If taking cubes of chicken and other things chosen for their ability to hold up in a deli case and suspending them in a thick dressing of mayo and seasonings is the winter coat of chicken salad, this is the cardigan, which is to say, I hope everyone is as happy to see it as I am. I live for cardigan weather.
While I don’t have any tremendous gripe with traditional chicken salad (yes, even with mayo; I save my contempt for curry powder and raisins), I have forever had little love or tolerance for white meat. The archives here are thick with my referring to breast cutlets as pressed sawdust and worse; it could never be argued that I don’t know how to form an opinion. Thus, it surprises nobody more than me that I want to eat these everyday for the rest of my life, or at least the next month, and all it took was shifting the way we usually emphasize ingredients.
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