From-Scratch Chicken Pot Pie

Scott got deployed again on Monday. Fire in the Sawtooth National Forest — fast-moving, wind-driven, threatening a small community near Stanley. He left at dawn. Mason was asleep. Lily was asleep. I stood in the driveway and watched his truck disappear down the road and felt the house get bigger behind me, the way it always does when he leaves. More rooms. More silence. More everything to carry alone.

I went back inside and made coffee and lunches and woke the kids and started the machine of the day, because the machine does not stop when someone leaves. The machine is breakfast and shoes and sunscreen and car seats and drop-offs and a full day at the clinic and pick-ups and dinner and baths and books and bed. The machine is relentless and impersonal and it is the only thing that keeps me upright during fire season, because if I stopped to feel the emptiness I might not start moving again.

The clinic was busy — summer never stops. A Boxer came in on Tuesday with a foxtail lodged deep in its ear canal. I assisted Dr. Pham with the extraction, which required sedation and a steady hand and the kind of patience that you develop after years of pulling things out of places they don't belong. The dog was fine. The owner was relieved. I cleaned the instruments and moved on to the next patient, a kitten with an upper respiratory infection, tiny and sneezy and so small it fit in one hand.

Mason was a champion this week. He is four, going on forty. He helped me make sandwiches for lunch. He picked up his toys without being asked. He told Lily a bedtime story on Wednesday — a story about a dog who flies to the moon, entirely improvised, with sound effects and dramatic pauses. He is learning to be responsible in the absence of his father, and I am simultaneously grateful and guilty, because a four-year-old should not have to learn responsibility this way. He should just be a four-year-old. But Dawson kids grow up fast. We always have.

Lily has a new word: "mine." Everything is mine. The cup is mine. The crayon is mine. The cat on the TV screen is mine. Hank is mine (Hank does not disagree). My patience is hers too, though she doesn't know it, because I have given my patience to this child so completely that there are days when I have none left for anyone else, including myself, especially myself.

I made chicken pot pie on Sunday — from scratch, not from a box, because I needed the work of it. Cutting butter into flour for the crust. Rolling dough on the counter. Sautéing chicken and vegetables in the big skillet. Pouring the filling into the pie dish, laying the crust on top, crimping the edges with a fork. It took ninety minutes and it was the most peaceful ninety minutes of my week, because cooking is the one place where I am in complete control. The oven temperature is what I set it to. The timer goes off when I tell it to. The crust browns at a predictable rate. Nothing in the rest of my life is this reliable.

The pot pie came out golden and bubbling and perfect. Mason ate two pieces and said, "This is like a restaurant," which is the highest compliment a four-year-old can bestow. Lily ate the filling and left the crust, which is objectively the wrong way to eat pot pie, but she is two and I am picking my battles. I saved a piece for Scott in the freezer, labeled and dated, because even when he's not here, I cook for him. I don't know if that's love or habit or just the Dawson inability to make a meal that serves fewer than four.

That pot pie became exactly what I needed it to be—ninety minutes of order in a week that had very little of it, and the recipe below is the one I followed almost to the letter, with a couple of small Dawson adjustments along the way. I keep coming back to from-scratch crust specifically because it demands your hands and your attention, which means your brain gets a break from everything else. If you’re in a season where control feels hard to come by, I genuinely recommend starting here.

Prep Time: 35 min | Cook Time: 55 min | Total Time: 1 hr 30 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

For the crust:

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon granulated sugar
1 cup (2 sticks) cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
6–8 tablespoons ice water

For the filling:

1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts or thighs
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 medium carrots, peeled and sliced into 1/4-inch rounds
3 stalks celery, sliced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/3 cup all-purpose flour
2 cups low-sodium chicken broth
3/4 cup whole milk
1 cup frozen peas
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1/2 teaspoon dried)
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1 egg, beaten (for egg wash)

Instructions

Make the crust. Whisk flour, salt, and sugar together in a large bowl. Add the cold butter cubes and work them into the flour using your fingertips or a pastry cutter until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs with some pea-sized pieces of butter remaining. Add ice water one tablespoon at a time, stirring with a fork after each addition, just until the dough holds together when pinched. Do not overwork. Divide in half, flatten each portion into a disk, wrap in plastic, and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.
Poach the chicken. Place chicken in a medium saucepan and cover with cold water by one inch. Bring to a gentle simmer over medium heat and cook 15–18 minutes, until cooked through. Transfer to a cutting board, let cool slightly, then shred or chop into bite-sized pieces. Set aside.
Build the filling. Melt butter in a large oven-safe skillet or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add onion, carrots, and celery. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 6–8 minutes until softened. Add garlic and thyme and cook 1 minute more. Sprinkle flour over the vegetables and stir to coat, cooking for 2 minutes. Slowly pour in the chicken broth while stirring, then add the milk. Bring to a simmer and cook, stirring frequently, until thickened, about 4–5 minutes. Remove from heat. Stir in the chicken, frozen peas, salt, and pepper. Taste and adjust seasoning. Transfer filling to a 9-inch deep-dish pie plate or 10-inch cast iron skillet if not already using one.
Roll the crust. Preheat oven to 400°F. On a lightly floured surface, roll one dough disk into a circle about 12 inches in diameter and roughly 1/8 inch thick. Carefully lay it over the filling, letting the edges hang over the rim. Trim to a 1-inch overhang, fold the edge under itself, and crimp all the way around with the tines of a fork. Cut 4–5 small slits in the top to vent steam. Brush evenly with the beaten egg.
Bake. Place the pie on a rimmed baking sheet to catch any drips. Bake at 400°F for 35–40 minutes, until the crust is deep golden brown and the filling is bubbling up through the vents. If the edges brown too quickly, tent them loosely with foil. Let rest 10 minutes before serving.
Freeze a slice. Cool any leftover portions completely, wrap individually in plastic wrap and then foil, label with name and date, and freeze for up to 3 months. Reheat from frozen at 350°F for 25–30 minutes, covered, then uncovered for 10 more minutes.

Nutrition (per serving)

From-Scratch Chicken Pot Pie — The Ninety Minutes of Control That Got Me Through Fire Season