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Molly Pitcher Inn Pot Pie Disaster.........

Last night my travels found me stopping by the Molly Pitcher Inn for a couple of cocktails. (well to be perfectly honest, rumor has it a friend's wife threw him out of the house and he has taken up residence there, so I was kind of snooping a little bit to see if I ran into him.....shhhhhhhh)

Anywho....while I was enjoying my "martini"*, I noticed the waiter bring out a chicken pot pie and serve it to a table. The reason why it caught my eye is at first glance I thought it was a souffle, which I thought was odd to be on a tray with a few entree's going to a table. It was a typical souffle bowl, with a large fluffy muffin style top, typical of a souffle. As I watched the server present the plates to the table he placed a plate in front of the person, removed the pastry muffing top, then scooped out the contents, which was chicken pot pie, over the flaky crust top.

I've got to tell you I was rather put off by this. I have seen this presentation before, but not at a restaurant the caliber of the Molly Pitcher Inn......to me it's kind of lazy and sloppy. The crust immediately get's soggy as the contents are poured over it, that's not how I want to eat a chicken pot pie. (not that I would really order that out to begin with)

What's your thought(s)? I'm rather disappointed although I cannot comment on the flavor, quality, taste, I just don't like this execution for this dish.

*use of term "Martini" loosely before MGZ chastises me that drinking straight vodka chilled with olives is not real martini.

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  1. Ha! It is in my book.

    This does sound gross and soggy. I prefer a good old school chicken pot pie with a regular old pie crust on top. Wouldn't that make your mouth water as it was presented to you? I don't like it when waiters have their hands on my food anyway. If part of the appeal is to remove the top, explain it to me and I'll do it. It's not rocket science.

    Sounds like an inexperienced chef who is trying to change things up a bit or impress his customers with his "new" interpretation (and it's not new).

    1. LOL...call your drink anything you want to, LOL.

      Anyway, regarding the presentation...no, no thank you...I'll eat my chicken pot pie the way I want to. Who is to say there is a "proper" way to serve and eat this. I find that people who are too rigid, caught up in definitions, semantics, etc. -- that's their choice; but it doesn't have to be mine.

      1. When we were young, Bernie's Deli was down the block
        He made a great liver pate
        (You know he did, you know he did, you know he did)
        But if there's one thing in this world that I like better
        Than a corned beef on rye

        It's Chicken Pot Pie
        Chicken Pot Pie

        1 Reply
        1. re: ebchower

          Bernie's Deli......I know he did, I know he did, I know he did!!

          He was down the block across the street from that other place. Sure.......Bernie's!!! Remember what people would shout when he walked in a room....."Hey it's Bernie!!" Many happy memories. People use to think Bernie named the place after himself, but it was actually his uncle on his mothers side!

        2. Agree - leave my pot pie alone (and make mine a gin "martini"*)!

          Maybe they do this to protect other martini* drinkers from accidentally touching a very hot bowl?!

          1 Reply
          1. re: Foody4life

            A bit off topic, but I suppose I have become my father/grandfather when it comes to martinis....gin, and a whisper of vermouth, with olives. I see various libations on a TJMcFunzees menu labeled martinis, but not in my book.

            And a pot pie is a pot pie is a pot pie...leave it alone!

          2. Isn't part of the pleasure of a pot pie that first crack into the crust as the steam escapes? Why take that away from the customer? Odd.

            3 Replies
            1. re: HillJ

              Exactly!!! Right?? Especially at a place like the Molly Pitcher, I really expected much better. (You are from Jersey you know the Molly right?)

              1. re: jrvedivici

                Absolutely. Been there for brunch, Rotary meetings, a wedding or two. Why would they need to 'assist' anyone with digging into a chicken pot pie?

              2. re: HillJ

                Amen! One of the last remaining simple pleasures in life!

              3. I don't think it changes your point, but FWIW I think the pot pie at Molly Pitcher Inn is a seafood pot pie, not a chicken pot pie.

                EDIT: I take it back. I googled (which I should have done earlier) and they do have a chicken pot pie. And even bad reviews for just the reasons jr mentions... e.g. see http://www.yelp.com/biz_photos/molly-...

                1 Reply
                1. re: drongo

                  I will say that the pot pie I witnessed did not look nearly as atrocious as the one in the yelp photo. As I stated, I paid particular attention because I thought it so odd someone would order a souffle for an entree I just observed the table. Once the waiter started to dissect the souffle I was really drawn in......but the "guts" were much juicier than those in the photo, there didn't appear to be large chunks of chicken, and they certainly didn't pepper the hell out of it as the photo suggests. (How can you taste anything with that amount of pepper?)

                2. I like to break the crust myself as I eat........but I would NEVER drink Martinis anywhere without a designated driver unless I was staying at the hotel. Food at MP is average for the times I've been there ...

                  1. "Uh, waiter, serve my entree and I'll figure out how to eat it!"
                    It just seems to be good intent but really bad execution. Pouring the contents over the flaky crust defeats the whole "flaky" part.

                    1 Reply
                    1. Just so we're clear, you were the creepy guy, drinking watered down vodka with olives in the glass, staring at an atrocious plate served to someone else in the bar room, while waiting to prove the validity of a rumor about a friend's wife kicking him outta the house? Got it.

                      God Bless You Big Man. I'm sorry I need to spend time with the family during the holiday season, but surely, you can find some outside gigs while I play with the words for the new odes? If not, Brother, keep your nose in the glass - that always works for me.

                      * * *

                      Oh, and as to the Pot Pie, it's a good thing we were not together that night. After our third round, I know what would've happened:

                      "Dude, stop f*ckin' orderin' that abomination as a "martini"! It's unholy! Hell, your kids and my alumni checks go to RBC. Say a prayer and get us each a double Johnny Black and a Pot Pie . . . I gotta piss like a racehorse." I say too loudly as I get up, and drain what's left of the Beefeater in my glass.

                      "Um, that chicken looked like sh*t. Beside, I don't know if I should mix . . .."

                      "Seriously?" I cut you off from your ramblin's. "I know a guy who'll drive you home. It's cool, he still owes me from the time I visited him in County after that fifth DWI. Just call Mrs. Jr. and tell her that 'Z was "in one of those places - there was no reasoning with him'' Oh, and come to think of it, f*ck the Scotch, tell them to bring out two Old Overholts, three or four fingers each, neat! And a milk pitcher of soda water - they'll know what I mean."

                      "But what about the pot pie? I don't know . . ."

                      "You're right, my friend. You're right. But, you just gotta trust me on this one" I assure as I leave the table, turn my back to you, and smile at the young ladies at the bar as I stumble towards the door.

                      After my return, ear to ear grin in place, a faint scent of "Concert potpourri" in my hair, I find you halfway through that old school rye, still tryin' to figure out how much of the seltzer was your's to use. You don't even notice the phillies comin' in right behind me. Just a few seconds after I regain my seat, the waiter puts the chicken pot pie on the table, I grab the utensil from his hand, toss it towards the dark bar, and dare him to cut it with his fingernails before he skulks away.

                      "Bring back a fork, b*tch!" You scold before letting out a belly whopper of a guffaw.

                      As usual, the manager comes by, five minutes later, tells us we'll never be allowed back . . . again. We each grab another handful of still crispy crust in one hand and our drinks in the other, shake the table, and explain to the ladies at the bar that the rooms are on you . . . again.

                      "Life is always worth livin', right?" I assure you as you cover their bar tab and I go work things out at the front desk.

                      "Hey, Miranda, you look great tonight. Ummm, do you guys have those junior suites on the second floor still open? I'm so sorry, but . . . . "

                      * * *

                      The lesson: You should never break the crust on a Pot Pie. Nor should you crack the top of a creme brulee or carry my drink to the table with your finger in the booze.

                      9 Replies
                        1. re: sandiasingh

                          Sometimes, things get real. Sometimes, things get weird. Sometimes, things are simply what they're s'posed to be.

                          All the time, it's wrong to serve a pot pie wet on dry, just like all the time it's wrong to call a glass of vodka a martini.

                            1. re: ELA

                              This is me drivin' Jr. to McDonalds around 2:30 am that night to get one of the girls a Whopper. . . . Yeah, I know. It was wrong. We were wrong. But, in fairness, she swore she was a princess, twenty-three years old, and Uncle Ronald would "hook us up".

                        2. re: MGZ

                          Bwahahahahahaha.......that's what I was waiting for!! Kudos!

                            1. re: MarlboroMan

                              It was a pretty fun, indeed. But what was really epic was the room service bill. Even more Homreic was the tale Jr. spun to the Mrs. around noon the next day. Bail ain't cheap and I had a friend in the Sheriff's department . . . .

                              1. re: MGZ

                                He had a friend in the Sheriff's office, I made a friend in the cell. :-(

                                1. re: jrvedivici

                                  Sh*t, Brother, all our kidding aside, don't you think it's time we started a new thread about the worst meals we've ever had in the Garden State? I mean, dumpin' the goo from inside the pot pie onto the crust that had been laid to rest on a cold butter plate was undoubtedly bad, but that's Michelin four star compared to that "gravy and biscuits" thing we got served in lockup in Burlington County, no?

                                  Hell, that night your daughter cooked for us in that strip club you used to own was arguably the worst culinary event of my life. I know she's your blood, and I know she's a fine girl, and I know you didn't want her to see what was goin' on around her. I respect that. It's cool, but, you gotta admit, blindfolding a kid that age, walking her to the kitchen, and tellin her to go make "Daddy and his friend a coupla veal marsalas with shaved truffles", wasn't exactly a Dr Spock moment. (Jacques Pepin, maybe?).

                                  Anyway, it's your honor, Your Honor. Let the people know 'bout the lousiest chow you've been served in the Garden State. This ol' 'hound will be happy to keep the ball in the air. Somethin' tells me some of these other bone gnawers we tell tales with will be more that happy to share some less than delicious plates that they've endured.