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.
Most chicken salads are either too dry or tragically over-sauced. Mittie’s achieved a perfect, moist cohesion without becoming a paste. The chicken was hand-pulled or cut into small, uniform chunks—never shredded into oblivion. This allowed each bite to retain the integrity of the poultry.
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.
Remove chicken from poaching liquid (discard liquid or save for soup). Pat dry. Cut into ¼-inch to ½-inch cubes—no larger, no smaller. Finely chop the hard-boiled egg whites. mittie-s tea room chicken salad recipe
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?”
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.
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. Here’s where things get interesting
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.
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.
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). Others insist it was a tiny amount of
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.
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.