Pie, Potted

Ever since the literal apocalypse started I've had a hard time finding the frozen pot pies I like at the grocery store. The hardships just never end. I finally got fed up with it this week and decided to take matters into my own hands.

That's right, I'm going to actually cook.

Luckily pot pies are a simple beast to tame. They're really just a pie-shaped stew, and stew is one of the most basic dishes to prepare.

It all starts with the holy trinity

Which is to say a mirepoix of onions, celery and carrots. These particular carrots were apparently specially imported from the northern Ukraine, specifically around the Pripyat region. At least I assume that's why they're about the same size as a child's forearm.

Anyway, equal portions, diced to equal sizes. The size of the celery and onion don't actually matter too much since they'll go quite soft, but the carrots will tend to maintain their shape so if you're going to pay attention to anything, pay attention to that.

Next up is the meat, in this case 1-1/4lb of pork shoulder, because it's more climate friendly than beef and less boring than chicken.

We can also see some fresh rosemary that's joined the party. More on that later.

To start things off, 1/3 of a pound of chunky bacon is rendered to get a fond going in the pan and to add some pork fat to lubricate the browning of the pork. I decided to try the method where you start it off in some water, but after observing how little of the fat actually renders out while the water boils off, I think I'd skip that step in future.

Instead, I'd just start it off on a medium heat and then lower the temp way down as soon as the water that comes out of the meat boils off and the liquid in the pan goes clear.

Mmm, that's some tasty bacon. Doesn't cook down quite as dramatically as spinach does, but it'll give it a run for its money.

Once the bacon is safely out of the pot, in goes the pork to get browned up. The same browning technique applies: medium heat to cook off the water, then back it down to low once the water evaporates to keep from burning the fond.

Since I've got a gas cooktop it can be quite easy to burn the fond on the sides of the pot where there's no meat to draw the heat away, so a little extra care is called for.

There's a few spots where it did get a little charred, but no harm done. So we pull it out and let it vibe for a while with the rosemary.

Meanwhile, into the pot goes the veggies, along with a splash of canola oil since the bacon didn't quite give us enough fat for all the browning we need to do. Some salt too, to draw out some of the liquid a bit quicker.

Same story as the meat: medium heat while the water boils off, then back it down to keep from burning things while we develop the sugars. Soon enough it'll look a bit like this.

Now's the time when we start to think about thickening. Without thickening, we'll just be making soup. We could even still end up with soup if we do thicken, but insufficiently. We really want to have a finished product that doesn't need a spoon to eat, so we'll break out the big guns.

Into the pot goes a few tablespoons of flour, to cook up with the oil to form a roux. No need to scoop the veggies out at this stage, they can take a bit more cooking without any harm.

Meanwhile, we'll prepare a little molecular gastronomy secret weapon.

A packet of unflavored gelatin mixed into a lot more cold vegetable broth than you'd think it would be able to absorb will give the stew a lip-smacking "cooked the bones all day" texture. This, along with the rest of the carton of broth, goes into the pot once the roux has had a chance to cook.

Bay leaves, dried thyme, dried oregano, garlic powder, and an alarmingly excessive amount of fresh rosemary. Maybe use less than I did here. One sprig would have been more than adequate, rather than the three I actually used.

While on the subject of bay leaves.

It's nice of them to at least use the shaker top with the larger holes in it, but bay leaves still really aren't a sprinkling herb.

This all gets brought to a boil and simmered up for an hour or so, stirred occasionally, with the lid off so that the liquid can reduce to concentrate the flavours. At this point we fish out the bay leaves and rosemary twigs (which can be surprisingly difficult to find) and admire our completed stew.

Now cool the pot down by setting up a small fan to blow at it for an hour, and dose out the portions into four 6-inch tart pans, topping with a circle of puff pastry and cutting a little steam vent in the middle.

400g each was the right amount for me, but your tart pans may vary.

This did leave me with a leftover portion, which was just enough to serve as a supplement to my usual weekend lunch.

It also gave me a chance to verify the thickening of the stew.

Yup, that's about the right consistency.

The pot pies, meanwhile, go into the freezer to get frozen solid, then wrapped in foil. That foil is later inverted and crimped loosely around the edge of the crust to keep any spillover contained and prevent the edges from burning in the oven.

Then into the oven it goes at 400f for 80 minutes (your oven may vary), until it registers about 165f inside and looks a little something like this.

Plate it up with some side dishes and then try not to get flaky bits of crust in your eye when you dig in, those crispy crumbs really fly everywhere.

Delicious.