Chicken Pot Pie is Therapy

 

My husband’s homemade chicken pot pie is my favorite weekend comfort food. It’s pastry, cooked chicken, a choice of vegetables in southern style gravy baked to perfection. Baking is one of his happy hobbies, and almost always a weekend dish. Sometimes he will make his own crust, others he will buy it ready made. It tastes even better when there are leftovers to reheat the following day.

I’m not going to lie, though I cook daily and am good at meals he is much better at baking. I’ve never been able to master sweet treats like breads, cakes, even simple chocolate chip cookies turn out like hockey pucks. I have tried various stoves, changing ingredients, and Googled to no avail. I finally accepted the reality that I just stink at baking. If a holiday or event requires a special baked treat I opt for a box mix. 

I enjoy watching my husband create in the kitchen. He has a history of men cooking in his family, with one uncle that was a chef. Baking is good therapy, it demands focus, and relaxes him. That being said I am the opposite. I never had someone at home to teach me to bake as a youngster. I learned to cook by my many mother substitutes along the way and working in kitchens. 

 

My first encounter with a line cook boss was a then young unknown Emeril Lagasse. In the 1980’s he and I were employed by Dunfey restaurant. I was eighteen years young and dumb. Emeril was also young, loud, and a demanding presence. That era feels like a whole different lifetime but it was a valuable learning experience.

The winter climate in New England has been noticeably changing. The last few years the snow comes later and few and far between. February 2024 last year was our first snow, and like now we seemed to get all of it in one month. This storm was an interesting one by the fact it was snowing while the sun was shining as it subsided. It made the snowflakes floating down sparkle like magical winter fireflies that myself and many walking stopped to watch.

Outside the kitchen window we have a large Rhododendron bush with buds still clenched tight as they do winters, waiting to sprout its bright brilliant flowers. Some of my early macro photography practice was done using that bush. Once the large flowers bloom it fills the entire window with bright pink petals of happiness, complete with the bumblebees and hummingbirds it attracts. 

Seeing the dormant buds on the flower bush gives me hope. I’m weary of the cold and snow this year. The late fall chill that began in November activated new body aches that don’t subside until the weather is warm again. Now I understand why many people prefer to relocate to warmer locations in latter years of life. My husband would pack us up in a heartbeat and do the same. 

He very much dislikes the New England climate and the added cost of heating. In our 5 years in Florida we witnessed our neighborhood be torn apart by hurricanes more than once and the aftermath. The winter weather of the northeast for me is worth it. The snow will melt, the spring beauty will return, and the physical aches of aging with lessen.

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