Here’s the Thing About Chicken Pot Pie...

This is probably the ultimate, need-a-hug dinner in a dish—Chicken pot pie. Honestly, I started making this when my little sister moved out, and I needed to remind myself that I could still create something warm and happy (without mom hovering over my shoulder going, "add more thyme!"). The first time I tried, my crust slid halfway off the pie and my dad called it an abstract masterpiece. So, yeah, don’t stress if yours looks a bit, well, Picasso-esque the first go.

And listen, if you’re reading this thinking, "Stodgy old Chicken pie? Really?"—I promise, with that golden lid and bubbling gravy, it's a proper treat on a drizzly Tuesday (or any day when your socks are inexplicably damp and you just need carbs and love).

Why This Is on Repeat in My Kitchen

I make this whenever someone’s had a rubbish week (and let’s be honest, that’s most weeks lately). My family goes bonkers over it because it basically feels like wrapping yourself in a pastry duvet. I mean, my cousin once ate half the pie in one sitting—she claims it was accidental, but I have my doubts. Sometimes I swap out the veggies if the fridge situation is a bit dire—honestly, nobody’s noticed yet. Oh, and there’s that satisfying moment when the crust puffs up properly... unless, like me, you forgot to preheat the oven once and got something closer to a pancake. We still ate it.

What You'll Need (and What I Swap In or Out)

2 cups cooked chicken, shredded—Rotisserie works if you’re in a rush; leftovers are magic. (Once, I used turkey post-Thanksgiving. Not bad.)
1 cup carrots, chopped—I’m not a perfectionist, so rustic chunks are good.
1 cup frozen peas—Or sub in sweetcorn or chopped green beans when I’m out.
¾ cup celery, diced—My gran swore by organic, but honestly... celery is celery.
⅓ cup unsalted butter
⅓ cup all-purpose flour—If you’ve only got self-raising, you can use it, but it thickens up oddly. Trust me.
1 ¾ cups chicken broth (homemade if you’re feeling fancy, boxed if not)
⅔ cup milk—Anything from skim to full-cream; it all works. One time I dumped in single cream by accident and honestly, delish.
Salt and pepper, to taste—and I never measure, just go for it.
1 teaspoon dried thyme (or fresh if you’re feeling posh)
1 prepared pie crust (store-bought is fine, no judgment; homemade is amazing but a faff)
1 egg, lightly beaten—For that golden top. I’ve skipped this before and it was... a bit pale.

How I Actually Make Chicken Pot Pie (Sometimes While Talking On the Phone)

Preheat your oven to 400°F (200°C-ish). Not gonna lie: I’ve remembered this halfway through before—I just leave my pie in a bit longer when that happens.
In a big pan, melt the butter over medium heat. Tip in the carrots and celery, cook for about 3-4 minutes, until they’re just starting to soften (I usually wander off to wash up a cup here—it’s fine if the veggies get a little color). Then, stir in the flour. This makes a weird, gluey paste—don’t panic.
Slowly pour in the broth and milk, whisking all the while (if you forget to whisk, lumps happen, but just bash 'em out with the back of the spoon). It’ll thicken up in a few minutes, like magic.
Add the cooked chicken, peas, thyme, and season with salt and pepper. Let it bubble for another couple of minutes—this is when I taste it and maybe drop in a tiny bit more salt. Always tastes better than you think!
Pour the filling into a deep pie dish. Unroll your crust (if it tears, just patch it up—rustic, remember?), lay it on top, and crimp or squish the edges. Cut a couple little slits so steam can escape ('cos otherwise you get a soggy disaster).
Brush with your beaten egg. Bake for 30-35 minutes, until the top is golden and, hopefully, not sliding off the dish. If you’re worried about the edges getting too dark, just scrunch up some foil and drape it around.
Let it rest for 10 minutes if you can stand it (I usually sneak a spoonful almost immediately, tongue burns and all). Once, I tried to cut it straight away and it... collapsed; still tasty, though.

What I’ve Learned the Hard (and Funny) Way

Leaving out the egg wash isn’t the end of the world—just lower your Instagram expectations.
You can definitely over-thicken the filling. If you do, just splash in a bit more milk and stir like mad.
If you’re short on pie crust, I’ve patched together a weird lattice form leftover bits; not pretty, totally edible.

Tweaks and Experiments that (Mostly) Worked

So, I once tried throwing in mushrooms—delicious. My mate Becky skips the bottom crust entirely (saves her some time, she says, but I kinda miss it). Swapped in puff pastry for pie crust once, which comes out lighter but was a mission to keep from sticking. I do not recommend trying to make this with leftover barbecued chicken—was weirdly sweet and smoky. Won't do that again.

What You Might Want (but Don't Fret if You Don't Have)

A deep pie dish—mine is technically a quiche dish and, yeah, it works fine.
Basting brush for egg wash—you can use your fingers. A paper towel even works, though it gets a bit messy, but hey, no big deal.
Whisk (fork does the job, but you’ll get a bit of arm ache)

How I (Try to) Store Chicken Pot Pie

So, in theory, this keeps 2-3 days in the fridge, covered. But honestly, in my house it never lasts more than a day! On the rare occasion I hide a slice for tomorrow, I just wrap in foil and reheat in the oven—keeps the crust crisper than nuking it. Oh, and freezing—yeah, you can freeze it. Or so I hear; it doesn’t survive that long around here.

How We Eat It

Okay, here’s my absolute favourite way: big sloppy scoops in bowls, not slices, with a heap of mash or, if I’m being really laid back, straight up with a fork in front of the telly. Some of my lot swear it needs a splash of hot sauce. My uncle puts ketchup on it—don’t ask, he’s just odd like that.

If I Could Give You One Warning...

I once tried to shortcut the filling by not cooking the flour enough. Regretted it for days. You get that weird raw-flour taste—don’t do it, mate.
Trying to cut it before it cools even for five mins... trust me, it’ll go everywhere. Tastes fab, just looks like you dropped it from a height.

Some Questions I Keep Getting (or Ask Myself)

Can I use other meat? Yup! Turkey, leftover roast, even ham (though it’s a bit odd, maybe just me?).
No pie dish? Use a casserole or cake tin or whatever is oven-safe and vaguely deep. I’ve even made mini ones in muffin tins—bit messy but adorable!
Can I make this veggie? Absolutely. Go wild with mushrooms, lentils, sweet potato—just use veggie broth not chicken. Actually, I find it works better if you add a can of chickpeas. Adds more bite.
Crust on bottom and top? Some will fight you over this—I only do a top crust, but if you want a double whammy go for it, just pre-bake the bottom a bit first or you get soggy sadness.
What’s the deal if my sauce looks strange? Don’t worry if it looks a bit lumpy going in. It always sorts itself out in the oven. Plus, nobody sees it under the lid, right?

Oh, by the way, last time I made this my neighbor poked his head in just to say the whole house smelled “like actual happiness,” whatever that means.

Chicken Pot Pie Recipe: Comfort Food That Feels Like Home

Here’s the Thing About Chicken Pot Pie...

Why This Is on Repeat in My Kitchen

What You'll Need (and What I Swap In or Out)

How I Actually Make Chicken Pot Pie (Sometimes While Talking On the Phone)

What I’ve Learned the Hard (and Funny) Way

Tweaks and Experiments that (Mostly) Worked

What You Might Want (but Don't Fret if You Don't Have)

How I (Try to) Store Chicken Pot Pie

How We Eat It

If I Could Give You One Warning...

Some Questions I Keep Getting (or Ask Myself)

Chicken Pot Pie Recipe

Ingredients

Instructions

Approximate Information for One Serving

Nutrition Disclaimers

Did you make this recipe?