Creamy Tuscan Chicken with Sun-Dried Tomatoes

Oh man, I still remember the first time I tried to make this—honestly, it was a disaster. I was craving something rich and cozy after a brutal week, so I threw together what I thought was a ‘fancy’ dinner. I burned the garlic (again), used way too much cream, and somehow turned the spinach into a sad, slimy pile. But you know what? My dog even turned his nose up at it. Yet, I kept at it—because that first bite I’d had at this little trattoria in Florence? Absolute magic. The way the sun-dried tomatoes burst with tang, the cream hugging tender chicken, the hint of rosemary—it smelled like warm bread and love. I wanted that. And after three tries, I finally nailed it. This dish? It’s not just dinner. It’s my reset button. It’s the one I make when I need comfort that doesn’t judge, doesn’t rush, and totally gets me.

Remember that time I used rehydrated sun-dried tomatoes when I meant to use the oil-packed ones? Big oops. The sauce turned into a weird paste. My partner took one bite and said, ‘Babe… did you make wallpaper paste?’ We still laugh about it. But hey, now I know—oil-packed is the move. Every. Single. Time.

Ingredients

• Chicken breasts: I use boneless, skin-on because the fat keeps them juicy. Once I used frozen and didn’t thaw them—don’t be me. They came out like hockey pucks. Sad.
• Sun-dried tomatoes (oil-packed): These little flavor bombs are non-negotiable. I tried the dry kind once—mistake city. They’re like chewy leather. These? Sweet, tangy, and they melt into the sauce.
• Heavy cream: Don’t even think about subbing with half-and-half. I did. Sauce broke. Tears were shed. Use the good stuff—it’s worth it.
• Fresh spinach: I buy the pre-washed stuff because, let’s be real, I’m not washing sand off leaves after work. Adds color and makes me feel fancy and healthy-ish.
• Garlic: I go heavy—like, 5 cloves heavy. I once forgot it entirely. My partner said, ‘This tastes like sadness.’ Lesson learned.
• Chicken broth: I use low-sodium so I can control the salt. Once I used regular and it was so salty I had to add more cream. Disaster averted, but barely.
• Fresh rosemary: Dried just doesn’t cut it. I have a little pot on my windowsill. I talk to it. It judges me. But it gives good flavor.
• Parmesan cheese: Freshly grated, always. The pre-shredded stuff has anti-caking junk. I found that out the hard way—sauce got gritty. Not cute.

Instructions

Season & Sear the Chicken:

Alright, grab your chicken and pat it dry—wet chicken is the enemy of browning. I season both sides with salt, pepper, and a little garlic powder. Heat olive oil in my trusty skillet (the one with the wobbly handle—still haven’t replaced it). Sear the chicken on medium-high for about 5-6 minutes per side until golden. Don’t move it around! I always get impatient and peek, but trust me—let it develop that crust. Once, I flipped too early and it stuck like glue. Had to scrape it off with a sad little spatula. Transfer to a plate. Look at that golden goodness—yes, you did that.

Sauté the Aromatics:

Now, same pan—don’t wash it, that’s flavor gold. Toss in minced garlic and rosemary. Stir for like 30 seconds—just until it smells like heaven. Don’t let it burn! I’ve nuked garlic more times than I’d like to admit. Then add the sun-dried tomatoes. Let them sizzle for a minute. Their oil mixes with the pan drippings? Chef’s kiss. I actually close my eyes and breathe it in. Weird? Maybe. Worth it? Absolutely.

Build the Sauce:

Pour in the chicken broth and scrape up all those browned bits—this is where the magic happens. Deglazing! Sounds fancy, feels like cleaning, tastes amazing. Let it simmer 2 minutes so it reduces a bit. Then slowly stir in the heavy cream. Lower the heat so it doesn’t curdle. I learned that the hard way—curdled cream is a tragedy. Stir in a handful of Parmesan until it melts. The sauce should be silky, not boiling. Patience, my friend.

Add Spinach & Return Chicken:

Toss in the spinach a handful at a time—watch it wilt down. Stir gently so you don’t break the chicken. Slide the chicken back into the pan, spooning sauce over the top. Let it all simmer together for 8-10 minutes. This is when I pour a glass of wine and pretend I’m on a cooking show. The kitchen smells like Tuscany, and I’m fully in it. The chicken should hit 165°F if you’re fancy with thermometers. I’m not. I just poke it.

Finish with Fresh Herbs & Cheese:

Turn off the heat. Sprinkle extra Parmesan and a handful of chopped fresh parsley. I love how the green pops against the creamy sauce. Taste and adjust salt if needed. Sometimes I add a splash of lemon juice to brighten it—don’t skip that. It cuts the richness like a flavor ninja.

Serve & Swoon:

Serve it hot, straight from the skillet if you’re feeling rustic (I always am). The sauce should be luscious, clinging to the chicken. Spoon extra over the top. Pair it with pasta, mashed potatoes, or just crusty bread to soak it all up. That first bite? Creamy, tangy, herby, rich. My soul sighs. Every. Time.

One night, my niece came over after a rough day at school. She was quiet, eyes down. I made this for her. She took a bite, looked up, and said, ‘This tastes like love.’ I cried. Like, full-on ugly cry. Now I make it whenever someone needs a little extra warmth. It’s more than food. It’s care in a pan.

Storage Tips

Okay, real talk: this reheats well, but microwave = enemy of texture. I tried once and the sauce separated into sad little oil pools. Don’t do it. Instead, gently warm it on the stove over low heat, stirring in a splash of broth or cream to revive it. Stores in the fridge for up to 3 days in an airtight container. The flavors actually deepen overnight—so leftovers? Gold. I’ve frozen it before, but the spinach gets weird when thawed. Stick to fridge storage. And label it—my husband once ate it thinking it was soup. He was not thrilled.

Ingredient Substitutions

I’ve played around a lot. Chicken thighs work great—juicier, more forgiving. One time I used coconut milk instead of cream (dairy-free emergency)—it was… interesting. Tasted like a Thai-Italian fusion. Not bad, just not Tuscan. Spinach can be swapped with kale, but sauté it longer. I tried arugula once—too peppery. Sun-dried tomatoes? Stick with oil-packed. No substitutes there. For rosemary, thyme works in a pinch. And if you’re out of Parmesan, pecorino or asiago can step in—just taste as you go. Oh, and gluten-free? No problem—this is naturally GF if your broth is too.

Serving Suggestions

I love this with fettuccine—twirl that creamy sauce like you mean it. Or mashed potatoes for maximum comfort. Crusty bread is mandatory for mopping. Pair it with a crisp white—Pinot Grigio or Sauvignon Blanc. Or, if it’s just me and my PJs, a cold beer. This dish and a rom-com? Yes please. Or serve it with a simple arugula salad for balance. Date night? Light candles, play Andrea Bocelli, and pretend you’re in Florence. Works every time. Even if your kitchen is covered in splattered cream.

Cultural Backstory

This isn’t a traditional Tuscan recipe—more of a modern American-Italian love letter. But it’s inspired by the flavors of Tuscany: simple, rustic, ingredient-driven. I first tasted something like this in a tiny restaurant outside Siena. The owner, Maria, cooked in the back, yelling at her son in rapid-fire Italian. The dish was humble but soulful. When I got home, I obsessed over recreating that feeling. This version? It’s my tribute to her. Not authentic, maybe. But it’s honest. And it carries that same warmth—like food made with hands that care.

This recipe? It’s more than dinner. It’s my love language. Every time I make it, I think of Maria, of my niece, of rainy nights and wine-stained aprons. It’s messy, imperfect, and deeply comforting. Try it, tweak it, make it yours. Then tell me how it turned out—I’d love to know.

Frequently Asked Questions

→ Can I make this ahead of time?

Absolutely! Sear the chicken and prep the sauce base a day ahead. Store separately, then finish it day-of. I do this for dinner parties—lets me actually enjoy my guests instead of sweating over the stove.

→ Can I use frozen spinach?

I’ve tried it—thaw and squeeze it DRY, or your sauce gets watery. Fresh is better, but frozen works in a pinch. Just don’t skip the squeezing. I learned that after a soupy disaster that shall not be named.

→ How do I prevent the sauce from breaking?

Low heat, no boiling, and add cream slowly. I once cranked the heat to ‘hurry it up’—curdled mess. Now I whisper, ‘Easy does it,’ like I’m calming a horse. Works every time.

→ How long do leftovers last?

3 days in the fridge. Reheat gently on the stove with a splash of broth. I’ve eaten it cold (don’t judge), but warm is way better. Sauce thickens overnight—add liquid to loosen.

→ Can I make it spicy?

Yes! Add red pepper flakes with the garlic. I toss in a pinch for a little kick—my partner loves it. Once I went wild and added sriracha. Wasn’t Tuscan, but was delicious. Do you, boo.