Mediterranean Chicken Patties

My strongest belief in the universe — besides the sanctity of butter and the absolute necessity of a well-timed Trader Joe’s run — is that Mediterranean Chicken Patties deserve a standing ovation, a ticker-tape parade, and a very small statue on my counter. Also: yes, I will defend a chicken patty heated in a skillet like it’s family. (Also also: these are not the sad frozen kind from 2009. No shame then, no shame now.)

How I turned Thanksgiving into a smoke alarm symphony

Once, during the Great Lemon Bar Disaster of 2017 (never trust a “simple recipe”), I managed to set off every neighbor’s curiosity and the smoke detector simultaneously. My aunt clutched a casserole dish like a lifeboat. My cousin asked if the house was “supposed to smell like a campfire,” and my dog — who normally judges me quietly — gave me that look that said, “Wow, Emily, ambitious and wrong.” I blamed the oven, then the recipe, then the lemon bars, and finally myself. Drama. Tears. Flour everywhere.

There was also the Thanksgiving I attempted a fancy Mediterranean spread because I read one blog (not this one, calm down) and thought — wrongly, obviously — that herbs are just pretty props. I under-seasoned. I over-salted. I learned to never assume parsley is optional. Lesson? Food is a language and I speak it with my face, loudly.

Back to business: patties, not therapy (but both help)

ANYWAY, before I emotionally relive three holidays and a small kitchen fire, these patties are my redemption arc. They’re simple, herb-forward, and forgiving — unlike my kitchen choices at 2 a.m. Also if you want a chicken hero that isn’t drenched in gravy but could pair beautifully with it, consider this little inspiration from my other comfort recipes like that cheesy stuffed chicken I keep threatening to make more often. Comfort. Balance. Crunch.

The ingredients (and my very opinionated shopping notes)

• 1 pound lean ground chicken
• 1/2 cup breadcrumbs
• 1/4 cup finely chopped onion
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped
• 1/4 cup fresh mint, chopped
• 1 teaspoon dried oregano
• 1 teaspoon cumin
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Olive oil for cooking

Mini-rant: breadcrumbs — panko for crunch, plain for humility. I buy lean ground chicken at Trader Joe’s when I’m being responsible, or at the local butcher when I’m pretending I have a Pinterest budget. Mint fresh? Don’t skimp. Fresh herbs are the reason salads and feelings get along.

Quick units so you stop squinting at recipes

If you’re metric-curious or measuring-challenged, this little tool will save you from dramatic conversions.

A technique that sounds like a TED Talk but is actually just me in the kitchen

I ramble when I mix things. Mostly because aroma is my GPA: if it smells like summer in your grandma’s backyard (olive oil + mint + garlic), you’re on the right track. Here’s what I learned the hard way: don’t overwork ground chicken or it becomes leathery, and please — breadcrumbs are not a suggestion; they’re the soft midwife of texture. Also, pat them flat enough to become friends with the skillet.

1. In a large bowl, combine the ground chicken, breadcrumbs, onion, garlic, parsley, mint, oregano, cumin, salt, and pepper. Mix until well combined.
2. Form the mixture into small patties, about 2-3 inches in diameter.
3. Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium heat.
4. Cook the patties for about 5-7 minutes on each side, or until golden brown and cooked through.
5. Serve in pita bread, atop a salad, or with dipping sauces.

Pro tip (my beloved hot take): flip only once. Patience is a spice. Also, if you’re wondering what to serve with them that feels like a hug but not a casserole, I sometimes reach for gravied comforts and then judge myself pleasantly — see my suspicious affection for gravy over at that chicken and gravy recipe (it’s fine, I’m fine).

Why these patties make my chest glow (yes, emotional food talk ahead)

Cooking is how I stitch days together. The sizzle of garlic in olive oil is the sound of Sunday morning; the aroma of mint reminds me of my grandmother’s porch. Food is ritual, identity, inheritance, and occasionally, apology. These patties are tiny cultural homages — Mediterranean herbs meet Midwestern practicality (meaning: you can get everything at Trader Joe’s and still feel fancy). They taste like kindness, and I am not ashamed to be dramatic about that.

Oh, and if you’re into stuffed-chicken-level theatrics, sometimes I sneak these into a platter next to something more ostentatious, like the cranberry-stuffed chicken I once tackled (and survived): cranberry-spinach-stuffed chicken breasts with brie. Show-off? Maybe. Delicious? Definitely.

Tiny anecdote: the time I fed a crowd and learned about miracles

I once brought these to a block party as an “experiment.” A neighbor took one bite, closed their eyes, and whispered “like summer.” Another asked for the recipe and then bragged about them on social media without giving me credit (kidding, kind of). They disappeared in 12 minutes. Victory tastes like pita crumbs.

Frequently Asked Questions — chaos edition

[q]Can I use turkey instead of chicken?[/q][a]Sure, but I will judge you slightly in my head (lightly). Turkey works but can be drier, so watch the breadcrumbs and maybe add a teaspoon of olive oil to the mixture for moisture.[q]Can I make these ahead and freeze them?[/q][a]Absolutely, bless your planning soul. Freeze raw patties on a tray first, then bag them. Cook from frozen with a little extra time in the skillet.[q]What’s the best dipping sauce?[/q][a]Tzatziki is obvious and correct; harissa yogurt is spicy and rebellious. Ranch is fine if you’re hosting someone who hates fun.[q]How do I keep them from falling apart?[/q][a]Don’t overmix. Chill the formed patties for 15 minutes before cooking and make sure your skillet is hot enough so they get a crust quickly.[q]Can kids eat these?[/q][a]Yes, but lower the cumin if they’re spice-averse. Cut into small pieces and pretend vegetables are optional (they’re not, but negotiation is key).

Okay I’ll stop narrating my life like a sitcom now. Make these patties. Eat them on a weekday when you deserve better than takeout. Slide one into pita, squeeze lemon, add red onion, feel accomplished. Forgive your past culinary crimes. Repeat. (Also, remind me to tell you about the time I tried to flambé salad. Spoiler: do not flambé salad.)

Daily Calorie Needs Calculator — because curiosity is healthy

Estimate your daily calorie needs to pair these patties with the rest of your glorious life.