About

I had such a wonderful story to write about myself. A story with suspense, danger, and passion. With handsome protagonists and dangerous women. A story that seemed a little too precocious, and I want to avoid being self-indulgent. I just want to have an archive of my terrible art and excellent recipes.

The only question anyone asks is, “Why Peter Brew?”

It dates back to 1999, when a group of my close friends were sitting on a beach in the Okanagan. It would be the last time we were ever together as a whole—the week following most of us would go off to university.

I had made my first wine earlier that year, which culminated in an enormous batch of apple wine. It was passed around our group. Songs were sung, stories were told, and everyone was happy. Until they tasted it.

It was awful. One of the most disgusting wines anyone has ever made–like hot compost on fresh asphalt. A dear friend threw the bottle away, belittling “Peter’s Brew,” wondering why I had ever concocted it.

It was the last words of the night, the last words when we were all together, but it was just the beginning of everything else.