7 Frozen Pot Pies You Should Buy And 7 You Should Leave At The Store

Wanna dig into the coziest of all comfort foods? Hit up the freezer section. Skip the nuggs, the stuffed crust 'za, and the tots, and head straight for those frozen pot pies. Don't worry, it's chill (wink). We'll help you snag the best flavors on the market and reveal which brands to side-eye and pass by.

Whether you feel like indulging in a traditional chicken and veggie recipe, or you wanna hold your toasty mac and cheese pastry in one hand while you slather it in hot sauce with the other, there's a perfect pot pie for you. (There's also one you can serve your enemies. See? Something for everyone.)

As your fearless author, I gathered 14 different pot pies from the top five brands at my local grocery store. Armed with an oven and a dream, I embarked on a culinary journey from potato to ... other potato. (Who am I kidding? I love potatoes.) Hungry for an unabashed, no apologies, knock-your-socks-off guilty pleasure adventure? Preheat the oven and get ready to puff pastry your heart out.

Nominee for the Looks Most Like the Picture on the Box award, and winner of Best Performance for its starring role in "Yick Don't Buy This," we have the most expensive pot pie on this list: the $10 Raised Gluten-Free Vegetable Pot Pie. It cooks at its own special temperature (350°F) for its own special time (45 mins) and thus demands to be baked solo in the oven, unlike the rest of the pies.

The pie burst in the oven, losing part of its filling. Even so, it's still a huge pie, which is only bad because it tastes like a meal you would serve your enemies. It's gluten-free, vegan, nut-free, soy-free, and plant-based. You could always look at the glass half-full, but this brand appears to have quintupled down on difficult-to-achieve deliciousness. The crust is crumbly, greasy, and tasteless. The inside also tastes like nothing. (Is this also salt-, seasoning-, and happiness-free?)

The potatoes and carrots appear to have been cut on a precision cube-making machine, which gives off a Big Veg sort of industrial vibe. There is some legit green bean energy, and the singular pea we managed to isolate on its own tasted like one. But honestly, it's not a sure thing that any vegan out there would enjoy this.

At first, the pristinely flat, unbaked crust appears like a minimalist's disc-shaped dream. But Blake's Turkey Pot Pie burned in the oven. And without anywhere else to turn, molten turkey gravy bubbled over the seams in the sides.

It's no biggie to do a little cleanup on Aisle 4. But most disappointing is the flaky crust that puffs up like an old-school apple pie, only to deflate like a popped balloon with one tiny poke of a fork. Inside the hollow pastry shell, the admittedly delicious and well-seasoned filling — with large chunks of white meat turkey and fresh-tasting garden veggies — simmers miles below the surface of the pastry. 

Another strike? There's no bottom crust ... or side crust, or top crust ... and the top crust is a grain of salt away from being completely flavorless. Instead, you'll be cutting into a pastry beret when you wanted the whole outfit. Maybe it's a move to shave off a few calories, but in the process, Blake's definitely shaved off all the fun.

Does this one tug at your heartstrings? Slow-cooked beef stew done up as a pie — just like Mom used to make when you were a kid? Well, as much as the Banquet Beef Pot Pie might desperately want to fill that role in your life, this is more like the soupy Play-Doh version of beef pot pie.

This one called for a pre-bake slice across the top of the crust, which — since the pie came straight out of the freezer — felt like trying to saw into solid ice to carve out a fishing hole. Because I could barely scratch the surface with a serrated knife to provide ventilation, filling spilled out the sides during the bake.

The Banquet brand crust crumbles like the texture of a soft shortbread cookie but tastes burned, even where it looks like it's light golden brown. The broth feels swimmy with single peas floating around in there going, "Hello? Guys?" as a shred of meat drifts by. The watery gravy-broth phones it in, tasting like recently hydrated cardboard bouillon. This brand was the cheapest of the bunch at roughly $1.67 each. But really, Banquet should pay you for taking this off their hands.

Not even Marie Callender's can win 'em all. (May the Marie Callender's Creamy Mushroom Chicken Pot Pie rest in peace.)

That flawless, delicate crust is a no-brainer. And the ratio of filling ingredients to gravy is the bee's knees. But while the recipe was almost there with the flavor, it needed a little more salt and maybe something from the herb family to take it over the top. If you've got a seasoning mix in your pantry to make this one work, you'll cut into hefty portions of tender white meat chicken, big carrots, and green beans that maintain their texture. The thinly sliced mushrooms kind of got put through the wringer as far as their looks are concerned. They're hard to nail down in the flavor department, but technically, they are present and accounted for. Who needs the taste of mushrooms when you can have them as decoration?

Several bites can be saved by scooping up plenty of buttery pastry to add more flavor. But once that ratio becomes impossible, enjoy your remaining cream of chicken soup.

Gluten-free foods have come a long way. But Blake's Gluten-Free Chicken Pot Pie appears to have completely missed out on the action.

While the regular Blake's pie crust already went belly up on any glimmer of flavor, this crust is a guaranteed disappointment. It remains the obvious choice for gluten-free pot pie lovers who have never tasted pastry in their lives. Like, ever. (And it's definitely not for anyone who's tried to roll out puff pastry dough themselves.) Again, the fillings appear like bottom feeders skittering along the container lining inside their terrible pastry grotto. We can't blame them for not wanting to be near the oddly sweet yet tasteless crust.

Blake's turns into a standout bummer because of the fact that the filling is actually decent. But while a flavorful mix of chicken and veggies might be the point of a chowder-type soup (the potatoes even have their little red skins on!), a pot pie demands a killer crust for maximum effect. This pastry is so bad that it's enough to turn any gluten-free fan into a crust-free person, too.

Once again, I'm biting into the buttery, flaky crust that I've come to expect from the first Boomerang's pie I ever tasted. (Yes, the steak and potato one from two minutes ago.) While it might turn out a little chewier in the microwave, this pastry somehow still maintains its flakiness despite a standard nuking.

Boomerang's Spinach & Mushroom Pot Pie is creamy and cheesy thanks to the addition of smooth and mildly spicy Monterey Jack. But while I expected a filling that would also totally work as a tortilla chip dip (Spinach, mushroom, and cheese? The world is your oyster), the flavor here is a little one-note. And it can't decide which note it's trying to be.

Chopped mushrooms and spinach dot the savory filling, along with red bell peppers and a satisfying amount of Jack cheese. Maybe a more dimensional seasoning from this flavor-savvy brand would have people coming back to this one over and over again.

We're going out with a "Bang-quet," people. And the Banquet Sausage & Gravy Deep Dish Pot Pie comprises zero of the things it seems it should.

First off, you have to agree to disagree on what qualifies as "deep dish." Um, more than an inch high? Well, not if you're Banquet. Yet again, you'll find a devastating filling that seems like slightly thickened cream "gravy" with zero substance. Ahoy! This one features tiny little crumbles of sausage seasoned exactly like you remember a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit to taste.

For this to stay on the shelves, there would have to be an adjustment on the sausage to gravy ratio. Like, there should be 4,000% more sausage. At 420 cals per pot pie, this is trying to be a meal, right?

Honestly, I got a little queasy just looking at this one after taking a few bites for the team. Blerf. The charred crust provides the perfectly tragic frame for a sad little pot pie that never really had a chance.