The first thing i noticed about the menu was the un-holy Ghost—and the asterisked footnote that said you had to sign a waiver to order it.
I don’t love cider, but my interest was piqued. It was Saturday night at Trinity Cider, a busy little tasting room in Deep Ellum. Colorful art hung on the walls, and upbeat pop played overhead. We’d just grabbed spots at the long, wooden bar, and my friend was already engrossed in the miniature ring-and-hook game.
“This is our entire production,” the bearded bartender told us. He pointed over his shoulder at the row of large brewing tanks and explained that he likes concocting “limited release” flavors whenever possible. On Harry Potter trivia nights, he serves up Butterbeer cider; other flavors he’s experimented with include guava and coffee. When I asked about the ghost pepper-infused Unholy Ghost, he smiled and told me it wasn’t “that bad.”
Unconvinced, I ordered the safer-sounding Deep Ellum Dry. The bartender brought us our drinks, and I changed my mind about not liking cider. Evidently I just hadn’t had the right cider. I drained most of my friend’s chocolate cherry before he noticed—and even ate the cherry. Meanwhile, a few bar stools down, a guy ordered The Unholy Ghost and handed it to his girlfriend for a taste. “All I did was stick my tongue in the glass, and my throat is burning!” she cried.
I must have looked curious, because the bartender brought me a sample—no waiver required. Eager to look tough, I took a deep swig.
The Unholy Ghost was delicious. I felt triumphant. But just as I put down the cup, the afterburn kicked in. I won’t lie: my vision blurred a little at first. But I recovered. The crisp cider counterbalanced the spiciness, and the result was addictive. I drained the sample, then reached for the menu. There were still plenty of other flavors left to try.
