So, I have to tell you about this dish. It’s called Ají de Gallinabasically Peru’s answer to comfort food when life feels… heavy. Or chilly. Or just blah. Think: shredded chicken swimming in this creamy, nutty, slightly spicy yellow sauce. Over rice. With potatoes. AND boiled eggs (yes, eggs in stew, stay with me). Trust meit sounds odd until you’re three bites in and suddenly wondering why no one told you about this before.
I stumbled across it on a rainy Thursday. You know those days when your socks are damp and you just want to bury yourself in a blanket burrito? Yeah. That. I went down a rabbit hole of “cozy foods around the world” (blame procrastination + too much coffee) and boomAjí de Gallina popped up. Bright yellow. Saucy. Kinda mysterious.
what even is this dish??
It’s not just “chicken stew.” It’s Peruvian chicken stew with attitude. Shredded chicken poached in broth, smothered in this sauce made from ají amarillo peppers (they’re like… sunshine with a kick), thickened with soaked bread and nuts (walnuts usually), and finished with Parmesan. Yup, cheese.
And then Peru does this thing I love: they pile it over white rice AND serve it with potatoes. Double carbs. Like carbs weren’t already enough of a love letter.
Garnished with olives and hard-boiled eggs. Which feels random but totally works.
a quick lil’ history (because food is always a story)
Ají de Gallina has roots tangled up in colonization, migration, and grandma wisdom. Some food historians say it started from a Catalonian dish called menjar blanc (which was actually kinda sweet) and then evolved once it hit South America. Spanish influence, Andean ingredients, later waves of Asian immigration… and poof: the stew we know today.
Peruvian food in general is this melting potChinese, Japanese, African, Indigenous, European. It’s like the ultimate group project that somehow didn’t crash and burn. (Miracle, right?)
but where do you even find these peppers?
Here’s the thing: ají amarillo peppers are the star. They’re not screaming hot, but they do have this fruity, sunny, almost tropical vibe. Hard to describe. Like mango had a fling with chili.
Problem: most regular grocery stores in the US? Nada. So you’ve got a few options:
Latin markets (worth the field tripgo smell everything).
Frozen ají packs (sometimes in the freezer section).
Jarred ají paste (lifesaver).
Or… cheat with Scotch bonnet or habanero if you can’t find them. Different, but still spicy-fruity.
Confession: first time I made it, I panicked and used half a habanero. Ended up perfect for my “please don’t kill me with spice” tolerance. Next time I went bolder.
cooking it: sounds scary but it’s really not
I’ll be honest, when I first read the steps I thought: this is gonna be one of those 4-hour, 16-dirty-pans, cry-in-the-kitchen type recipes. It’s not. It’s a little fiddly but in a good way, like kitchen therapy.
rough flow (aka not exact instructions, just the vibe):
boil some potatoes. set aside.
poach chicken in stock. shred it. (don’t eat all the chicken while “tasting”guilty.)
blend soaked bread + evaporated milk + nuts + Parmesan into a creamy paste.
sauté onions, garlic, ají paste until it smells like heaven.
combine the whole thing into a golden sauce. add shredded chicken.
serve over rice with potatoes, eggs, olives.
It’s one of those recipes where you’re like… “that’s it?” after tasting it. Because it tastes so much more complicated than it is.
real talk: why I love it
Color therapy. It’s literally sunshine yellow. Eating it feels like sitting under a happy lamp.
Texture. Creamy, but not like cream-of-mushroom gloopy. More like velvety.
Customizable spice. Family friendly if you dial down, party food if you dial up.
Leftovers. Oh man, it’s even better the next day when the sauce thickens and hugs the chicken.
Also, can we appreciate that Peru has dishes with chicken + potatoes + rice all together? Like they know carbs are joy.
random tangent (because my brain does this)
While I was making it, my cat decided the bag of walnuts was a toy. I turned around and he was batting them across the kitchen floor like tiny hockey pucks. Which meant I had to wash every single walnut before blending. Lesson learned: cook with one eye on your pets.
little tweaks I’ve tried
Ají de Gallina is one of those dishes where every family in Peru probably has their own spin. So don’t stress perfection. Some things I’ve done:
swapped walnuts for pecans (because that’s what I had, and hey, still delicious).
used leftover rotisserie chicken (cheating? maybe. convenient? 100%).
added a splash of white wine to the sauce (fancy accident).
topped with cilantro when I forgot the olives. (sorry olives, you were hiding behind the yogurt).
wanna cook it together? here’s the “lazy bloggy” recipe
(Okay fine, I’ll actually drop a version you can follow without scrolling six sites.)
4 potatoes, boiled & quartered
1.5 lbs chicken breast (poached + shredded)
4 cups chicken stock (reserve some)
3–4 ají peppers (or paste, or substitute chili)
4 slices white bread + ¾ cup evaporated milk (soaked)
1 onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
3 tbsp walnuts
3 tbsp Parmesan
rice, eggs, olives for serving
sauté peppers + onion + garlic. blend with soaked bread/milk, nuts, cheese. stir in chicken stock till saucy. add chicken. simmer gently. boom. Serve with rice + potatoes + egg + olives.
That’s the “chaotic kitchen notebook” version. Exact measurements? Meh. Trust your taste buds.
serving vibes
Do the whole Peruvian style: scoop over rice, tuck potatoes on the side, scatter quartered hard-boiled eggs and black olives. Feels festive even on a Tuesday.
Or… get weird with it. I once stuffed leftovers into a tortilla with avocado and called it a wrap. Another time, I spooned it over pasta (don’t tell the purists). Works.
so why should you try it?
Because food is more than feeding ourselves. It’s history and travel and comfort and a hug in edible form. Ají de Gallina is a way to taste Peru without leaving your kitchen.
And also becauselet’s be honestwe all need a dish that makes us feel cozy and fancy at the same time. Like sweatpants but with earrings.
final thought (before I go make another pot)
Sometimes the best dishes are the ones that look intimidating but actually invite you in. Ají de Gallina is exactly that: a little exotic, a little familiar, and totally the kind of thing that’ll impress your friends without making you cry in the kitchen.
Plus, any recipe that lets me double-dip on carbs? That’s soulmate material.
✨ If you make it, pleaseeat it slowly, take a deep breath, and let the sunshine color of the sauce remind you that life can be spicy, creamy, a little messy… but still delicious.Ají de Gallina: The Cozy Peruvian Stew You Didn’t Know You Needed
So, I have to tell you about this dish. It’s called Ají de Gallinabasically Peru’s answer to comfort food when life feels… heavy. Or chilly. Or just blah. Think: shredded chicken swimming in this creamy, nutty, slightly spicy yellow sauce. Over rice. With potatoes. AND boiled eggs (yes, eggs in stew, stay with me). Trust meit sounds odd until you’re three bites in and suddenly wondering why no one told you about this before.
I stumbled across it on a rainy Thursday. You know those days when your socks are damp and you just want to bury yourself in a blanket burrito? Yeah. That. I went down a rabbit hole of “cozy foods around the world” (blame procrastination + too much coffee) and boomAjí de Gallina popped up. Bright yellow. Saucy. Kinda mysterious.
what even is this dish??
It’s not just “chicken stew.” It’s Peruvian chicken stew with attitude. Shredded chicken poached in broth, smothered in this sauce made from ají amarillo peppers (they’re like… sunshine with a kick), thickened with soaked bread and nuts (walnuts usually), and finished with Parmesan. Yup, cheese.
And then Peru does this thing I love: they pile it over white rice AND serve it with potatoes. Double carbs. Like carbs weren’t already enough of a love letter.
Garnished with olives and hard-boiled eggs. Which feels random but totally works.
a quick lil’ history (because food is always a story)
Ají de Gallina has roots tangled up in colonization, migration, and grandma wisdom. Some food historians say it started from a Catalonian dish called menjar blanc (which was actually kinda sweet) and then evolved once it hit South America. Spanish influence, Andean ingredients, later waves of Asian immigration… and poof: the stew we know today.
Peruvian food in general is this melting potChinese, Japanese, African, Indigenous, European. It’s like the ultimate group project that somehow didn’t crash and burn. (Miracle, right?)
but where do you even find these peppers?
Here’s the thing: ají amarillo peppers are the star. They’re not screaming hot, but they do have this fruity, sunny, almost tropical vibe. Hard to describe. Like mango had a fling with chili.
Problem: most regular grocery stores in the US? Nada. So you’ve got a few options:
Latin markets (worth the field tripgo smell everything).
Frozen ají packs (sometimes in the freezer section).
Jarred ají paste (lifesaver).
Or… cheat with Scotch bonnet or habanero if you can’t find them. Different, but still spicy-fruity.
Confession: first time I made it, I panicked and used half a habanero. Ended up perfect for my “please don’t kill me with spice” tolerance. Next time I went bolder.
cooking it: sounds scary but it’s really not
I’ll be honest, when I first read the steps I thought: this is gonna be one of those 4-hour, 16-dirty-pans, cry-in-the-kitchen type recipes. It’s not. It’s a little fiddly but in a good way, like kitchen therapy.
rough flow (aka not exact instructions, just the vibe):
boil some potatoes. set aside.
poach chicken in stock. shred it. (don’t eat all the chicken while “tasting”guilty.)
blend soaked bread + evaporated milk + nuts + Parmesan into a creamy paste.
sauté onions, garlic, ají paste until it smells like heaven.
combine the whole thing into a golden sauce. add shredded chicken.
serve over rice with potatoes, eggs, olives.
It’s one of those recipes where you’re like… “that’s it?” after tasting it. Because it tastes so much more complicated than it is.
real talk: why I love it
Color therapy. It’s literally sunshine yellow. Eating it feels like sitting under a happy lamp.
Texture. Creamy, but not like cream-of-mushroom gloopy. More like velvety.
Customizable spice. Family friendly if you dial down, party food if you dial up.
Leftovers. Oh man, it’s even better the next day when the sauce thickens and hugs the chicken.
Also, can we appreciate that Peru has dishes with chicken + potatoes + rice all together? Like they know carbs are joy.
random tangent (because my brain does this)
While I was making it, my cat decided the bag of walnuts was a toy. I turned around and he was batting them across the kitchen floor like tiny hockey pucks. Which meant I had to wash every single walnut before blending. Lesson learned: cook with one eye on your pets.
little tweaks I’ve tried
Ají de Gallina is one of those dishes where every family in Peru probably has their own spin. So don’t stress perfection. Some things I’ve done:
swapped walnuts for pecans (because that’s what I had, and hey, still delicious).
used leftover rotisserie chicken (cheating? maybe. convenient? 100%).
added a splash of white wine to the sauce (fancy accident).
topped with cilantro when I forgot the olives. (sorry olives, you were hiding behind the yogurt).
wanna cook it together? here’s the “lazy bloggy” recipe
(Okay fine, I’ll actually drop a version you can follow without scrolling six sites.)
4 potatoes, boiled & quartered
1.5 lbs chicken breast (poached + shredded)
4 cups chicken stock (reserve some)
3–4 ají peppers (or paste, or substitute chili)
4 slices white bread + ¾ cup evaporated milk (soaked)
1 onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
3 tbsp walnuts
3 tbsp Parmesan
rice, eggs, olives for serving
sauté peppers + onion + garlic. blend with soaked bread/milk, nuts, cheese. stir in chicken stock till saucy. add chicken. simmer gently. boom. Serve with rice + potatoes + egg + olives.
That’s the “chaotic kitchen notebook” version. Exact measurements? Meh. Trust your taste buds.
serving vibes
Do the whole Peruvian style: scoop over rice, tuck potatoes on the side, scatter quartered hard-boiled eggs and black olives. Feels festive even on a Tuesday.
Or… get weird with it. I once stuffed leftovers into a tortilla with avocado and called it a wrap. Another time, I spooned it over pasta (don’t tell the purists). Works.
so why should you try it?
Because food is more than feeding ourselves. It’s history and travel and comfort and a hug in edible form. Ají de Gallina is a way to taste Peru without leaving your kitchen.
And also becauselet’s be honestwe all need a dish that makes us feel cozy and fancy at the same time. Like sweatpants but with earrings.
final thought (before I go make another pot)
Sometimes the best dishes are the ones that look intimidating but actually invite you in. Ají de Gallina is exactly that: a little exotic, a little familiar, and totally the kind of thing that’ll impress your friends without making you cry in the kitchen.
Plus, any recipe that lets me double-dip on carbs? That’s soulmate material.
✨ If you make it, pleaseeat it slowly, take a deep breath, and let the sunshine color of the sauce remind you that life can be spicy, creamy, a little messy… but still delicious.
