Beers and Beards: A Cozy Dwarf Tale

“Hops?” Kirk leaned over to see what I was looking at.

I toggled the filter for hops on and off, and the little green dots on my minimap flickered. I was indeed looking at the one thing I wanted most in this world.

Okay, I wanted magic most, but hops was close second. I mean, I wanted my soul back most, and magic second, but hops were a close third.

And here it was, in all its lime-green glory. A single traitorous tear rolled down my cheek, revealing my hand to the merchant before me. Dammit, this was going to be expensive.

Ganji began speaking excitedly. “Ah, you’re interested in the pineweed! Excellent choice sir! Fruity and citrusy, it can be used as a flavouring for your alchemical needs, and can make a tasty tea! It can help you sleep, reduce aches and pains, and even cure your beard dandruff! Very precious! For you, only one gold per kilo for this miraculous flower!”

He gesticulated animatedly as he spoke and I subconsciously reached for my beard, distracted.

I didn’t have beard dandruff, did I!? I’d checked this morning during my daily oil! Was I flaking?? Was my glorious beard damaged!? No, no, it’s a hard sales technique! Stay calm, Pete, calm. Don’t let this guy know you’ll sell your left and right kidneys for these hops!

Outwardly, I gave a small chuckle and surreptitiously wiped away my tears. “I’m not sure it’s so miraculous as all that, since it’s activating my allergies. It can’t be too rare given how much you have in this bag. And the name pineweed… tells me just about everything I need to know about its rarity. I’ll do a silver per kilo, and not one more.”

Pineweed wasn’t actually a terrible name for hops. The flower really did look like a leafy, tuberous pinecone. And for most of its existence it was considered a weed; hops grew on a vine that could spread like wildfire in the right conditions. That held true for Earth, and apparently Erd as well!

Ganji’s smile thinned for the briefest of moments, and then he snapped the high-beams back on. “Ah, sir, you are quite the perceptive dwarf! They are indeed abundant in the southern fields of Bunta, but they do not grow north of the equator, and of course, they will not grow here either! I couldn’t part with them for less than eight silver!”

“You could probably grow them in Greentree.” Kirk cut in. “There’s farming plots in the Endless Plain.”

“That, or see about borrowing some of that elven sunlight.” I added. “And it’s still a weed. Three silver.”

Ganji didn’t even pause as he jumped to another tack. “But think of the wasted time! No, no, no, my supply is the only that you’ll find in the entire city! I brought them here personally with [Greater Teleport]! For my time and effort sir, shall we say 6 silver?”

I put on a thoughtful expression. “Hmmm… I wasn’t really planning on buying anything today, how about we split the difference and do four silver?”

“Ahah! Surely you jest sir! I think you would find that 5 silver is splitting the difference! It will pain me to part with it at such a low price, but I will do it for you in celebration of our meeting today!”

I hummed and hawed, then agreed, but not before scanning them with [Check Quality]. I still wasn’t used to this whole haggling thing, though access to [Mental Math] and a high Charisma definitely helped in that department. Honestly, I had zero idea how much the hops were actually worth locally, and he was the only supplier I’d seen, so technically they were actually priceless.

A short while later I had a bag containing ten kilos of hops, and was practically dancing through the Grand Market. Ganji was in town for the rest of the week, so I had the option of going back to his stall again if the need presented itself.

“Soooo, what is it?” Kirk asked. “You look like you found a gold vein.”

“It’s deus ex machina. Barck has favoured me this day with a blessed harvest!”

Kirk gave me a look, and I relented.

“It’s better than gold. It’s hops. Or pineweed on Erd, according to my lord and saviour, Ganji. They’re how tha hopback we have at the brewery got its name. I’ve been lookin’ fer t​​hem everywhere, and here they just fell into my lap!”

Which was more than just a little suspicious, come to think of it. Mayhaps a godly thumb on the scales.

“It’s an important brewin’ ingredient from my homeworld,” I finished.

Kirk stroked his poor, bald, hairless chin. “I think that exuberant shop keeper said it was from Bunta, actually.”

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“Oh, har har.”

“I’m learning from the best! Soooo, what is it??”

In answer I broke into verse.

“The hop fer it’s profit I thus do exalt

It strengthens the drink and it flavors the malt

And if it’s well-brewed, so long will it last

And drawing abide, if you don’t draw too fast.”

Kirk nodded. “That’s pretty. Doesn’t answer my question, but pretty. Did you write that?”

“No, no. Well sort of, I paraphrased a bit. It was written by a gentleman by tha name of Thomas Tusser in the 15th century. Hops are… special to me. To all Earth brewers, really. All beer is made with hops, and if it ain’t, it's a deliberate choice ta brew it ‘no hop.”

“Rarefied.”

“I’d go so far as to say epic, or even Legendary.”

“And does it actually do everything he said it would?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes and no. It contains a bunch of chemicals that can have the effects he mentioned. Improved sleep, and pain reduction among them. The problem is that the dose is so tiny that it’s hard to say it’s doing anything at all. Is the effect a placebo, the alcohol, or the hops? When you have so many things mixed together it can be hard to tell.”

“Such as?”

“Well, for example, one of the chemicals in hops is this thing called 8-prenylnaringenin, a phytoestrogen. Your body treats it similarly to estrogen – that’s a lady hormone. Women in my world that worked on hops farms often had, uh – bad periods.”

Kirk’s stride faltered. “D-does it affect men?”

“Excessive beer consumption can cause a man to grow breasts and become impotent. There’s no real evidence that it's caused by the hops, and the latest research says no, but that hasn’t stopped speculation.”

Kirk made a subconscious warding gesture towards his crotch. “And you think anyone is going to want to drink something made with this stuff!?”

“Like I said, it’s an urban myth! The main thing is that hops are bitter, so they’ll work as a bittering agent. They have a citrusy, spicy aftertaste, and also act as a preservative.” I waggled my eyebrows as I said the last bit.

Kirk looked enlightened. “Our new setup already helps preserve the beer… so with hops – ”

“ – we could ship it all the way to the other end of Crack and still have it last for a couple months!” I finished.

“That sounds too good to be true! No wonder your people loved it so much!”

I shrugged. “It depends; there’s a lot of history there. Hops weren’t actually that popular when they were first introduced to the brew. They were even banned from being used in beer at one point. Earth beers originally used the same mix-of-herbs-and-plants approach Sacred Brew uses – a gruit, it’s called. The first recorded use of hops in brewing was some time in our tenth century, but that was a one time thing. It didn’t become really popular until the Church started taxing the ingredients used in gruits, and brewers naturally switched to hops instead. Over the years, the strains of hop used became as important as the yeast or malt.”

I’d set a rapid pace leaving the market and we were already passing the beer garden where we’d seen the elf. She wasn’t there, and I didn’t care. I couldn’t wait to get these to the brewery and do a batch with these. I was even willing to toss my current experimental batches if it came to it.

To keep from jittering, I began excitedly setting out the plan when we got back to the Goat. I practically tripped over my words. “We'll need ta determine if they’re bitter, aromatic, dual-purpose, or specialty hops. Bitter hops have a high acidity level, aromatic hops have a high level of the fragrant hop-oil humulene, dual-purpose are both, and specialty hops add flavours beyond tha regular hoppiness. Like licorice, spice, and everything nice! A hop tea should do the trick there, and we can ask Rosie to make us one.”

We were back in the press of bodies again, and Kirk actually stepped over a gnome, who shrieked in outrage before we disappeared back into the crowd. “That’s a lot of different types of hops!”

“Hah! And that’s not even close to the actual number. There’s hundreds of kinds of hops. My personal favourite was the Canadian born and bred Sasquatch, but I was also partial to the noble hops. Those are four specific aromatic strains of German and Czech origin – Hallertau, Saaz, Splat, and Tettnang. They’re among the oldest hops in use, and have a pedigree all their own. Then there are the nearly nobles like English Fuggles and Kent Golding and a few others. Brewers like to argue for or against adding the nearlies to the ranks of the nobility; over a beer of course. I hate Fuggles, by the way.”

“Serious business. Like dwarves arguing over mining rights.” Kirk deadpanned. “Or Balin trying to defend the Nobility from the consequences of their own actions.”

“Yes, yes. After we drink some tea, we’ll have ta measure out the amount of hops we want ta use for tha brew. Too much and it’ll be too bitter, too little and it loses tha taste. There isn’t much consensus on how to measure ‘em, but I’ve always been partial ta kilos of hops per barrel. A barrel is 36 gallons, or about 150 liters. A good start is roughly three kilos of hops per barrel. Then we’ll just have ta adjust tha bitterness to taste.”

Ah bitterness, that most fickle of measurements. The modern unit of bitterness was the IBU, or International Bitterness Unit. I, along with myriad other brewers, despised the bloody thing. The IBU scale went from 0 to 120, which was already too wide a range to make sense of. To make things worse, it required an expensive lab test after you were already done brewing. There were ways to calculate backwards to determine the amount of hops required per barrel, but I was a fan of winging it instead. Plus, when combined with the alcohol and malt flavour, IBUs didn’t really tell you anything about the actual taste of the beer. I’d had 40’s that tasted more bitter than 60’s.

“Sounds like a great plan, Pete. But I think the first thing you’ll need to do is run it by Annie. She just finished changing the bittering agent, and your fellow dwarves may not appreciate the taste of these.”

“It’ll take that when it comes,” I said, steadfastly.

“Well, it’s coming up fast.” Kirk craned his neck up and looked down the road. “I see the Goat.”

“Alright pal. Let’s do this! HOP to it!”

“And you had the gall to complain about me!”

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