Biscuit Chicken Potpie — The Biscuits Are Mine Now

Spring at Camp Lejeune. Caleb is almost four months old and is now holding his head up, grabbing things with his fists (my hair, mostly, which he pulls with the determination of a Marine in training), and rolling from his back to his side. He's a mover. Ryan says he's training for PT. I say he's training to crawl, which means baby-proofing is imminent and our apartment has approximately forty-seven hazards per room. The PPD continues to lift. Dr. Reyes and I have moved from crisis management to what she calls 'maintenance.' The 4 PM feeling comes maybe twice a week instead of every day. When it comes, I know what to do: I cook. I call Mom. I put Caleb on my chest and breathe. The tools work. They were always there — in the recipe cards, in the phone line, in the baby's weight on my chest — I just needed someone to tell me it was okay to use them. I'm going to write about this someday. About the PPD and the cooking and the way therapy and chicken soup are not the same thing but serve the same purpose. About the day I sat on the bathroom floor and cried and the day I told Jen and the day Dr. Reyes said 'chemistry, not character' and the world shifted. Not yet. But someday. When I have enough distance to see it clearly. Mom and Dad are visiting next weekend. Dad hasn't seen Caleb since Thanksgiving — four months, which in baby time is a geological age. Caleb is a different person now. He smiles, he babbles, he holds his head up, he has opinions about ceiling fans. Dad is going to meet a person, not just a newborn. Mom has already told me she's bringing groceries. 'Your pantry is insufficient, Rachel.' (It's not. She just wants to cook in my kitchen again.) She's also bringing Dad's seedlings — tomato plants started in Norfolk, transported to Jacksonville, to be planted in the tiny backyard of our base housing apartment. Dad is literally transplanting his garden across state lines for his grandson. 'Kevin, the baby can't eat tomatoes yet,' Mom said in the background of our call. 'By JULY he can,' Dad said. 'I looked it up.' These people. These wonderful, food-obsessed, garden-growing, recipe-sharing people. I made Mom's biscuits tonight. The real ones. Flour, butter, buttermilk. Tall, flaky, golden. Mine now. Not Mom's — mine. 'That'll do,' I said to myself, alone in the kitchen, quoting my mother to my own biscuits. The tradition continues.

The night I made Mom’s biscuits and said “that’ll do” to my own kitchen was the night I knew something had shifted — the recipes weren’t hers anymore, they were mine to carry forward. So when I needed a meal that put those flaky, golden biscuits front and center alongside something hearty enough to feed Dad when he finally meets his grandson, this potpie was the obvious answer. It’s the kind of dish that feels like a hug from someone who drove four hours with tomato seedlings in the back seat.

Biscuit Chicken Potpie

Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 1 hr | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 1/3 cup butter
• 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 3/4 cups chicken broth
• 2/3 cup whole milk
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 3 cups cooked chicken, shredded or cubed
• 1 cup frozen peas
• 1 cup frozen carrots, thawed and sliced
• 1/2 cup frozen corn
• 1/2 cup celery, diced
• For the biscuit topping:
• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 tablespoon baking powder
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/3 cup cold butter, cubed
• 3/4 cup cold buttermilk

Instructions

1. Preheat. Heat oven to 425°F. Lightly grease a 9x13-inch baking dish.
2. Make the filling. In a large saucepan over medium heat, melt the 1/3 cup butter. Whisk in the flour and cook for 1 minute until lightly golden. Gradually whisk in the chicken broth and milk. Cook, stirring constantly, until the mixture thickens and bubbles, about 5–7 minutes.
3. Season and combine. Stir in the salt and pepper. Add the shredded chicken, peas, carrots, corn, and celery. Stir to combine, then pour evenly into the prepared baking dish.
4. Make the biscuit dough. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt. Cut in the cold butter using a pastry cutter or your fingers until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Pour in the buttermilk and stir just until a shaggy dough comes together — do not overmix.
5. Top and bake. Drop the biscuit dough by large spoonfuls over the hot filling, covering most of the surface. Bake for 25–30 minutes, until the biscuits are tall and golden and the filling is bubbling around the edges.
6. Rest and serve. Let the potpie rest for 5 minutes before serving so the filling sets up slightly. Serve straight from the dish.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 480 | Protein: 28g | Fat: 22g | Carbs: 44g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 780mg