There’s a brewery behind the hospitals off Harry Hines that’s been making some of the best hazy IPA in this city for eight years, and most of Dallas drives past the exit without knowing it’s there.
Celestial Beerworks is at 2530 Butler St. in the Medical District. Matt and Molly Reynolds opened it in the fall of 2018. He’d been homebrewing for years and brewing for Malai Kitchen before that. The taproom is painted up in constellations and space imagery, and every beer gets named like a lost B-side.
The names are half the fun. Hazy Cosmic Jive comes out of Bowie’s “Starman.” Pecanmandias is a pecan beer and a Shelley joke at the same time. Welcome to the Space Jam needs no explaining to anybody who was alive in 1996.
The beer isn’t a joke though. Reynolds built this place on hops, and the board usually runs eight or nine IPAs deep.
Start light. Galactic Gondola is an Italian pilsner at 5.2 percent, which means a German-style pils dry-hopped with noble hops. Clean and bready with a floral lift at the end. It’s the most overlooked thing they make and the one to get if you’re driving.
Scrubs is the everyday hazy at 6 percent, soft and juicy without the syrup that ruins the style when a brewer overdoes it. Moon Farming at 6.5 is an American IPA instead of a New England one, so it’s clearer, drier and more bitter, closer to what IPA meant before 2015. Order those two together and you’ll taste exactly what happened to the style over the last decade.
The doubles are where this brewery lives. The Big Green and Hazy Cosmic Jive both sit at 8 percent. Flagship: Test Three is 8 as well and is what the name says, a recipe they’re still working out in public, which is a good reason to order it. ElectroSquared goes to 8.5. All of them drink smoother than the proof suggests, which is the appeal and the trap.
Then the triples. Tangerine Triple Stars at 9 and Burn Out at 10. Triple IPAs are thick with hop oil and leftover sweetness, closer to a cocktail than a beer you sit with. Burn Out is one of the highest-rated things they’ve brewed. Take a small pour.
If you don’t want hops, the sours hold up. Ube Tropic is a fruited Berliner weisse built on purple yam, 5 percent, and it’s popular enough to get its own party every July where they pour six versions at once. Dreamhack and Welcome to the Space Jam are both around 5.2, tart and fruit-forward without turning into candy.
Two oddballs usually pouring. Pecanmandias at 6 percent is the pecan beer and the one that tastes most like Texas. And Permission to Dance is a 12.5 percent imperial stout served in eight-ounce pours, which is the right call. It’s rated higher than anything else on the board right now.
Now the food, because you can eat here and most people don’t realize it. Cosmic Cantina is the brewery’s own truck, parked on site daily, run by Molly Reynolds rather than farmed out to whoever’s available. It’s Mexican street food, and her own pairing pick is the chicken tinga taco, chipotle and stewed tomato, against one of their light lagers. The al pastor is the other order. Tacos and a hazy IPA sounds wrong until you try it, and then it doesn’t.
One credential most people miss. At the 2026 Texas Craft Brewers Cup, Celestial took silver in brett and mixed culture for a beer called Kashmir. That’s wild fermentation and months of aging, a completely different discipline from turning out hazies, and it says the brewhouse runs deeper than the reputation.
Hours: two to nine Monday through Wednesday, until ten Thursday, noon to eleven Friday and Saturday, noon to nine Sunday. Dogs are fine, kids are fine, there’s a patio. They sell cans to go but won’t fill a growler. Trivia’s on Thursday. Sundays you can bring your own records and they’ll play them.
Go on a Sunday afternoon with an album under your arm, get the pilsner and a couple of tacos, and see why the beer people here keep pointing at a building the rest of the city drives past.
