I had grown fond of the small pot pies served at À la Mode in Granville Market — they occupy a little corner in the market, and are perhaps a little hard to find. Some of the pies I’ve had are in little aluminum tins, and others in large porcelain mugs with a marvelous swath of pastry laid on top of them and warm filling in the mug, usually mushrooms and gravy or onion soup. The aluminum ones had tuna, crab, lamb, turkey, chicken and beef. But none of these prepared me for what I discovered tonight.
It’s a Friday, the end of a long week, for both Pam and me. This morning it snowed a bit, but by the time I was back the Island, it was clear, albeit still quite chilly, and the sun had not quite set yet. I was thinking about a pie for dinner, and noticed that they had some uncooked pies in a cooler on the side. The sign said to ask staff about them. I asked about chicken pot pie. The guy there told me he had to go and look to see if there were any left in the back. After several minutes of waiting, the phone of the other woman who worked there rang. She asked me if I was the fellow waiting to find out about the status of a large chicken pot pie and I said I was. Unfortunately, there were none of that kind left. I was a little disappointed, but then a second later she said “Tell you what, come back in 10 minutes. I’ll make you one.” I went about my other shopping, getting staples for the weekend (particularly breakfast): little red potatoes, onions, double-smoked bacon from the butcher, eggs and sliced bread. When I returned, the pie was ready, in a box, and wrapped up in a bag. I took it home and baked it in the oven for about an hour.
The results were sublime. A freshly-made, hot chicken pot pie straight from the oven is just about the best thing I can imagine on a cold Friday night. We polished off half of it, along with some salad. Dessert was some raisin and pecan bread with cream cheese and Chamomile tea. Bliss.