Deep-Dish Hunter’s Pie

The last days in Vietnam. We went to the Mekong Delta on Wednesday — a two-hour drive south through rice paddies and coconut groves and a landscape so green it looked painted. We took a boat through the floating markets, where vendors sell fruit and vegetables from wooden boats that have been doing this for centuries. Mai bought a coconut and drank the water through a straw and looked at the river and I could see her filing this away, storing it in the place where she keeps the things she'll carry back to Houston.

We met Thanh's children — Mai's nieces and nephew. Two women in their forties and a man in his fifties, all living in District 7. The meeting was at a restaurant — Duc arranged it — and when Mai walked in and they saw her, the eldest woman, Hanh, started crying before anyone said a word. She said, "You look like our mother." Mai said, "Your mother was more beautiful." They talked for four hours. They showed Mai photos of Thanh that Mai had never seen — Thanh at thirty, at forty, at sixty, surrounded by her family in a country that Mai had left behind. Mai held the photos and traced the faces with her finger and did not cry. She was past crying. She was in a place beyond it.

I took a photo of Mai with Thanh's children. It's the photo that will go on the last page of the album. Four people at a table in Saigon, connected by blood that survived everything — war, escape, forty-seven years of separation, and the specific cruelty of not knowing. They know now. It's not enough. It's everything.

The last night, Mai and I sat on the hotel balcony. She was quiet for a long time. Then she said, "Thank you, Bobby." She has never said this to me. Not like this. Not with this weight. I said, "You don't have to thank me." She said, "I know. I want to." Another silence. Then she said, "Your father would be proud of you." She said it in Vietnamese, and in Vietnamese it hit differently — the tones, the cadence, the way the words carry more weight in the language they were born in.

We flew home Friday. Mai slept the entire flight. I stayed awake and looked out the window at the Pacific and thought about a fishing boat and a Navy vessel and two plane tickets and the distance between 1975 and 2023 and how that distance is measured not in miles but in the things we carry and the things we finally set down.

We landed in Houston on a Friday afternoon and I didn’t know what to do with my hands. The trip had asked everything of me — of both of us — and the apartment felt too quiet and too still for everything I was still carrying. I wanted to cook something that required effort, something that took time on the stove and filled the kitchen with smell, something that felt like it had weight to it the way the week had weight to it. This deep-dish hunter’s pie is what I landed on: rustic, substantial, the kind of food that asks you to sit down and stay a while, which is exactly what I needed.

Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 55 min | Total Time: 1 hr 20 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs ground venison or mixed game meat (or substitute beef chuck)
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 medium carrots, peeled and diced
2 stalks celery, diced
1 cup cremini mushrooms, sliced
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 cup beef or venison stock
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1/2 teaspoon dried)
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
Salt and black pepper to taste
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 package (14 oz) refrigerated double pie crust, or homemade equivalent
1 egg, beaten (for egg wash)

Instructions

Preheat oven. Heat oven to 400°F. Lightly grease a deep 9-inch pie dish or cast-iron skillet and set aside.
Build the base. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add onion, carrots, and celery and cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Add garlic and mushrooms and cook another 3 minutes until mushrooms release their liquid.
Brown the meat. Add the ground game meat to the skillet and cook, breaking it apart, until browned through, about 6–8 minutes. Drain any excess fat.
Build the gravy. Stir in tomato paste, Worcestershire sauce, thyme, and smoked paprika. Sprinkle flour over the mixture and stir to coat. Pour in the stock and stir until the sauce thickens and coats the filling, about 3 minutes. Season generously with salt and black pepper. Remove from heat and let cool slightly.
Line the dish. Press one pie crust into the bottom and up the sides of the prepared deep dish, letting the edges hang slightly over the rim.
Fill and top. Spoon the meat filling evenly into the crust. Lay the second crust over the top, pressing the edges together to seal. Crimp with a fork or your fingers. Cut 3–4 small slits in the top crust to vent steam. Brush the entire surface with the beaten egg.
Bake. Place the pie on a baking sheet to catch drips. Bake at 400°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 quickly, tent them with foil.
Rest and serve. Let the pie rest for 10 minutes before slicing. Serve warm, straight from the dish.

Nutrition (per serving)

Deep-Dish Hunter’s Pie — The Last Meal Before the Long Way Home