Book 2: Chapter 33: Bean There, Done That

Book 2: Chapter 33: Bean There, Done That

Racking day was always stressful, and the addition of a pair of twitchy, tetchy Gnomes didn’t help.

We’d invited Copperpot to come and have the first taste of our coffee stout, and he’d been happy to oblige. Somehow Whistlemop had found out, and he’d become obsessed with being there too. It was likely that Butler Bimbleberry had found out from Lemontwist and passed it on.

We were partners, and the entire point of this enterprise was to expand brewing to the gnomish communities, so we’d extended an invite. With one caveat.

“You do realize that we were business partners long before you got involved. Pete and I have been through thick and thin together.” Whistlemop whined.

“Bah, thick is right if half the things I’ve heard are true. Mayhaps if you were a better businessman, he’d be partnering with you for this exercise.” Copperpot shot back.

“Some of us have to make do with what we’ve built ourselves, and don’t have a family monolith to prop us up!” Whistlemop gave an evil cackle.

“And yet only one of us is wearing a blindfold!”

“Grrrrrrrr...”

Whistlemop was indeed wearing a blindfold, one that actually had a Thirsty Goat logo on it. Copperpot smugly spun his beanie and walked around our upgraded setup. The shiny new lauter-tun sat where the old mash barrel used to be. It was a thing of beauty, and I only regretted that we couldn’t use it until the current batches were all racked. I wanted to explore making a tea porter next.

“Yes, I can SEEwhy this lauter-tun is so important, Pete.” Copperpot said jovially, tapping his finger on the shining metal.

Whistlemop sulked.

“You should have seen it before!” Johnsson said brightly. “The mash was a complete pain to stir after tha first half hour. The sack was better, but this tun thing is great!” He grabbed a handle of the knife-and-sparge wheel and gave it an easy spin.

“Yeah. Before. When this place had a layer of dust knee high.” I sighed. It wasn’t a happy sigh.

Copperpot raised his eyebrows. “I’ve been dealing with dwarves my entire life. I can imagine.”

“That was then, this is now.” I led Copperpot over to my four covered experimentation tanks. “These tanks have the stouts in them. The covered tops mean that we’ll probably be able to skip the bottle conditioning stage. At least, I hope so.”

Using [Refine Brew] on all of the cases of bottles after racking had been a nightmare. I was hoping that our product turnover rate and the better carbon dioxide retention of the covered tanks would mean I wouldn’t need to do that any more.

Copperpot looked over at the older tanks, with their open tops and bubbling Ancestral Seed. “I can see why you went with the covered tanks. I imagine that open design invites contamination.”

“Ahhh, I knew a Gnome of Science like yourself would understand.” I purred.

“I don’t understand the levering lids on this new design though.” He pointed to where the lid of a new tank connected to its base with an enormous hinge.

“It’s pressure relief. Ideally there wouldn’t be a lid at all, just a hatch for someone to go in and clean. That or a way to thoroughly sanitise the whole system.” I said.

“I could do something about that...” Copperpot murmured. “How high does the pressure get?”

I pointed to the new wall, where the stones were clearly recently placed. “That high.”

Copperpot’s eyes widened.

“Which is why we scrapped the lidless designs.” Annie smoothly followed up. “But, if an esteemed [Engineer] such as yourself put it together, I’m sure everyone would have complete faith in its safety.”

Copperpot spun his beanie again and thumbed his chin. “I could probably put something together. It’s too late for our current project, but in the future...”

“It would be inval-u-able if you could get it done before we move to Kinshasa.” I said. “The prize for winnin’ the local contest includes a brewery of your own design in the capital.”

“Well, if the King is going to pay, I’ll go all out!” Copperpot gave a wide smile. “Lidless, capable of withstanding high pressure, a pressure release valve, a sanitisation system, a tap. What else would you need?”

“A better way of rackin’ ‘em.” Moony complained, and Markus agreed. “This industrial bottle stick is terrible on the back! No wonder John retired!”

“A better way of rackin’ them.” I agreed. “We’ll talk about designs later.”

“And yet you experiment on monsters all the time.” Whistlemop said coyly.

“That’s different, and you know it!” Copperpot snapped.

“Penelope has been given the first taste of every new batch going back to the creation of Goldstone Brewery. And there are technically no Ordinances against giving alcohol to goats,” Jeremiah put in from where he was holding up the wall.

Annie’s face pinched at Jeremiah’s voice, and she seemed conflicted, but eventually she shook her head. “Penelope’s part in this goes beyond tradition. Spiritually, she’s the oldest member of the brewery. I’ve changed a lot of things as the new clan leader, but that won’t be one of them.”

The stout that poured out from the spigot was a dark brown, the colour of a black Americano, and immediately frothed to the top of Penelope’s bowl. The scent of coffee wafted over to where we stood, and I could see Copperpot’s nostril’s dilating. I pumped my fist; success! Massively improved carbonation and scent profile right out of the gate! Penelope bumped the jiggly head with her nose then took a prance back.

*Meeeeehee?* [Translated from Prima Donna Goat] “What foul manner of magic is this? Why does my meal have a shield!?”

She pushed a hoof through the foam a few times while we all held our breath. If she didn’t drink it, Thirsty Goat tradition said we had to toss the batch. But then she carefully stretched out her neck... and tore the foam apart with her teeth, ripping it from the bowl and stomping it underfoot. Her sharp hooves danced a rhythm of destruction on the floor until the foam was paste. Zirce gulped.

*Bleeat!* [Translated From Prima Donna Goat] “Do you all see what happens to that which keeps me from what I am owed?”

Then Penelope stuck her nose into the bowl and took a cautious sip, followed by a hearty chug. She came up for air and licked her lips with pleasure. The cheer was immediate, and everyone broke into the traditional chorus.

"Another batch is done at last,

And so the dice of life are cast!

A perfect brew is much to ask,

When all we want is one full cask!

We’ll pop the cork to test the taste.

Then drink it down, with none to waste!"

“Is the singing truly necessary?” Copperpot asked, making another note. Whistlemop nodded vigorously, agreeing with him for once.

I scoffed. “Puh-leez. Tha singin’ is always necessary.”

Copperpot and Whistlemop didn’t look convinced.

Penelope had gone stock still and was beginning to vibrate.

“Are we waitin’ ta see what happens?” Richter asked, taking a step back. “I remembah tha last time.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Johnson remarked, as he positioned himself behind Annie.

“There was just a bit of flatulence.” Annie slowly sidled backward. “What did you say the effects of burnt umber erdroot were, Pete?”

“High energy, just like caffeine. And Balin was here that time, wasn’t he? He remembers that day... fondly.” I began inching towards the door.

Copperpot, Zirce, Emma, Markus, and Moony gave us confused looks. Moony twigged first and began pulling Markus over towards Jeremiah.

“What’s going on?” Whistlemop asked, still blindfolded. Right next to him, Penelope’s eyes were dilating and all four of her hooves were starting to tap a twitchy staccato rhythm on the stone floor. “What’s that sound?”

He reached out a finger and poked.

*BL@@@@@HHHHHHH!!!* [Translated from Prima Donna Goat] “I’m a goat!? WHY AM I A GOAT!? I CAN FEEL MY TONGUE!! I CAN SEE MY NOSE!!! AHHHHH!!”

Coperpot’s wailing rose above the carnage. “BY ALL THE GODS, WHAT IS THAT GOAT DOING TO THAT POOR GNOME!!”

—

When the brewroom was finally clean we decided to let Whistlemop take off his blindfold. He’d earned it.