Food
The chicken marsala.
There was one dish on the menu that took on a life of its own.
The chicken marsala.
I had family who would drive in from out of town just to have it. Not for an event, not for a night out, just for that dish. And when we moved from Toronto to Ottawa, it didn’t stop. People made the trip. Eight or nine times that I can remember, customers came all the way from Toronto just to sit down, say hello, and have the chicken marsala the way I made it.
That stays with you.
It became a point of pride. And if I’m being honest, it was one of my guilty pleasures too. I just loved it. I always felt like I got that one right.
People used to ask me what my favourite dish on the menu was, and I’d give them the same answer every time. I’d say all my children are equal; I love them all the same. But then I’d smile and admit I had a soft spot for the chicken marsala.
It had everything.
A bit of veg. Tender chicken. And the sauce, that rich, slightly sweet marsala sauce, built properly, with mushrooms. I always used a mix when I could, but cremini and porcini were usually the best. They gave it depth. That earthy backbone that made the whole dish feel complete.
And on the side, homemade pasta.
It was the whole story of what we did at the restaurant, all on one plate.
So here it is.
The Chicken Marsala : Music to cook by.
The Way I Made It
Start with the chicken
Take your chicken breast and slice it down the centre so you end up with two thinner halves.
Lay them out on cling wrap, cover them, and gently beat them down until they’re even all the way across. You’re not trying to destroy it, just flatten it.
This isn’t just about tenderness. It’s about cooking it evenly. Same thickness, same cook time, no guesswork.
Flour, nothing else
Just flour.
No egg wash, no breadcrumbs. That’s a different dish.
Lightly dredge the chicken and shake off the excess. You want a dusting, not a coating.
Into the pan
Medium-high heat. Olive oil, just enough to coat the bottom.
Let it get hot before the chicken goes in.
You’re not cooking it through here. You’re searing it. Less than a minute per side. You want colour, and you want that fond building on the bottom of the pan.
That’s where your flavour starts.
Take the chicken out and set it aside.
The mushrooms
I always used a mix when I could, but cremini and porcini were the best.
Cook them separately if you can. Butter in a pan, medium heat. Let them cook properly. Let them release and brown.
Once they’re ready, they go into the main pan.
The sauce
Heat goes up.
In goes the marsala wine.
It’s going to flare a bit, and that’s fine.
Be generous. Roughly half a cup to three-quarters of a cup. I wasn’t shy with it.
Let it reduce by about half.
Then add your chicken stock. Use a good one.
Put the chicken back in, along with the mushrooms.
Let it cook down until the sauce thickens to where you want it. The flour from the chicken will help that along.
Finish
Turn the heat down first.
Then add a knob of butter and a small splash of cream.
Not too much. You’re rounding it out, not turning it into something else.
If the pan’s too hot, it’ll split. So let it calm down first.
Serve
I used to plate this with homemade pasta.
Simple. Olive oil, a touch of butter or cream, Parmigiano Reggiano. That’s it.
Usually with a side of sautéed rapini with lemon and butter.
But honestly, this stands on its own.
This was one of those dishes that became more than just something on the menu.
People came back for it.
They drove for it.
And I get why.