Chapter Ten: Lessons
- Author's Note: Thank you all for reading and reviewing. Each notice makes me happy.
Minor spoilers for Thor and The Avengers.
I don't own the characters or Revolution; I'm just playing with them for a bit for fun, not profit. T for language.
Four years after The Blackout
It had been two years since Monroe first sorted out General Matheson and Mary Sue's fight. Mary Sue had followed General Matheson's advice and promptly found an apprentice. He was a young man from a nearby struggling farm, which was looking for fewer mouths to feed. Still, Mary Sue occasionally fell asleep dreading that someday her impudent mouth would end up getting her kicked out of her distillery, all of her whiskey confiscated, and herself homeless, penniless, and dependent on the kindness of her friends – or worse.
Otherwise, things were working well for Mary Sue, her apprentice turned out to be a gold-mine, and she formed a profitable arrangement with his family's farm. Mary Sue was able to keep the distillery afloat with the four-month apple cider/applejack season and make a hundred barrels of double distilled whiskey each winter before the weather got too hot. She and her assistants worked on improvements to the distillery during the summer months.
During her first full summer at the Firefly distillery, Mary Sue rigged up a water catchment system for the distillery roof. The past summer they had built storage racks for the whiskey barrels and cider bottles. Next summer Mary Sue wanted to build an outhouse and a garden with a brown-water watering system and attempt to grow hops. Hops were labor intensive, but were perennials and she would be able to sell the seeds-heads to local brewers. Some day, Mary Sue hoped to build a brick wall around the boiler, to use less wood, and build-in a malting kiln in the back – it would also make a nice oven for a roast or stew, if Mary Sue ever found the time to cook!
Mary Sue looked outside; it must be close to time. She looked down at her fancy clothes. She had on a clean, borrowed, blue, cotton blouse and freshly laundered jeans. Her hair was down and combed out into a manageable mane. Monroe and General Matheson were due to arrive any minute for the pre-arranged 'investor' meeting. She had a jerry-rigged table of smooth pine planks on top of two empty oak barrels. Waiting on the table was a pot of Ma Cooper's fine stew, a basket of cornbread, several bowls, three highball glasses, and a fancy glass decanter.
Mary Sue checked the cleanliness of the glasses for the seventh time and re-adjusted her blouse for the fourth time. Mary Sue walked over to the side entrance and looked over at the Cooper farm. Mary Sue walked back over to the front entrance and smoothed her hair, adjusting her topaz earrings. She glanced outside and then walked over to the table and sat down with a sigh. Mary Sue started thinking about all the things she needed to do tomorrow. The first batch of apples was due to arrive from the Gettysburg area soon and Jake, Hodor, and she had a lot of work to do before it arrived.
Mary Sue heard hoof-beats outside; she stood up and adjusted her blouse for the fifth time. She walked to the door just in time to hear the knock. Monroe and General Matheson had tied their horses to a make-shift hitching post and were at her door.
She opened the main door and said graciously, "General Matheson, Governor Monroe, welcome. Please come in and be seated." She gestured at the makeshift dining table.
Monroe smiled widely as he entered, "Thank you, Mary Sue; how many times must I ask you to call me Bass?"
General Matheson was silent and stony-faced as per usual; he sat down woodenly and stared at the stew pot with what Mary Sue perceived as distain.
Once Monroe was also seated, she started ladling out the stew and motioned at Hodor. Mary Sue pointedly served General Matheson the first bowl and then Monroe and herself. Hodor carried the whiskey barrel Mary Sue selected earlier up from the basement. Mary Sue was still a might tetchy about Hodor, and wanted to show General Matheson how useful he was. Mary Sue pointedly didn't look at General Matheson pointedly. Hodor placed the barrel down by the table. Mary Sue thanked him and told him he could join the others for dinner at the Cooper farm.
They ate the fine diner Ma Cooper had prepared, and Monroe tried to break the ice between the other two. He just couldn't understand it. Whenever he saw Mary Sue alone she was spunky, lively, and smart; whenever Miles was also there she was passive-aggressively polite and reserved. Miles was also different around her. He strutted and carefully chose his words to sound smarter and more self-important. If Bass didn't know better, he'd swear he was in some sort of Pride and Prejudice knock-off. But Bass did know better. Miles was always awkward around girls he liked, but not this awkward. And he usually used self-deprecating humor instead of this arrogant alpha-male bull-crap.
Once they finished the meal, Mary Sue stood up and with tongue-in-cheek grandioseness pronounced, "And now, for the event we've all been waiting for, Mary Sue Hodson owner of the Firefly Distillery will open the first barrel of two-year-old whiskey."
Mary Sue leaned over the barrel and attempted to pull the plug out of the bunghole. It wouldn't budge. She tried twisting. She wiggled the plug back and forth to no avail. Monroe tried to give her a hand. He couldn't get it to move either. As Monroe and General Matheson bickered over who was stronger and the best way to get it out, Mary Sue returned to her room and pulled out her Leatherman. It had a corkscrew.
When Mary Sue re-entered the room she heard, "It just won't budge; we should try a bit of grease."
She just couldn't help it, and said, "That's what she said."
Monroe cracked up, but General Matheson just gave her this dumb-founded look, shocked she was aware of crude double entendres. Mary Sue just looked at General Matheson's face and started laughing. Soon enough, General Matheson joined the other two in laughing at the ridiculous situation.
"I can't believe you went there!" exclaimed Monroe.
"That's what she said," said Matheson, and the gale of laughter recommenced.
After several false starts, the trio stopped laughing and managed to remove the plug from the bunghole. Mary Sue suctioned off some of the two-year-old whiskey and filled the fancy glass decanter. She then poured a finger or two into each of the highball glasses and let them breathe a bit.
She turned to her two investors, and said, "Now, I hope you don't expect too much, this stuff has only been aging two years. Most of the stuff on the market Before used to be, at a minimum, three-years-old. And keep in mind this is cask strength whiskey, so it is around 120 proof, not 80 proof like you're used to."
Matheson greedily reached for a glass and Mary Sue lightly slapped his hand away, "It's better if you let it wait a bit."
Monroe guffawed, not even needing to say 'that's what she said' to get synchronous groans from Matheson and Mary Sue. They shared a look; they had had the same reaction to Monroe at the exact same time.
After Mary Sue had waited the requisite 10 minutes, she handed Matheson his glass. She felt a frisson of something pass between them as their fingers touched. She handed Monroe his, and he waited until she took her own glass in hand.
"To the Firefly Distillery, may she have many fine years!" said Monroe.
They all carefully clinked glasses and took a measuring taste.
"Nice." said Monroe simply.
"Not bad, not bad at all," exclaimed Matheson, "Tastes like a Knob Creek or maybe a Wild Turkey. Better than Jack Daniel's or Jim Beam. You could start selling it now."
Mary Sue initially was pleased with the praise, personally she thought the alcohol lacked the phenol-y oakiness she was expecting, but then she felt that Matheson was critiquing her.
She got defensive, as per usual, "Whatever; you can do what you want with your barrels, but this'll be much better in three years."
Matheson held his hands up in submission, "Hey, I wasn't criticizing; this is good stuff. It was a complement. You have creative control over your whiskey; I just want to enjoy the stuff." He took another appreciative sip, rolling the liquid around his mouth before swallowing.
They sat around the make-shift table sipping whiskey and munching on cornbread. After the second glass Mary Sue switched to water, her head was already floating several feet from her body. Miles and Bass were not so wise.
Bass brought up a story from his and Miles' shared high school days, some locker-room prank, and the evening devolved to the two of them sitting around shooting-the-shit. Mary Sue mostly observed, but would occasionally offer acerbic observations.
Miles brought up Bass's obsession with Anne Hathaway. Mary Sue piped in, and soon they were talking about movies. The three of them turned out to have almost no shared interests movie-wise. Bass and Miles used to love action movies – less so since returning from Iraq – and Mary Sue used to love science-fiction movies. It did turn out that the trio did share a love for superhero movies. The Avengers had come out mere months prior to The Blackout, and they took turns recalling their favorite bits.
Mary Sue loved Black-Widow and wished she could be that smart, wily, and independent – and have the ability to kick-ass and take name... Miles liked Ironman the best. He got the girl, saved the day even though he made mistakes, and still had time to trade quips about drapes. Bass liked Loki. He was just misunderstood. He spent his whole life playing second fiddle to his perfect brother Thor, and then found out the reason his father didn't love him was because he was actually a Frost Giant. All he wanted was love and respect, and if he couldn't get it from his adopted family, then maybe he could get it from the humans, and if they were too busy worshipping him, they wouldn't fight wars anymore anyways.
Mary Sue sat back and psychoanalyzed their favorite Avenger, what it said about them. She was so in her own head, thinking about how her first impressions were so wildly off, that she didn't even realize that both men had fallen asleep at the table. Their necks would hurt in the morning. She wondered if she should move them to a more comfortable position, but didn't think she'd be able to. She did remove the highball glasses from their hands, and blew out the candles.
As she took Miles' glass, he woke up and muttered, "I'm sorry 'bout before. Wif' your assistant-person. Sometimes Ima dick." Conscience assuaged after several years, he fell back asleep.
Five and a half years after The Blackout
Mary Sue looked over at Miles, sitting in a throne-like leather office-chair cleaning a few glass carboys. His gravity-defying hair was ungreased and still rumpled from this morning. They were just waiting for Jake, Sarah, and Hodor to return from the Cooper farm – they had universally decided to sleep in the Cooper's bunkhouse and give the two 'love-bugs' their space.
Mary Sue filled her boiler with half rainwater half river-water and brought it to a boil. While it was heating up, she opened up the large sack of coarse ground cornmeal. She called over Miles. He rolled over to her and she showed him the proper texture and consistency of cornmeal for making whiskey.
Once the water boiled for three minutes, she let it cool and then added 2 pecks of the cornmeal to each of five sterilized trashcans. She poured four gallons of hot – but no longer scalding – water into each of the cans, and Miles gave them a stir with a freshly scalded paddle. Mary Sue refilled the boiler as Miles ensured that the cornmeal was thoroughly moistened. As the water was heating up, Mary Sue checked on his progress and gave him a peck on the lips. Or well it was intended to be a peck, but turned out to be a bit more involved.
"Eww. Get a room guys!" Said Sarah. Jake, Sarah, and Hodor had returned.
Mary Sue stepped away from Miles, and he scrubbed at his scruff bashfully. Mary Sue straightened her work-shirt and returned to the boiler. Jake asked if he should start distilling yesterday's singlings and Mary Sue agreed. She wanted to show Miles the process in chronological order.
"Okay, so now that the corn mash has soaked a bit, we are going to add more boiling water to continue mashing the corn." She explained to Miles, and then proceeded to pour 4 gallons of boiling water into each can, Miles stirred – breaking up any cornmeal lumps – and Mary Sue covered the cans to keep the steam in.
Mary Sue refilled the boiler and helped Miles stir each can every fifteen minutes or so. They added more water whenever it was boiled and ready.
After they had added the last 4 gallons of boiling water to each can, Mary Sue added a cup of salt telling Miles, "The Distillation Treatise I studied also recommended adding some ash at this point to adjust the pH of the mash, but with our mix of river- and rainwater this isn't necessary."
Once letting the corn cool a bit, Mary Sue added a peck of rye-meal and two quarts of very coarsely ground malt. They stirred the mash thoroughly and re-lidded it, stirring every half hour until the sprouts had separated from the mash.
While waiting for this to occur, Mary Sue showed Miles the food-mill she used to grind her corn, rye, and malt, "You want the grain to be ground fine enough that it soaks evenly, but you don't want it so fine that the little sprout is killed. You need the sprouts around to tell the rest of the mash to start breaking their complex carbs down into easy-to-ferment sugars."
Mary Sue and Miles went to stir the cans again, and she saw the telltale sprouts. She pulled up a paddle of mash to show Miles.
"Now we just have to wait for it to cool down to around 80 degrees Fahrenheit and then we can add the yeast and let it ferment."
"Why can't we cool the barrels down with river water or something?" Asked Miles.
"Well, you know we sterilized everything? What we just made is delicious food for any bacteria, and bacteria grow a lot faster than yeast. We want to make sure that only our yeast ends up in the cans, no bacteria." Replied Mary Sue.
"But I thought alcohol was sterilizing." Said Miles.
"Yep, but we've got to make it first. Once the yeast are happily working away, we could toss in bacteria, they wouldn't have time to catch-up with the yeast. And the alcohol the yeast are making would eventually kill them, but you've got to be careful in the beginning or you will end up with a foul non-alcoholic brew." Added Mary Sue.
Dr. Saunders stopped by to check on Miles, so Mary Sue checked on Jake and Sarah. Sarah had carefully charred the oak barrel Jake's double distilled whiskey was going into to, and he had gotten almost 15 gallons of 160-proof whiskey from the original 100 gallons of fermented mash. He diluted the whiskey down to 120-proof with boiled-and-then-cooled water and then sealed it up in the charred barrel.
Hodor carried the pot ale to the Cooper farm and Sarah and Mary Sue cleaned the still. Once Miles' check-up was finished, he and Mary Sue stirred the cooling trashcans and Mary Sue pulled out her glass thermometer. She knew the cans were maybe 120 degrees, far too hot to yeast off, but she wanted to teach Miles.
Miles felt the outside of the galvanized steel cans and said they felt warm, but not hot to him; she handed him the thermometer, and he was surprised to see how warm it really was. Mary Sue cautioned him that it always took longer to cool down the last little bit than the first 20 degrees.
As Jake and Sarah started the first distillation of the mash from 9 days ago, Mary Sue and Miles worked on making more cornmeal. The sack was running low. They were also running low on malt. Mary Sue had been making some right before she found out Miles was injured, and Jake and Sarah had been too busy to finish it. Mary Sue made a mental note to start a batch of barley soaking this evening.
When things were at a good stopping point, they all went to lunch, Miles having being given the go ahead for short strolls. When they returned, Miles' first mash was cool enough to add yeast to. Mary Sue poured a fifth of a gallon of happy active yeast to each of the cans, Miles stirred, and together they sealed the lids and added the airlocks. Mary Sue added a gallon of filtered mash to the yeast growler and returned it to the warmest part of the workroom.
Jake and Sarah had just finished the second batch of single-distillation, so Mary Sue stepped in and said she and Miles would take care of the rest of the distillation for the day.
Jake joked with Sarah about how much 'taking care of' would really happen, but they eagerly left. They had been a bit over-worked since Mile's injury, and Mary Sue's disappearance, and welcomed the break.
While Hodor emptied the pot ale and carried it to the Cooper farm pig slops, Mary Sue showed Miles the best way to clean out the still. She then carefully siphoned and transferred the liquid from the 9-day-old mash. The actual mash had settled down to a thick sludge, so this process was actually easier than with the hard cider. Once the liquid was transferred, Mary Sue lit a fire under the still.
Mary Sue began, "So this mash has been fermenting for 9 days. This is how long it takes when the distillery is this temperature for the yeast to eat all of the sugar, turn it into alcohol, and then die of alcohol poisoning. The next step to turn this 'beer' into un-aged whiskey is the actual distillation.
"Temperature control is key," Mary Sue said, "You want to get the pot ale up to close to the temperature at which alcohol boils, while boiling off anything lighter, like methanol. Then you put the still-head on and the alcohol will boil off and then hit the condenser. The pure alcohol will hit the condenser, cool off, and run down to the pail or carboy. If this process is too fast, then there will be too much alcohol vapor for all of it to cool down. You'll lose it. And if the condenser is too warm you'll lose some too. This is also why I stop distilling in May, the outside temperatures are just too hot for the condensation to work, and heck in July and August it can get too hot for yeast to grow!"
Mary Sue felt the still-pot, it was hot-tub hot – maybe 150 degrees F – and she said to Miles, "This is the right temperature to put on the still-head."
She screwed on the still-head and the long copper condenser, placing a pail underneath the end of the condenser.
"The first little bit is called the head, and will have things other than just alcohol in it, so we toss it back into the next batch to redistill it." She explained.
Mary Sue explained about how she regulated the fire level and how she was hoping to build a brick wall around the boiler and under the still, in order to use less wood and better control the temperature.
Once Mary Sue switched to collecting the condensate in the glass carboy, she settled in for a mini-make-out session, knowing it would take awhile for the carboy to fill. She did keep both ears out for the sound of a changing dripping rate, but she also kept both hands on Miles.
After five enjoyable gallons, Mary Sue swapped out the carboy and began explaining what would happen next, "So once all the alcohol has boiled off and condensed, then the temperature of the still will increase until something else starts boiling. This might be just water, or a maybe a nasty chemical. When I feel like the alcohol is running low – usually after 9 gallons of singlings have been condensed – I'll swap the carboy out for another pail. When the still temperature shoots up, I'll know I've gotten all the alcohol out and then kill the flame. I'll add the tailings to the next batch to redistill them."
Mary Sue continued, "Both the liquid left in the still-pot – the pot ale – and the sludge at the bottom of the trashcan are good pig feed. The Cooper farm pigs have the tastiest bacon, and it is because they eat the used up mash, dead yeast, and low alcohol pot ale we give them."
Miles playfully grabbed Mary Sue and told her that he had some tastier sausage she could try. Mary Sue just laughed and kissed him on the nose, ears pricked for the sound of dripping slowing.
Mary Sue and Miles finished distilling this and the other two batches of the 'beer' and Hodor carried the waste products over to the Cooper farm. Jake brought the two love-birds a 'take-out dinner' and they enjoyed a nice peaceful evening at home.
- Author's Note: Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated :)