Mustardy Chicken Schnitzel.
The only thing I ever want to make with chicken breasts.
Finally the paperwork has been signed, and we’re officially (unless something goes very, very wrong) moving out of our little cottage next week, leaving my small (but perfectly formed) custom powder blue kitchen behind.
Whilst my parents fabulously well-equipped kitchen will be my stop-gap, not to put too much pressure on their storage space my mission to empty as much out of my fridge, freezer and cupboards continues apace, and just like my grandmother’s lockshen pudding was the obvious thing to make to use up a surfeit of egg vermicelli, there was only one thing I wanted to make with the last, lone chicken breast.
As regular readers will know, as a professional recipe developer I actually spend more time cooking for American rather than British clients. And the big difference about how we cook chicken? Whilst most British recipe writers use skinless boneless chicken thighs for ubiquitous ‘chicken’ recipes these days (me included: the meat is juicier, has a better flavour and is so much harder to dry out) our American cousins very much still cling to chicken breasts as their cut of choice. So, obviously I have both stashed in the freezer most of the time, breasts for my clients, and thighs for my own recipe development. But there is one glaring exception to this rule: schnitzel.
Butterfly a chicken breast, bash it out to even thickness with the heel of your hand and coat it in breadcrumbs before treating it to a shallow fry, and you’ve got the only thing I want to make with chicken breasts.
So, today as part of my project of re-visiting recipes from my first cookbook Student Eats I’m sharing my go-to method for making chicken schnitzel.
Fundamentally, a schnitzel is a piece of meat, pounded until thin and fried in breadcrumbs typically found in Germanic countries, and even more typically made with veal (though less of a veal eater, J had it with pork when we were in Vienna) - chicken is more commonly found as a variation of the veal-based Milanaise preparation from Milan (which
has done a brilliant piece on very recently with three delicious looking recipes for her paid subscribers).I always call my breaded chicken schnitzel because I add the not very Italian mustard to my egg mix, and because my family hark from that vague direction. In Student Eats I also served it with a fried egg, capers and anchovies draped over the top (a preparation I can commend) inspired by how I used to have it at Boopshi’s in Fitzrovia (the schnitzel and spritz joint that used to occupy the Bao site, before they closed too and people realised it wasn’t a great spot for a restaurant!) which sort of was Italian, but inspired by a Restaurant that served potato salad on the side and called it schnitzel.
I’ve not changed the way I make my schnitzel one bit since I first typed it into my manuscript sometime in 2015, or before that because it was one of my go-to things to make in my parents French kitchen where I’d buy big, thin veal cutlets from Hyper U for the privilege, serving the schnitzel with air fryer French fries and a dressed green salad.
Setting up the breading stations, one bowl would contain an egg, seasoned heavily with salt and pepper, and with the largest dollop with a teaspoon I could manage out of the jar of Maille Dijon mustard in the fridge. That would be whisked until smooth, and I would set about seasoning flour into another bowl, and tipping breadcrumbs into a third. What breadcrumbs I use depends on what I had to hand; in France it would be those strangely golden ‘dried breadcrumbs’ that came in a canister, in my own kitchen whatever was open and nearest from the bags of panko breadcrumbs and Jewish matzo meal.
Key to this breading process is to use different hands for different things to avoid bread-crumbing your fingers! Use one hand to drop the chicken into the flour. Switch to coat the chicken in the flour, then switch back to drop it in the egg. Then return to the flour hand for the breadcrumbing, and I promise this technique will make your life so much easier!
I usually split a large chicken breast between two, but you can easily butterfly one out to make a bigger serving for one. Then, add toppings until your heart is content! Here, I’ve gone for my other favourite when I don’t want to add something as substantial as an egg and anchovies: a tangle of rocket tossed in more fresh lemon juice than you think you need, a glug of your best extra virgin olive oil, and a generous handful of parmesan shavings.
Mustardy Chicken Schnitzel
Serves: 2, Preparation time: 15 minutes, Cooking time: 15 minutes
In 2015 I wrote: Schnitzel, that great Austrian classic. I like mine with a massive hit of salty capers and anchovies on top, plus a fried egg that has a runny, golden-yellow yolk. You can use dried breadcrumbs or shop-bought fresh1. Matzo meal is my favourite here if your local supermarket has a kosher section. For a lighter option you can serve this with a green salad, but I like to keep it rooted firmly as a comfort food dish with a side of Mustard Mash.
I know the internet likes exact measurements for things in recipes, but as I never measure the flour or breadcrumbs for this, I don’t see why you should have to.
1 egg