I don’t know if it’s a sign of reaching a certain age – like a sudden interest in bird feeders (check and tell me about yours), or beekeeping (well, in the TikTok sense, not sorry) and heated conversations about the best pillows (I hate mine) – but I’ve discovered over the last year that I have very strong opinions about chicken salad and the proper way to prepare it, which, naturally, is my way to do. I hope I’m in the right place to release them into the world.
Most of my previous experiences with chicken salad, with the exception of one that briefly charmed me early in my early years in Saskatchewan, are just by coincidence the reason I have trust issues with chicken salad. I want to know who made it and with what vintage of chicken. I need to know their take on curry powder, raisins, grapes and aggressive levels of tarragon. I need to know where they stand on the mayonnaise meter, for example, do they believe it should gently cling to the chicken pieces or should it be a pond for the chicken to splash around in? Essentially, I know that chicken salad is one of those things that’s easy to love when it’s made your way, at home, by you, and it’s okay if not all the things you love are for wider consumption. But I see no reason to let that stop me.
Namely, here are the elements of My perfect chicken salad:
→ More celery than anyone asked for: I really like celery in my chicken salad and I use a lot of it – seriously, it’s like 50% celery, which is to say crunchy, fresh and delicious. I point this out in the title, because I know it’s not for everyone. But if this is for you, I hope you’re halfway through cooking right now.
→ Juicy and flavorful chicken from bone-in and skin-on chicken breasts: “Why not just use boneless, skinless chops? you’re about to ask me and while I agree that it seems more convenient, they’re just never that moist and delicious.
→ Additional Crisps: Plus, if you’re a bit weird like me, you might not find it necessary to waste the skin either. Maybe you could put it back in the oven at 400 degrees with a little extra salt and bake it for 5-10 minutes, until completely crispy, then cut it into strips that you will use to top your sandwich. A bit like nature’s chips.
→ Early seasoning: I season the diced chicken directly, before adding anything else. It’s like integrating the flavor into the foundation. Because Dijon and jarred mayonnaise contain salt, I often find that little or no extra is needed at the end.
→ And finally, chopped green onions, for an onion that’s not too oniony. Herbs? You can, but I don’t.
And while you can eat it however you want, I’m sure you’re not surprised that I have specific preferences here too. I like to toast still-jointed buns in a small amount of butter in a skillet before layering them with a piece of crisp lettuce, a scoop of chicken salad, and then whatever toppings your heart desires, from thinly sliced pickles to pickled red onions, or those aforementioned crispy pieces of chicken skin that I know you still think about or still horrify you, depending on your orientation. [A 65-word sentence? AI could never.] To attract kids, I often present each of these options in bowls so everyone can make their own sandwich. Fluffy — not flat — potato chips are also non-negotiable on chicken salad nights, which have become a monthly dish, a favorite dinner on days when we all have different dinner schedules.
