Chicken Recipes

Chicken Kiev with Boiled Potatoes & Spring Greens

No frills here, just one of the great chicken dishes, executed to perfection and ready to delight you and your family. I sometimes find myself daydreaming about that pool of garlicky butter. My chicken Kiev recipe is a nostalgic throwback to the days when dinner – or tea, depending on which part of the country you’re from – was served promptly at 5.30pm, allowing you to enjoy back-to-back episodes of Home and Away and Neighbours. Those were good times, and in our household, they often featured chicken Kievs. When it came to what to serve with chicken Kiev, the answer was most likely boiled potatoes and cabbage (or sometimes frozen peas). Although never homemade, I remember chicken Kiev as being exceptionally delicious. In fact, writing this has made me realise that it is a fairly significant food memory for me. It’s a meal that comes very close to being pitch-perfect. Breaded and fried meat is always a joy, with that pool of salty, garlicky butter serving as an impromptu dressing for the potatoes and vegetables.

Serves: 2

Prep time: 1 hour 30 minutes

Cook time: 25 minutes

Ingredients

*a piping bag is required

Method

Preparing the Chicken

  1. Remove the supremes from their packaging and pat them dry. Starting from the bottom of the breast, peel off the skin. It should come away easily until you reach the wing, where you will need to pull a bit more firmly to remove the skin over the wing tip.
  2. Once the skin is removed, you can French trim the wing bone. Run a sharp knife around the base of the wing, close to where it attaches to the breast. Place your knife in the incision against the bone and scrape the flesh away from the bone, pushing towards the tip of the wing bone. Keep scraping until the bone is clean. Save the skin and flesh for your pet or your next stock.
  3. Spread the breasts flat and using a sharp, thin-bladed knife, insert the blade about three-quarters of the way into the breast from the top. The goal is to create a cavity within the breast without puncturing it, as any holes could result in the butter leaking during cooking. Proceed with care, delicately guiding the blade inside the breast to prevent piercing it.
  4. Once the knife is in, turn the blade to the left and run it around the breast to open up the cavity. Then re-centre the knife, turn the blade to the right, and repeat. You will now have a large cavity in the breasts, ready to be filled.

Making the Butter

  1. Place the butter, parsley, garlic, Parmesan, and lemon zest into a food processor with a pinch of salt, and blitz until fully combined. Alternatively, place all the ingredients in a bowl and beat together by hand. Check for seasoning and adjust as necessary.
  2. Scoop the soft butter into a piping bag and push it to the bottom, trying to remove any air pockets. Tie the piping bag at the top, then cut the tip so you have a hole about half a centimetre wide.
  3. Insert the tip of the bag into the cavity of the breast and squeeze in half of the butter. The breast will bulge. Repeat with the other breast. Place the breasts in the fridge for an hour to allow the butter to set.

Crumbing the Breasts

  1. Place the flour in a container and season well with fine salt. Crack the eggs into another container, add a splash of water, and whisk well. Prepare a third container with the breadcrumbs.
  2. Hold the supreme by the wing (as this doesn’t need crumbing) and coat generously with flour, ensuring all the flesh is well floured. Tap to remove any excess.
  3. Dip the supreme in the egg mixture, again making sure it is well coated. Allow the excess egg mixture to run off the chicken, then dip it into the breadcrumbs, ensuring it is very well coated all over.
  4. To ensure the butter doesn’t leak from the cavity, re-dip the area around the hole of the cavity in the egg mixture and again in the breadcrumbs. This should provide a little extra protection.
  5. Repeat with the second breast.

Cooking the Breasts

  1. Preheat your oven to 180°C and preheat your fryer, or vegetable oil in a large pan, to 180°C.
  2. Place the potatoes in a separate pan, cover with cold water, and season well with salt. Bring to a simmer and cook for 15-minutes, or until cooked. Drain in a colander, then return to the pan with a knob of butter, a pinch of salt, and a couple of grinds of black pepper.
  3. Carefully add the supremes to the hot oil and cook for 4-5 minutes, until the breadcrumbs are golden. Transfer to an ovenproof tray and place in the oven for 8-10 minutes. Remove from the oven and leave to rest for 5-minutes.
  4. Meanwhile, blanch the spring greens in boiling salted water for 3-minutes. Drain in a colander, then return to the pan with a knob of butter, a pinch of salt, and a couple of grinds of black pepper. Serve and enjoy.

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Instagram

  • We are reaching the end of our wild garlic sausages, as the season begins to slip away and only the deeper, shaded pockets of woodland still offer the tender leaves we rely on.

It is from these cooler, quieter areas that we are still able to gather what we need, though even here the plants are beginning to turn, and once the flowers arrive, the flavour shifts and our time with wild garlic comes to a close for another year.

As ever, we follow the season rather than stretch it, working with what is left while it is still at its best, which means if you have been enjoying them, or have been meaning to try them, now is the time to cook them or put a few aside for later.

Before long, they will be gone, and we will wait for spring to bring them back again.
  • A while back we had the pleasure of visiting @petea25 at the @cantonarms Arms, where we spoke about their ever evolving menu, a place that is not afraid to cook things until they are gone and then move on to something new.

We saw how they treated the Swaledale pork chop, and it told you everything you needed to know. Cooked with care, handled properly, and full of flavour.

It was, simply, delicious.
  • Here’s our Trevor, stood in front of an expertly butchered sirloin section.

Porterhouse, T bone, Wing rib, New York strip, fillet, sirloin.

All cut from the same part of the animal, each one offering something slightly different.

Key question is; which one are you taking?
  • The Dales never hurry themselves into spring, and this year is no different. You can drive through them and still feel winter holding on, yet something has shifted all the same.

It begins quietly. Hawthorn shows along the hedgerows, just enough to catch the eye. The grass is lifting, the fields softening, losing that tired, flattened look they carry through the colder months.

Out on the land, the change is clearer. Lambs are scattered across the fields, finding their feet, while cattle have been turned back out and settle easily into the pasture. There is a rhythm to it again, a sense that the farms are beginning to move.

Nothing arrives all at once. It comes on steadily, almost cautiously, as the land turns back to life.
  • The fallacy of Spring lamb!

When we eat lamb in early April, we aren’t eating the lovely little fluffy things people see hopping about in the fields. In fact, you’re actually eating – or at least you are if you are buying from us – old season lamb. The animals that were born the previous springtime. They are age wise, on the verge of morphing into hogget and, in our opinion, it is lamb at its very best. More flavourful as the meat has developed with age, but still with the tenderness one expects with lamb. 
One thing that is not in doubt is that it pairs perfectly with a lot of the seasonal ingredients of this time of year, the peas, broad beans and courgettes from the continent, plus Jersey royals, asparagus and wild garlic from these shores. 
We have plenty of these wonderful carcasses ageing in our fridges, so embrace the idea of eating last years spring lamb!
  • A classic of French cooking, built on combinations that have stood their ground for good reason, and long may they do so.

Chicken breast roasted in brown butter, creamy mash worked with plenty of butter and dairy, and a mustard sauce brought together with cream. It reads rich, but it eats with balance. The Dijon and tarragon cut through, lifting the dish and keeping it in check.
  • A classic of French cooking, built on combinations that have stood their ground for good reason, and long may they do so.

Chicken breast roasted in brown butter, creamy mash worked with plenty of butter and dairy, and a mustard sauce brought together with cream. It reads rich, but it eats with balance. The Dijon and tarragon cut through, lifting the dish and keeping it in check.

This is food that does not chase anything. It knows exactly what it is.
  • Filmed on a blustery day at the Harewood House estate, Ellen talks us through the Highland cattle and the wider farming approach shaping the land here.

These short films look at how the estate is guiding the land back towards what it once was, using the right livestock for the right terrain and allowing systems to work with the landscape rather than against it. Hardy cattle, able to outwinter on pasture alone, reduce the need for inputs and bring a different kind of balance to the farm.

For chefs, this is where the story begins. The flavour comes later, but it is built here, in the fields, through decisions made over time rather than in a single season.

It is a strong example of thoughtful farming, where lower inputs and careful management can support both the land and a sustainable margin, all driven by a clear intention to make the estate work for nature as much as it does for people.
We are reaching the end of our wild garlic sausages, as the season begins to slip away and only the deeper, shaded pockets of woodland still offer the tender leaves we rely on.

It is from these cooler, quieter areas that we are still able to gather what we need, though even here the plants are beginning to turn, and once the flowers arrive, the flavour shifts and our time with wild garlic comes to a close for another year.

As ever, we follow the season rather than stretch it, working with what is left while it is still at its best, which means if you have been enjoying them, or have been meaning to try them, now is the time to cook them or put a few aside for later.

Before long, they will be gone, and we will wait for spring to bring them back again.
We are reaching the end of our wild garlic sausages, as the season begins to slip away and only the deeper, shaded pockets of woodland still offer the tender leaves we rely on.

It is from these cooler, quieter areas that we are still able to gather what we need, though even here the plants are beginning to turn, and once the flowers arrive, the flavour shifts and our time with wild garlic comes to a close for another year.

As ever, we follow the season rather than stretch it, working with what is left while it is still at its best, which means if you have been enjoying them, or have been meaning to try them, now is the time to cook them or put a few aside for later.

Before long, they will be gone, and we will wait for spring to bring them back again.
We are reaching the end of our wild garlic sausages, as the season begins to slip away and only the deeper, shaded pockets of woodland still offer the tender leaves we rely on.

It is from these cooler, quieter areas that we are still able to gather what we need, though even here the plants are beginning to turn, and once the flowers arrive, the flavour shifts and our time with wild garlic comes to a close for another year.

As ever, we follow the season rather than stretch it, working with what is left while it is still at its best, which means if you have been enjoying them, or have been meaning to try them, now is the time to cook them or put a few aside for later.

Before long, they will be gone, and we will wait for spring to bring them back again.
We are reaching the end of our wild garlic sausages, as the season begins to slip away and only the deeper, shaded pockets of woodland still offer the tender leaves we rely on. It is from these cooler, quieter areas that we are still able to gather what we need, though even here the plants are beginning to turn, and once the flowers arrive, the flavour shifts and our time with wild garlic comes to a close for another year. As ever, we follow the season rather than stretch it, working with what is left while it is still at its best, which means if you have been enjoying them, or have been meaning to try them, now is the time to cook them or put a few aside for later. Before long, they will be gone, and we will wait for spring to bring them back again.
5 days ago
641
View on Instagram |
1/8
A while back we had the pleasure of visiting @petea25 at the @cantonarms Arms, where we spoke about their ever evolving menu, a place that is not afraid to cook things until they are gone and then move on to something new. We saw how they treated the Swaledale pork chop, and it told you everything you needed to know. Cooked with care, handled properly, and full of flavour. It was, simply, delicious.
1 week ago
3539
View on Instagram |
2/8
Here’s our Trevor, stood in front of an expertly butchered sirloin section.

Porterhouse, T bone, Wing rib, New York strip, fillet, sirloin.

All cut from the same part of the animal, each one offering something slightly different.

Key question is; which one are you taking?
Here’s our Trevor, stood in front of an expertly butchered sirloin section. Porterhouse, T bone, Wing rib, New York strip, fillet, sirloin. All cut from the same part of the animal, each one offering something slightly different. Key question is; which one are you taking?
1 week ago
571
View on Instagram |
3/8
The Dales never hurry themselves into spring, and this year is no different. You can drive through them and still feel winter holding on, yet something has shifted all the same.

It begins quietly. Hawthorn shows along the hedgerows, just enough to catch the eye. The grass is lifting, the fields softening, losing that tired, flattened look they carry through the colder months.

Out on the land, the change is clearer. Lambs are scattered across the fields, finding their feet, while cattle have been turned back out and settle easily into the pasture. There is a rhythm to it again, a sense that the farms are beginning to move.

Nothing arrives all at once. It comes on steadily, almost cautiously, as the land turns back to life.
The Dales never hurry themselves into spring, and this year is no different. You can drive through them and still feel winter holding on, yet something has shifted all the same.

It begins quietly. Hawthorn shows along the hedgerows, just enough to catch the eye. The grass is lifting, the fields softening, losing that tired, flattened look they carry through the colder months.

Out on the land, the change is clearer. Lambs are scattered across the fields, finding their feet, while cattle have been turned back out and settle easily into the pasture. There is a rhythm to it again, a sense that the farms are beginning to move.

Nothing arrives all at once. It comes on steadily, almost cautiously, as the land turns back to life.
The Dales never hurry themselves into spring, and this year is no different. You can drive through them and still feel winter holding on, yet something has shifted all the same.

It begins quietly. Hawthorn shows along the hedgerows, just enough to catch the eye. The grass is lifting, the fields softening, losing that tired, flattened look they carry through the colder months.

Out on the land, the change is clearer. Lambs are scattered across the fields, finding their feet, while cattle have been turned back out and settle easily into the pasture. There is a rhythm to it again, a sense that the farms are beginning to move.

Nothing arrives all at once. It comes on steadily, almost cautiously, as the land turns back to life.
The Dales never hurry themselves into spring, and this year is no different. You can drive through them and still feel winter holding on, yet something has shifted all the same.

It begins quietly. Hawthorn shows along the hedgerows, just enough to catch the eye. The grass is lifting, the fields softening, losing that tired, flattened look they carry through the colder months.

Out on the land, the change is clearer. Lambs are scattered across the fields, finding their feet, while cattle have been turned back out and settle easily into the pasture. There is a rhythm to it again, a sense that the farms are beginning to move.

Nothing arrives all at once. It comes on steadily, almost cautiously, as the land turns back to life.
The Dales never hurry themselves into spring, and this year is no different. You can drive through them and still feel winter holding on, yet something has shifted all the same.

It begins quietly. Hawthorn shows along the hedgerows, just enough to catch the eye. The grass is lifting, the fields softening, losing that tired, flattened look they carry through the colder months.

Out on the land, the change is clearer. Lambs are scattered across the fields, finding their feet, while cattle have been turned back out and settle easily into the pasture. There is a rhythm to it again, a sense that the farms are beginning to move.

Nothing arrives all at once. It comes on steadily, almost cautiously, as the land turns back to life.
The Dales never hurry themselves into spring, and this year is no different. You can drive through them and still feel winter holding on, yet something has shifted all the same. It begins quietly. Hawthorn shows along the hedgerows, just enough to catch the eye. The grass is lifting, the fields softening, losing that tired, flattened look they carry through the colder months. Out on the land, the change is clearer. Lambs are scattered across the fields, finding their feet, while cattle have been turned back out and settle easily into the pasture. There is a rhythm to it again, a sense that the farms are beginning to move. Nothing arrives all at once. It comes on steadily, almost cautiously, as the land turns back to life.
2 weeks ago
481
View on Instagram |
4/8
The fallacy of Spring lamb! When we eat lamb in early April, we aren’t eating the lovely little fluffy things people see hopping about in the fields. In fact, you’re actually eating – or at least you are if you are buying from us – old season lamb. The animals that were born the previous springtime. They are age wise, on the verge of morphing into hogget and, in our opinion, it is lamb at its very best. More flavourful as the meat has developed with age, but still with the tenderness one expects with lamb. One thing that is not in doubt is that it pairs perfectly with a lot of the seasonal ingredients of this time of year, the peas, broad beans and courgettes from the continent, plus Jersey royals, asparagus and wild garlic from these shores. We have plenty of these wonderful carcasses ageing in our fridges, so embrace the idea of eating last years spring lamb!
3 weeks ago
632
View on Instagram |
5/8
A classic of French cooking, built on combinations that have stood their ground for good reason, and long may they do so. Chicken breast roasted in brown butter, creamy mash worked with plenty of butter and dairy, and a mustard sauce brought together with cream. It reads rich, but it eats with balance. The Dijon and tarragon cut through, lifting the dish and keeping it in check.
1 month ago
7
View on Instagram |
6/8
A classic of French cooking, built on combinations that have stood their ground for good reason, and long may they do so. Chicken breast roasted in brown butter, creamy mash worked with plenty of butter and dairy, and a mustard sauce brought together with cream. It reads rich, but it eats with balance. The Dijon and tarragon cut through, lifting the dish and keeping it in check. This is food that does not chase anything. It knows exactly what it is.
1 month ago
535
View on Instagram |
7/8
Filmed on a blustery day at the Harewood House estate, Ellen talks us through the Highland cattle and the wider farming approach shaping the land here. These short films look at how the estate is guiding the land back towards what it once was, using the right livestock for the right terrain and allowing systems to work with the landscape rather than against it. Hardy cattle, able to outwinter on pasture alone, reduce the need for inputs and bring a different kind of balance to the farm. For chefs, this is where the story begins. The flavour comes later, but it is built here, in the fields, through decisions made over time rather than in a single season. It is a strong example of thoughtful farming, where lower inputs and careful management can support both the land and a sustainable margin, all driven by a clear intention to make the estate work for nature as much as it does for people.
1 month ago
64
View on Instagram |
8/8