Let Me Tell You Why This Recipe Exists

So—real talk? I first threw together this one pan chicken and quinoa on a Thursday night when I was, frankly, too knackered to even think about doing the dishes afterwards. You know those days. It ended up being one of those dinners that just sort of… happened, like summoning supper form thin air—one minute, random bits in the fridge; next, a bowl of hearty, steamy stuff. My cousin Gem says it’s her favorite, though she once called my quinoa “suspiciously healthy.” Fair.

Funny thing, shortly after, my old housemate Tim started texting for it every time he had to impress someone. (He always added too much garlic, but no one’s perfect.)

Why I Keep Coming Back To This Dish

I make this when I don’t want to chop mountains of veg, or scrub three saucepans later on (my family goes off the deep end for it, especially on chilly nights). It’s got comfort food vibes with a grown-up twist, and, occasionally, I’m actually proud of myself for not ordering takeaway. Sometimes the quinoa sticks a bit, but hey, what saucepan hasn’t got battle scars? (Oh, and this is my secret to cleaning stuck bits without crying: soak it!)

Anyway, after a few, er, less successful one pan adventures (don’t ask me about the pumpkin risotto phase), this is the one I keep making. Because it actually works. And yeah—it’s properly filling.

What You’ll Need (But Don’t Stress If You Don’t Have Everything)

2 chicken breasts or 4 chicken thighs (boneless, skinless—though my gran used bone-in, and honestly, go wild if you’ve got extra time)
1 cup quinoa, rinsed (sometimes I swap in brown rice if I’m feeling rebellious or just ran out)
2 cups chicken broth (I use the cube most days; homemade if I’m feeling, you know, ambitious)
1 medium onion, diced (red, yellow, doesn’t matter; I grab what’s about to go wrinkly)
2-3 garlic cloves, minced (admit it, you’ll use more)
1 bell pepper, chopped up (or carrot, or a sad courgette lurking in the fridge)
1 tsp smoked paprika (sweet is okay too, but smoked makes it fancy)
1 tsp dried oregano (thyme is okay too—I’m not the spice police)
1/2 tsp salt, more to taste
1/4 tsp black pepper
A hefty glug (2 tbsp?) olive oil
Handful fresh parsley or coriander, to finish (totally optional, but looks posh)

How It All Comes Together (With the Usual Bit of Chaos)

Get your biggest frying pan or sauté pan (with a lid, if you’ve somehow not lost yours). Drizzle in olive oil, warm it up over a medium-high flame—if you listen close, it’ll almost hum.
Season the chicken with salt, pepper, and half the paprika. Give it a little rub. Pop it in the pan. Let it get golden—honestly, about 3 or 4 minutes a side should do. Don’t freak out if it sticks a tiny bit.
Take the chicken out for a second. Just slap it on a plate nearby (this is the point where I sometimes forget what I’m doing, so don’t feel bad if you do too).
Chuck the chopped onion, garlic, and bell pepper into the hot pan. Give it a stir. Scrape up all those stuck chicken bits (they’re the good stuff). Let everything soften—maybe 4 minutes, maybe 5. If it smells amazing, you’re doing it right.
Stir in the quinoa, oregano, and the remaining paprika. Toast the grains for a minute, tops—it adds a nutty hint. If you forget, well, it’ll still work.
Pour in the broth. Bring it up to a friendly little bubble (not a wild boil—just a simmer).
Put the chicken back, nestle it into the quinoa mixture. Wriggle it in until it looks at home.
Pop the lid on. Lower the heat. Let it simmer for around 18-20 minutes. Resist the urge to open, though to be honest, I peek after 15 minutes. If the liquid’s gone but the quinoa’s still crunchy, add a splash more water—but just a splash!
When the time’s up, turn off the heat and let it rest, lid on, 5 minutes more. This is where I usually, uhh, sneak a forkful. Don’t tell anyone.
Scatter over your leafy bits (parsley, coriander). Serve it right from the pan, because, let’s be honest, you’re not washing another bowl for no reason.

Tricks I Learned (Mostly The Hard Way)

If you skip rinsing the quinoa, it gets an odd taste—so give it a good rinse in a sieve. Unless, you know, you forget. It won’t ruin everything.
I once tried doing this with only water, and it was tragically bland. Use broth—any is fine, even the powdery stuff.
Leaving the pan covered is weirdly important! Keeps the steam in so the quinoa cooks properly—sometimes I get impatient and peek, but, try to resist.
For some reason, leftovers taste even better. Actually, I think this is true of most food, but especially this!

Variations That Worked (and One That Really Didn’t)

Veggie version: Swap chicken for chickpeas or tofu—though tofu needs a *lot* more seasoning, in my opinion.
Lemon twist: Chuck a big squeeze of lemon just before serving. Sounds fancy, tastes fresher.
Spicy style: Add a diced chili or some hot paprika if you’re feeling brave (my dad regretted this, but he’s dramatic).
Attempted shrimp version: I tried tossing shrimp in once—nope, they got a bit rubbery. Give that one a miss.

Do You Really Need a Sauté Pan? (Or Can You Wing It?)

Look, any deep-ish frying pan or even a dutch oven will work. I’ve honestly used a 1970s cast iron that has seen better days, and it turned out grand. If you’re without a lid, a tinfoil hat for your pan works, too. (Or in a pinch, a baking try balanced on top. Improvisation is half the fun! Or at least that’s what I tell myself).

How Long Does It Keep? (Not Long in My Flat!)

So—technically, this’ll keep in the fridge for 2 days, maybe 3, in a tightly lidded container. But honestly, it might not make it that long unless you’re living alone, and even then, I just eat it cold with a fork straight from the Tupperware. You can reheat in the microwave, though it does get a bit, um, rubbery if you zap it for too long—just cover it with a damp paper towel and go for short bursts.

How I Serve It (You Do You)

Most nights I just dish it up right from the pan, with maybe a big scoop of plain Greek yogurt on top (my mum always has yogurt with everything). Sometimes a quick green salad if I remember. Although, one friend showed up with tortilla chips and, oddly enough, that was a winner too!

I Wish I’d Known… (Pro Tips from, Well, Messing Up)

I once tried rushing the simmer and the quinoa came out very… toothy. Don’t. It really does need the full simmer and rest, even if you’re hungry. Trust me, you’ll be happier.
If you don’t give the chicken a bit of space for browning at the start, it just steams and looks a bit pale (still tasty but looks a bit sad, to be honest).
Oh, and if you’re doubling the recipe—use a bigger pan. (You laugh, but…)

Questions I Actually Get (And What I Tell People)

Can I use chicken thighs with bones? Sure! They’ll just need a tag longer to cook, maybe another 10 minutes. And a bit more patience (never my strong suit).
What if I only have water, not broth? It’ll do in a pinch, but boost the seasoning a lot, or maybe toss in a splash of soy sauce for some oomph (one time I even stirred in a spoonful of Marmite. Not for everyone but… I liked it).
Can I cook it in the oven instead? You could, on a medium heat, covered, about 25 minutes. But I like the stovetop—it feels more forgiving, and you don’t accidentally burn your eyebrows off when peeking.
Quinoa is new to me. Will my kids eat this? Maybe! I’ve seen picky eaters clear their plates if the chicken is cut into bite-size chunks. You might want to call it “magic rice” though. Works wonders.
Do you rinse the quinoa? Always! It gets rid of the soapy flavor (or at least, that’s what the internet says, and I believe most things with enough reviews—just look at this Serious Eats guide if you don’t trust me).

One last thing—try not to take all this too seriously. Cooking’s more art than science in my house. But if you want seriously nerdy salad pairings, check out Bon Appétit’s salad recipes. They know their stuff better than I do!

One Pan Chicken And Quinoa