Of all the craft beer joints, in all the towns, in all the Lower Mainland, she walks into mine.
50 IBU. Centennial, Columbus and Galaxy hops. Roasted barley among the malt bill. Dead Frog’s latest has an all-star cast that, surprisingly for a blockbuster release these days, proves to be more than the sum of its parts.
Marketed in film-noir fashion, The Obsidian Dagger is Dead Frog’s first foray into the Cascadian Dark Ale genre – and thanks to that stellar cast and a plot line full of nuance and twists, it’s a triumph.
Visually, it’s an alluring spectacle: a deep, dark crimson brew with ruby highlights, topped by a full, rich tan head that coats the glass in beautiful lace.
The first act sets the stage for this beer’s complexity: The aroma features a big, deep malt sweetness that tingles with fruity hop highlights. There’s a tropical echo but mostly grapefruit and lime shine through. Playing supporting but essential roles are a luxurious leathery depth and a light graininess.
The plot thickens upon tasting. There’s a soft, juicy fruitiness – orange, grapefruit, a little raspberry – that initially washes over tongue. The beer’s carbonation introduces biscuity caramel malt notes and a gentle bitterness moves up the sides of the mouth before swelling to round out the back of the mouth. But the true stars here are the fruity hops flavours, which latch on to the sweeter malt notes and carry the production right through the middle and into a dry conclusion – where a tangy roastiness makes a memorable appearance – and even lingers long into the bitter, chewy, tarred malt epilogue of the aftertaste.
It’s a highly distinctive expression of the style. Encore!
Food pairing: Pop corn drowned in artificial butter isn’t going to cut it. I’ve often thought CDAs would be a lock with traditional barbecue, and I think this would certainly be up to the task. Mexican dishes would also work well, particularly ones with mole sauce – but even a loaded burrito with beef or pork would find a lot to play with here. Or you could enjoy it alone in the shadowiest corner of a quiet bar, where flashes of lightning through a rain-streaked window and the end of your smouldering cigarette provide the only illumination of your overworked features. Before you get thrown out for smoking.
Beer Cat: LOVES
650ml, $5.50, at government liquor stores
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