Grief Kitchen

I’m both relieved and frustrated that I’ve gotten my appetite back. All those months of silent devastation were wearing me thin emotionally and the lack of protein in my diet landed me with a nasty migraine after every workout. My fingernails were splitting, my hair was brittle and new wrinkles were showing up in every sad frown. Holding all that pain alone is heavy in so many ways.

I miss my Anthony in new ways, every day. I’m getting used to not hearing him call and his name has fallen to the bottom of my recent calls & texts. His hoodie has become part of my everyday wardrobe and I’ve stopped worrying about staining it. In fact I got some of my balsamic beet sauerkraut on it last week and laughed about how pissed he’d be if he were here. The bottle of cologne his mom sent me has become my new favorite security blanket, as if smelling him all around me somehow protects me from the world. The things I miss about him remind me to be a better, more present friend.

I’ve started cooking his favorite foods that I used to make him, and my jeans are getting tight as a result. I had a particularly difficult day yesterday and found myself making his favorite rice burgers on autopilot. I thawed chicken for the pesto pancetta stuffed breasts he used to beg for which is crazy considering the Dumpling is going with her daddy for the next two weeks. My refrigerator is full to bursting. Red curry with chicken and a garden of vegetables, shrimp ceviche by the gallon, chicken pot pie and a few dozen cinnamon rolls with cream cheese frosting. I could pack up the pots and pans and eat leftovers for a couple weeks…

I’m finally processing his death the only way I know how…

In the kitchen.

So I’m sharing his favorite recipe, my chicken pot pie… something he proposed to me over a few times and a delicious reminder that friendship comes from time spent and nothing else really matters more when you can’t pick up the phone and call them anymore.

Suicide may end the pain of the person who takes their life… but it leaves an open wound for everyone left behind carrying unsaid words, painful conversations and arms that ache to hug them a few hundred more times.

Don’t leave things unsaid. Even the awful things.

Oh and don’t skip the pie.


Jenni’s Chicken Pot Pie

I make my pastry crust in the food processor with frozen butter because I’m an overachiever like that, but you can easily use premade crust as well. Place one crust in the pie pan and bake at 450* for 10 minutes.

In a saucepan on your stovetop:

Melt 6 Tbsp Butter and slowly add 6 Tbsp of flour, stirring constantly.

Cook for 2 minutes before slowly adding 2 cups of chicken broth, 1 cup of cream and salt, pepper & spices to taste. Cook for 5 minutes, until thick and smooth.

Chop 4 cups of chicken, and 1/2 cup each of peas, carrots & celery. Toss into the prebaked pie shell and top with your sauce. Make sure your carrots aren’t too big or they’ll still be crunchy when it’s finished baking. Cover with the second crust and cut vents so that the steam can escape.

Bake at 425* for 30 minutes. Cover loosely with aluminum foil if your crust starts to get too brown.

Your house will smell incredible and your partner will look at you differently.

(Sorry about your diet.)

Sidenote: Be careful who you make this for. This is fourth date food, not first date food; don’t say I didn’t warn you if you go throwing this recipe around and end up in captivity.

From Anthony & I, with love. ♥

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