando. On his other side is Monica, who coincidentally is the prettier of the two new servers. Chance is beside Monica, with Bridget on his other side. Bridget’s not really on the end of the line because on her left is the bottle and glass sales express lane, which Jake operates. The six tasting stations are for people who want to sample wines and folks will be queued up thirty to forty minutes at times. To increase sales, Jake instituted an express lane three years ago to allows purchasers to circumvent the long lines. It’s become so successful every winery now has an express lane.
Jake immediately huddles his servers together for a quick team meeting, making sure they face the back of the tent to avoid distractions. Armando and Dario have heard Jake’s lecture many times, but it’s filled with valuable reminders, so they pay careful attention. “Okay,” Jake begins. “First, thanks for helping today, you did a great job setting up. We have three long days in front of us, so pace yourself. And remember, stay hydrated.” He looks at Dario to emphasize his point.
“One time Doc.”
“A Corpsman of all people should know better. Feel free to let me know whenever you have any sort of problem or just need a break. My job is to make your job smoother. We have just a few things to go over before ‘Operation Chaos’ begins. As Jake talks, he makes eye contact with each of his servers. “First, we only serve in official fiesta glasses like this.” He holds up a logo wine glass. “Notice the pour line and the fill line, samples to the pour line, glass purchases to the fill line. Keep your whites, desserts, and Sangrias in the ice bucket. Keep the reds and Ports in the tray. Let me know when you empty a bottle, and I’ll replace it. Also, let me know when you need ice or need your bucket drained.
“Jake looks around the tent for other reminders. “You can make sales with cash, but I’ll run credit card transactions. The wrist bands are orange today. It’s your responsibility to ensure everyone you serve has one. If they don’t have a band or don’t have a festival glass don’t serve them, no matter what kind of excuse they offer. Only serve one sample at a time, if someone asks for all five samples at once tell them no. Another thing, and this is important; only one glass per person, that’s a state regulation. If someone wants you to pour in two glasses, you must verify visually who the other person is.
“Now the tricky part,” he says leaning closer, “SID will run scams so beware.” He glances toward the front gates to see a wave of people pushing into the fiesta grounds. “They’re the secret police and if you’ve never encountered them before, all I’m going to say is they’re first-class SOBs and you don’t want them on your ass. They’ll either get one of their officers over-intoxicated or try to get a minor served. They’ll do shit like try to get you to over pour and give too many samples. If you get busted by SID, they’ll arrest you and fine me. It’s your responsibility to know if a person’s had too much, or if the orange band’s been tampered, or the glass is wrong. Remember, we live in a society where personal responsibility no longer exists so if someone breaks the law, it’s your fault.
“Some tips in that regard,” Jake says with increased tempo. “Make people take off sunglasses and look at their eyes. If they’re bloodshot don’t serve them. If a person is acting non-normal in any way, don’t serve them. Talk to a person you suspect of being intoxicated, if they slur their words or seem incoherent, don’t serve them. Always be looking down the line observing people ten minutes out, you can more easily pick up tells from a distance. If you have any concerns, or if anyone gives you a hard time, let me deal with them. You don’t want to go to jail, and I don’t want to get fined so error on the side of caution. I’d rather make a customer unhappy than the secret police happy!”
Jake sees how distressed his speech is making Sympatico. In retrospect, he shouldn’t have been so flippant about the secret police, but what the hell, it’s out there and he doesn’t have time to fix it. “Let me know when you need a break, and I’ll spell you. My hope is to give each of you a break every couple of hours. Take your time while serving, you’ll have a wall of people in front of you no matter how fast you pour, so there’s no point getting frantic. We limit people to five samples so let them choose from the menu. I encourage you to visit with people and find out what kind of wine they like so you can make recommendations. I got soda’s, energy drinks, water, and snacks in the blue cooler so help yourself. And remember, stay hydrated.” Again, Jake looks sternly at Dario.
“One time, Doc, give a brother a break.”
“Finally, and most important, this is a fiesta folks. Let’s help people enjoy their day and make some money.” As Jake concludes, he gestures for his crew to turn around. “So now ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, I present for your dining and dancing pleasure, Fiesta de la Albuquerque.” His crew turns around and are greeted with a wall of people already ten deep in front of each station ready for samples. Armando does not yet turn around, it’s tradition for he and Jake share a final word. “May God have mercy on their souls, eh Cabron?”
“Si,” Armando replies making the sign of the cross. He then spins around, opens his arms toward the crowd, and begins. “Hola mi amigos!” he shouts wildly while stepping into his server station. “Welcome to our shared destiny. Senoritas are here,” he says pointing to his serving station. “Cabrons go here, here, and there,” he concludes pointing in succession to Chance, Monica, and Bridget.
Jake takes a moment to appreciate the initial wave, who made his winery their first stop. They’re probably repeat customers, and very business knows, repeat customers are the most valued. With all vectors pointing positive, and satisfied today’s off to a good start, Jake steps up beside Sympatico to mentor her through the fiesta serving process. He’s not sure why, but all morning he’s been looking forward to helping her learn this part of his business, almost as if sharing this with her is essential.
