I'm not extremely adventurous with my food, but occasionally I get a kick to try a new recipe. Sometimes that recipe sounds really strange, and sometimes it's safer. Still, it's a new recipe. Well, with Mom going out of town, I decided the aspect of having to cook dinner would be the perfect opportunity to try a recipe I'm ripped from a magazine.
They're called Mini Chicken Potpies. Not super out there, but still something new. I asked Mom what she thought, and she reminded me that Dad doesn't like pot pies. (I had already remembered on my own, however, and decided to make it anyway. Haha!)
Tuesday turned out to be the day to make them. I purposefully avoided telling Dad about it until he specifically asked, though. ;) I had to make a run to the grocery store for turkey and cheese, so I popped into his office. Just as I was about to close the door, he asked, "What's for dinner?" The conversation is relaid below.
M: "...Chicken Potpies."
D: *not a pleasant face* "I don't like chicken pot pies."
M: "I know it's not your favorite, but it's a new recipe, and we're going to try it."
D: "I don't like peas!"
M: "I know; neither do I. I'm not going to put any in."
D: "Does it have carrots?"
M: "Yes."
D: "I'm not a big fan of carrots."
M: "We're going to try it anyway. If it turns out horrible, there are eggs."
D: "And pizza! Hahaha!"
Yes, it was rather funny, but I shall jump you to the actual cooking part. I failed to read the recipe early on in the day to find that the frozen peas with carrots and onions had to be thawed. So, I had to take the pan off the heat and defrost vegetables. Since I was only using part of the onions, I dumped them into the same dish with the peas and carrots to thaw. (Note: not a good idea) They came out all nicely thawed, but there was a problem. They were all mixed up...I hadn't thought it out well. I then began to separate every single pea out of that vegetable mix. Pick. Pick. Pick. Carrots and Onions went to one side, peas to the other. Pick. Pick. Pick. When they were all out, I realized that the onions had to go into the pan long before the carrots...I then began to separate every single onion out of the carrots. Pick. Pick. Pick. Haha! Let me just say that this part of the prep was No Fun! Eventually though, it all picked up and I was "a-flyin'." It was about this time that Dad came downstairs and looked in at what I was making. "Oh," he said, "you're making it from scratch." :D
It was fun to be making real food. Melting tablespoons of butter. Stirring flour and stock into carrots, onions, and chicken. Having to flavor--which I need major work on--and making the crust without a 'pastry blender' which is what the recipe called for. I used my quick thinking skills from watching Food Network and pulled out a fork to mash the butter in, and then I just used my hands. I was pretty sure the crust was going to come out raw or heavy or nasty or just bad, but I reminded myself we could always pull it off after it had cooked. So, I took out ploops of dough, splayed them out, and gingerly placed them on top of the filling in the ramekins. I felt like a real chef! (Note: that was about to change)
The recipe called for the tops of the crust to be brushed with egg and water. I got a bowl of water and pulled out the egg. I will interject in my own story right here to say that I was slightly stressed from everything before hand. I might have felt like a real chef, but I was still nervous about the whole thing coming out. And all that picking peas stuff had really gotten to me. Also, it was seven o'clock at night...and they had to bake for 25 minutes. Forgot to mention that earlier. Haha! Anyway, so I was stressed and rushing...and holding an egg. I had the bowl of water and I cracked that egg...dropping the whole thing onto the counter. I cracked it on the bowl, but it gushed onto the counter, oozing around the scissors and to be honest, it kind of freaked me out. My eyes got huge, and I probably uttered some kind of high squeak. I didn't know what to do. Had anyone ever broken an egg over the counter?
Keeping in mind it was 7 and they had to bake for a half hour, I decided to muscle through and leave the shifting mass where it jiggled. I cracked a new egg, carefully into the bowl, brushed the tops of the dough, and sent them in to the oven to die. With them in, I went to cleaning up and left the egg till the end. I did spray the ENTIRE counter down with 409 stuff to ensure no one got salmonella poising.
They were done at exactly 25 minutes, and they smelled excellent. I got one, Dad got two, and since I didn't have a side, I got out the pita chips we had. Then, we sat down to watch Ever After. (Yes, I got Dad to watch a sappy chick flick--and he enjoyed it, too! :D )
I was too hurried to get them into the oven that I didn't take a picture before. This is just having come out of the oven.
The finished product with a little bubbly, crusty things on the sides. :D
So, the verdict? EXCELLENT!!! They were so good! The filling was smooth, the flavor was so...just good, like really good. The crust was good and added a nice change in texture. I could have flavored it a bit stronger with salt and pepper, but it was good. Dad's opinion? Few times have I ever heard him rave about food like he did that recipe. His ramekins were practically licked clean, both of them. :D It made me really happy. It's a really strange sensation, that huge feeling of pleasure in making food for people and having them be truly satisfied. Dad wants me to make it again soon. :D I think I have him converted...at least to this recipe. Haha!
Tonight, chili for dinner.
