It was a Chicken Pot Pie Kind of Morning

This morning, I spilled my coffee while making chicken pot pie.

Yes. You read that correctly.

It's 1:07 p.m. and our chicken pot pie dinner is almost finished.

I know that chicken pot pie can be made into a 30-minute meal if you buy the frozen pie crust and a can of filling, but I really enjoy sauteing carrots and onions in a bit of olive oil. I enjoy watching homemade chicken stock come to life. But most of all, I enjoy mixing the dough with my pastry cutter, waiting the 30 minutes until it's cold enough to roll out, and then rolling it. There is something deeply satisfying about rolling a butter-laden dough between two sheets of saran wrap.

There you have it. Homemade chicken pot pie. Is there anything better?

So I decided to make one this week. Usually when I make chicken pot pie, I don't remember how long it takes, so I become rushed and frantic. A  rushed and frantic kitchen hardly ever yield's delight. But then you add me cutting carrots and celery with a very large knife and a toddler trying his hardest to get into the trash can, and the scene never ends well.

Today, I was calm in the kitchen. My dinner deadline was far in the distance and my stomach was still full from a big pancake breakfast. 

That's the way to cook dinner.

Except that I didn't see it coming.

My pretty kaleidoscopesque coffee mug sat on the counter by the stove. That's just where I had set it down, but it was also near where I had placed my chicken pot pie recipe. I reached my hand out to grab the recipe and over went my coffee. It was very sad to lose a whole cup of warm, strong coffee. 

Lucky for me there was more in the pot.