Almost Electrified

Making the switch from propane to electric. Here’s a preview. More to come when I’ve got the power hookups.

Spent Grain Treats for your Best Friend


Hmm, what should we do with our spent grain?


Compost? Animal Feed? We decided to use some for compost and the rest to make peanut butter dog treats for our best friend. Four simple ingredients and easy to make. Give these to your dog and if they don’t already love you they most certainly will after these drooliscious treats.

Spent Grain Dog Treats Recipe

4 cups spent grain
2 cups flour
2 large eggs
1 cup peanut butter


Mix all ingredients together in large bowl, then roll out on flour coated surface and use cookie cutter to make desired shapes. Put onto cookie sheet and bake in 350 degree oven for 30 min. Turn treats over on cookie sheet then reduce heat to 225 degrees for 2 hrs or until dry (to prevent mold growth). Store in air tight containers. Freeze leftover treats in Ziplock bags and thaw out as needed.


Spent grain.



Very simple!



Roll out the dough.



Squirrels and Bones.



For our Superstar!



Boiling the first one

Boiling the first new one

Long time coming, but better late than whenever. A fit of je ne sais quoi pulled the release on this and it’s on. Let’s see where it goes.

I made my first batch of beer, an extract stout from a kit, soon after turning 21 in Berkeley, California. There was a home brewing store way down on San Pablo Avenue, in El Cerrito, actually. It must have been 1983. Stovetop beer, plastic buckets, bottles everywhere, a complete mess. No clue. I wish I could remember more about it, other than I couldn’t believe how cheap it was to make my own beer, and some friends who seemed very happy to watch and help ingest the evidence. One guy, Mike, came over and saw what I was doing – boiling a batch in a cheap enamel-covered tin canning pot on the electric stove in the apartment I shared with three young women. I didn’t care for Mike much, but he wanted to learn even though he needed a few years to be legal. I showed him the steps, and forgot about it. A few months later I found myself at a party in his apartment. Eight 5-gallon plastic fermenters, festooned with bubbling airlocks, lined the hallway between the kitchen and his bathroom. Mike clearly had launched himself, found something bigger and better. It might have been envy, but regardless – at the time I thought his brewing mania broadened his idiocy. I wonder if Mike still brews.

I’ve become Mike. I wonder what’ll become of me.