An unapologetically homemade classic with a crust worth judging.
Why Make Chicken Pot Pie?
Because it’s the edible equivalent of a weighted blanket. Also, you’re too classy for canned soup and pre-made crusts, Karen. This dish is the culinary version of pretending everything’s fine — wrapped in butter, flour, and misplaced ambition.
Pan Size
Grab a 9-inch deep-dish pie pan. If it’s shallow, your crust will slide off in protest, and your dignity will go with it.
Ingredients
For the Homemade Flaky Crust (because store-bought is for emotional emergencies only):
- 2 ½ cups all-purpose flour
- 1 tsp salt
- 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, cold and cubed
- 6–8 tbsp ice water
For the Filling:
- 2 tbsp butter
- 1 small onion, diced (try not to cry — it’s just an onion, not your ex)
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 2 medium carrots, diced
- 2 celery stalks, chopped
- 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
- 2 cups chicken broth
- 1 cup milk
- 2 cups cooked chicken, shredded (rotisserie if you’re lazy but resourceful)
- 1 cup frozen peas
- Salt & pepper to taste
- Optional: fresh thyme, because you deserve to feel fancy
Step 1: Crust of Champions
- In a bowl, mix flour and salt like you’re mixing denial with ambition.
- Add cold butter. Not lukewarm, not “I left it out for five minutes” — COLD.
Use a pastry cutter or your cold fingers to rub the butter into the flour until the mixture looks like breadcrumbs with commitment issues. - Add ice water a tablespoon at a time, just until the dough comes together. If it fights you, that’s normal. Dough is just dough.
- Split the dough in half, form into discs, wrap in plastic, and chill for 30 minutes. Just like your attitude.
Step 2: Filling the Void (and the Pie)
- Melt butter in a large skillet. Add onion, garlic, carrot, and celery. Sauté until everything is soft but not emotionally vulnerable.
- Stir in flour. Cook for a minute — this is your roux moment.
- Slowly whisk in chicken broth and milk. Keep whisking. Don’t stop. You’re making gravy, not wall paste.
- Let it simmer until thick and luxurious. Add the chicken, peas, salt, pepper, and thyme if you’re feeling extra. Remove from heat.
Step 3: Assemble Your Masterpiece
- Preheat your oven to 400°F (that’s 204°C for our metric martyrs).
- Roll out one dough disc for the bottom crust. Line the 9-inch pie pan like it’s your favorite flannel shirt — snug and cozy.
- Pour in the filling. Marvel at your own competence.
- Roll out the second dough disc. Drape it over the top like a blanket of golden dreams.
- Trim the edges, crimp like a professional (or violently press with a fork — no judgment), and cut a few slits on top so it can breathe. We all need that.
- Bake for 35–40 minutes, or until the crust is so golden and flaky it could pass for a skincare ad.
Texture Therapy
The crust is the real MVP here. Flaky, buttery, audibly crisp — it shatters gently under your fork like your last shred of self-control. It’s not just a container; it’s the reward. The pie filling is warm, savory, and comforting, but the crust? That’s where the texture symphony happens. If it’s soggy, you’ve failed. Try again.
Serve With
A smug smile and no explanation. You just made an actual pie. People should be impressed.