Pot pie

I wish Eleanor would marry me. Sure, her boyfriend is already my husband but Eleanor is the one I really want. Who else would call me to see if I wanted a chicken pot pie (the last pot pie to grace the Bakesale Betty kitchen), transport it across the bay on BART, pop it in my oven cook, and share it with all the people who happen to be in my kitchen? I can only think of one person, and that’s Eleanor.

She and Colin showed up at my door with pot pie in hand. We put it in the already pre-heated oven (we had planned ahead) and sat around in the kitchen waiting for the microwave timer to count down those sixty minutes. After a while of anxious and hungry waiting and what seemed like a period of time when those digital numbers started counting back up, the timer beeped, announcing a succulent savory pie.

Greg, Scott, Colin, and I all had our eyes fixed on the pie as Eleanor sliced through the crisp and flakey top layer of crust and into the rich, thick gravy with chicken chunks and vegetables. And the pie tasted as good as it looked and smelled. The crust was light and crunched faintly as the fork cut through it. The gravy was rich without being heavy and overpowering. And, the chicken pieces, a mixture of breast and dark meat, were tenderly soft. The three components worked together to create a buttery, heavenly savory pie. It made me remember how much I loved meat pies and yearn for their presence on more restaurant menus.