Panko Chicken Tenders

Chicken bog. The one-pot meal. The comfort dish. The thing I make when I'm thinking or grieving or celebrating or just alive and hungry. I taught it this week, and the class loved it because chicken bog is impossible not to love — it's rice and chicken and sausage cooked together until they're inseparable, and the broth infuses every grain, and the kitchen smells like someone cares about you even when you're not sure anyone does.

I told the class about Mondays. About how chicken bog is my Monday food. About how every Monday since I can remember, the Lowcountry cooks red beans and rice or chicken bog or something one-pot because Monday is the day you need food that holds you together. The weekday cooking is different from the weekend cooking — weekday is practical, nourishing, efficient. Weekend is celebration. Both are love. They're just different dialects.

The cooking class has two weeks left. Okra soup (Pearl's recipe) next week, then the final class: a potluck. Each student brings a dish they've perfected over the eight weeks. Thomas told me he's bringing cobbler — his cobbler, the one with the nutmeg. I said, "Whose cobbler recipe?" He said, "Mine." I smiled so wide my face hurt. His. Not mine. Not Mama's. His. The student has graduated.

At home, the garden is growing. The Sapelo peppers are coming in early this year — the plants are aggressive, established, in their fourth generation of Savannah soil. Pearl's peppers have found their footing. They belong here now. Same as me. Same as the food. Same as the tradition that started on an island and landed in a shotgun house and traveled to a school cafeteria and ended up in a book on a shelf. The food moves. The food always moves.

Now go on and feed somebody.

Chicken bog is the dish I made this week, and it will always be the dish I reach for when the season is changing — but not everyone has the time or the pantry for a long simmer on a school night, and Lord knows my students don’t. So when folks ask me what to make when they want that same sense of care without the hour of watching the pot, I send them to these panko chicken tenders: crispy, honest, unfussy, and the kind of thing that makes a kitchen smell like someone thought about you. Thomas is graduating, the peppers are coming in, the food is moving — and this is a recipe that moves with you.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs chicken breast tenders (or breasts cut into strips)
1 1/2 cups panko breadcrumbs
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
2 large eggs
2 tablespoons whole milk
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2 tablespoons olive oil or neutral oil, for pan or drizzle
Dipping sauce of choice, for serving

Instructions

Preheat & prep. Preheat your oven to 425°F. Line a large baking sheet with a wire rack set over foil, or lightly grease the sheet with oil.
Set up your dredging stations. Place flour in a shallow bowl. In a second bowl, whisk together the eggs and milk. In a third bowl, combine panko, garlic powder, smoked paprika, onion powder, salt, and pepper and stir to mix evenly.
Dredge the chicken. Working one piece at a time, coat each tender in flour and shake off any excess, then dip in the egg wash, then press firmly into the panko mixture on both sides until fully coated.
Arrange on the pan. Place coated tenders in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet. Drizzle or lightly brush the tops with oil to help the crust brown and crisp.
Bake until golden. Bake for 18–22 minutes, flipping once halfway through, until the crust is deep golden and the internal temperature of the chicken reaches 165°F.
Rest and serve. Let the tenders rest for 2–3 minutes before serving. Plate alongside your preferred dipping sauce — honey mustard, ranch, or a hot sauce of your choosing.

Nutrition (per serving)

Panko Chicken Tenders — The Comfort of Simple Things, Passed Down