This Midwestern Chicken and Noodles Is Way More Satisfying Than Soup

Writing about Midwestern food can feel at times like a hard sell—the modern equivalent of those 19th-century advertisements luring homesteaders to the Plains. Lately, I’ve fantasized about a billboard of my own: “PASTA OR POTATOES? IN THE MIDWEST, YOU DON’T NEED TO CHOOSE.”

I’m thinking here of my childhood comfort meal: Midwestern chicken and noodles. In Iowa, where I grew up, this did not mean soup. It meant juicy hunks of chicken coated in a roux-thickened gravy (often augmented with milk or cream) simmered with chewy, homemade egg noodles, all served over fluffy mashed potatoes. 

My health-minded mom would often leave out the mashed potatoes—feeling, as you might imagine, that two starches was gilding the lily. In my view, a little gilt is good.

Like a lot of homespun dishes, the origins of Midwestern chicken and noodles are murky. You’ll find recipes labeled “Amish,” “Midwestern,” or “Hoosier,” depending on the source. In 1984, the Indianapolis Star declared chicken and noodles the “one dish you always find on the table of a true Hoosier.” Thirty-some years later, the Iowa City Press-Citizen decreed it a “classic Iowa dish that conjures up images of farms and fields.” 

I’ll let the “I” states duke it out. Meanwhile, I’ve eaten chicken and noodles at roadside cafes across Missouri and Kansas and swapped childhood memories of the dish with my Ohio-native husband, fellow Serious Eats writer Jed Portman.

The Basics for Great Chicken and Noodles

The uniting principles of great chicken and noodles are the same everywhere: simplicity, seasoning, and a farm-worker’s lust for readily available carbohydrates. That simplicity is one reason why I’ve jettisoned common aromatics in this recipe. Carrots, celery, and onion are fine friends for a soup, but chicken and noodles should taste foremost like super-savory roast chicken. The only seasonings are salt and more black pepper than you think you need. 

Given that simple flavor profile, you might expect dark meat chicken for its extra fat and flavor. Not so. Early on, I tested recipes using whole chickens or chicken thighs, but the dark meat shredded less evenly and made the already-heavy dish taste greasy and limp. Bone-in split chicken breasts were the answer for juicy, substantive hunks of white meat. The bones help protect the breast from overcooking by partially insulating it from direct heat, ensuring tender morsels of chicken in each bite.

I almost always prefer my chicken breasts skin-on, but not for this dish. Since the skin is eventually removed, you'd just be throwing away flavor by browning it first. By removing the skin before cooking, that browned flavor develops on the breast meat itself and stays in the pot, not the trash can. 

Nailing the Noodles

With a dish this simple, every component has to be great. Which means: You really do need to make the egg noodles from scratch. Today, many Midwestern home cooks reach for frozen egg noodles, but to me, the convenience isn’t worth it. In blind tests, I could immediately pick out the store-bought noodles, which tasted wan and pasty next to fresh, chewy egg noodles with their brilliant golden hue. 

If you’ve never made homemade pasta before, this is a low-stress way to try it. You don’t need a pasta roller for this recipe, and you don’t even need a particularly steady hand. The recipe I landed on is effectively Niki Achitoff-Gray’s excellent recipe for fresh pasta, with a couple of changes. First, my dough uses only egg yolks (that said, don’t toss the whites: Niki has ideas for what to do with leftover egg whites). All-yolk doughs are crumblier and less elastic than doughs made with some proportion of egg whites, meaning they’re admittedly harder to work with and require extra kneading. But that extra bit of upfront fuss is well worth it for super tender, vibrant yellow noodles that retain their shape during cooking. 

The second difference is that I’m asking you to roll out and cut the noodles by hand. Homestyle egg noodles are meant to be thicker and more rustic than a delicate Italian pasta. The extra heft is another reason to forgo egg whites in the dough—in my tests, noodles made with any proportion of whites swelled further during cooking. 

Simmering the noodles directly in the sauce helps thicken the gravy, resulting in a glossy, silky chicken and noodles with the perfect proportion of chicken to pasta in each bite. 

Don’t Forget the Mashed Potatoes (Or Do)

That just leaves the lily-gilding. I haven’t included a separate mashed potato recipe here, because I don’t think you can do better than Kenji’s ultra-fluffy mashed potatoes for this purpose (tl;dr: Russets, Rinse, Ricer). That said, you can sub in leftover mashed potatoes as long as they’re not the custardy, creamy sort—the potatoes should be a scaffolding, not just a starch. No matter what you use, don’t skimp on seasoning. A blank canvas doesn’t have to be bland.

Of course, you can leave the potatoes out entirely—it’s what my mom would do. But you’d be missing the ultimate Midwestern comfort of carbs on carbs.

For the Noodles: On a clean, dry work surface, pile flour into a large mound. Make a well in the center of mound and pour in egg yolks. Add salt and beat with a fork, gradually incorporating more flour from the mound until a sticky dough forms.

Using a bench scraper, fold and press remaining flour into the dough until a dry, crumbly dough forms. Add water, 1 teaspoon at a time and kneading after each addition, until dough comes together into a tight, smooth ball (you may need up to 2 tablespoons). At this stage, dough will feel quite firm and not very pliable. Wrap dough tightly in plastic wrap and let rest at room temperature for at least 30 minutes or up to 4 hours.

After the rest, divide dough into 2 equal pieces. Set 1 piece of dough on a lightly floured work surface and keep the other piece covered to prevent drying. Using a rolling pin, roll dough out to a 12-inch round. Cut round in half to form two semicircles, then cut each semicircle crosswise into 1/4 -wide strips. Toss cut noodles with a small amount of flour to prevent sticking and set aside until ready to use.

For the Chicken and Gravy: In a large Dutch oven, heat oil over medium-high heat until shimmering. Season chicken generously with salt and pepper on both sides. Add chicken, breast-side down, and cook without moving until chicken is deeply browned and releases easily from pan, about 7 minutes. Flip chicken and cook until the underside of breasts is also deeply browned, adjusting heat as needed to avoid scorching, about 5 minutes. Transfer chicken to plate and set aside.

Add butter to now-empty Dutch oven and heat until melted and foaming subsides, about 30 seconds. Add flour and stir until fully incorporated and raw flour smell has cooked off, about 30 seconds longer. While whisking constantly to avoid lumps, slowly add chicken broth and water in a thin stream. Bring gravy to a boil, then return chicken and any juices to pot and lower heat to a gentle simmer. Cook, flipping chicken halfway through cooking, until the thickest part of the chicken breast reads 150°F (65°C) with an instant-read thermometer, 20 to 25 minutes. Remove pot from heat. Using tongs, transfer chicken from gravy to a large heat-proof bowl.

Using 2 forks, shred chicken and discard bones. Return pot to medium-high heat and add noodles. Simmer, stirring occasionally to prevent clumping, until noodles are tender, 10 to 15 minutes.

Return chicken to pot, stir to combine, and remove from heat. Thin with up to 1/2 cup (120 ml) additional broth, if needed, to achieve a thick, velvety gravy that coats the chicken and noodles. Stir in cream and season to taste with salt and pepper. To serve, spoon a generous portion of chicken, noodles, and gravy over plates of mashed potatoes.

Special Equipment

Bench scraper, large Dutch oven, instant-read thermometer, rolling pin

Make-Ahead and Storage

Leftover chicken and noodles can be refrigerated in an airtight container for up to 4 days. Reheat in a Dutch oven over medium heat on the stovetop, stirring occasionally, until warmed through. Thin with additional water, if needed, to restore the thick, gravy-like texture.