Chapter 2: Mortar and Pestle
Copenhagen Docks
October 1636
Reva Pridmore sat down in the kitchen of The Mermaid and Tiger, the dock-side café owned by her partner, Inge Styggesen, and herself. She wiped her face with a rag because today’s lunch rush had been busier than ever. The room was bright with light from two east windows and a skylight. There was a cooking fire, a ceramic arrangement for an oven and a dish-washing station set up to Reva’s exacting standards for food safety.
In the room she could see Inge kneading dough for sandwich rolls. The four employees that Reva and Inge had gathered, Anna, Eric, Claus and Else were all doing chores. At the moment, twelve year old Anna and ten year old Eric, Inge’s niece and nephew, were sweeping and cleaning tables. Anna was a waitress and Eric ran errands and washed dishes with Claus Asmussen. And Else Jensen, the other waitress, was carrying a tray out to the last lunch customer.
Everything was just as it should be, but somehow, Reva just couldn’t get her head in the game. She never thought that it would take so much work to take raw cocoa beans and turn them into food. Every time she understood a process, another problem raised its shaggy head.
Reva sighed, remembering how she’d convinced Matt Lawler to build her a roasting machine, based off of drawings from her copy of The True History of Chocolate by Sophie D. Coe. He had finally agreed to work on his days off if she would feed him at the café for free. Probably for the rest of his life.
The drawings were reproductions of woodcuts from the past, which made for interesting design choices. Matt made some pieces for convenience, or because, as he put it, “That’s just the way machinery works, Reva.” Other choices were based on Reva’s experience as a baker and chocolate enthusiast.
In the beginning, before they opened the café, Reva experimented with different methods for breaking down the beans. She had a Food Processor at the townhouse, but her experiment with it proved almost disastrous because the ground beans almost burned out her motor and new Food Processors were not available. So she moved on to a mortar and pestle.
The cocoa nibs were like volcanic pebbles in the small mortar, and she knew she would never be able to produce enough for the café. She searched the markets of Copenhagen for a larger mortar and finally found one seven or eight inches in diameter with a good deep bowl. It was ceramic and very sturdy.
Still no success until she remembered the need for heat while processing chocolate. She dug out a Sterno can (one of the two she had left) from one of the crates from home and put the mortar on a little stand. She needed a stool to stand on and grind the beans, but this was the method that worked the best so far.
From the ground cocoa beans, known as chocolate liquor, Reva was able to achieve what was known as Dutch chocolate. This process was pretty basic. She put the dark paste into an open-weave bag, like cheesecloth. This she hung in the warehouse with a tub beneath it and a weight on the top of the bag. Between gravity and the extra weight, the cocoa butter was squeezed out of the mass, leaving the cocoa in almost a powder form. It may not have been as efficient as some modern methods, but it got her something she could use to make fudge and brownies.
Reva still didn’t see how she could achieve what she thought of as real chocolate. She wanted it solid, low melting temperature so it would liquefy in her mouth. She could remember just the mouth feel and the flavor of a good milk chocolate and that’s what she wanted.
Reva noticed little Anna as the girl came around the work table and sat down. After a moment, the girl reached over and patted Reva’s hand.
Reva said, “Thank you, Anna, but what was that for?”
Anna shrugged. “I could tell you’re worrying about something. But I don’t think you should worry. After all, the magistrate said we could reopen the shop. The murderer was caught and Herr Fatmir the Ottoman has increased the popularity of our shop by ten times. We have more business than we ever had before. Why are you sad?”
Reva smiled and sat up straight. “I am not really sad, Anna. I am thinking. There should be a way to improve the quality of our chocolate. I mean the drink is good, but it’s not as good as they have in Paris or Madrid. And I think it should be.”
There was a voice near the back door of the kitchen. “I agree with you, Señora. That is why I have come.”
Reva stood up and saw a man with dark hair and dark eyes a beard and moustache. He was dressed in a stylish red doublet and held his hat with ostrich feathers in one hand. It was true that the red brocade was not the best quality and the velvet was worn down to shiny on elbows and around the collar. But the man carried himself with a kind of haughtiness only seen in men of high rank.
Beside him stood Captain Gonzalez, one of the duelists from the murder investigation. Reva noticed the similarity of both men, dark hair and eyes.
Eric skidded to a stop in front of the gentlemen. “I am sorry, Frau Pridmore, these men came to the door and asked to speak to the person responsible for this café. I was about to tell you, when they walked in and started talking.”
Reva smiled. “That’s all right, Eric. Get back to your chores and I will speak with them.”
Eric grinned and ran off to the dining room and Anna jumped up and followed him. Reva turned to the men. “Sir, we have not been introduced. I am Frau Pridmore, co-owner of this establishment. I have met Captain Gonzalez before. What can I do for you?”
The man in red bowed with a flourish of his feathered hat. “I am Santiago Juan Batista Garcia Suñega, your servant. I come seeking employment.”
Reva frowned and looked at Gonzalez, still dressed in the impeccable black doublet. Gonzalez swept off his hat and in a swirl of pheasant feathers, bowed as well. “Señora Pridmore, my humble thanks for receiving us. This arrogant man beside me is my cousin, Diego, and considered a burden on the entire family. The truth is, he was picked up by the city watch in a street brawl last night and spent the night in jail. This morning, I got a message he was there and he hasn’t a skelling to pay the fine. I spoke for him and the magistrate told me that either he finds work, or he’ll be sold off to pay for damages in the tavern and to pay his fine.”
Reva gestured to the work table. “Won’t you sit down?” She followed her own advice and sat. Suñega and Gonzalez sat, opposite her. Reva said, “Why don’t we discuss this? Captain Gonzalez, what does your cousin have that would make him a valuable employee? This is still a very new café and I don’t have a lot of money to spend.”
Gonzalez said, “Señora Pridmore, I can say your beautiful café serves the best chocolate north of Amsterdam. You have seen me here often because of that. But my uncle, José, is a chocolatero and at one time worked in the royal court in Cadiz. And, although I don’t want to offend you, Señora Pridmore, yours is not the best chocolate. When he was younger, my cousin here helped his father with the chocolate.”
Reva thought for a moment. “Captain Gonzalez, thank you for your tact. I know that my chocolate is not the best. In the place where I was born, I could buy hot chocolate many places, so I never learned the secrets of the guild masters. But here, there is not a chocolate guild in the whole of Denmark. I must do what I can. What does your cousin say for himself?”
The young man in red stood and bowed again, with another flourish of his ostrich feathers. “I am called Diego, Señora. I must tell you, I am youngest son of José Angel Martinez Suñega. I come from the Palacio Real de Cadiz and I am a chocolatero.”
Gonzalez tugged on his cousin’s arm until the young man sat down. “You are not a chocolatero, Diego. You ran away from your apprenticeship before you could be tested as a journeyman. It brought disgrace to your father and broke you mother’s heart. She is dead because of you. And now, your arrogance will lose you this opportunity and you will disappear again.”
Diego hung his head and sat down. Then he looked up at Reva. “I am sorry, Señora Pridmore. My cousin speaks the truth. I am not a chocolatero, but I know some of the family secrets for chocolate. I would be willing to show them to you.”
✽✽✽
Captain Gonzalez left and Reva took her new employee into the chocolate room. It was a workroom next to the kitchen, with windows down the west side of the room. There were barrels stacked in one corner, tools and machinery in other places, and the floor was flagstone.
She did all her chocolate work in this room. Diego left his coat, hat, and sword on a shelf, then rolled up his sleeves and put on the apron Reva handed him. “Señora, show me your process. Some of this is familiar to me and some is not.”
Reva walked over to the barrels stacked to one side. “Here is my store of cacao beans. We use this bucket to take a batch to the roasters, over there.” As she spoke, she picked up the small bucket, scooped it full of the beans and walked over to another station.
“This is my roaster. Be careful, because it is very hot. I have experimented with different times and temperatures for roasting and I think there is still room for improvement on this step.” She emptied the bucket into the hopper, then moved a lever that fed the beans into the roaster.
Next, she walked a couple of steps to another station where there were beans that had been roasted and cooled. “These are the roasted beans and this is the winnowing station.” She picked up a fan and waved it as she gathered beans with the other hand. As they fell, the shell of the beans loosened from the nibs and were blown to the back of the machine.
Reva gathered the nibs into another bucket and stepped to the next station. There was a flat stone on four legs, with a pot of oil and a wick underneath. “Here is our grinder. I couldn’t find the volcanic rock for a proper metate, but this granite one has worked fine. I have the fire underneath to keep it warm as the beans are ground.”
Through all of this, Diego watched and nodded. Now he said, “Perhaps there are a few things I could show you. But essentially, you are doing well. How do you know such things?”
Reva frowned and cleaned her hands on her own apron. “As you may or may not know, I come from the future and when we were suddenly transported, we were lucky enough to bring along our books. This book I had owned for about a year before the event. I had read it, but not too thoroughly. When I came into possession of cacao beans, the first available in Denmark, I found my book and read it more carefully. I will show it to you later, if you’d like.”
Diego bowed and smiled. “It is English?”
Reva nodded. “Of course. All my books are in English.”
Diego said, “I can read English if I go slowly. It would be interesting to see a book from the future and decide if it is true. I have had my doubts about the stories I have heard of Grantville. Perhaps it is a hoax. But I will try to have an open mind.”
Reva shook her head but said nothing about the arrogance. She stepped back to the metate. “I think that for now, I will have you work on grinding. I am not very good at it and it is still one of the high labor steps. If all you do is increase my production, you are already worth your hire.”
Diego lifted the mano, or grinding stone, from the metate. “Do you have a standard fineness you want me to get?”
Reva looked at him. “Do your best and we’ll talk later.”
Diego nodded and scooped winnowed beans from the bucket onto the grinding stone.
✽✽✽
Near sunset, after the last customer had left, Diego watched Reva set a pot of chili and some cornbread on the work table for staff dinner. Claus had told him that they ate together every day after the closing. Reva felt that it increased morale and introduced her staff to some of the dishes she would serve in the café. Reva sat down next to Claus and started dishing up chili and handing out bowls. “Sit down here, next to Eric, Diego.”
As he moved to comply, the back door opened. A man entered and Señora Pridmore said, “About time you got here. I expected you twenty minutes ago, Marlon.”
“Am I late?” The man seemed to be about the same age as Señora Pridmore, who Diego guessed was about thirty-five. He would have been shocked to know that the Pridmores were almost twenty years older. Marlon was dressed in coveralls like all the workmen wore at the airship field. His hair was wild and his hands were dirty.
Reva laughed. “Swordfish, never in the twenty-eight years we’ve been married have you ever been late to dinner. Especially not when I make cornbread. Now wash up before you come to the table – you’re filthy.”
Marlon’s eyes flashed in delight. “I didn’t know there was cornbread.” He hurried over to the dish-washing station and vigorously washed his hands and face.
Reva turned and glared at little Eric. “I happen to know that you have a spy in my kitchen who runs down to your workshop as soon as I decide what I’m making for dinner. Sit down, before it gets cold.”
Marlon settled into his chair across from Reva. Claus leaned and whispered to Diego. “This is a ritual that we’ve witnessed every night since the Royal Anne returned from India. Do not think that they don’t care for each other. This is a mock fight.”
Señor Pridmore sat rubbed his hands together. “Smells as good as ever, Sweetpea.”
Reva smiled and handed a bowl to Diego. “Marlon, we have a new member of the staff. This is Diego, my chocolatero. Diego, this is my husband, Marlon Pridmore.”
Diego stood and, although he was wearing an apron and had no hat, he waved his hand as if his hat was in it and sketched an elaborate bow. “Señor Pridmore, I am honored to meet you.”
Marlon watched this performance with a smile. “Nice to meet you too. How long have you been in Copenhagen?”
Diego was suddenly embarrassed. It was hard to make a good impression if the first thing you have to tell someone is that you were here to stay out of prison. “About ten days, sir. I arrived from Spain and was thrown off the ship.” He was examining his bowl of chili with a square yellow chunk of something on top. He watched the others eat and saw them pick up the yellow square with their fingers, so he did the same and sniffed it.
Reva watched him smell his cornbread. “Try it, Diego. It is a bread, made from corn meal, like masa. I think you’ll like it.”
Diego frowned, but bit off a small corner. It tasted different, not as dry as he expected. And the corn taste was interesting. “This is very good.”
Reva said, “Now try some chili. Marlon likes to break off pieces of cornbread to eat with the chili.”
Marlon grinned and gobbled up another spoonful. Diego noticed that half of Marlon’s bowl was gone. The young man took a spoonful and raised it up to his nose to smell. “I have never seen food of this sort. Is it peasant food from your Grantville?”
Inge laughed. “I would be careful who you call peasants, especially around the Americans from Grantville. Most of them are very rich, while you have almost nothing. Instead of your Spanish arrogance, I think you should try a little humility.”
Diego kept his head down and said nothing. He tasted the chili and took another bite of cornbread. When he looked up, he saw that everyone at the table had stopped eating and were all watching him. Reva said, “What do you think?”
Diego’s mouth was full so he said nothing, but he took another bite and then fell to eating in earnest. Eric clapped his hands. “I think he likes it.”
They all laughed and Marlon handed his bowl back to Reva. “Do you think there is a little more for me? I worked hard today, on another engine.”
Reva handed the refilled bowl back to her husband. “Really? Who was this one for?”
Marlon swallowed a huge bite, then wiped his beard with his napkin. “It was Captain Eric Lange. He has decided to build another boat.”
Claus laughed. “Please, Herr Pridmore, tell the Eric story again. It’s my favorite one.”
Marlon grinned. “Sure thing, Claus. This one is called The Three Erics.