So, About This Chicken Pot Pie Soup…

If you’ve ever craved pot pie but sighed at the thought of rolling dough on a weeknight (me, literally every Thursday), pull up a chair. I started making this Chicken Pot Pie Soup when my youngest declared an all-out war on peas—but somehow loves them if they’re floating in soup. Go figure? Anyway, this recipe comes from years of craving that creamy, chicken-y goodness, but not wanting to heat up the whole kitchen (or make a pie crust, honestly). I still remember the first time I tried this—totally underestimated how much it’d hit the spot. And now, it’s what I cook when I want proper comfort with minimal faffing about. Also: Is it just me, or do other people secretly love the soup version more than actual pie?

Why You’ll Actually Love This

I make this when I’m running low on time, but still want to feed the crowd something that tastes like I’ve put in actual effort (when really, I haven’t). My family goes a bit wild for this because it’s all the best bits of chicken pot pie, but with way less drama—my partner always asks if there are leftovers for lunch, and I’m like, “not likely, pal.” When I’m feeling lazy, I’ll even skip the homemade biscuit topping (don’t come at me, biscuit purists) and just toss in some premade bread. I used to get annoyed at how thick or thin the soup came out, but after a few tries, I kind of like that it changes—makes it feel more like real home cooking, y’know?

Everything You’ll Need (Plus a Few Optional Cheats)

2 cups cooked chicken (leftover rotisserie is a lifesaver, though I sometimes poach breasts if there’s nothing ready—my grandma swears by home-roasted, but let’s be honest, any cooked chicken goes!)
1 onion, diced
2-3 carrots, chopped small—and if you’re out, a handful of frozen mixed veggies is just as good
2 ribs celery, chopped (sometimes I leave this out if I can’t be fussed; it won’t ruin anything)
1-2 cloves garlic, minced (skip if you’re in a rush, but I like the punch)
4 cups chicken broth (I use low sodium, but honestly, any kind goes—including that bouillon powder in a pinch)
2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons flour (plain ol’ AP flour, or Arrowroot if you’re feeling extra)
1 cup milk (whole if I’ve got it—2% on regular days, even almond milk works, but the soup turns out a bit less creamy)
1 cup frozen peas (as threatened above, sometimes I swap for corn just for fun)
Salt, pepper, and a bunch of dried thyme, to taste (I once used Italian seasoning by mistake—wasn’t bad, actually)
Optional: sprinkle of fresh parsley or chives, biscuit or bread for serving

How to Make It (With Some Winging It Allowed)

Melt butter in a big-ish pot over medium heat. Add the onion, carrots, and celery; stir till they go all soft and golden (about 7-8 minutes?). If you want to pretend you’re on a cooking show, toss the garlic in right before you add the flour—don’t let it burn. Smells amazing, right?
Sprinkle in the flour, give it a stir until everything looks a bit pasty and weird. (Don’t worry, it always looks slightly dodgy here. Keep calm.)
Slowly pour in chicken broth while stirring—or whisking if you’re feeling energetic. This is where I usually sneak a taste, risking burns. Worth it.
Bring it up to a gentle bubble, then knock the heat down to a low simmer. Let it hang out for about 10 minutes, lid half-cocked—unless you’re like me and forget to cover it completely.
Stir in the milk, chicken, peas, thyme, salt and pepper. Let it chill (figuratively) for another 10-ish minutes. Sometimes it thickens more than I expect, but a splash of extra broth or milk usually sorts it.
Taste and adjust anything. If you fancy, add a bit more herbs, or whatever you’re into. (I say throw in whatever looks lonely in the fridge!)
Serve in big bowls. We like ours with biscuits or crusty bread on the side—or torn up on top, sort of like lazy dumplings.

A Few Notes from My (Sometimes Messy) Kitchen

I’ve made this with leftover turkey after Thanksgiving, and it’s, dare I say, just as good.
The soup might thicken up a lot as it cools—just add stock when reheating. Actually, I find it tastes even richer next day (if there is a next day, ha).
Don’t go overboard with the thyme unless you want it to taste like a pine forest. Been there. Regretted it.
You can totally skip celery if it’s not your thing—I won’t tell.

Variations and Soup Experiments (Plus One Flop)

I once swapped peas for edamame. That… was not the move. Live and learn!
Swap the chicken for mushrooms to go veggie. My mate swears by it, but I still prefer a bit of chicken, if I’m honest.
If biscuits aren’t happening, I love serving this over cooked rice. Sort of retro, but really satisfying.
Curious about making it dairy free? Try coconut milk. It’s a bit odd, but kinda tasty if you dial back the herbs a bit.

About the Kitchen Gear (Or, How I Improvise)

You just need a decent pot—a Dutch oven if you’ve got one handy, but I spent years using a plain old soup pot from the supermarket and honestly, no one noticed. If you’re without a whisk, a big spoon does the trick, but the texture might be a little lumpier. More rustic, I say.

Storing Leftovers—If That Ever Happens

Honestly, this soup rarely makes it to the storage stage at my house (my people are vultures), but if you do have leftovers, pop ‘em in an airtight container and refrigerate up to 3 days. It thickens a lot overnight—I just thin it out with a splash of broth or water when I reheat. Not sure about freezing it since the milk can separate—okay for a quick meal, though the texture gets a tad grainy.

Serving Ideas and a Little Family Quirk

Biscuit topping is my weakness, but I know folks who toast up some baguette or even serve the soup in bread bowls (bit of a faff, but fun for special nights). Sometimes, we crumble potato chips right on top. Sounds weird? Trust me—extra salty, extra crunchy, and definitely a thing in our house, at least when I forget to bake biscuits.

Stuff I Wish I’d Known (Don’t Make My Mistakes)

I once tried to speed up the roux step (you know, the flour and butter bit?) and ended up with a raw flour taste—no thanks. Let it cook, even when you’re hungry.
Go easy with your salt if you’re using rotisserie chicken or bouillon cubes. I’ve overdone it more than once and wound up drinking gallons of water after.
Don’t skip the taste-test before serving—sometimes the veggies need a tiny bit longer, or the seasoning needs an extra hit.

Some Sincere FAQs (And, Yeah, I Get Asked These)

Q: Can I make this gluten free?
Yep, swap the flour for cornstarch or gluten-free all-purpose—just mix it with a bit of water first. The texture is slightly different, but honestly, still tasty.
Q: Can I use raw chicken instead?
You could, but you’ll want to cook it in the broth for 10–12 minutes and then shred it up before adding back in. I find precooked is just easier, especially when you’re juggling 15 things at once like I seem to always be these days.
Q: How do I keep the soup from being too thick?
Just thin it with extra broth or water near the end. One time, I added too much flour by accident—instead of panicking, I served it over noodles and pretended it was a new dish. No one complained!
Q: What’s the best bread to serve with this?
Whatever’s lying about! Sourdough is lush if you have it. Biscuits are classic. And, I’ll admit, I have served this up with toasted supermarket white bread. Still good.

If you want a real-deal biscuit recipe, I always use this one on Serious Eats (never fails). For a peek at my kind of Dutch oven, check out Lodge’s 6-quart—mine has seen more soup than I care to admit. And if you’re curious about chicken stock basics, Bon Appétit has a handy guide that’s not too fussy.

So, is this the fanciest dish on the block? Nope. Does it taste like a warm hug? Absolutely. Let me know if you try any weird swaps—one of these days, someone’s edamame version might actually win me over… or not. Happy cooking, mate!