Nana’s Creamed Chicken over Biscuits

by Megan Christ

Ingredients:

• 4-6 Chicken breast (cooked then cubed)
• 1 can of cream of chicken soup
• 1 can of cream of celery soup
• 1 packet of chicken gravy mix
• 1 cup milk or more if needed
• 1 packet of Pilsbury butter biscuits
• A wink of Garlic powder, Salt, and Black pepper

Cooking directions

1. Prep the Chicken

• Trim any excess fat from the chicken breasts and cut them into bite-sized cubes.
• Melt butter in a large skillet over medium heat.
• Add the chicken cubes and cook, stirring occasionally, until the pieces are golden and reach an internal temperature of 165°F (about 8–10 minutes).
• Once fully cooked, set the chicken aside.

1. Make the Cream Sauce

• In a large saucepan, combine the cream of chicken soup, cream of celery soup, and the packet of chicken gravy mix.
• Slowly whisk in 1 cup of milk over medium heat until smooth and creamy.
• Add a wink of garlic powder, salt, and black pepper to taste.

1. Combine the Chicken and Sauce

• Stir the cooked chicken into the creamy mixture.
• Let simmer for 5–10 minutes, stirring occasionally.
• If the sauce becomes too thick, add a splash more milk until you reach your preferred consistency.

1. Bake the Biscuits

• Preheat your oven to 350°F.
• Lightly grease your baking tray with butter or cooking spray.
• Lay the biscuits on the tray about 1–2 inches apart.
• Bake for 12–15 minutes, or until golden brown.
• For accuracy, follow the package directions and bake until they’re beautifully golden on top.

1. Assemble & Serve

• Split the warm biscuits in half on a plate.
• Spoon a generous serving of creamed chicken over the top.
• Add a sprinkle of black pepper or fresh parsley if desired.

It all started in my nana’s kitchen when I was eight. Every meal in her house was a family affair, girls and women buzzing around the counters, chatting as they prepped side dishes, while the men usually handled the meat or main dish. But not with this one. Creamed chicken over biscuits was different. This dish belonged to the women of the family.

We’d gather around the big kitchen table, which always seemed a little too full of people and cutting boards, to trim away the fatty chicken pieces and cut the meat into cubes. Someone else would be on biscuit duty, pulling apart the pillsbury rounds, brushing them with butter, and sliding them onto the shiny cookie sheet to rise golden in the oven. In another corner, strawberries were being hulled and sliced for dessert, destined to be spooned over warm, sugar-dusted biscuits for later in the evening. The air was always filled with a mix of smells: the richness of chicken simmering in a creamy sauce, the yeasty butter scent of biscuits baking, and the sweetness of fresh strawberries. Nana’s house itself added to the memory. Instead of a furnace, the house was kept cozy by a wood-burning fire, and that steady warmth made the kitchen feel like the heart of the home.

What made this meal so special was Nana’s way of tweaking it. While many versions of creamed chicken are heavy and salty, hers had just the right balance. She used whole milk to thin the cream, making the sauce lighter but still comforting. She added a dash of pepper and sometimes a pinch of garlic powder, tiny adjustments she never wrote down but passed along with a wink as she stirred the pot. She didn’t add the carrots and peas like other recipes. The biscuits weren’t fancy, but buttering them before baking gave them a golden crust and flaky layers perfect for soaking up the sauce. When the meal came together, everyone sat elbow-to-elbow around the table, ladling creamy chicken over steaming biscuits, the sauce spilling out onto plates. We didn’t need sides; the dish was filling enough, but we always had those strawberries waiting in the wings, bright and fresh, as a sweet finish.

This wasn’t just food; it was ritual. Creamed chicken over biscuits became the meal that pulled everyone into one rhythm, working side by side and laughing in the kitchen. It taught me early on that recipes weren’t just instructions; they were stories, family traditions, and small lessons tucked into every stir of the spoon.

-Megan Christ, 2025