Tarragon Chicken Salad

Memorial Day weekend and the summer stretches ahead like a bayou — long, slow, full of possibility and mosquitoes. I did a whole chicken on the pit, smoked over pecan wood, and sat in a lawn chair and watched it cook the way some men watch television: with total, unblinking commitment. Smoking a chicken takes four hours. Four hours of adjusting vents, adding wood, checking temperature, and doing absolutely nothing productive except making something delicious. It's meditation for people who can't sit still. It's church for people who believe in smoke instead of incense.

Danielle took the kids to the pool on Saturday while I smoked. The Baton Rouge city pool — crowded, loud, chlorinated to within an inch of its chemical life. Rémy can swim now, mostly, in the way that five-year-olds swim: frantic paddling, occasional sinking, enormous confidence. Colette swims like a fish — long, smooth strokes, comfortable in the water. Luc sits on the edge and reads, which drives Danielle crazy because "we came to SWIM, Luc," but Luc is at the age where being seen at the pool by kids from school is either the best thing or the worst thing, depending on who's there and whether his hair looks right, and I remember being that age and I don't push him.

Made a smoked chicken salad from the leftover bird — pulled the meat, mixed it with mayo, Dijon, celery, green onion, salt, pepper. The smoke flavor carries through, turns a regular chicken salad into something with depth, something that makes you pause mid-bite and think, "What is that?" It's the pit, cher. It's four hours of pecan wood smoke in every shred of meat. Served on French bread with tomato and lettuce. Rémy ate his without the bread, without the lettuce, without the tomato. Just the chicken salad. In his hands. Like a raccoon. Danielle sighed. I handed him a napkin that he did not use.

Pierre called, which is unusual — Pierre doesn't call, Pierre shows up. He said the porch at the cottage needs work again. Two more boards rotting. He's going to fix them next weekend and wants me to come check the wiring in the attic while I'm there. "The light flickers," he said. That was the whole call. Fourteen words. I said, "I'll be there Saturday." Seven words. Total conversation: twenty-one words. Beaumont men, cher. We get it done in under a paragraph.

That smoked chicken salad I threw together — pulled meat, mayo, Dijon, celery, green onion — it deserved a proper recipe, something worth writing down for the next time the pit does its work and you’ve got half a bird left over. This tarragon chicken salad takes that same spirit and gives it a little French elegance, which feels right for a Baton Rouge kitchen on a slow summer afternoon. Rémy will still eat it like a raccoon, but at least now there’s a recipe to point to.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 15 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

3 cups cooked chicken, pulled or roughly chopped (smoked chicken works beautifully)
1/3 cup mayonnaise
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon fresh tarragon, chopped (or 1 teaspoon dried)
2 stalks celery, finely diced
3 green onions, thinly sliced
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
French bread, toasted, for serving
Sliced tomato and butter lettuce, for serving

Instructions

Pull the chicken. If starting from a whole smoked or roasted bird, remove the skin and pull all the meat into rough shreds, discarding any bones. Chop larger pieces so nothing is bigger than a bite.
Mix the dressing. In a large bowl, whisk together the mayonnaise, Dijon mustard, lemon juice, salt, and pepper until smooth and combined.
Combine. Add the chicken, celery, green onion, and tarragon to the bowl. Fold everything together gently until the chicken is evenly coated. Taste and adjust salt, pepper, or lemon juice as needed.
Rest (optional but worth it). Cover and refrigerate for at least 20 minutes to let the tarragon bloom and the flavors settle. If you’re hungry right now, it’s still good straight from the bowl.
Serve. Spoon generously onto sliced French bread. Top with butter lettuce and a thick slice of tomato. Serve open-faced or closed, with or without bread if you’re five years old and prefer to eat directly from your hands.

Nutrition (per serving)

Tarragon Chicken Salad — What Four Hours of Pecan Smoke Does to a Simple Sandwich