Mittie-s Tea Room Chicken Salad Recipe ★ Essential & Official

You’ll taste it then—the ghost of Mittie’s. The perfect crunch of celery. The faint, floral almond note. The tender chicken. And for just a moment, a little bit of old Louisville comes back to the table. If you make this recipe, share it with someone who remembers Mittie’s. And if you’re enjoying it for the first time, consider yourself initiated into a quiet Southern tradition—one chicken salad sandwich at a time.

Cover and refrigerate for at least 4 hours, but ideally 24 hours. Mittie’s always made her chicken salad the day before service. The flavors need time to marry, and the almond extract will mellow from “perfume” to “what is that lovely note?” mittie-s tea room chicken salad recipe

When Mittie’s finally closed its doors in the early 2010s (after a long decline and a change in ownership), the city mourned. Dozens of articles appeared in the Courier-Journal and local blogs, all asking the same question: Where can we get the recipe? What made Mittie’s chicken salad so distinctive? Let’s break down the attributes that set it apart from every other deli scoop or church cookbook version. You’ll taste it then—the ghost of Mittie’s

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. The tender chicken

But what made that chicken salad so unforgettable? And, more importantly, how can you bring a taste of Mittie’s back to life in your own kitchen? Mittie’s Tea Room was founded in the 1940s by Mittie S. (whose full name has faded into local legend, though most agree it was Mittie Strother or a similar variant). Located on Bardstown Road in the heart of the Highlands neighborhood, the tea room was a women-led enterprise at a time when that was still a quiet act of defiance.

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.

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.