If boldness is a key to success in the risky business of winemaking, then Michael Browne may have staying power. A rare winemaker, Browne counts flying on the trapeze and walking the high wire among his specialties. This month, the 45-year-old Santa Rosa resident celebrates his eccentric past with the release of his first estate wine project, Cirq.
At first blush, Humphry Slocombe founder Jake Godby seems an unlikely candidate to open an ice cream shop.
The underbelly of the Upper Haight’s beloved Magnolia brewpub at first resembles a scene from The Matrix, with 1,800 square feet of cramped basement lined with steel tanks and plastic tubes. But Grateful Dead stickers and a friendly team of self-described “brewers with beards” are evidence of a more benevolent plot.
FourBarrel Coffee was the end of the line for brothers Jerad, 34, and Justin Morrison, 29, whose 10-year apprenticeship in specialty coffee took them through their childhood home of Oregon and the caffeinated mecca of Seattle before luring them to San Francisco.
Christophe wanted a dog for his fifth birthday, but his mom got him a beehive instead. It’s a wise mother who gives her kids a pet—or 10,000 pets, in this case—that she’s willing to take care of. So in 2009, Christophe’s mom, Kate McGee, joined the ranks of an estimated 200 San Franciscans (retired cops, chefs, and accountants among them) who tend beehives at home.
When did we forget how to go on vacation? These days, a week off means an opportunity to do more stuff. From paradise, we Instagram and tweet every last relaxing moment, never escaping long enough to untether from the chatter. What if there were a place somewhere at the end of the world where there is gloriously nothing to do?
It is hard to imagine a better place to be a cow this time of year than in the thick, knee-high rye grass that blankets the hills east of Tomales Bay. Here, cows graze and lounge around on the lush, green shag, returning to the dairy twice a day for milking.
Have you ever wanted to call bullshit when people say they can “taste the terroir” or felt like a dunce for your inability to distinguish “chalky soil” from regular old tannins?
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