Dionysiac

 

 

 

 

 

Still praising he comes, like gold
from the silence of stone;
his fading heartbeats pressing
fruit into deathless wine.

That melody transforms
even the most common things;
The universe, a vineyard,
warms to his southern sun.

Mold may gather on the tombs
of kings he'll still be
eulogizing ceaselessly,
even as the light fades.

His voice shall go on singing
in praise of those ripe fruits
mounted on his shining tray
into the gaping tomb.

 -Rilke (Sonnets to Orpheus VII trans. D.H. Cohen)

 

Rise of the Malt Right

    San Francisco Bay Area brewers will once again be able to brew with premier malts and cultivate the unique flavors of local traditionally floor-malted barley. Admiral Maltings, is a new California “Malt House” boasting a modern floor-malting facility that revives a brewing tradition dating back to pre-prohibition days. Today most Malt, though it […]

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