By Angela Denstad
Time and again I notice in so many aspects of life that there are those who jump headfirst into the deep end, and those who cautiously tiptoe in from the shore. So, too, are differences of temperament on display as winter comes to a close. There’s no denying, of course, that the days have grown longer, the birds have returned, and school children have long since shed their winter coats. But can we trust the hint of warmth to hold?
Eventually, of course, it must. But I’m not generally one to leap before I look, especially when it comes to the changing of the seasons. I prefer to simply switch to lighter-colored outerwear and rail against temperatures that, in winter, I’d nonchalantly proclaim to be balmy. Change can be hard.
“April is the cruelest month,” intoned modernist poet T. S. Eliot, sounding counterpoint to the truism expressed by his predecessor, the medieval poet Geoffrey Chaucer, who articulated that April showers awaken humanity’s wanderlust. Regardless of which side of the bed one wakes up on after their winter hibernation, there is one universal truth: time marches on.
Whether you face April (celebrated as National Poetry Month) with joy or trepidation, you’ll still want substantial sustenance, served with spring greens on the side, perhaps, to ease the transition. I like to cook up some chicken and vegetables in a soothing sauce and blanket them under a thick layer of flaky pastry. Here, too, you have a choice: if you want your meal a little quicker, hot from the oven, just one layer of pastry on top will do. If you’re in no mood to rush into things, you can encase the filling in a double crust that will need to cool before being sliced and served. This version is even better the next day, cleanly sliced when cold, individual portions reheated.
If you’ve managed to read through my poetry quotes and musings without skipping ahead to the recipe already, here’s some bonus prose for you: instructions for my go-to pie dough which yields four single-crusts. There is no easy way to reduce the recipe, as you’ll see. Take this as a sign to welcome more pie into your life, or portion and freeze what you don’t immediately need.
Start by putting five cups of flour in a very large bowl and whisking in a teaspoon of salt. Using the large holes of a box grater, shred a whole pound (four sticks) of cold butter into the flour, tossing to combine. Next, into a large liquid measuring cup, crack an egg – surprise! Add a tablespoon of cider or white wine vinegar, pour in a cup of ice water, and whisk to combine. Drizzle the egg mixture over the flour mixture, stirring until the pastry begins to come together. Then, use your hands (and additional cold water if needed) to press everything into a feasible pie dough, being careful not to knead it more than necessary. Divide the dough into quarters, forming each into a disc that you can roll out right away or save, well-wrapped, for later.
Whether you use all the pastry at once or take a more measured approach, I hope this helps you savor the season through all its poetic, paradoxical variations.
About the author: Angela works as a copywriter in the education sector and has dabbled in various culinary pursuits. She was the author of The Caledonia Argus’ long-standing weekly food column Thyme Out with Angela and is happy to now join the rotation of food writers with the Fillmore County Journal.
Chicken Pot Pie
1 or 2 single crust pie pastry rounds, preferably homemade
1 tablespoon olive oil
4 tablespoons butter
1 medium onion, finely chopped
2 ribs celery, chopped
2 large cloves garlic, minced
2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken (breasts and/or thighs)
½ cup all-purpose flour
3 cups whole milk
1 tablespoon Dijon style mustard
¼ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1 teaspoon dried thyme
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
20 ounces (2 small packages) Sno-Pac frozen mixed vegetables
1 beaten egg yolk, if desired
Preheat the oven to 425º. In a large saucepan or Dutch oven, heat the olive oil over medium heat and melt the butter into it. Add the onion and celery with a sprinkle of salt and sauté until softened. Stir in the garlic, then pushing the vegetables to one side, raise the heat and add the chicken, stirring until beginning to brown. Sprinkle the flour over the chicken and stir all to combine, cooking the flour an additional minute. It’s ok if the chicken is not fully cooked at this point.
Add the milk, scraping up any browned flour from the bottom of the pan and bring to a simmer. Season the sauce with the mustard, nutmeg, thyme, salt and pepper and allow it to become thick, bubbly and slightly reduced, stirring frequently and scraping the bottom of the pan to prevent burning. Once the sauce is thick and the chicken is cooked, stir in the frozen mixed vegetables, adjust the seasoning to taste, and turn the filling out into an 8-inch square glass baking dish, 2-quart casserole, or a pastry-lined 9-inch pie plate.
Lightly flour a clean counter and roll out the pastry for the top crust, folding and fluting the edges (or crimping the top and bottom crusts together) as desired. Cut several slits or decorative markings into the top crust as vents. Brush with beaten egg, if using. Bake the pot pie at 425º for 15 minutes, then reduce the temperature to 350º and continue baking until the crust is deep golden and the filling bubbles up, about 40 minutes for the single crust, an hour for the double-crust pie.
For the single top crust, jump in headlong and spoon messily into bowls right away.
For the double-crust pie, allow to cool on a rack until just warm to the touch, incessantly pondering how long it needs to set up before you dare risk the filling running out. Finally take the risk, today or tomorrow, no rush! Maybe just put it in the ‘fridge awhile before slicing and serving as neatly as you can.
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