I Regressed and Became Too Good at Brewing - Chapter 50

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 50. Once Upon a Time (2)
Brewing beer with a diverse array of hops domestically presented far steeper practical obstacles than one might assume.
It wasn’t that hop diversity was unavailable, of course.
Grapefruit notes, coconut aromatics, even hops that yielded white wine bouquets—they were all out there.
But from a distributor’s perspective, they could only use the hops they’d always used.
Varieties like Cascade, Citra, Mosaic—those kinds.
Yet this bottleneck had unavoidable structural roots in the supply chain.
– To explain, our Hoptorang is a specialized farm that cultivates and distributes hops commercially…….
First, you could point to the fact that breweries worldwide were waging war over hop contracts.
Premium hop varieties newly developed or trending each year in places like the Yakima Valley or New Zealand were being snapped up by large craft breweries for years’ worth of supply before harvest even began.
So in reality, mid-sized domestic breweries like Jin-woo and Eun-chae had no choice but to source whatever remained after the majors had claimed their share.
This meant that popular varieties and exciting new cultivars were simply unavailable, no matter how much one wanted them.
– Growing in the sunshine and soil of Hongcheon with that distinctly Korean terroir…….
Second, there was the substantial cost of the Cold Chain—refrigerated distribution, in other words.
Oxidation begins immediately after hops are harvested, and the essential oils that create those India Pale Ale aromatics are especially vulnerable to heat and oxygen.
So to make proper beer using them, one had to absorb staggering distribution costs.
And even if you could afford it, the delicate aromatics would evaporate anyway, rendering the effort pointless.
– They really do grow healthy and strong! So that’s…….
These issues alone were enough, but the problems kept accumulating.
You could cite inventory burden on domestic importers and insufficient demand, or the tedious customs clearance and pesticide residue inspections required by health authorities.
To put it simply: you’d be chasing romance while wrestling with bankruptcy.
Any brewer dreamed of it once or twice, surely. But why stop at dreaming?
One miscalculation and your life as a brewer would be over.
So did Korea have good hops to offer?
Not really.
– Honestly, since we don’t do mass production, I think we’ll end up selling on a smaller scale…….
Cultivating hops—a specialty crop with no other use outside brewing—was nothing short of reckless gambling.
The only real merit was embodying Korea’s terroir.
Curious as it was, from a long-term revenue perspective, it wasn’t a particularly sound proposal.
– And the hops we grow are indigenous varieties!
“Ah. Yes. Indigenous……. Really?”
– Yes! Indigenous Korean hops!
“No. How is that possible?”
I was startled by how matter-of-factly Seo-ah mentioned indigenous Korean hops.
There had been a time when Korea had its own native hop varieties.
Through the 1980s, domestic hop farming had been quite active, centered around the major beer corporations.
But as cheaper imported hops flooded the market, local farms disappeared one by one, and they eventually went extinct.
Or so I’d believed.
Until Seo-ah said what she just said.
“Indigenous hops were definitely extinct after the eighties…….”
– Ah! My grandparents restored them!
“Really? But that can’t be…….”
That easy.
The way Seo-ah spoke, it sounded as effortless as finding a discarded piece of electronics and tinkering it back to life.
Yet there was no falseness in her words.
Rather, she seemed genuinely puzzled that anyone would even ask—as if wondering why I’d be curious about something so straightforward.
– My grandparents used to farm hops, but they quit around that time, or so they told me. Then, years later…….
They went up into the mountains to forage for wild greens and discovered a plant with a familiar shape.
Having farmed hops their entire lives, they recognized it immediately.
It was the root of indigenous Korean hops growing wild in nature.
“That’s… like something out of a drama…….”
– Right? Ah, but that’s not why we contacted Representative Song Yeon-woo…….
“You’re asking him to brew beer using those indigenous hops, aren’t you?”
– Yes! Exactly!
So to summarize: Hoptorang believed that for their newly restored indigenous Korean hops to become widely recognized, the answer was to create delicious beer using them.
That’s how they came to hear about Song Yeon-woo of Songhada—about me.
And apparently, a grandfather they knew mentioned knowing a fellow who’d made a career of drink, someone I was acquainted with.
– Grandfather Gyeong-sik told us about you!
“He did?”
– Yes! He and our grandfather go way back! They used to share a glass of makgeolli together in the old days!
This was also unexpected news.
Of course, human relationships can tangle in unpredictable ways, so I thought it reasonable that Grandfather Gyeong-sik and Seo-ah’s grandfather might have some connection.
But I never imagined he’d introduce me to someone else.
“Ah. So that’s why you mentioned making pottery vessels…….”
Yes?
“Ah, no. You said the location was Hongcheon, correct? I can’t go myself, but would it be alright if one of my employees visited?”
Well… yes! That’s wonderful! I was hoping to meet you in person, but I understand…… .
“Ha ha. Don’t worry.”
I’ll make sure to tell someone trustworthy about it.
After ending the call with Seo-ah, I hastily tapped out a text message.
[Me: There’s a place I need you to visit.]
[Se-jun: You haven’t said a word until now, and now there’s another place to go? Where are we headed this time?]
[Me: No, I’m staying here. There’s a place for you to go.]
[Se-jun: ?]
[Se-jun: Let’s fight.]
That’s how he’ll react, but once he actually goes, his eyes will light up.
Se-jun’s passion for alcohol is no less intense than mine.
[Se-jun: Fight over what?^^]
…Of course, I’ll have to keep him satisfied for a while.
* * *
“Why does this bastard always make me do these things…….”
Se-jun drove toward the address he’d been given, grumbling as he went.
It had truly been a day spent living under tension.
Just half a day away, and all this had piled up.
“He’s always bragging about having nothing to do, but what is this…….”
It was true that he’d watched Songhada alone before, several times due to various commitments.
But this was the first time since the Korean Spirits Assessment.
“Is this really a humanly manageable schedule?”
Inquiries were pouring in from all directions.
He had to sift through those inquiries, choose the promising ones, and bring them before the board.
And that wasn’t all.
He also had to keep deliberating over future production plans.
“There’s direct production to handle, material management, aging checks…….”
Se-jun had seen how relaxed Song Yeon-woo always appeared and assumed he was resting adequately between tasks.
But he was wrong.
Song Yeon-woo had been using superhuman ability to manage every single operation of Songhada.
“Ugh. Well, I’d better handle this properly at least.”
Se-jun recognized that he was fundamentally different from Song Yeon-woo.
Song Yeon-woo possessed a kind of intelligence that gave his thoughts real weight, but Se-jun did not.
“Act first, think later. Even if I mess up, at least I’m not postponing things by overthinking them.”
If there existed a human whose every ability point was concentrated entirely in his body, it would be Se-jun.
Which made Song Yeon-woo seem all the more extraordinary to him.
He didn’t know, of course, that a decade of experience lay behind it all.
“Anyway, is this it? Yeah, this is it.”
Following the address, he arrived to find a neatly arranged sign reading “Hoptorang”.
It was the same name Song Yeon-woo had told him.
“They really succeeded in cultivating Indigenous Korean Hop here?”
At first, he’d thought it was impossible.
It was news even he, who loved alcohol, had never heard.
But it was true.
It simply hadn’t become a major issue; the local newspaper had run a story about it.
“Still, I should verify it myself.”
Indigenous Korean Hop was truly a mystery-shrouded existence.
Other hops had their components clearly identified, so much so that brewers could give explicit reasons when combining them in a Mash.
Moreover, each was clearly documented—whether meant for bitterness, aroma, and if so, what specific flavors and scents each produced.
But Indigenous Korean Hop was different.
It hadn’t been cultivated for so long that the methods of using it had long since fallen into disuse.
“And it looks like a small-scale farm… I’ll need to consider safety issues too.”
No matter how superior the technique for cultivating excellent hops, agriculture was inherently unpredictable.
Particularly with Indigenous Korean Hop from domestic small farms, monsoon seasons and heat waves caused significant variance in composition, and there was no analyzed data on such variations.
From a brewer’s perspective, it means risking a flavor shift every single time.
“And it’s a single varietal at that.”
Different beer styles demand entirely different hop characteristics.
That’s why in America and Europe, with their centuries-long brewing heritage, they’ve developed dozens of hop varieties through selective breeding over hundreds of years—cultivars that deliver citrus, tropical fruit, floral, and spice notes.
But Korea has only one indigenous hop variety.
Without that diversity, the flavor spectrum inevitably narrows.
“You lose the beer the moment the hops disappoint you,” he muttered.
As he finished speaking, Se-jun completed parking and stepped outside.
Just like the sign before, it was genuinely small and homey—a modest farm.
Modest enough to explain why they hadn’t approached any of the larger breweries.
Se-jun surveyed the neatly maintained, well-organized grounds.
“Oh! Are you the person Song Yeon-woo mentioned?”
A woman came sprinting toward him from across the field.
Overalls and a mesh cap left no doubt—she worked here on the farm.
Introductions seemed appropriate, then.
‘Thank goodness I had business cards printed. Ha.’
Se-jun reached into his inner pocket to retrieve one when—
“Look at this first!”
“Huh? Oh…”
Seo-ah rushed up and thrust something directly into Se-jun’s hands before he could finish.
Because Se-jun was so tall, she had to rise on her toes just to meet his eyes.
What she’d handed him was—
“This is…”
A hop flower.
Compact and cone-shaped, its delicate pale green petals were plump with moisture and remarkably springy to the touch.
Splitting it lengthwise, he found the interior stem densely packed with bright golden powder.
The unmistakable mark of exceptional hops.
“The structure is genuinely impressive.”
“Of course it is!”
And at the same moment, the aroma flooded his nostrils.
First came a burst of fresh grass and perilla leaf—vibrant, verdant notes that struck cleanly.
Then followed the deeper pine cone scent and earthy notes tinged with cool morning dew, rising full and heavy.
Finally, as the layers unfolded, came the subtle citrus bite of lime peel joined by that distinctive white pepper sharpness.
“Huh…”
It was nearly absurd—a performance almost too perfect to believe.
What on earth would a beer made from hops like this even taste like?
But converting this into pellets, then processing it further for brewing—there were still so many steps ahead…
“We’ve already made all the pellets!”
“You have?”
“You just use them when you brew! We’ve already passed all quality inspections!”
In that moment, the beer lover living in Se-jun’s heart cried out.
‘Use it? They’re practically hand-feeding it to me—how could I possibly refuse?’

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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