Mittie-s Tea Room Chicken Salad Recipe -

Mittie herself was known for her starched aprons, her warm but no-nonsense demeanor, and her unerring palate. The tea room originally served light lunches and afternoon tea to ladies who “shopped downtown.” But word quickly spread: the chicken salad was something special.

Celery is standard, but Mittie’s minced it almost to a brunoise—tiny, uniform cubes. This gave a delicate crunch without the aggressive, vegetal bite that can overwhelm. Some former employees have hinted that the celery was briefly soaked in ice water to crisp it further before mincing.

Remove chicken from poaching liquid (discard liquid or save for soup). Pat dry. Cut into ¼-inch to ½-inch cubes—no larger, no smaller. Finely chop the hard-boiled egg whites. mittie-s tea room chicken salad recipe

For nearly seven decades, Mittie’s was more than a restaurant. It was a gentle institution—a hushed sanctuary of floral wallpaper, silver teapots, and the quiet clink of spoons on china. And at the heart of its menu was a chicken salad so ethereal, so perfectly balanced, that former patrons still speak of it in reverent whispers, long after the tea room’s final service.

By the 1950s, the line stretched out the door. Men began sneaking in for lunch, though the décor remained unapologetically feminine. Mittie’s became a rite of passage—a place for bridal showers, birthday luncheons, and mother-daughter outings. And through it all, the chicken salad recipe remained a closely guarded secret. Mittie herself was known for her starched aprons,

In a large bowl, combine the cubed chicken, minced celery, chopped egg whites, and almonds (if using). Add the creamy yolk-mayo mixture. Fold together with a rubber spatula using a gentle “cut and fold” motion—do not overmix. You want distinct pieces, not a mash.

In a medium bowl, combine mayonnaise, drained relish, minced onion, sugar, celery salt, almond extract, and white pepper. Mash the hard-boiled egg yolks into this mixture with a fork until smooth and pale yellow. Set aside. This gave a delicate crunch without the aggressive,

Most chicken salads are either too dry or tragically over-sauced. Mittie’s achieved a perfect, moist cohesion without becoming a paste. The chicken was hand-pulled or cut into small, uniform chunks—never shredded into oblivion. This allowed each bite to retain the integrity of the poultry.

And perhaps that’s fitting. Part of Mittie’s magic was the sense that you were eating something secret, something just beyond replication. A bite of that chicken salad tasted like slow afternoons, linen napkins, and a gentler pace of life. While you may never sit in that floral-wallpapered room on Bardstown Road again, you can resurrect its spirit. Serve this chicken salad at a spring bridal shower. Pack it for a picnic with a thermos of iced tea. Or simply make it on a quiet Wednesday, plate it on your grandmother’s china, and take a moment.