Let Me Tell You About This Chicken with Sun Dried Tomatoes Cream Sauce

You know those recipes that just happen because you grabbed a jar of sun dried tomatoes once in a blue moon, and then the resulting dinner gets requested on repeat? Yeah, this is that chicken dish for me. The first time I made it, I barely glanced at a recipe—just winged it with what I had (which, at the time, did not include heavy cream, so there was a fair bit of milk and wishful thinking involved). Anyway, I swear this chicken has rescued more weeknights than my battered old frying pan. Plus, there was this time my nephew told me the sauce tasted kind of like pizza and now I can’t un-hear it.

Why You’ll Probably Love This (If You Eat Chicken)

I make this when the pantry feels uninspiring, but I want something that feels like actual cooking even if I’m wearing fuzzy socks. My family goes wild for it—my brother-in-law calls it “that magic red chicken,” and I sort of suspect that’s because I serve extra sauce. Also, it’s kind of like a hug for your taste buds (apologies for the cheese, but I stand by it). The only time I wasn’t thrilled with it was when I tried to do it all in one pot and ended up with chicken that tasted a bit, um, boiled? Lesson learned; shortcuts have limits.

What You’ll Need (But Go Ahead and Sub Some Things)

4 boneless skinless chicken breasts (about 600g, but teaspoons don’t judge—thighs work too if you like)
1/2 teaspoon salt (sometimes I use that flaky stuff; totally up to you)
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1 tablespoon olive oil (though I’ve also used butter when feeling extra)
3 cloves garlic, minced (no stress if you only have two…or five, honestly)
120g (about 3/4 cup) sun dried tomatoes, drained and chopped (oil-packed ones are easiest, but the dry ones soaked in hot water actually work too—ask me how I know)
1 teaspoon dried Italian herbs (or fresh basil if you’re being fancy, but any mixed herbs do the job)
1 cup (240ml) heavy cream (sub half-and-half or evaporated milk in a pinch, but sauce will be thinner)
1/2 cup (about 50g) grated parmesan (my grandmother always insisted on the good stuff but I just use what’s cheap sometimes)
1 cup baby spinach leaves (totally optional, but I like the color—leave it out if you’re a spinach avoider)
A squirt of lemon juice (like, half a lemon, or bottled if your fridge is as random as mine)

How I Go About It (With Less Stress)

Pat the chicken dry with some paper towels. Don’t get precious about it—just so it’ll actually brown. Sprinkle salt and pepper on both sides (I kind of overdo the pepper but that’s me).
Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. When it shimmers, add the chicken. Cook 5-6 minutes on one side, flip and do another 3-4. You want decent browning, not blackened (unless you get distracted by your phone—guilty) and cooked through. Remove chicken and set aside.
In that same skillet—don’t wipe it!—toss in your garlic. Stir it for 30 seconds, until you can smell it and someone in the next room asks what you’re making.
Now in with those sun dried tomatoes and the herbs. Give everything a quick toss. Here’s where I sometimes add a splash more oil if things look dry.
Pour in your cream, scraping up the browned bits (that’s the gold). Bring it up just to a simmer, not a rolling boil, otherwise things split. I’ve learned that one the hard way, trust me.
Add in parmesan, stir until melty and dreamy. If it looks a little thick, a splash of water or milk smooths it out.
Drop in the spinach and let it wilt. Or not—it’ll look like a tangled green mess for a minute but promise it sorts itself out.
Return chicken (plus any juices on the plate!) to the pan. Spoon sauce over, let it all warm together for a couple minutes.
Squeeze in lemon juice, taste for salt (taste the sauce—this is the bit I always, always sneak because hot cheese sauce = temptation).
Serve right away, or let it sit five minutes so the chicken can soak up the sauce. Up to you; it’s not super fussy.

Notes—Stuff I Figured Out the Hard Way

When you use thighs instead of breasts, you sometimes need a bit longer cooking, but they stay juicier (truth).
If you’re paranoid about overcooking chicken, slice it in half or bash it a bit thinner before browning.
It reheats surprisingly well, but the sauce will thicken. Sometimes I add a splash of milk to loosen it up… or just call it “extra saucy” (which sounds better).
Don’t panic if the sauce looks split before the cheese goes in—parmesan brings it all together.

Variations: Kitchen Experiments and Oddball Ideas

I tried it once with roasted red peppers instead of sun dried tomatoes—tasty, but missing that tang. Not a flop, just different.
No spinach? Throw in chopped kale, arugula, or just leave the greens out.
Vegetarian cousin coming? I made it with crispy tofu cubes one time. Not half bad! Actually, the sauce sort of steals the show either way.
Heads up, don’t try adding blue cheese. My wife still teases me about the “pizza sauce gone rogue” incident.

What If I Don’t Have the Right Equipment?

You really do want a large skillet (nonstick or not, your choice). But, if you don’t have one big enough, split things between two pans—or honestly, use whatever you’ve got. An old cast iron pan gives the best browning (in my biased opinion), but I once did this in a wok when all my proper pans were MIA. Sauce was a bit deeper but hey, dinner happened.

How to Store It (If You Don’t Eat It All Right Away)

Leftovers go in an airtight container in the fridge—they’ll keep for about three days. The sauce thickens up but loosens with a quick reheat. Though honestly, in my house it never lasts more than a day (someone always nicks a piece as a midnight snack, and it’s never me, obviously).

Ideas for Serving (And One Silly Tradition)

I think it’s glorious over buttered noodles or rice; my niece insists it’s best over mashed potatoes, so sometimes we do a taste test (it’s a toss-up, honestly). Once in a while I serve with a heap of garlicky green beans on the side, just so I can pretend it’s a balanced meal.

Pro Tips—Learned Via Oops Moments

Don’t rush browning the chicken; I once tried to speed it up by cranking the heat and smoked out the whole kitchen. Brown = flavor, but burnt = regrets.
Actually, I find it works better if you scrape all those browned bits up right when you pour in the cream. Sauce wins.
Don’t add lemon too early. It makes everything go weird and curdly. Wait till the end, or just leave it out if you forget (been there).

Real FAQ — Questions I’m Actually Asked

Can I use chicken thighs? Oh, absolutely! In fact, I kinda prefer them—juicier, hard to mess up.
Do I have to use sun dried tomatoes packed in oil? Nope! Just soak the dry-packed ones in boiling water for 10 min. I do it all the time when the oil jar’s empty.
Is there a dairy-free way? I’ve made it with coconut cream and vegan parmesan once—that version’s rich, a bit sweet. My sister loved it, jury’s out for me.
How spicy is this? Not spicy unless you add some chili flakes, which I sometimes do when my husband’s in the mood for “more zip.”
Can I freeze it? I probably wouldn’t—the sauce goes a bit grainy after thawing. But, if that doesn’t bother you, go for it and let me know how it turns out!
Help! My sauce split! Yeah, been there. Try stirring in a splash of milk and working it together gently. Or just pile it over pasta and call it rustic.

So there you are. If you try it, tell me if you find a combo that beats chicken + sauce + carbs. Still looking for that unicorn recipe myself…

Chicken with Sun Dried Tomatoes Cream Sauce