Okay, here’s a truth for all the well-meaning bearers of food to people in the midst of chemo.

We don’t really want healthy. Our palates are shot. Salt it, sauce it, add vinegar or lemon or ketchup – if you don’t, we won’t be able to taste it at all.

Skip what you think we NEED to eat. We likely won’t want it. Even if we choose it, we won’t want it after the smell hits our nose.

Remember three weeks ago, when Top Chef All-Stars cheftestant Carla made comedian Jimmy Fallon a two-crust chicken pot pie for his comfort foods birthday brunch episode? Remember his glee? That’s all I wanted today, really. A two-crust chicken pot pie. Really.

But not chef Carla’s gourmet version – no thanks. What I had in mind was a good ole frozen Morton chicken pot pie, or Swanson or Banquet, 10 for $10 from the frozen case.

Monday nights growing up my dad worked because the store was open late. Monday nights were chicken pot pie nights (or beef, or turkey, or the very short-lived tuna pot pies.) Mom pulled out five of them to bake, one for everyone but my youngest brother, Scott, who only ate marshmallow fluff on toast for most of his youth.

They took 45 minutes at 400 deg. F. The crust would get golden and crispity. The gravy inside would get molten hot and flow like lava when the cooked pie was inverted on a plate. Each pie always had too many peas and carrots and never enough meat. And they were the perfect single serving. Mostly crust and gravy. Yum.

So today I made my first wobbly trip outside in search of – chicken pot pie. I spent $63 and change.

Got fresh orange juice that looked great until I tossed it up 10 minutes after swallowing. Got ginger snaps and melba toasts – good. Got salt vinegar chips – miss (also tossed up.) Got little berry cheese tarts not woth the carbs – miss. Canned soup, bottled water and some grilled London broil I may or may not be able to eat. And two Marie Callendar pot pies – one chicken, one turkey. A bit more high-end than Morton’s, but still a processed pie – and I’m worth it.

It took an hour to bake. The crust got golden and crispity. The gravy flow from the inverted pie was volcanic. I picked out most of the vegetables, and ate most of the meat and all of the crust and gravy.

And tomorrow, I have a whole other one.

Really, don’t fuss. Chicken pot pie is the kind of food we want, ok?