Today was another cold and semi-damp day, and I decided, since I hadn't had one in months, to make a chicken pot pie. I didn't have a recipe, but I figured I could figure out some vague approximation of one without it.
Well, surprisingly enough, it worked. It's a lot chunkier than my mother's - I wasn't certain about amounts, so it ended up with a large can of corn, one of peas, four chicken breasts, and the better part of three potatoes inside, and I didn't even have room for the broccoli - and it's not the most beautiful dish ever assembled, but it tastes like a chicken pot pie. The good news is that I'll be eating off this thing at least through the weekend. The bad news is that my stomach, which has grown somewhat unaccustomed to meat and pastry, is currently letting me know its displeasure.
Mmm. Hurts so good.
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