Apparently today is National Beer Day, so here are my notes from the first time I had Three Floyds Zombie Dust.
*Yep - not a Friday at all, but Tuesdays could stand a bit of Fridayness, anyway.
I have a friend out in Indiana who floated the idea of doing a beer trade; he'd send me some of his state's beer, and I'd send him a few selections from Connecticut. I sent him Sea Hag from New England Brewing and Two Roads Lil Heaven, and made one request of him: "Whatever you send, please send me some Zombie Dust, too." He did not disappoint. What follows is the result, word for word:
Grapefruit hop notes hit from two feet away as soon as it's poured. Barely cloudy amber, head forms and resolves into a thin ring. Big, juicy hops on nose, very fruity. It's hoppy on the tongue like a jungle is green - everywhere and all at once. Far cry from the punch of west coast IPAs. This is a smooth and flavorful pale ale. I want to turn back time and drink it again.
If I lived in a place where I could consistently get this I'd drink it until I was absolutely sick of it. It's the rare beer that initially and completely lives up the hype. I am seriously smitten. I am smote. I am in deep smit. This cadaverous bastard has gotten a hold of me. If it was a poet, it would be Percy Byshhe Smelly. I know I'm going a bit gaga because it's new and different and exciting, but isn't that the best part of love, dammit?! Zombie Dust and I are dropping out to live on the road together and you just don't understand, Mom!
Good god, this stuff has made me lose my mind. Which is appropriate, since zombies love brains.
Lord, what a beer.
[Photo courtesy of Edible Ink Blog]