Chicken Brussels Sprouts Salad, My Way (Don’t Judge Me!)

Alright, let me just come out and say it: I never used to like Brussels sprouts. Childhood trauma, you know? Over-boiled, limp, the smell lingering… nope. But then, one random Tuesday when I had leftover rotisserie chicken and a bag of Brussels staring at me from the fridge—I thought, why not make a salad and roast the sprouts? Yes, it was a ‘use-it-up-or-toss-it’ situation. And honestly, this Chicken Brussels Sprouts Salad is now a top-three weeknight supper in our place, sometimes even sneaking into lunch the next day (if there IS any left. Spoiler: usually not).

Why You’ll Love This Weirdly Good Salad

I make this when I’m craving something that feels healthy but secretly delivers all the comfort-food feels. My family goes a bit bonkers for this because—apparently—the crispy roasted Brussels and chicken bits always disappear first, even before the salad’s actually on the table. Never fails. Maybe it’s the tangy honey mustard dressing (which my cousin once tried on pizza… regrets were had), or maybe just nostalgia for weeknights when dinner smells so inviting, the dog starts hovering. And when I’m just not in the mood to fuss? This is a one-pan wonder. Only downside: if you expect perfect leafy greens, well, brace yourself—this is not that salad!

Stuff You’ll Need (And A Few Workarounds)

2 cups cooked chicken, shredded or chopped (leftover roast chicken, rotisserie, or in a pinch, pan-seared thighs—my grandmother would’ve insisted on home-roasted, but let’s be real here)
400g (about 14oz) Brussels sprouts, ends trimmed and halved (I sometimes swap for shredded kale when Brussels are weirdly pricey or MIA at the store)
1 granny smith apple, thinly sliced (or, any crisp apple; once used a pear, nobody noticed… except my son, who declared it “quirky”)
1/2 small red onion, very thinly sliced (or shallots if you want milder vibes)
1/3 cup toasted pecans, roughly chopped (walnuts work, or even sunflower seeds if you’re in a nut-free house)
1/3 cup crumbled feta cheese (or goat cheese for extra tang; sometimes neither, if I forget)
2 tbsp olive oil (for roasting, but any neutral oil works—I accidentally used avocado oil once and it was totally fine)
Salt and pepper (I just eyeball it, honestly)
For the dressing: 2 tbsp Dijon mustard, 1 tbsp whole-grain mustard, 2 tbsp honey (I’ve snuck in maple syrup if I’m out), 3 tbsp apple cider vinegar (lemon juice is a decent swap), 1/3 cup olive oil, pinch of salt & pepper

How to Pull It Together (With Minor Chaos)

Preheat your oven to 220°C/430°F. Toss halved Brussels sprouts with olive oil, salt, and pepper right on a big tray. Don’t stress about perfect halves—the oddball bits get crispier. Roast for 20-25 minutes, shaking the tray about halfway. You want bold browning, not beige limpness.
While the Brussels are roasting, shred or chop your chicken. You can sneak a bite—chef’s prerogative. Slice up the apple as thin as your patience allows, and the red onion (if it makes your eyes water, stick it in cold water for a bit, it actually sorta helps).
Toss the dressing ingredients in a jar—Dijon, whole grain mustard, honey, vinegar, olive oil, bit of salt and pepper. Lid on, shake like your arm’s about to fall off. Taste and see if you want more honey or acidity. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t.
Once the sprouts are golden and crispy in spots, pull ‘em from the oven and let cool just a few minutes. It’s fine if they’re still warm when you toss the salad. Actually, I prefer it that way. Into a massive bowl, throw in the sprouts, chicken, apple, onions, pecans, and cheese (or whatever mix-ins you’ve got handy).
Pour over most of the dressing (save a splash for serving) and gently toss. Don’t worry if it looks a bit odd at first. The magic happens after a minute or two.
Sneak another taste (you earned it)—adjust seasoning or dressing if you feel like. Serve with the extra dressing on the side because someone will want more. There’s always someone.

Honestly Useful Notes (Lessons the Hard Way)

I figured out the salad is best slightly warm, but the next day flavors are even more “together.” Go figure.
If you go heavy on the dressing, it’ll get a bit soggy, so hold some back till serving.
I always, always forget to check the pecans for staleness. Don’t skip this! Rancid nuts = sadness.
If your Brussels are enormous, quarter them; if tiny, halve—or just do what feels right. I stopped measuring once and nobody noticed.

Variations I’ve Tried (Some Winners, One Flop)

Cranberries swapped in for apples—result was a bit too sweet for me, but some folks liked it.
Leftover turkey after Thanksgiving: so good, even picky eaters stopped complaining (for once).
Sweet potato cubes: roasted alongside the sprouts—yum, but don’t overdo it or it turns mushy. Learned the hard way.
Skipped the cheese once by accident. Still tasty, just missed that tangy edge.

Equipment Essentials (But You Can Totally Wing It)

Big roasting tray or sheet pan (if yours is tiny like mine, do it in batches. Or use two—no shame.)
Sharp-ish knife and a cutting board
Large mixing bowl (though a clean salad spinner works in a pinch; I’ve done it, no regrets)
Jar with a lid for the dressing (if not, whisk in a mug; less dramatic, but effective!)

Stashing Leftovers (If You Win That Battle)

Okay, technically, this will keep covered in the fridge for up to 2 days. But honestly, in my house, it rarely survives more than a single lunch on day two—there’s always someone poking around for more. The dressing thickens up a bit overnight, which, in my opinion, tastes even better. Don’t freeze it—Brussels get a bit sad and watery. Trust me.

How I Like to Serve It (Just My Two Cents)

This salad is a meal in itself, but sometimes I plonk it on top of day-old rice, or with a chunk of crusty bread, especially on cold days. My youngest claims it’s “brilliant” served with crisps on the side—she’s not wrong. Occasionally, we sprinkle extra cheese on top at the table. Maybe a squeeze of lemon if I’m feeling fancy, which is rare but kinda satisfying.

Those Pesky Pro Tips (That I Learned By Failing)

I once rushed the Brussels—took them out too soon. They tasted like boiled cabbage. Be patient and let them crisp, or you’ll regret it. Trust me, the extra 5 minutes really does matter.
If you overdress, it’s mush city. Pour slowly, stir, and taste after each round. It’s easier to add than to take away (wish I’d realized sooner, but there it is).
Stale nuts are no one’s friend. Just eat one before you add them (or give it to a willing guinea pig).

Real-World FAQ (Answering for My Neighbors… and You)

Can I use raw Brussels sprouts instead of roasted? Technically, yes, if you slice them super thin (kind of like a slaw), but I seriously think roasting makes it a million times nicer. Up to you!
Is this salad gluten free? Yep, unless you serve it with bread.
On second thought, just double check your cheese and dressing, but most of the time—no gluten lurking.
Can I prep this in advance? Sure, just keep the dressing separate until you’re ready to eat or things might get weirdly soggy. The apples? Splash a little lemon juice on ‘em if they’ll sit around so they don’t go brown.
Chicken substitutions? Absolutely—turkey, leftover pork, or even chickpeas for a meatless version. I tried tofu once, but honestly, it didn’t wow me.
Do picky eaters tolerate it? Most do! Except my Uncle Pete, who claims to hate Brussels in all forms. I’m still working on him…

And if you made it this far, cheers to you! Now, about that one time I tried to add pomegranate seeds—don’t ask. The kitchen looked like a crime scene. But hey, that’s half the fun, right? Happy cooking and, as we say in my part of the world, this’ll knock your socks off (in a good way). Enjoy!

Chicken Brussels Sprouts Salad