This must be what it looks like when zoos transport precious animals from one place to the next. There’s a palpable excitement in the air as Casey Motes and John Holler nearly trip over themselves, running out of Holler’s eponymous Houston brewery when they get the word that their shipment has arrived.

They each grab a side of the large, bulky plastic container, stuffed so full it’s been plastered with stickers demanding a “Team Lift” for the 195 pounds of treasure inside. They lug it up the stairs into the brewery, their words coming quickly through smiling lips as their anticipation builds.

This moment has been delayed so many times that they can hardly believe it’s finally happening. Originally, they’d hoped for a big reveal days earlier. But farmers were running late. Flights were backed up. Their shipment was stranded. In Indiana.

Holler digs out a drill to make quick work of the five screws holding the white cover on top of the cargo box. “How many screws are there?” he asks, frustrated, as Motes counts. Five, just five. They’re almost there.

“Ohhhhhhhh,” Motes and Holler both let out at the same time, reverently, as the lid is flung away, revealing a 195-pound pile of vibrant green hops.

“Oh, yes, sir,” Motes exclaims. He dips a hand into the pile, where thousands of these little leafy flowers, resembling small, lime-colored pinecones, were shoveled on top of each other earlier in the day, just hours after being plucked from the vines. He rakes his hand through the haul, then grabs one fresh hop and rips it open. Inside, there’s a yellow powder. And as he rubs it between his hands fast, building friction, he holds it up to his nose, to take in the bouquet.

“What are you getting, Casey?” Holler asks.

“Lime. Very floral,” Motes answers.

Holler follows Motes’ lead, taking a deep whiff. “A little herb,” he says. “Like parsley.”

“Maybe a little mint. Cilantro,” Motes adds. “Something like that.”

Holler nods. “OK, but we don’t have time to keep smelling. We’ve got to get these in here,” he says, pointing over his shoulder to the mash tun he’s kept open the past several days as they awaited this delivery. Holler and Motes have already started brewing the wort for the pilsner they’ll create with these fresh hops. And they’ve already wasted enough time.

Holler’s brewery, tucked inside the industrial strip at Sawyer Yards, is ground zero for a fresh-hops experiment in Houston this fall. While most breweries here in Houston usually rely on dried hops to create their beer, Holler has devised a plan to team up with an assortment of local brewers to create four fresh-hop beers, which will be released in October. He’s done this once before, and Motes, who owns and brews at Eureka Heights, worked with fresh hops a few times when he brewed at Saint Arnold.

But fresh hops are a challenging adventure in Houston, which sits more than 1,000 miles away from hop-growing country. Not only are they at the whim of the weather, which was proven to Holler and Motes earlier in the week when their harvest time kept being pushed back, but they also need to expedite shipment since the flavor of fresh hops deteriorates by the hour, the same way a freshly picked apple would. And fresh hops are plump with water, which makes them both larger and heavier to transport.

And that means they cost extra money. Lots of it. Between the cost of shipping and the fact that he has to keep tank space open, waiting for their delivery, Holler makes no secret about the fact that his plan to collaborate with other breweries for this experiment is heavily rooted in the financial toll fresh hops takes on a southern brewer.

This is Holler’s second of four fresh-hopped beers of the season, after brewing a Saison with True Anomaly and Astral earlier in the month. But it still feels new and exciting.

But as Holler lifts a 30-gallon bin of hops up to the lid of his mash tun, he admires the little buds tumbling out. Beneath him, the wort he and Motes brewed earlier in the day is cycling back into this big metal container, flowing up through a false bottom so the hops can begin swimming in the beer mixture. They’ll plump up, soaking in some of the beer, leading to yet another added cost to this brewing style — for every seven barrels of beer Holler and Motes brew, the thirsty hops will suck up about two barrels, creating waste.

Across the brewery, Motes fills up other containers, which they’ll load into the fermenter for a little bit of extra pep. Jorge Benitez, the hospitality director at Holler Brewing, alternates between helping Motes and taking cellphone shots of the hops, his hands shaking in excitement.

Motes and Holler are not quite sure what the finished product will taste like. Though the idea of “fresh” hops might lead the typical beer drinker to think the brews will simply taste, well, fresher, the result will likely be a lot more nuanced than that. Earthy, perhaps, with some pops of that mint flavor that Motes noted.

“I don’t want to call it an acquired taste,” Holler says, eliciting a laugh from Motes. “But it’s definitely different.”

The pilsner Motes and Holler are brewing will be available in early October, as will the other three fresh-hop brews, on tap and in cans at Holler and at the collaborating breweries.

And then Houston can see for itself what all Holler and Motes’s excitement is about.

maggie.gordon@chron.com