Beers and Beards
Book 4: Chapter 46: I Tip My Cap To You!

The fermentation barn was pretty much what I was used to. It was properly barn sized, at about thirty meters by ten meters, and made of white stacked bricks halfway to the ceiling, with the upper walls and roof made of dark wood. The ground was a dark grey slate, with finely crafted cobblestones providing a cool and smooth, but not slick surface.

The inside temperature was fairly warm, and my sensitive winemaker’s skin told me it was over 30 degrees Celsius – just above what I considered the ideal temperature for red wine.

There was one other person in the room, a yellow sarong’d helfess with her red hair done up in a bun. She had a clipboard in hand and was taking notes as she made her way between the vessels. She was lithe and well proportioned, but had that look and self assuredness that I associated with skilled craftsmen.

The place had the heady scent of fermenting wine, an aroma that was a solid mix of esters with just a hint of alcohol. As I watched a pair of water elementals dashed to and fro overhead, spraying water then drying it to help keep the space spotless. Every once in a while the elementals would dash back to the helfess, who I assumed had to be a [Summoner] like Darrel Digger.

“Yer fermenting a bit warm,” I observed, looking around the space. The fermentation vessels themselves were the same wood used for the maceration tank outside, with dark metal banding covered in runes. There were at least five dozen of the vessels that I could see, lining the walls and in neat rows up and down the barn.

“Cooler temperatures provided a fruitier taste, but removed much of the body. I say, it did ruin the structure of the wine.” Romero replied. He walked ahead of me down one of the rows of vessels, smelling them each in turn. “Both the vessels and the barn are temperature controlled with runes. It takes one student their full Mana pool each day to refill all the enchantments. Which temperature didst thou ferment at?”

“Usually between 25 ta 30 degrees. More than that either killed tha yeast or boiled off summa tha flavour.” I had to stand on tip toe to see inside one of the vessels. It was an open top variety, with nothing to cover it but a floating ‘cap’ made of grape skins and seeds. A dark purple liquid was gently fizzing and popping inside, releasing the scent of alcohol each time a bubble broke through the cap. A faint foam within the skin indicated that fermentation was pretty well along for this batch. It was similar to Ancestral Seed, but in winemaking we just called it foam since it was never as pronounced as in brewing.

That bubbling was actually where fermentation got its name. From the latin fevere, which meant ‘to boil’.

Open top tanks were generally considered the best for red wines. The ambient yeasts needed a constant supply of oxygen, and the grape skin cap provided enough cover to keep any nasties out. Also, fermentation was a hot business, and an open top let off the excess heat.

“Yes, I indeed found a high temperature often ended in a bad batch, or a dead flavour.” Romero continued absently as he dipped a finger into a tank and tasted it. He nodded with satisfaction. “However, Spirit Grapes are hardier than most, and require a higher temperature to properly extract the tannins. The yeast is hardier as well, as it is naturally infused with Mana. With experimentation I concluded that a maximum temperature of 35 degrees was still feasible, but 33 provided an optimal result.”

“Do ya keep the temperature constant, or do a ramp up?”

“A ramp up, naturally. I begin with a cold soak of 10 degrees for a week to adequately extract flavour, but not tannins, then bring it up to 20 for a day or two; the yeast is hardy, but it requires time to truly develop. As soon as fermentation begins, I ramp up the temperature to 33.”

I nodded. That was pretty much identical to how we did things in old Veritas Vinum Vineyard, though we stopped at 30 degrees. He was even using a cold soak, which was pioneered by the famed vintner Henri Jayer in the late 1900s. The technique was primarily used in Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot wines, amongst others. It provided a darker colour and a stronger aroma without leaching too many tannins. It also allowed the native yeasts to fully percolate through the must before starting spontaneous fermentation. From what I could see, Romero really had perfected the art of winemaking!

“And what are your readings, Initiate Rowan?” Romero asked, walking up behind the helfess.

She glanced up with surprise and bowed deeply with steepled fingers. “I’m sorry Master, I didn’t hear you come in. My elementals are just about done this morning’s cleaning, and batches 2 to 5 are ready for punching. The temperature is within half a degree of required.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“Good. [Sense Temperature] concurs. Very good. You may go. Prithee tell the others I’m bringing an important guest and I expect all will be satisfactory when we enter the main facility.”

“Yes, Master.” The young lady gave me a curious glance before de-summoning her elementals and sweeping out of the barn.

Romero walked up to a wall and pulled down a long wooden pole with a perpendicular circular metal grill on the end. It looked like a really long potato masher.

“Tell me, Master Brewer, do you know what this is for?” He asked, giving it a wave.

“That’d be a punch down tool. Fer cap management.” I smiled, remembering my own tool back home. Cap management was one of the most important steps in winemaking. A red wine cap contained most of the flavour and colour, and the bubbling carbon dioxide from fermentation caused it to all gather at the top. If you let it just float, it wouldn’t properly infuse the must, so you needed to manage it.

Romero nodded with satisfaction, and went over to one of the vessels. With practiced ease he plunged the stick down into the cap, punching the grape skins down into the must.

I watched in silence as Romero worked, bringing the punch tool up and down. I was impressed; I knew that it was hard work, but he managed it effortlessly. What did 8000 years of stats look like? Was he max in everything?

“Did you use similar tools in your world?” Romero asked, breaking his hard-working silence.

“Yes and no. I’d had my own pigeur custom made by a local blacksmith, with a green boxing glove for a handle, and the grill wires bent to say ‘Mac’. We called it ‘Little Mac’, and had fun ‘Punching Out’ our ‘Punch Down’.”

Romero gave me a curious look, and I quickly explained, “It was an homage to a character from, um, a story.”

We’d all mimicked the Nintendo Punch-Out sound effects whenever we’d used it. Gods, looking back on it, we really were weird old nerds. No wonder Sammy had refused to ever bring friends over to watch us vinify after she became a teenager.

“No devices, again?” Romero asked, curious.

“Eh, there is another way ta do cap management called remontage. It used pumps ta cycle the wine from the bottom of the vessel over tha cap. I found it to be a tad too violent, broke too many skins, and could introduce too much oxygen to tha must.” I waved the idea away. The bigger industrial wineries swore by remontage, but I’d never liked it.

“I admit that it wasn’t until I received [Soft Tools] that I was able to avoid skin breakage during punching,” Romero admitted. “It affected the flavour by about 5 to 10 percent.”

I nodded. Pigeage could indeed cause skin breakage, but if you were careful, you could manage, and a good pigeage stick or pigeur helped avoid most issues.

“What’s [Soft Tools]?” I asked.

“It provides my tools with a soft touch, such that not even a bruise lays upon the grapes if I do not wish it,” Romero smiled with satisfaction, pulling his pigeur from the vessel he was working on. “Excellent. On to the next tank. I will work with vim that we might away to our next destination with haste!”

He picked up speed and I let him work while I explored the barn. The only thing I couldn’t place was a pipe that ran into the bottom of each vessel. It had the telltale glow of mana, and tracing it led to a larger pipe that led outside and up into the tree.

“What’s this pipe for?” I asked Romero as he finished his last tank and hung up his pigeur.

“Which? Ah, yes, that pipe is my pride and joy. I found that manual pumps modified the flavour of the wine by 3 percent – an unacceptable amount. What was I to do? The wine must flow upwards, as the spirit does! So, I designed a pipe using the same Nether that causes gravity! The pipes treat up as down!”

I blinked, then blurted in shock, “You have antigravity pipes!?”

“Haha! That’s one way of describing it. And you thought your Nether bottler was special! Well, it was, but I feel my pipes are equally so!”

“Durn tootin’.” I muttered, bending to read the enchantments on the pipe. “I’ve never seen anyone usin’ gravity like this before.”

Romero nodded vigorously. “It took many tries, and students on the ceiling, before we got it figured out. I would not recommend it to anyone, especially outdoors. They must be thoroughly bolted down.”

It truly was fascinating. And it would drive Richter nuts that I’d gotten to see it first. I grinned. “Got any more fascinating little things to show me?” I asked.

“Naturally! Simply follow me!” Romero gestured grandly up at the white poplar. “As we follow the spirit of the vine and adventure!”