Ever since the teachers at school brought us dinner, including chicken pot pie, I haven't been able to get it of my mind. I had never made any sort of pot pie before simply because when I was a little girl I ate one that didn't agree with my stomach and an aversion was created, fiction or not. But! What I'm about to share with you just very well might become your new go-to comfort food as it has ours (ours meaning Ryan and mine because Olive can't get over "the sauce").It's a recipe from Ina Garten whom we adore around these parts. I think part of is she doesn't seem full of herself like so many culinary geniuses, but I love the fact that each ingredient is an actual food. No preservatives or other spooky additives. Just put in the veggies you like best. The recipe is here. A few of my changes: I didn't add the butternut squash because we didn't happen to have and Ryan thinks it might add too much sweetness anyway. I also omitted the tiny whole onions, which without a doubt would have been promptly removed by the baby dills anyhow. I did add some corn and butterbeans. Also, I don't think there's any need to precook the asparagus or carrots as they were overcooked by the time the whole pie was baked.
But, altogether heavenly, I tell you! She says it makes enough for 4 small pies, but I had enough filling for 2 large pies and froze the second half for another meal. Easy peasey. You could easily double it and keep batches of the filling in the freezer to pull out at a moment's notice.
Clover declared before even taking a bite that she didn't like it, but I fed her forkful at a time and she cleaned that plate after all.
She has also declared pink as her new favorite color. After church I asked her if she wanted to wear pink pants or the pink skirt with her pink shirt.
She declared BOTH!
With a face like that, who can refuse. She might be the last one around here to wear pink anyway.Because this boy of ours. Oh, this boy. I didn't know how much I needed a boy! I had convinced myself that if it was a girl that it would be fine and so much easier and definitely cheaper.
But how grateful I am to get a chance at raising a boy. A boy who loves snuggles more than most of his sisters ever did. He could happily live upon that chest, nestled in the hollow of the neck and, as Ryan says, we will enjoy this last one as much as possible because those sometimes sweaty, but sweet smelling snuggles of this newborn will be gone all too quickly.