Green papaya and chicken salad, done properly

I had a bloke ask me last week whether he could just buy the pre-shredded papaya mix from the servo deli and call it a day. No. You cannot. That stuff sits in brine for a week and turns to mush the second dressing hits it, and half the point of this salad is the crunch. If you’re not getting a proper snap when you bite into it, something’s gone wrong before it even reached your kitchen.

Green papaya and chicken salad is one of those dishes that looks like a lot of chopping for not much reward until you actually eat it, and then you understand. It’s cold, it’s sharp, it’s got heat and sweetness fighting each other, and the chicken carries enough protein that it works as a proper lunch rather than a garnish on a bowl of leaves. I’ve been making versions of this since my time on the pass at a place on Beaumont Street in Hamilton, back when green papaya was something you had to specifically ask the greengrocer to hold aside for you. These days most decent Asian grocers around Newcastle and Sydney stock it without blinking.

Why green papaya works for a proper lunch

Unripe papaya has almost no sugar in it, which is the whole trick. It behaves more like a vegetable than a fruit, holds its structure under a sharp dressing, and takes on flavour without turning soft and sad the way cucumber does after twenty minutes. Pair that with poached or char-grilled chicken and you’ve got a lunch that’s mostly vegetables and lean protein, which lines up with what eatforhealth.gov.au reckons most of us should be eating more of anyway, vegetables front and centre rather than an afterthought next to the meat.

It’s also one of the few salads I trust to sit for half an hour without collapsing, which makes it decent for a work lunch if you keep the dressing separate until you’re ready to eat. Don’t dress it the night before. It’ll weep and go watery and you’ll wonder why it doesn’t taste like it did at the restaurant.

Getting your chicken right

Poaching is the traditional route and it gives you tender, moist shredded chicken without any fuss. Salted water, a smashed garlic clove, a few peppercorns, gentle simmer, never a rolling boil or you’ll toughen it. Twelve to fifteen minutes depending on thickness, then rest it properly before shredding.

If you want more character, get your pan properly hot and char-grill the chicken thighs instead, then slice rather than shred. You lose a bit of the silky poached texture but you gain caramelisation, and honestly on a Sunday when I’ve got the barbecue going anyway, that’s the version I make. Don’t try to shortcut it with a rotisserie chicken from the supermarket unless you’re genuinely pressed for time. It works, it’s just not the same dish, and I’d rather you knew that going in.

Ingredients

Serves 4

• 600g green papaya, peeled and shredded on a mandoline or julienne peeler
• 500g chicken breast or thigh fillets
• 2 carrots, peeled and julienned
• 100g cherry tomatoes, halved
• 1 handful snake beans or green beans, cut into 3cm lengths
• 1 small red eschalot, very thinly sliced
• 3 garlic cloves, roughly chopped
• 2-3 long red chillies (or 1-2 bird’s eye if you want real heat), roughly chopped
• 3 tablespoons fish sauce
• 2 tablespoons lime juice, plus extra lime wedges to serve
• 1 tablespoon grated palm sugar (or brown sugar)
• 60g roasted peanuts, roughly crushed
• Small handful each coriander, mint and Thai basil leaves

Method

1. Poach the chicken in barely simmering salted water with a smashed garlic clove and a few peppercorns, about 12-15 minutes depending on thickness. Rest for 10 minutes, then shred with two forks. (Or char-grill on a properly hot pan or barbecue and slice.)
2. Pound the garlic and chilli together in a mortar and pestle with a pinch of salt until you’ve got a rough paste. No mortar and pestle? A mini food processor does the job, just don’t turn it into a slurry.
3. Add the palm sugar, fish sauce and lime juice to the mortar and stir through until the sugar dissolves. Taste as you go and adjust, more lime if it’s flat, more fish sauce if it’s too sweet.
4. Add the beans to the mortar and give them a light bruising with the pestle, just enough to soften the edges, not pulp them.
5. Tip the shredded papaya and carrot into a large bowl. Pour over the dressing and beans, then toss well with your hands or tongs, lightly bruising the papaya as you go so it takes on the flavour properly.
6. Add the tomatoes and eschalot, toss gently.
7. Fold through the shredded chicken and most of the herbs, reserving a few leaves for the top.
8. Pile onto a platter, scatter with crushed peanuts, remaining herbs, and serve with lime wedges on the side.

A serving idea for a warmer night

I like this alongside something grilled and simple, maybe the barramundi with fennel and orange if you want to make a proper night of it, or just on its own with a side of steamed jasmine rice if you’re feeding people with bigger appetites. It also holds up fine as a make-ahead lunch if you keep the papaya, dressing and chicken in separate containers and combine at the desk. Nobody wants a soggy salad at 12:30 on a Tuesday.

A variation worth trying

Swap the chicken for grilled prawns if you want something lighter and quicker, the dressing does all the same work. I’ve also done a version with shredded green mango when papaya wasn’t around, slightly sweeter, still holds its crunch, still works. If you’re avoiding fish sauce for whatever reason, a good soy with a splash of extra lime gets you most of the way there, though I’ll be honest, it’s not quite the same dish without it.

For more ideas on building vegetables into meals that don’t feel like a chore, have a look at simple ways to eat more plants each week, or if lunch is the meal that always falls apart on a busy day, healthy eating when life gets busy has a few things worth trying. And if you want another chicken and herb combination that leans sweet rather than sharp, the lemon seared chicken with forest berries, chilli and balsamic dressing is worth a look too.

Don’t muck about with the ratios on this one once you’ve made it a couple of times. You’ll know within a mouthful whether it needs more lime, more chilli, or another minute of pounding. Taste as you go, trust your own tongue over mine, and you’ll get there.

— Dave Forsythe, Golden Door Living kitchen