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Created by Chef Thomas
Chicken thighs and sweet leeks braised in a gentle, mustardy cream, tucked under golden puff pastry and baked until the top shatters at the touch of a spoon. A midweek pie that asks very little and gives back everything.
The leeks arrive at the market in late autumn, fat and heavy, their outer leaves still dark and muddy. I buy more than I need because I always do. They sit in the kitchen for a day or two, patient and unhurried, until the evening is cold enough and quiet enough to warrant a pie.
This is a gentle thing. No showmanship. Chicken thighs browned in butter, leeks softened until they're silky and sweet, a sauce that barely qualifies as one: stock, cream, a scrape of English mustard, a few leaves of thyme stripped from the stalk. It comes together in one pan, gets tipped into a dish, and a sheet of pastry goes over the top. The oven does the rest. You don't need to have made a pie before. You need a bit of patience and a willingness to trust that something this simple can be this good.
I've made this more times than I can count, and the note in the notebook is always brief: pie, leeks, cold night. There are few better feelings than carrying something golden and bubbling to the table, cutting through the pastry and watching the steam curl upward. We're only making dinner. But some dinners are worth sitting down for properly, with plates warmed and the wine already poured.
Quantity
600g
cut into generous pieces
Quantity
3 large
white and pale green parts, sliced into rounds
Quantity
40g
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
300ml
Quantity
150ml
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
a few sprigs
Quantity
1
Quantity
320g (1 sheet)
Quantity
1
beaten
Quantity
to taste
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| boneless, skinless chicken thighscut into generous pieces | 600g |
| leekswhite and pale green parts, sliced into rounds | 3 large |
| unsalted butter | 40g |
| plain flour | 2 tablespoons |
| good chicken stock | 300ml |
| double cream | 150ml |
| English mustard | 1 teaspoon |
| fresh thyme | a few sprigs |
| bay leaf | 1 |
| all-butter puff pastry | 320g (1 sheet) |
| eggbeaten | 1 |
| fine sea salt and black pepper | to taste |
Cut the chicken thighs into generous pieces, roughly three or four per thigh. Season well with salt and pepper. Heat half the butter in a large pan over a medium-high heat until it foams. Brown the chicken in batches, giving each piece a couple of minutes on each side until properly golden. Don't crowd the pan. If there are too many pieces in there they'll steam rather than colour, and colour is where the flavour lives. Transfer to a plate as they're done.
Turn the heat down to medium-low. Add the remaining butter to the pan along with the sliced leeks and the bay leaf. Stir the leeks through the buttery, chickeny residue at the bottom of the pan. This is where the flavour begins to build. Let them cook gently for eight to ten minutes, stirring now and then, until they've gone completely soft and silky, sweet enough to eat on their own. They should look translucent and almost melting. If they start to take on colour, your heat is too high.
Scatter the flour over the leeks and stir for a minute or so until it disappears into the butter. Pour in the stock gradually, stirring as you go, and let it come to a gentle simmer. It will thicken as it heats. Stir in the cream, the mustard, and the thyme leaves stripped from their stalks. Return the chicken and any resting juices to the pan. Let everything simmer together for five minutes until the chicken is cooked through and the sauce coats the back of a spoon. It should feel slightly loose. It will tighten in the oven. Season well. Taste it. Then taste it again.
Heat the oven to 200C (180C fan). Tip the filling into a 1.5 litre pie dish or similar ovenproof dish, removing the bay leaf and the bare thyme stalks if they're still in there. Let it cool for ten minutes. Hot filling under cold pastry means soggy pastry, and nobody wants that. Unroll the puff pastry and drape it over the dish, pressing the edges down to seal against the rim. Trim any overhang with a knife. Cut a small slit in the centre to let the steam out. Brush the whole surface with beaten egg.
Bake for twenty-five to thirty minutes until the pastry has puffed up magnificently and gone a deep, burnished gold, the kind of colour that makes you want to call someone into the kitchen just to look at it. The filling will be bubbling gently at the edges. Let the pie sit for five minutes before you cut into it. The filling is volcanic straight from the oven, and the short rest lets everything settle into itself. Serve with something green and simple. Buttered cabbage. A plain salad. Nothing that competes.
1 serving (about 290g)
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