Isn't it kind of funny ("odd" funny, not "ha ha" funny) how one random event leads to another -- and the next thing you know you have the inspiration for your second blog entry? That, my friends, is what I call kismet.
What isn't funny ("ha ha" funny, not "odd" funny) is when you spend nearly two hours coming up with a complete, multi-paragraph, fairly witty (if I do say so, myself) post and then accidentally bump a mysterious keyboard button with your bony elbow, sending all of that genius and creativity smack dab into the center of the Twilight Zone. Yep ... that just happened!
Late last night I received a text from my soul sister, who is actually my niece, Alison, requesting my chicken pot pie recipe. She mentioned that she was at work, making out her weekly grocery list -- which leads me to the conclusion that the baby birthing business must not have been booming in the Elmira / Corning area last night. Ali is a Labor and Delivery RN, who is pursuing her midwifery certification -- which blows my mind since she is also supermom to three very busy young children. In all fairness, she has an awesome (even if he does refer to me as a "bleeding heart liberal") husband who is a hands-on dad, as well as a high school math teacher and aspiring principal. The math teacher part further blows my mind, since I never learned my "12s" times tables until the age of 27, when my former husband accidentally discovered my dirty little secret one day when we were figuring out the square footage of our old 12 x 12 kitchen. He refused to accept my simple explanation that, "I got lucky and never happened to get that flash card in Mr. Soprano's fourth grade math class," and proceeded to create his own set of flash cards, pop quizzing me relentlessly until I finally succeeded in committing them to memory -- true story; I swear I couldn't make this stuff up! (To his credit, it has proven to be quite useful knowledge to have for occasions such as estimating fabric yardages or converting a psych patient's height measurement to inches for documentation in EPIC. So thank you for that, Hainesy!)
But, let me get back to Alison -- she's much more interesting. The mere fact that she chose to enter the field of nursing at all is a bit ironic, since she was the kid who hurled all over the kitchen table in the middle of Pumpkin Carving 101, when her father would reach in and pull the slimy, orange innards out of their soon-to-be jack-o-lanterns. Now, I've only been in a delivery room once; my vantage point was not the best, and I was a bit preoccupied, but apparently pumpkin guts rank higher on the "nasty hierarchy" than whatever all that stuff is that comes flying out of a woman during the birthing process, since she has since handled a fair number of Southern Tier stork deliveries like a champ -- go figure!
Ali and I share a special bond, that unexplainable kindred spirit sort of connection. Growing up, the poor girl had to endure almost constant comparisons to her Aunt Jan whenever her zest for experimentation and pushing the boundaries would land her in some 1990s version of hot water. I had somehow unwittingly blazed the trail for her two decades prior and it was as though she was following in my foot prints via some mystical road map through adolescence and into adulthood. According to her mom (my sister) and my mom (her grandma), we were both the kind of kid who, if born first, would remain an only child. She turned out pretty darn amazing, despite her reliance on that inherent internal "badass" compass. She celebrates uniqueness and shares my Bohemian style and free-spirited nature -- a hippie chick born in the wrong generation. And every so often, fueled by a combination of Red Cat and perfect celestial alignment, we have been known to comprise a pretty awesome Janis Joplin tribute duo with our raw but energetic rendition of Me and Bobby McGee. Na na na na na na na na na.
And speaking of mysticism (I don't believe in coincidences), I'm pretty sure I never told Alison this, but way back in the seventies, shortly after growing out of my, "I want to be Joe Solock when I grow up" phase, I also had aspirations to become a midwife with the altruistic goal of operating a group home for unwed mothers. It's probably not a bad thing that I ended up veering away from those ambitions, since unwed mothers of the new millennium are more likely to find themselves featured on a popular MTV program than sent away to live in a gestational boarding home.
I'm pretty sure Alison believed I was joking last night when, after providing her with an outline of the ingredients she would need to add to her Wegman's shopping list, I sent a follow-up text saying that I would post the full recipe on my new blog -- or at least that's how I interpreted her response of, "Ha Ha!" Little did she know that she would unwittingly become the subject of my second blog entry.
At the risk of ridiculing The Amish Cook, I will share my chicken pot pie recipe below, although I am almost embarrassed to reveal how quick and simple the recipe really is. This dish is pretty darn delicious and will make people believe you spent much longer in the kitchen than the few minutes prep time actually required.
So ... without further ado (whatever that means), I give you:
Jan's Chicken Pot Pie
1 package folded refrigerated pie crusts (2 crusts)
1 jar chicken gravy
1 can cream of chicken soup
3 cups cooked chicken, cubed
1 package (16 ounces) mixed vegetables, thawed
1 egg, beaten
seasoned salt, to taste
black pepper, to taste
Preheat oven to 425 degrees.
Unfold one pie crust and place in 9-inch pie plate, pressing crust firmly against plate.
Mix the gravy, soup, chicken, vegetables, dash seasoned salt and dash pepper.
Pour into the crust and place the remaining crust over top.
Trim and pinch the edge to seal crusts. Brush the beaten egg over top.
Sprinkle lightly with salt and pepper, if desired.
Cut slits in top crust to vent.
Bake for 40 - 45 minutes, or until crust is golden. Allow to cool 15 minutes before serving.
*** Cover crust edges with foil strips or use a pie crust guard to prevent overbrowning.
It doesn't get any easier -- or any tastier -- than that. Shhhhh! Don't tell The Amish Cook!
If I was feeling particularly ambitious, which I am not, I would bake up a sample and snap a photo to include with today's blog entry. Instead, I will simply share a photo of my soul sister and myself (or is it "my soul sister and me?") captured a few months ago at Hippiefest 2015.
So there you have it, folks! A blog entry which includes an embarrassing personal revelation, a delicious comfort food recipe and an inspirational message of hope for the moms and dads of all those high-spirited rebel chicks out there. Not bad for free, huh???
'Til we meet again ... Peaceandlove!
