Green Flash Imperial IPA

There is, according to Jules Verne (among other Frenchies), a fleeting visual phenomenon that accompanies a warm summer sunset — he called it “le rayon vert,” the green ray, or perhaps more literally “the green flash.” By his description, the green ray was a split second flash of emerald light just as the sun dips below the horizon. Explored by master of the mundane Eric Rohmer in his 1986 film (the classically understated “Summer” as it was called in its American release), the green ray was quite literally illusive, and figurative for the love that Rohmer’s protagonist is missing until the last seconds of the film.

Suffice it to say, we loved Green Flash’s Imperial IPA. It even lived up to the deeply dorky metaphor that the brewery name references: the bitter bursts of this classic San Diego-style IPA were wonderfully fleeting, momentarily arresting and then — zap — gone from the palate.

First came a hint of raspberry zing, followed by the frothy alcohol sting and finally a quick, mellow effervescence, noticeably skipping the sickly sweet linger. This IPA is not an envelope-pusher exactly, but it is an iconic standard. And whereas some stronger IPAs (Moylan’s Hopsickle, Avery’s Maharajah) are tough to slug in summer heat, this one went down like hop soda pop. Which is not to say its an unchallenging bottle.

Our friend Julie, a French Canadian with a thirst for lagers and Eric Rohmer films had this to say about the hoppy green flash the beer emitted: “I’m hoping I could eat sausage right now because the fat of the sausage would take the bitterness away!”

Dairy Pairy: Morbier
Soundtrack: Brian Eno’s Another Green World