Trap Door Brewing has always been less a static brewery and more a restless experiment in constant reinvention. Yes, Zane Singleton laid the foundation — UC Davis fermentation scientist, Sacramento native, a hop-mad chemist who set the house voice in crisp lagers, resin-sharp West Coast IPAs, and haze bombs that snagged medals. But the torch didn’t stop there. In 2019, Michael Parsons moved from taproom leadership into ownership, and by 2020, he was publicly recognized alongside founder Bryan Shull as co-owner, shaping the brewery’s next chapters from the business side while guiding its Main Street heart. That same year, Kyle Larsen (ex-Full Sail, Double Mountain, Siren, and now Kings & Daughters) took over brewing, layering in precision and elegance. And the baton spun again — 2025 brought in Tristan Karosas, fresh off Single Hill, pairing with Jake Watt in a rare dual-head-brewer model, a two-brain collaboration tuned for harvest chaos and perpetual innovation.
Which means today’s Trap Door isn’t just one brewer’s vision — it’s a lineage, a rotating chorus of voices, each head brewer adding riffs to the song while Shull and Parsons keep the rhythm steady. The common thread? Hops as gospel, harvest as ritual, beer as an endless, shape-shifting dialogue with the Valley. This flight is the proof: every pint a chapter, every brewer’s fingerprint still humming in the foam.
Peaks & Pints Fresh Trap Door Flight
Trap Door Fresh Day Beer
5.8% ABV | Fresh Hop West Coast Pale
Trap Door’s Day Beer was already a GABF medal-winner, a West Coast pale ale that drank like sunshine sharpened to a blade. But give it harvest lungs and suddenly you’ve got Fresh Day Beer — 300 pounds of Coleman Farm Simcoe flung wet into the brew until the hops radiates citrus oil and orchard hush over Mosaic and Motueka. It’s crisp enough to skate across your tongue, yet layered with mango, peach, lime zest, and that leafy crackle you only get when the bine’s still warm from the field. At 5.8 percent, it doesn’t weigh you down; it brightens you, a clean gold canvas with wild green streaks. One sip and you know: some days are ordinary, but this one — this fresh day — was grown in a field and poured straight into your taster glass.
Trap Door Fresh Hop Glowed Up (2025)
6.8% ABV | Fresh Hop Hazy IPA
The brewery takes its cult hazy IPA, Glowed Up, and supercharges it with just-picked Amarillo until the glass all but levitates. The base—already a haze bomb built on oats and a holy trinity of Citra, Simcoe, and Amarillo—suddenly starts singing electric gospel when the wet cones hit: citrus pith meets guava nectar, pineapple punch laced with floral citrus, all floating in a body as pillowy as smoke from an orchard fire. Bitterness is barely a whisper, just enough to frame the juice, leaving the finish lush, glowing, absurdly drinkable. This isn’t haze muted—it’s haze on harvest crackle, a beer that feels like autumn sunlight refracted through a citrus grove and caught, briefly, in your taster glass.
Trap Door Fresher Than Fresh
7% ABV | Fresh Hop West Coast IPA
Trap Door doesn’t just dabble in harvest—they crown it, and Fresher Than Fresh is their coronation beer. Imagine 20 pounds of Mosaic per barrel, plucked still sweating from Coleman’s Mt. Angel fields and hurled into the kettle like a green thunderclap, then layered again for good measure. The result is citrus blaze, mango tang, pine crackle, all locked into a lean West Coast frame that snaps clean and refuses to haze. And the world has noticed: Gold at the 2024 Great American Beer Festival, gold at the 2023 Washington Beer Awards. At 7 percent, it drinks like liquid electricity, a resinous anthem to the harvest that doesn’t just say “fresh” — it wins fresh, it defines it, it glows like the hop gods themselves signed off on every pint.
Trap Door & TapRoom Beer The Reginald
7% ABV | Fresh Hop West Coast IPA
The Reginald isn’t just another harvest collab; it’s a Columbus-charged fever dream stitched between Vancouver and San Diego. Trap Door and TapRoom Beer Co. sprinted to VGF’s fields, yanking a single-source lot of Columbus cones still humming with sun and dust, then hurled them wet into the kettle before the tractor tracks faded. It’s all green thunderclap and citrus blaze, grapefruit zest wrapped in dank voltage, with a lean malt body so the hops can strut in their own swagger. This isn’t blended chaos; it’s focused, feral harmony — a West Coast IPA baptized in one farm’s harvest, proof that sometimes the cleanest way to taste September is to let one crop scream the loudest.
LINK: Peaks & Pints beer and cider cooler inventory
