Classic Chicken Pot Pie

This week I learned about yeast. Not in a "yeast makes bread rise" kind of way — in a "holy crap, yeast is basically a living organism that you're collaborating with to make beer" kind of way. Marcus spent an entire shift teaching me about yeast strains, fermentation temperatures, and the difference between ales and lagers from a biological perspective. Ales ferment warm, lagers ferment cold, and the yeast strain you choose determines about sixty percent of what the final beer tastes like. I'm becoming a beer nerd. I'm not sure when this happened. A year ago I drank Miller Lite and thought all beer was pretty much the same. Now I'm sniffing fermenting wort and saying things like "I'm getting esters" and "the attenuation looks good." Kevin makes fun of me. I don't care. This is cool. Outside of work, not much happened. Wednesday I went to the VFW with Dad for the fish fry — that's a Friday tradition in Milwaukee, but they also do it Wednesday at the VFW because apparently old men want fried fish more than once a week. Perch, coleslaw, rye bread, tartar sauce. Dad's been going to this fish fry since before I was born. The bartender knows his order. The waitress calls him Tommy. He tipped thirty percent because that's what Tom Kowalski does. I had a thought while sitting there with Dad in this dim, wood-paneled room full of old guys in Packers hats: this is a food tradition. Not a fancy one. Not a Babcia-in-the-kitchen-humming tradition. But a tradition. These guys come here every week and eat the same fish and sit in the same seats and it means something to them. It's community built around a table. Isn't that what all food is, really? An excuse to sit with people you care about? Getting philosophical. Must be the beer. Babcia made a simple chicken soup on Sunday — rosół — with thin egg noodles. She says chicken soup cures everything: colds, sadness, broken hearts, bad grades. I believe her. When Danny was sick, Babcia sent chicken soup to the hospital twice a week. It didn't cure leukemia, but Danny said it was the only thing he could keep down toward the end. Babcia's soup was the last real food Danny Katz ever ate. I think about that sometimes.

Babcia’s rosół got me thinking about chicken, and chicken got me thinking about comfort — the kind that doesn’t have to be fancy or philosophical, just warm and real. A pot pie felt right: same soul as the soup, just wrapped up and baked, the kind of thing you bring to someone’s table when words aren’t quite enough. Here’s how I made it.

Prep Time: 30 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 15 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 refrigerated pie crusts (or homemade, enough for a top and bottom)
3 cups cooked chicken, shredded or diced (rotisserie works great)
1 cup frozen peas
1 cup carrots, diced small
1/2 cup celery, diced small
1/2 cup yellow onion, diced small
1/3 cup unsalted butter
1/3 cup all-purpose flour
1 3/4 cups low-sodium chicken broth
2/3 cup whole milk or half-and-half
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon dried thyme
1 egg, beaten (for egg wash)

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Heat your oven to 425°F. If using refrigerated pie crusts, let them come to room temperature while you make the filling.
Sauté the vegetables. In a large oven-safe skillet or saucepan over medium heat, melt the butter. Add the onion, carrots, and celery. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 6–8 minutes until the vegetables are softened and the onion is translucent.
Build the roux. Sprinkle the flour over the vegetables and stir constantly for 1–2 minutes until the raw flour smell cooks off. It will look pasty — that’s right.
Make the filling. Slowly pour in the chicken broth while stirring, scraping up any bits from the bottom. Add the milk. Stir in the salt, pepper, and thyme. Cook over medium heat, stirring frequently, for 4–5 minutes until the mixture thickens to a creamy gravy consistency. Taste and adjust seasoning.
Add chicken and peas. Remove from heat. Stir in the shredded chicken and frozen peas until evenly combined. Let the filling cool for 5 minutes — this prevents the bottom crust from going soggy.
Assemble the pie. Press one pie crust into a 9-inch pie dish. Pour the filling in evenly. Lay the second crust over the top, fold the edges under, and crimp to seal. Cut 4–5 small vents in the top crust with a knife. Brush the entire top with beaten egg.
Bake. Place the pie dish on a rimmed baking sheet (to catch any drips) and bake at 425°F for 30–35 minutes, until the crust is deep golden brown and the filling is bubbling through the vents. If the edges brown too fast, tent them loosely with foil.
Rest before cutting. Let the pie rest for 10 minutes before slicing. This lets the filling set so it doesn’t pour out when you cut into it.

Nutrition (per serving)

Classic Chicken Pot Pie — The Dish That Tastes Like What Babcia’s Chicken Soup Feels Like