Curry Chicken Salad Sandwiches

March approaches, and the five-year anniversary of this journal is weeks away. Five years of standing in a kitchen and writing about the life that happens between meals. The writing has been consistent even when the life has not — the journal filled page by page, week by week, the way the kitchen fills meal by meal, the accumulation of small acts that, stacked together, become a body of work. The body of work is not the cookbook. The cookbook is still forming, still gestating, still the unborn thing that I carry and cannot yet deliver. But the journal is the body of work that will birth the cookbook, and the carrying is the labor, and the labor has been five years long.

Carrie is considering a double major — English and Japanese. The consideration is not casual; it is Carrie being Carrie, adding ambition to ambition, stacking goals the way a librarian stacks books: methodically, with the understanding that the stack will be heavy but that the heaviness is the value. I support the double major. I support anything that takes Carrie closer to the life she has been designing since she was fifteen and that she is now, at nineteen, building with the hands of a woman who considers her own blueprint trustworthy.

Robert has been growing things — not just the garden but a small greenhouse he built in the backyard, using the skills he developed in the workshop and the patience he developed in twenty-seven years of law. The greenhouse is glass and cedar and contains tomatoes that do not know it is February because the greenhouse does not tell them. The tomatoes think it is June. The thinking is the growing. And the growing is Robert's post-retirement contribution to the kitchen: tomatoes in February, which is a miracle and also just gardening.

I made a tomato sandwich — in February, with Robert's greenhouse tomatoes, Duke's mayonnaise, soft bread. The sandwich was impossible and actual. The impossible was the February. The actual was the taste — the taste of June in February, the taste of the greenhouse and the patience and the marriage and the life.

The tomato sandwich Robert’s greenhouse made possible reminded me that a sandwich is its own argument — that bread and filling and a little faith in your ingredients can be as complete as anything that comes out of a Dutch oven. So I’ve been returning to sandwiches lately, giving them the attention they deserve. This curry chicken salad is one I’ve made a dozen times, and it carries the same quiet logic as that February tomato sandwich: a handful of good things, stacked with intention, that become something greater than the sum of their parts.

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

Ingredients

1 1/2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken breasts (about 2 large)
1/2 cup mayonnaise (Duke’s preferred)
1 1/2 teaspoons curry powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for poaching
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
2 stalks celery, finely chopped
3 green onions, thinly sliced
1/3 cup golden raisins
1/4 cup sliced almonds, toasted
8 slices soft sandwich bread or 4 croissants, split
Butter lettuce leaves, for serving

Instructions

Poach the chicken. Place chicken breasts in a medium saucepan and cover with cold water by one inch. Add a generous pinch of salt. Bring to a gentle simmer over medium heat, then reduce heat to low, cover, and cook until chicken is just cooked through, about 15–18 minutes. Transfer to a cutting board and let rest 5 minutes.
Shred and cool. Using two forks, shred the chicken into bite-sized pieces. Spread on the cutting board and allow to cool to room temperature, about 10 minutes. Do not skip the cooling — warm chicken will break down the mayonnaise.
Make the dressing. In a large bowl, whisk together the mayonnaise, curry powder, salt, pepper, and garlic powder until smooth and evenly combined.
Combine. Add the shredded chicken, celery, green onions, and golden raisins to the bowl. Fold gently until everything is evenly coated. Taste and adjust salt or curry powder as needed.
Finish with almonds. Fold in the toasted sliced almonds just before serving so they hold their crunch.
Assemble the sandwiches. Line each bread slice or croissant bottom with a leaf or two of butter lettuce. Pile on a generous scoop of the curry chicken salad. Close the sandwich, press lightly, and serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Curry Chicken Salad Sandwiches — When the Simplest Thing Between Bread Becomes the Whole Point