I Always Make These When The Air Smells Like Leaves

If you’ve ever found yourself staring out the window as the first yellow leaves hit the pavement and thinking, “Wow, I should really use up those parsnips,” well, same. Honestly, these Roasted Autumn Vegetable Pot Pies started as my answer to the autumn fridge clean-out — you know, that time of year when squash is rolling off the counter, and carrots hide everywhere. Oh, and once, my cousin Dave tried to use turnip instead of sweet potato and no one talked to him at dinner — kidding, sort of. Anyway, this is my go-to September-October hibernation food, and if you asked my sister, she’d tell you I get a bit too excited about the pastry. Just a heads up: there’s flour everywhere when I’m around.

Why You’ll Fall for This Recipe (and Maybe the Leftovers, Too)

I make this whenever my family is scattered and I want to lure them home with the promise of flaky pastry and golden brown goodness. My boyfriend (Sam, who genuinely claims to hate carrots, but somehow always eats seconds) requests it every “sweater weather” Sunday. And actually, I used to dread making the roux base because it always got lumpy—but I found if you take it off the heat for a second and breathe (it’s like the pot pie is testing your patience for the reward ahead), it comes out smooth as anything. So, if you’ve ever wanted dinner that’s both a hug in a bowl — and a conversation starter about why root veggies are so weird-looking—here we go.

The Ingredients (And My Not-So-Secret Shortcuts)

2 cups butternut squash, peeled and diced (sometimes I go for pumpkin, especially if I’ve got leftovers from carving)
1 1/2 cups carrots, chopped into coins
1 large parsnip, peeled and chopped; you can use more carrots instead, I promise nobody will riot
2 small sweet potatoes, diced (or regular potato, if it’s what you’ve got—honestly I’ve used both in the same pot)
1 cup cremini mushrooms, quartered; my gran swears by white button, but I can’t taste the difference
1 cup frozen peas
1 small onion, diced; red or yellow (I’m not fussy)
2 cloves garlic, minced
3 Tbsp olive oil (or that wonky rapeseed oil lurking at the back)
2 Tbsp flour (plain or all-purpose—not self-raising, let’s not do that again)
2 cups vegetable broth (bone broth totally works too, but it won’t be veggie anymore)
1/2 cup milk or unsweetened plant milk (oat is my go-to, but use whatever)
1 tsp dried thyme or a handful of fresh, if you’ve got it
1/2 tsp dried sage (to taste)
Salt and pepper to taste (I tend to go heavy on the pepper…)
1 sheet puff pastry (or make your own—sure, Jan—but frozen is my default)
1 egg, beaten (for that shiny finish; skip it for vegan, obviously)

How I Actually Make These Pot Pies

Get that oven roaring. Set it to 425°F (or 220°C for the UK folks like me). Place squash, carrots, parsnip, sweet potato, and mushrooms on a tray. Drizzle with olive oil, add a good sprinkle of salt, pepper, thyme, and sage, and toss everything—hands are best for this, says my gran.
Roast until everything’s gold and cozy. This takes about 30 minutes. Give it a shake halfway (sometimes I forget, don’t sweat it).
Meanwhile: While those veggies are transforming, I get a big pan over medium. In goes a splash of oil, onions, and garlic. It smells unreal right about now! Cook until golden, but not burnt—watch for that, onions are tricksters.
Make the “oh no it’s lumpy” base. Sprinkle flour over the onions and stir for a minute. Pour in broth slowly, then milk. Whisk (or heck, use a fork), scrape up any sticky bits. This is where I sneak a taste—add more salt or pepper if you like things punchy.
Stir in veggies and peas. Once roasted, all those golden hunks go into the pan. Mix well, then take off heat. Let it cool a few minutes so the bottom crust doesn’t get soggy. (I learned the hard way… it’s soup otherwise!)
Fill and top. Tip everything into ramekins or a big pie dish (no rules). Unroll that pastry, cut to size, and lay it on top. Pinch or fork the edges; totally up to you. Brush with beaten egg for the golden look. If you forget… no one notices but me.
Bake at 400°F (200°C) until pastry’s all puffed and glowing, about 20-25 min. Sit on your hands, don’t peek too soon. Let it rest 10 minutes unless you enjoy a scalded tongue, which, apparently, my brother does?

Notes Nobody Tells You (Because I Learned the Hard Way)

Prepping all those veggies: I used to hate it, but now I listen to podcasts or just daydream.
You can mix canned/frozen and fresh veggies and nobody will notice, unless you tell them.
If the filling’s a bit runny, let it rest longer. Or use a bit more flour next time (which I always forget…)

Experiments and Variations (Some Hits, One Miss)

Tried adding blue cheese once—amazing if you like it, but my nephew declared it “too footy.”
Swapped pumpkin for butternut squash—definitely works, but a tad sweeter.
Tried making a gluten-free version with chickpea flour; it tasted almost nutty but got a bit too thick. Worked better with Bob’s Red Mill blend (Bob’s Red Mill). Honest review: slightly weird, but not bad.

Kit I Use (But You Don’t

Look, nothing beats a set of cute little ramekins, but I’ve also just used a regular old lasagna dish. Rolling pin? If you’re stuck, use a wine bottle (ask me how I know…). Don’t have a pastry brush? A bit of scrunched-up paper towel dipped in egg does the job. Fancy pastry cutters are fun, but definitely not essential.

Storing Your Pot Pies (If They Even Survive)

Pop leftovers in the fridge, covered—they’ll keep for up to 3 days. I think the flavour deepens overnight. But actually, in my house they’re gone in hours, because who says no to next-morning pie? You can freeze unbaked pies, too, though the pastry sometimes sulks and doesn’t puff quite as high after thawing. Not bad, still pie.

Serving Style: Mine’s With a Tangy Slaw

There’s almost always a lemony cabbage slaw on the side, just because it cuts the richness a bit (and it’s basically a commandment in my family). If it’s extra chilly, sometimes I serve with a quick cider gravy, but that’s more faff than I can handle most weekdays. Oh, and nobody complains if you just hand them a fork and a napkin and leave them on the sofa either.

Learned This the Hard Way – Pro Tips

I once cranked the oven to broil for a super crispy top—and burned the pastry to a crisp. Keep it at 400-425°F, trust me.
Don’t over-stir once you add the filling to your fancy white ramekins; it’ll break the pastry and leak everywhere. Not that I did that last week…
Actually, I find it works better if you let the filling cool at least 15 minutes before topping with pastry, or else—soupy disaster.

Pot Pie FAQ – Your Real Questions (and My Honest Answers)

Can I make this vegan?: Yep! Use non-dairy milk and an egg wash sub (try oat milk, maple syrup, or just skip it). Most store-bought puff pastry is vegan, but check. Or check out this vegan pastry guide.
Could I add beans for protein?: Oh totally, I’ve tossed in cannellini or chickpeas, especially when my veggie drawer looks a bit sad. Don’t add too many or you’ll drown out the pie vibe.
Do I need to blind bake the pastry?: Nope, not with puff pastry on top. If you do a bottom crust, maybe—but honestly that’s a job for a rainy weekend.
Why does my filling sometimes split?: Usually the heat is too high when mixing in the milk. Take it off the hob, keep stirring, it’ll come back. (Voice of experience!)
What if I only have pie crust, not puff pastry?: Why not? It’ll be a bit less dramatic but tastes lush. I’d brush with milk or a touch of butter.

And before I forget—don’t sweat the small stuff, or frankly even the big stuff. Pot pie is all about comfort, not perfection. If you want an even geekier deep-dive into seasonal veggies, Love & Lemons veggie guide is honestly a fun rabbit hole. And if the leaves outside are crunchy, you’ve got no excuse not to try making these tonight!

Roasted Autumn Vegetable Pot Pies