Chapter 37: Interlude: Ginger I Can't Believe It's Not Ale

Chapter 37: Interlude: Ginger I Can't Believe It's Not Ale

“I’ve got all our stuff packed up Pete.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to leave anythin’ important behind.”

“Because we have sooo much stuff.”

“Hey, speak for yourself!”

“I’ve got everythin’ you own packed into a tiny little sack.”

“Touché. What about you?”

“I’ll need ta go an’ get it from city hall later. I got some tools and things.”

“Alright, I’m just about done too, we just need to wait for Bran.”

“That’s the weird bucket ye’ve been playin’ with. What did ya say it was?”

“It’s my going away present for everyone. It’s a drink called ginger pop.”

“I’ve never heard of pop. At least it’s not one of yer bastardized beers again.”

“Uh, sure.”

—

Three weeks prior

Our gunpowder test was going to happen soon, likely without a hitch, and I was going to be free. Before we left though, I wanted to leave everyone in the mine with one last present; an actually decent beer. Unfortunately, I had to tiptoe carefully around the issue, as making bootleg beer would probably set some dwarves off.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t cheat! There were two kinds of beer that would be incredibly easy to make and source, and could be disguised as something other than beer until it was too late.

“Muhahaha.”

“Pete, yer doin’ that creepy laugh again.”

“Sorry, Bran.”

Bran thunked a pile of groceries on the kitchen counter and went to put on an apron. “I got tha’ ginger ye wanted, and you can have as much sugar as you want.”

“Thanks again for letting me use all the kitchen supplies.”

“Er, *cough* sure. So, what are ya makin’ this time?”

“It’s a special drink called ginger bee... ginger ay.... ginger pop.”

“I’ve never heard of pop.”

“It’s a fizzy drink, kind of like beer, with some alcohol, kind of like beer, but it isn’t beer.”

“Yer sure? I don’t want ya makin’ unlicensed beer in ma kitchen. That’s against city and guild law. I thought you were tryin’ to get out of jail.”

“Absolutely. Not a single brewer in all of Minnova would call this beer.”

“That’s good.” Bran shuffled his feet a bit. “Is it sweet? Will Opal like it?”

“I can guarantee she may even like it more than radlers, and I’ll even leave you something special.”

“What is it?”

“My ginger bug!”

“What is it?"

“Sigh. Watch and learn, Bran. First though, you’ll need to help me grate this ginger.”

Bran eyed the brown pile warily. “That’s a lot of ginger. Are ya goin' to use it all?”

And grating.

And grating.

Finally we had an enormous yellow mushy pile that I scooped into the pot. I added several cups of sugar and stirred while Bran juiced some lemons.

“Lemons again?” Balin moaned.

“Grapefruit could work too, and I wish I had some jalapenos but lemons are what we have.” I started up the stove and we sat and chatted while we waited. I stirred it every once in a while until it came to a merry boil, then turned it off. We waited for the pot to cool while Bran forced us to clean and re-organize his kitchen.

“Here comes the hard part. We need to strain this.” I looked at the large strainer, and considered the problem of lifting the enormous pot to run the tea through it.

“I got it.” Bran said, as he grabbed the strainer and waved it around in the pot until a vortex formed. With a deft hand he scooped all the ginger out of the tea and dumped it out into the compost. Balin and I clapped appreciatively at the sight of a master working at his craft.

“Next step is to add the lemon juice and... this!” I held up the bucket and pulled off the cheesecloth. The brown slurry inside the bucket bubbled and popped. Balin jumped away and even Bran took a step back.

“Ya sure this isn’t just a plan of Pete’s ta kill off any witnesses?” Balin asked.

“Probably not.” Bran said, though he sounded a bit unsure.

“It’s fiiiine.” I poured most of the liquid out of the bucket and into pot, though I left the slurry at the bottom untouched. “Now add the lemons Bran.”

Bran shrugged and added the lemon juice. I took a moment to thank my dutiful bug.

“You can keep adding sugar and ginger to this bucket to keep the bug alive if you want to, Bran.”

“I think I’ll see how this turns out before I try that, Pete.”

“Suit yourself.” The next step was to pour the gingerette into a bottle and let it undergo a kind of secondary fermentation called ‘bottle conditioning’. Unfortunately, Annie’s predicament meant I didn’t trust the barrels commonly used for brewing, so everyone would need to be happy with flat ginger beer. It was what they were already used to, so no real big loss.

“Now we wait another two weeks! Hopefully it will be ready before we go!”

—

Two weeks later

“-- and I want to thank Pete and Balin for their hard work this past year!” Grim’s voice echoed through the full mess hall.

The crowd roared and cheered and jeered. Balin and I stood proudly on the stage as our manacles were removed, and we were officially signed out of the mine.

“Do you two have anythin’ to say before you go?” Grim looked like he really didn’t want to do that, but it was tradition. He’d let us know ahead of time to prepare a speech if we wanted. I nodded and walked forward.

“I want to thank you all for being an amazing crew! You had our back so many times, and I’m going to miss every one of you. Both Balin and I had our lives saved by the good dwarves of the Minnova City Mine, and I’ll never forget you! To commemorate our freedom, and thank you, I prepared a special drink as a present for all of you!”

“Not more radler, I hope!” A dwarf in the crowd heckled.

“He said it was a present, not a disappointment!” Sam roared from the back. Thanks Sam.

“This is something new, called ‘ginger pop’! There isn’t any beer in it at all. Bran has it in the pot at the back, so go and enjoy it with dinner!”

The dwarves murmured and jostled into place, eventually forming a cursing line. Bran and I began serving the ginger beer. The first dwarves through the line took a few sips and raised their eyebrows. A couple of them even drained their mug and got back in line. I smiled with pleasure. Yes indeed, I had finally made a decent beer for the dwarven populace, and it had nothing to do with beer, so nothing could possibly go wr–

“Hey, this stuff tastes even better than beer!”

“What did you say!?”

“You heard ‘im, this is great!”

“You take that back!”

“Make me!”

“Yer’ mother!”

Then the fists began to fly.

Grim’s voice was the last thing I heard before I ducked under a table. “Tha father o’ chaos ‘imself must have sent ya to destroy my camp! PEETE!!!”