by Jared Harding Wilson
I’m perfectly happy making things from scratch—rolling out dough, the whole ritual—but sometimes I want the comfort now. That’s where this recipe shines. It’s adapted from Seeded at the Table, and the only shortcut is the refrigerated pie crust I grab from Smith’s Grocery Store (already rolled up, no guilt). Everything else? Chopped, stirred, and baked by my own hands. It’s still mostly homemade, just a little quicker—and after one bite, I knew it was worth repeating.
The Recipe: Semi-Homemade Chicken Pot Pie
Serves: 6
Active time: 45 minutes
Total time: 1 hour 30 minutes
Ingredients
• 2 (9-inch) unbaked refrigerated pie crusts (Smith’s brand, rolled and ready)
• 2 cups shredded cooked chicken (rotisserie or pre-shredded from Costco)
• ½ cup frozen peas
• ½ cup frozen corn
• 1 cup small-diced yellow potatoes (no peeling required)
• 2 medium carrots, peeled and diced
• 5 Tbsp unsalted butter, divided
• ½ large yellow onion, chopped
• ⅓ cup all-purpose flour
• ¼ tsp celery seed
• ¾ tsp salt (plus more to taste)
• ¼ tsp black pepper
• 1½ cups chicken broth
• ⅔ cup milk
• 1 egg + 1 Tbsp water (for egg wash)
Step-by-Step (with your photos)
1. Preheat & prep crust
Heat oven to 400°F. Line a 9- or 10-inch pie plate with one crust.
2. Layer the base
Fill crust with shredded chicken, frozen peas, and corn. Set aside.
3. Boil potatoes & carrots
In a large sauté pan, cover diced potatoes and carrots with cold water. Boil, then simmer 8–10 minutes until just tender. Drain and add to pie plate.
4. Make the creamy sauce
Wipe pan, melt 2 Tbsp butter, and sauté onion 5–7 minutes until soft. Add remaining 3 Tbsp butter; once melted, stir in flour, celery seed, salt, and pepper. Slowly whisk in broth and milk. Simmer, stirring, until thickened (like a cozy gravy). Taste and adjust salt.
5. Assemble & seal
Pour sauce over chicken and veggies (don’t stir). Top with second crust, tuck edges under, and crimp. Brush with egg wash. Cut an “X” in the center for steam.
6. Bake
45 minutes, until deep golden. If edges brown too fast, loosely cover with foil. Rest 10 minutes before slicing.
*Bonus points:
I decided to add sautéed mushrooms into the gravy as well as sliced celery. I didn’t have celery seeds but with the fresh celery it added more texture and flavor. I ended up cooking the gravy too long and it was too thick to absorb all the way through the pie. Next time I would make extra gravy and not have it too thick. Also, Gindo’s Vampire Slayer hot sauce, as seen below was super delicious on top!
The Meditation Part
There’s something hypnotic about the thunk-thunk-thunk of knife meeting board. Carrots surrender in perfect orange coins. Onions release their sharp perfume. Each dice is a tiny decision: pressure, angle, rhythm. My shoulders drop. The day’s static fades.
This simple act helps me feel centered and balanced in my life, grounded to myself. It allows me to more easily feel my feelings—those quiet undercurrents that bubble up when the mind quiets down. And speaking of feelings, I’ve come to embrace three simple rules that guide how I navigate them:
1. Feelings are neither good nor bad; they just are—like weather passing through.
2. You don’t have to act on your feelings; sometimes, just acknowledging them is enough.
3. You can choose what you feel by what you choose to think and what you choose to do—shifting your focus reshapes your inner world.
“In the midst of movement and chaos, keep stillness inside of you.”
— Deepak Chopra
If you live long enough, everyone accumulates baggage—regrets that wake you at 3 a.m., scars that ache when it rains, choices you can’t unmake. The beauty of a ritual like chopping vegetables is its daily reset button. Ten minutes of mindful slicing won’t erase the past, but it will return you to the present. And the present is where dinner—and healing—happens.
I bake the pie, I eat the pie, I sleep better. Repeat often enough, and the ritual becomes a quiet revolution.
Final Slice Wisdom
Make this pot pie once, and you’ll understand why “comfort food” earns its name—even with a store-bought crust. Make the chopping a habit, and you might just understand yourself a little better, too.
Enjoy every meditative, buttery bite.
What’s your go-to kitchen ritual that brings you peace? Drop a comment below—I’d love to hear!
Photos by Jared Harding Wilson. All rights reserved.
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