Chopped Greek Chicken Salad with Pita Croutons and Tzatziki Dressing

The heat this week has been the kind that makes the air visible — shimmering over the asphalt, heavy with humidity, the kind of heat that turns a trip to the mailbox into an expedition. I have been in the kitchen anyway, because the kitchen does not close for weather. I adapted. Cold soups. Room temperature salads. Iced tea made with Marvin's mint from the garden, which grows with the aggression of a plant that knows it is needed.

I made tabbouleh this week. This is not Ashkenazi, not remotely — it is Lebanese, Mediterranean, the kind of food Miriam eats in Tel Aviv and sends me recipes for with the smug frequency of a sister who lives somewhere with better produce. But I made it because the parsley was beautiful at the farmers' market, and because cooking is not about purity, it is about curiosity, and because Sylvia, for all her devotion to the Ashkenazi canon, kept a bottle of olive oil in her cupboard that she used when she thought no one was looking. Even the Grand Concourse had its cosmopolitan secrets.

Miriam and I had our Friday call. She told me about Avi's garden in Tel Aviv, which produces herbs with the enthusiasm of a man who retired from engineering and needed something to manage. I told her about Marvin's tomatoes. We compared notes on our husbands' gardens the way we used to compare notes on our husbands' hairlines — with affection and mild alarm. Miriam said, "We married men who garden. Mama would have said we married well." She is right. Sylvia measured a man by his usefulness, and a man who grows things is useful. Irving never gardened. He was too busy pressing coats and reading the newspaper. But he grew two daughters, and Sylvia considered that sufficient agriculture.

I have been thinking about writing a post about Middle Eastern food — about how Ashkenazi and Sephardic and Mizrahi cooking are all Jewish but different, the way siblings are the same family but different people. Miriam's kitchen in Tel Aviv is full of spices I didn't grow up with — za'atar, sumac, baharat — and her cooking has evolved into something that is both Israeli and Bronx, both Mediterranean and Grand Concourse. She makes brisket with pomegranate molasses. Sylvia would have had opinions. I have opinions. But the brisket is good, which trumps opinions every time.

The heat continues. Marvin sleeps with the fan on and I sleep with the window open and we negotiate the temperature of the bedroom the way the UN negotiates treaties — with persistence, compromise, and the understanding that neither party is fully satisfied but both can live with the result.

The tabbouleh I made this week opened a door I didn’t want to close — once you’ve let the Mediterranean into your kitchen, it has a way of staying. This chopped Greek chicken salad is the natural next step: the same bright, herb-forward spirit as tabbouleh, but with the heft of grilled chicken and the cool tang of tzatziki that Miriam would absolutely approve of. It asks nothing of the oven, offends the heat not at all, and carries exactly the kind of cosmopolitan confidence Sylvia exercised quietly with that bottle of olive oil she thought no one noticed.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

For the chicken:
1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
Salt and black pepper to taste
For the pita croutons:
2 pita rounds, cut into 1-inch pieces
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/4 teaspoon dried oregano
Pinch of salt
For the salad:
1 large romaine heart, chopped
1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
1 English cucumber, diced
1/2 red onion, thinly sliced
1/2 cup Kalamata olives, pitted and halved
1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese
1/4 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
For the tzatziki dressing:
3/4 cup plain Greek yogurt
1 small cucumber, grated and squeezed dry
1 clove garlic, minced
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon fresh dill, chopped (or 1 teaspoon dried)
Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions

Make the tzatziki dressing. Combine the Greek yogurt, grated cucumber, garlic, lemon juice, olive oil, and dill in a bowl. Season with salt and pepper, stir well, and refrigerate until ready to serve.
Cook the chicken. Coat chicken breasts with olive oil, oregano, garlic powder, salt, and pepper. Grill or cook in a skillet over medium-high heat for 6—7 minutes per side, until cooked through and internal temperature reaches 165°F. Let rest 5 minutes, then chop into bite-sized pieces.
Make the pita croutons. Toss pita pieces with olive oil, oregano, and a pinch of salt. Spread on a baking sheet and bake at 400°F for 8—10 minutes, or toast in a dry skillet over medium heat, turning occasionally, until golden and crisp. Set aside to cool.
Assemble the salad. In a large bowl or on a platter, combine the romaine, cherry tomatoes, cucumber, red onion, olives, feta, and parsley. Top with the chopped chicken and pita croutons.
Dress and serve. Drizzle generously with tzatziki dressing just before serving, or serve the dressing alongside for individual portions. Toss lightly and serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chopped Greek Chicken Salad with Pita Croutons and Tzatziki Dressing — When the Parsley Is Beautiful and Curiosity Wins