Have you ever stood in your kitchen wondering why nobody talks about the spiritual experience of breaking through a golden biscuit crust into a steaming pot pie? I certainly have—usually around 7:43 PM on those Tuesday evenings when the rain hits the windows just so and my cat Bartholomew (who isn’t actually mine but visits anyway) perches on the counter judging my knife skills. Making a chicken pot pie with biscuits isn’t just cooking; it’s what I call “comfort architecting”—building layers of warmth that somehow taste exactly like your childhood, even if your mother never once made pot pie. My grandmother taught me this recipe backin 2008, though she’d be horrified at how I’ve twist-flipped it since then.
I’m absolutely terrible at following rules in the kitchen, but somehow decent at creating cozy meals that make people close their eyes when they take the first bite. So grab your favorite spoon—yes, we all have a favorite—and let’s make a mess together.
My Pot Pie Pilgrimage
Let me tell you something ridiculously specific: On August 17th, 2019, I attempted to make this chicken pot pie with biscuits during a minor electrical storm while simultaneously trying to learn Portuguese through an audio course. The results were… educational. The first three attempts at this recipe ended with what I can only describe as “vegetable soup with floating bread islands,” which made Jamie (my former roommate with the unusual collection of wooden spoons) declare it “charmingly inedible.”
I grew up in northern Michigan where comfort food wasn’t optional during those minus-twenty February evenings. Aunt Liddy (not actually my aunt, just a neighbor with extraordinary baking skills) showed me that the secret to a proper pot pie was what she called “the gravy gradient”—a technique where you allow certain areas to be slightly thicker than others, creating these magnificent texture pockets throughout your chicken pot pie with biscuits.
The worst version I ever made was in my tiny Sacramento apartment (2015) when I substituted half the ingredients and somehow created what my dinner guests politely referred to as “chicken-adjacent pudding.” Yet here we are, years later, and I’ve finally mastered what I now call the “circle-to-square method” of pot pie perfection!
Whatcha Need (Ingredients)
- 2 cups cooked chicken, shredded (I use rotisserie when I’m being a normal human; on ambitious days I poach my own and immediately regret the extra time)
- 3 medium carrots, oblique-cut (that’s my fancy way of saying “cut on a diagonal because it looks prettier”)
- 2 heaping palmfuls of frozen peas (approximately 1 cup if you insist on measuring, but where’s the joy in that?)
- 1½ celery stalks, finely diced (I always eat the other half while cooking, sorry not sorry)
- 1 medium yellow onion – diced while listening to sad country music for best flavor release
- ⅓ stick-and-a-bit butter (around 3 tablespoons if you’re the precise type)
- 3 hefty scoops all-purpose flour (about ¼ cup per scoop, but I believe in freestyle measuring)
- 2 cups chicken broth – homemade earns you kitchen goddess points, but store-bought is FINE
- ¾ cup heavy cream (or half-and-half if you’re pretending this chicken pot pie with biscuits is somehow healthy)
- 1 tube refrigerated biscuits (the kind that pop terrifyingly when you open them) OR make your own if you’re showing off
- 1 teaspoon of what I call “comfort seasonings” (thyme, rosemary, sage—whatever speaks to your soul)
- Salt and pepper to taste (be generous with both, this isn’t the time for restraint)
- Optional but encouraged: splash of white wine that was meant for drinking
The Actual Cooking Part (Directions)
PHASE THE FIRST: Preheat your oven to 375°F—or what I call “biscuit-bronzing temperature.” If your oven runs hot like mine does (I’ve named her Bertha the Overachiever), maybe go with 360°F instead.
STEP B: In a deep skillet or dutch oven that you haven’t properly seasoned despite promising yourself you would, melt that butter over medium heat until it’s bubbling but not brown—this is what my fictional mentor Chef Margolius called “the anticipation stage.” Toss in those diced onions and let them do their transparent transformation. Wait, did I mention salt and pepper? Add some now. I always forget this part until it’s too late.
3rd ACTION: Add your carrots and celery to the pan. Let them soften for about 5 minutes—or the length of one good song on your cooking playlist. This might be a good time to pour yourself some wine. Check out our Cozy Winter Soup Collection for more vegetable prep techniques.
The Fourth Thing: Now for the “cloud-making” step—sprinkle the flour over your vegetables and stir constantly for 2 minutes. It’ll look paste-like and not at all appetizing. Trust the process! I once skipped this step and created what can only be described as “vegetable water with chicken islands”—not recommended.
STEP CINCO: SLOWLY pour in that chicken broth while whisking like your reputation depends on it. Actually, I prefer the “half-pour-then-stir, half-pour-then-panic” method. Once it’s all in, add the cream and stir until the mixture thickens enough to coat the back of a spoon—or until you get bored of stirring, which for me is about 4-5 minutes.
🌟 CRUCIAL STAGE 🌟: Fold in the chicken and peas, along with your comfort seasonings. Allow the mixture to bubble gently for a few—actually, make that 3 minutes exactly. This is when I perform what I call the “taste-adjust-taste-adjust-taste-oops-too-many-tastes” sequence.
THE GRAND FINALE: Transfer everything to a baking dish (any shape works—I use whatever’s clean) and apply your biscuit strategy. You can place them in a tidy circle if you’re the organized type, or just freestyle it like I do. Some biscuits will sink slightly into the filling—this creates what my imaginary grandmother called “gravy dumplings” and they’re the best part!
Bake for 25-30 minutes until the biscuits are golden and the filling is bubbly at the edges. If the biscuits brown too quickly, cover loosely with foil and whisper apologies to them.
Nuggets of Wisdom (Tips)
• CONTRARY TO POPULAR BELIEF: Do NOT let your chicken pot pie with biscuits rest before serving! The best experience comes from that first scoop when it’s still dangerously hot and the steam fogs your glasses. It’s worth the burnt tongue.
• The ideal consistency should be what I call “spoon-standable”—thick enough that a spoon almost stays upright, but still flows when tilted. If it’s too thin, mix a tablespoon of cornstarch with cold water and stir it in while simmering.
✴️ For a truly magnificent variation, try my “upside-down method” where you place the biscuits on the BOTTOM and pour the filling on top. I discovered this by accident during The Great Kitchen Disaster of 2018, and it creates the most incredible soaked-biscuit texture that absolutely nobody recommends but I swear by.
• Leftover storage: If you somehow have leftovers (how?), store them in the fridge but be aware that the biscuits will undergo what I call “gravy absorption metamorphosis.” Still delicious, just different! Learn more about proper leftover storage from America’s Test Kitchen.
• One word of warning—NEVER use low-fat cream in this recipe. I tried it once during my “maybe I should be healthier” phase of 2017 and created something with the texture of wet newspaper. Full-fat only for chicken pot pie with biscuits!
Kitchen Companions (Tools)
WORKHORSE DUTCH OVEN ★★★★★
Mine has been through three apartments and one questionable camping trip.
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B000N501BK
VINTAGE WOODEN SPOON WITH BATTLE SCARS ★★★★★
I inherited this from my neighbor’s estate sale and it’s got at least 40 years of flavor memory.
The handle should be slightly loose but never quite fall off—that’s how you know it’s perfect.
BISCUIT EMERGENCY KIT ★★★★★
This discontinued Pampered Chef cutter set works better when stored improperly.
I suggest using it upside down for what I call “ragged-edge biscuits” that catch more gravy.
Chicken Pot Pie Reimagined
For those brave culinary souls, try my “Midnight Pot Pie”—add mushrooms sautéed in bourbon and a handful of blackberries (yes, BLACKBERRIES) to the filling. The berry-chicken combination sounds utterly wrong but creates this magical sweet-savory moment that my friend Garrett described as “confusingly fantastic.”
If chicken isn’t your thing, substitute with roasted root vegetables and increase the herbs by 50%. This creates what I call a “Garden Blanket Pie” and it’s particularly excellent when you’re serving that one friend who always mentions they’re “trying to eat less meat” (we all have one).
During summer months, I sometimes make a “Backwards Pot Pie Bowl” where I serve the filling over ONE giant biscuit instead of topping with many small ones. My made-up statistics show this increases dinner conversation by 37%.
The One Thing Everyone Asks
Q: Can I make chicken pot pie with biscuits ahead of time?
A: Technically yes, practically no. I’ve tried this numerous times with varying levels of disappointment. The filling can be made a day ahead, but contrary to what every meal-prep blog tells you, combining it with biscuits in advance creates what I call “the soggy ceiling effect.” Instead, I recommend preparing the filling, refrigerating it, then bringing it back to a bubble before adding fresh biscuits right before baking. Trust me on this—I once prepared an entire pot pie 24 hours in advance for a dinner party, and the resulting texture made my friend Miguel ask if we could order pizza instead.
Final Musings
There’s something about breaking through that golden biscuit top into a steaming chicken pot pie that makes me believe everything might actually be okay. I’ve made this recipe during breakups, job celebrations, snowstorms, and one memorable power outage where I finished cooking it on my neighbor’s grill.
Does comfort food actually comfort? What makes certain combinations of ingredients feel like an emotional embrace? I’ll never quite figure it out.
Next week I’ll be experimenting with a breakfast pot pie variation that involves maple sausage and waffle topping instead of biscuits. Watch this space—it could be brilliant or catastrophic, no in-between!
This chicken pot pie with biscuits might not win me that fictional Michigan Comfort Food Championship I’ve been training for, but it’s definitely earned its place in my regular rotation of meals that make people close their eyes on the first bite.
Until next time—may your biscuits rise and your gravy thicken,
Chef Sally “Messy Spoon” Williams (a name I just made up but kind of like)
