Chicken pot (comfort) pie, plants next door, and Billy the Pup

I made the chicken pot pie from Chef Andres' wck book, and as usual did some subbing. I never have peas when they're needed, but I did have a baked golden potato,  which I diced and added and liked.  I had all the fresh herbs and celery ready though, and carrots.

I did the filling, the stove-top part using one pot which can go directly on the flame

then switched everything to an earthenware pot which is terrific in the oven

there were two spare biscuits which I baked on their own tray

I had them refrigerated longer than intended, on account of being needed next door, and I think next time I won't do that. They're not as light as planned, though still airy.

I also might make the biscuits smaller, but this worked fine, see the filling bubbling and smelling wonderful.

So here's dinner, and three more to come. I have had this book a little over one day and there are food stains on it. A land speed record. But a good sign. And the chicken bones will become soup quite soon.

The interruption was Gary urgently needing help to tie up a big plant in the house that Billy the Pup had knocked about and was now trying to eat. There is no end to the trouble that girl can find. 

The downstairs floors are being replaced and it's a full-time job keeping wood scraps from her, let alone potentially dangerous houseplants! She already found and chewed the new cove base lengths, the quarter-rounds that join wall to floor. I've had dogs who teethed on the bottom-shelf books, but they didn't eat the floor!

So what's a few biscuits when you're saving a puppy from herself?

I had one of the extra biscuits, split, toasted, buttered, this morning for breakfast, very good, too.

Yesterday was a tired sort of day, only managed half my usual walk, and I concluded it's the allergy drops and pills knocking out my energy along with the histamine. But if that's all I have to complain about, it doesn't amount to much.

Happy day, everyone, and if you feel like grumbling, remember writer J. B. Priestley used to say, "I might not have had a good time, but I did have a good grumble!"