Celebrating a doggiversary & the wonder of autumn leaves

Plus this week we make a lasagne out of bread.

The Boy (my German shepherd) had two milestones last month. His ‘gotcha day’, marking two years since we welcomed him into our home.

He also turned five, meaning in dog years he’s pretty much my age. For someone in his mid-thirties, he certainly doesn’t act like it.

I wanted to share some thoughts, as truly, getting a dog is a massive upheaval, let alone a rescue pup. It’s like, oh, there’s this thing in my life that I have to take care of? I have to plan my day around him? I’m going to constantly think about him while I’m away from him and his happiness and welfare is going to become roughly 90% of what my partner and I talk about? I assume this is what having a child is like, but it’s better with dogs as when you’re cross with them you can just put them in the backyard without anyone getting on the blower to child services.

I always thought the first dog that was ‘mine’, a non-family dog that I had picked out, named and loved only me, would come into my life as a puppy-sized bumbling ball of fur. There was no question that it would be a GSD; I grew up with them and so have happily existed in this particular cult of dog obsessives since age zero. It is perhaps an impractical choice for someone who is bound to city life by work, but by some miracle of good timing and good fortune, I live in a house in a major city that has a backyard. Not a big backyard, but enough for a dog that really more than anything, would rather be permanently glued to my side.

Unfortunately, my decision to get a dog coincided with a worldwide pandemic that forced people into their homes for months on end. Puppy prices skyrocketed and the shelters were cleared out by lonely people looking for some canine companionship. Quickly realising a puppy was now out of the question financially, I spent many months trawling through the RSPCA and local dog shelter websites and social media pages, pursuing another dream – finding an old dog that needed and deserved a few good years before heading off to the giant rainbow in the sky.

And then I saw a picture of The Boy.

Not quite 3 years old, he’d already had a hard life, having been surrendered with skin and ear infections. He was big, strong, wild and anxious, but the day I met him, I fell in love. He came to stay with us for a three week foster period. The day he arrived, it was pouring down rain (thanks Melbourne) and he proceeded to get mud all over the backyard and me. “What have I done,” I thought many times, fighting to beat him to the door, playing endless rounds of fetch, having him drag me down the street a couple of days later when I took him for his first walk.

It took months to bond. For him to not try to snap our hands off when we gave him his ear medicine, or rubbed cream into his neck, where infection had eaten his soft, blonde fur away. To sit meekly, as he does now when we administer his meds, knowing we’re caring for him and just want him to feel better. For him to start to listen, to respond to commands, to be calm in our presence.

Things aren’t perfect; he’s still a brat sometimes on his walks, he still wants to chase down and maim every cat he sees, in a neighbourhood that is bloody full of them. He loves his ball and will play fetch ‘til the cows come home. He is extremely ‘food motivated’ and can’t drink water from his bowl without drooling everywhere. He can shake paws and if you point your fingers at him and say ‘Bang!’ he will sometimes theatrically drop to the ground, playing dead.

He is one of the best things that has ever happened to me and I love him to bits.

There’s something special about adopting a dog, a unique bond you form which just doesn’t present itself with a pooch you’ve had since puphood, that has only known love. Although in most cases there’s deep-embedded trauma that you may never uncover/resolve – don’t we all suffer from that, to some degree?

My dog is not perfect, or at least perfectly behaved, but he is doing his best with the hand (paw?) he has been dealt with and that’s enough for me. And giving him a good life, full of adventure, yummy treats, squeaky balls and belly rubs… well, I hope that’s enough for him, too.

Spotted in the town of Tumut in New South Wales.

An explosion of colour

Hello, my name is Celine and I suffer from FOMO! This has seen me racing around NSW and Victoria, trying to capture as many images of autumn leaves as possible.

I’m sharing my favourites here, as looking at them makes me feel happy; I hope it does the same for you.

Snapped in the city centre of Geelong:

A couple of images from Mt Macedon (best visited early morning or midweek this time of the year, to avoid the crowds):

A pop of colour in the Dandenong Ranges:

Bread lasagne

I know this is the thing you’re all here for. I have after all, teased this extensively, both in person to anyone who is unfortunate enough to know me IRL and via this newsletter.

Two weeks ago, I shared one of my favourite lasagne recipes; silverbeet and feta cheese. This is a guaranteed crowd-pleaser – even my most carnivorous brother happily ate it, remarking on how delicious it is.

It’s the lasagne recipe you take home to meet you mum; this flashier recipe is what you whip out when you’re keen to have a good time (and use up any excess bread that may be loitering in your freezer).

Tomato, cheese & bread lasagne

What you’ll need

• 2 tbsp olive oil

• 1 small onion (chopped)

• 2 cloves garlic, minced

• good quality sourdough bread

• cup of passata

• tomatoes, tinned or chopped (I usually chop up around three)

• basil (a small handful, depending on your preference)

• cheese – you can essentially use whatever you have on hand, although mozzarella is best

• OPTIONAL: parmesan to sprinkle on top

Here’s the sauce and look at the size of that garlic!

What you need to do

1. Pre-heat your oven to 180°C/350°F

2. Grab a pan and drizzle some oil in the bottom. Once heated, throw in the onion and let cook until it begins to brown, around 8-10 minutes. Add the garlic, then passata and tomatoes. Tinned toms don’t require as much passata.

3. Cook for ten minutes, stirring occasionally. Right before you take the pan off the heat, tear up the basil and chuck it in.

4. While the sauce is cooking, grab a baking dish. Line the bottom with bread, off cuts or slices. Make sure they’re not too thick – around 1cm is enough.

5. Pour the sauce onto the bread.

6. This is where the layering begins, which you can tweak based on the size of your baking dish and preference for cheese. You can sprinkle some mozzarella onto the sauce, then add another layer of bread, sauce and cheese. Or, just layer up sauce and bread before adding the cheese on top, as you would a normal lasagne. As much as I <3 cheese, I prefer this method as it is less overwhelming.

7. Sprinkle parmesan on top, then pop the dish into the oven.

8. Cook for around 25-30 minutes, until the top of your lasagne is brown and crispy.

9. Tuck in! Balance it out with some steamed broccoli on the side or a salad of fresh greens.

The slightly blurry finished product.

We’ll be rounding off this special next week with my favourite FODMAP-friendly lasagne recipe. And then, I need a bit of a break from this particular dish.

The best thing I ate this fortnight

Love a bit of Asian-fusion cooking, and so the shout-out this fortnight goes to Bahjong in Geelong, a ‘dumpling diner’ who plate up the most interesting combinations of… dumplings.

Dumplings are one of the best things on the planet when done right, and these are fun and delicious.

Potato and chive dumplings… with chippies!

If you’re in the area and feeling hungry I recommend the potato & chive dumplings. The Korean chicken dumplings are also next level amazing.

After dumplings and a walk to aid with digestion, I popped into James Street Bakery & Cafe for a delicious slice of Persian love cake. Yum.

Geelong, you’ve got it going on.

See you in a fortnight for part three of our lasagne extravaganza. If you’re in the very south of the southern hemisphere – stay warm!

-Celine

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PPS. Rest assured, any puns are always intended.