Recipe - Mittie-s Tea Room Chicken Salad

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.

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.

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.

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

In a medium bowl, combine mayonnaise, drained relish, minced onion, sugar, celery salt, almond extract, and white pepper. Mash the hard-boiled egg yolks into this mixture with a fork until smooth and pale yellow. Set aside.

Where many Southern chicken salads rely on sweet pickle relish (and often go overboard), Mittie’s used a finely minced sweet pickle—but just enough. The sweetness was a whisper, not a shout. It played against a subtle tang from the mayonnaise base, which was always a high-quality brand (likely Duke’s, the undisputed queen of Southern mayo).

Here’s where things get interesting. Many longtime patrons swear that Mittie’s chicken salad contained a whisper of almond extract. Not enough to taste as “almond,” but enough to elevate the chicken’s natural flavor. Others insist it was a tiny amount of finely ground blanched almonds folded in at the end. Either way, that nutty, floral undertone was the key. Mittie herself was known for her starched aprons,

In the pantheon of Southern comfort food, certain dishes transcend mere sustenance to become cultural touchstones. The pimiento cheese sandwich at the Masters Tournament. The congealed salad at a Delta bridal luncheon. And, for those who ever had the privilege of pulling up a lace-draped chair at Mittie’s Tea Room in Louisville, Kentucky, the chicken salad.

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.

Celery is standard, but Mittie’s minced it almost to a brunoise—tiny, uniform cubes. This gave a delicate crunch without the aggressive, vegetal bite that can overwhelm. Some former employees have hinted that the celery was briefly soaked in ice water to crisp it further before mincing. Add the creamy yolk-mayo mixture

By the 1950s, the line stretched out the door. Men began sneaking in for lunch, though the décor remained unapologetically feminine. Mittie’s became a rite of passage—a place for bridal showers, birthday luncheons, and mother-daughter outings. And through it all, the chicken salad recipe remained a closely guarded secret.

While chicken poaches, hard-boil your eggs (12 minutes in boiling water, then an ice bath). Peel and separate yolks from whites.