Ham Potpie — The Anchor Dish for a Life About to Change

Two weeks. Fourteen days. The wedding is in fourteen days and I am calm. I am terrifyingly calm. Megan asked if I was having cold feet and I said, "My feet have never been warmer." She said, "That doesn't make sense." I said, "None of this makes sense. A kid from Bay View who loads kegs is marrying a teacher who eats nachos with a fork and we're serving six thousand pierogi to a hundred and eighty Polish and Irish Catholics. None of this makes sense. All of it is perfect."

This week: suit fitting. I'm wearing a dark navy suit, not a tuxedo, because I am not a tuxedo person and Megan agreed. The tailor adjusted the shoulders and the waist and I stood in front of the mirror and saw my father. Same build. Same squint. Same stance. The tailor said, "Good fit." I said, "My dad would say the same thing." The tailor didn't understand. That's okay. I understood.

Tom asked me this week if I was nervous. We were at his house, watching the Brewers. He asked casually, the way he asks everything. I said, "Not about marrying Megan." He said, "What about?" I said, "About the speech." He said, "Keep it short." I said, "How short?" He said, "Four sentences." He was referencing his own wedding toast to Linda, which was reportedly four sentences long and ended with "She's the best thing that ever happened to me." I have the same genetic capacity for brevity. My toast will be four sentences. It will be enough.

Made Babcia's mushroom soup tonight. Not for any occasion. Just because. Because in two weeks everything changes. Because in two weeks I become a husband. Because Babcia's soup is what I make when the world is about to shift and I need something to hold onto. The soup is the anchor. The kitchen is the anchor. The dough, the filling, the stove, the smell. All of it. Anchored. Ready.

Babcia’s mushroom soup was what I made that night, but if you don’t have a Polish grandmother’s recipe tucked into your memory, this Ham Potpie is the closest thing I know to that same feeling — something warm, savory, and built with your hands, the kind of dish that makes a kitchen feel like the most solid room in the world. Two weeks out from a wedding, standing at a stove is the sanest thing you can do. Make this. Let it anchor you.

Ham Potpie

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 1 hr 5 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 2 cups cooked ham, diced
• 1 cup frozen peas
• 1 cup carrots, diced
• 1/2 cup celery, diced
• 1/2 cup yellow onion, diced
• 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 3/4 cups low-sodium chicken broth
• 3/4 cup whole milk
• 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
• 1/4 teaspoon salt, or to taste
• 1 package refrigerated pie crusts (2 crusts), or homemade double-crust pastry
• 1 egg, beaten (for egg wash)

Instructions

1. Preheat. Heat your oven to 400°F (200°C). Lightly grease a 9-inch deep-dish pie plate and set aside.
2. Sauté the vegetables. In a large saucepan over medium heat, melt the butter. Add the onion, carrots, and celery. Cook, stirring occasionally, until softened — about 6 to 8 minutes.
3. Build the roux. Sprinkle the flour over the vegetables and stir to coat. Cook for 1 minute to eliminate the raw flour taste.
4. Make the filling. Gradually pour in the chicken broth and milk, stirring constantly to prevent lumps. Cook over medium heat, stirring, until the mixture thickens to a gravy-like consistency, about 5 to 7 minutes. Season with garlic powder, black pepper, and salt.
5. Add the ham and peas. Stir in the diced ham and frozen peas. Remove from heat and let the filling cool slightly.
6. Assemble. Press one pie crust into the bottom and up the sides of the prepared pie plate. Pour the ham filling in evenly. Lay the second crust over the top, crimp the edges to seal, and cut 4 to 5 small vents in the top crust with a sharp knife.
7. Egg wash and bake. Brush the top crust with the beaten egg. Bake for 40 to 45 minutes, until the crust is deep golden brown. If the edges brown too quickly, cover them loosely with foil after 25 minutes.
8. Rest before serving. Let the potpie rest for 10 minutes before slicing. This allows the filling to set so it doesn’t run when you cut into it.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 480 | Protein: 18g | Fat: 26g | Carbs: 42g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 820mg