Longhorn Steakhouse Parmesan Chicken

ByOlivia Coleman September 25, 2025

Let Me Tell You About the Time I Tried to Impress My In-Laws…

Okay, picture this: it’s Sunday, I’m already one coffee deep, and my in-laws are coming over (again). I had this wild idea to try my hand at Longhorn Steakhouse Parmesan Chicken. Except I’d never made it before. Why do we do this to ourselves? Anyway, long story sort of short, it turned out shockingly tasty—like, my father-in-law actually asked for seconds. If you knew him, you’d realize that’s like getting a bear hug from a cactus. Ever since, it’s become the dish I break out when I feel like flexing a tiny bit in the kitchen but not totally losing my mind.

Why I Keep Coming Back to This Chicken

I make this when I’m craving something *fancy-ish* but don’t want to dress up or spend $25 per plate (who does?). My kids, who usually act like vegetables are the food of villains, actually cheer when they see this. They scrape the plates—like, really scrape. Sometimes the cheese sticks a bit and I get slightly grumpier than I should, but otherwise? It’s pure joy (with extra napkins for the cheese-lovers).

What You’ll Need – Feel Free to Deviate

2 large chicken breasts (sometimes I just grab thighs—works just as well, maybe juicier!)
1 cup buttermilk (when I’m out, I just splash some milk with lemon juice, let’s not tell my chef friend)
1 cup Italian-style breadcrumbs (Panko if you want something crunchier, I won’t rat you out)
1/2 cup grated Parmesan (my grandma swore by the expensive wedge, but pre-shredded is fine, honestly)
1 cup shredded provolone (or mozzarella; cheese is forgiving, and so am I on a busy Tuesday)
2 tbsp olive oil (I, uh, once used melted butter when I ran out—it was pretty great, actually)
1 cup creamy ranch dressing (I like Hidden Valley, but homemade is fun if you’re feeling energetic)
1/2 tsp garlic powder
1/2 tsp paprika
Salt & cracked pepper (just wing it!)

How I Actually Cook This (With a Few Detours)

Pound the chicken flat-ish. Not paper-thin, just less chunky. I usually stick mine in a freezer bag and give it a gentle bash with my rolling pin. If you don’t have one, a big mug does the trick (watch your knuckles).
Marinate in buttermilk. Or, in my case, when I forget, skip and just sprinkle extra salt on before baking. Anyway, let the chicken chill in buttermilk for at least 30 minutes. Longer’s better. But who has the time?
Breading time! Mix those breadcrumbs with the Parmesan, garlic, and paprika. Take the chicken out, let it drip a second, coat in the mix, press it down a bit (I like a thick crust).
Heat the olive oil in a big skillet. Medium heat. Pop the chicken in, and let it go till golden, about 3-4 minutes a side. Don’t panic if it looks all lumpy—mine always does at this stage.
Now for the real magic. Place the crisped chicken in a baking dish. Slather a generous spoonful of ranch on each, then pile high with provolone. I usually sneak a cheesy bit for myself here!
Bake at 400°F (205°C) for 15-ish minutes. Or till the cheese is melty and bubbly and the kitchen smells, well, fantastic. Check for 165°F inside if you like being precise—I usually poke and guess.

Stuff I Wish I’d Known the First Time

If you want crisper chicken, don’t go crazy on the ranch. Too much makes it a bit soggy (learned the hard way, trust me).
Let it sit before slicing—otherwise the cheese wants to slide right off and make a break for freedom.
Sometimes the breading likes to stick to the pan; a little extra drizzle of oil before baking works wonders.

The “I Wonder What Happens If…” Department

Once, I tried swapping ranch for Caesar dressing. Tasted good, but went weirdly salty. Wouldn’t do it again unless you really like briney food!
Buffalo sauce on top of the cheese turned into a family favorite, though. Spicier, obviously.
One time, I mixed a bit of Italian sausage in the breading (don’t ask why)—it was wild, but kind of fun!

Kitchen Gadgets—Or Not

I say a meat mallet is ideal for pounding, but you could honestly use a frying pan (as long as nobody’s watching). Bastard spatula helps lift cheesy chicken, but a big fork works—just expect to scrape a bit. And if the fancy baking dish is in use, a regular tray lined with foil does fine.

How to Store It (Not That You’ll Need To)

I swear, leftovers barely make it to see the sunrise, but if you do have some left, pop them in an airtight container. They’ll be good two days in the fridge. Microwaved is okay, but honestly, the oven perked it up better. Or just eat it cold—my husband does. Here’s a pretty fun resource on what to do with leftover chicken if you’re stuck.

My Go-To Serving Tricks

If I’m trying to be fancy, I scatter a handful of chopped parsley and serve over buttered noodles or—don’t judge—curly fries. My kids are adamant it needs sweet corn on the side (I dunno, eight-year-olds make the rules?). Oh, and sometimes a big green salad to pretend we’re eating healthy.

Lessons Learned (By Messing Up First)

I once tried speeding through the frying step. Chicken ended up pale and kinda sad. Just wait for that solid gold color.
If the cheese is burning, loosely tent with foil—though actually, I sort of like it a tad crispy on the edges. To each his own.
And yeah, adding the ranch before the crust got crispy made it weirdly slippery. Now I always add it after frying, never before.

Questions I Actually Get (and My Real Answers)

“Can I make this gluten-free?”
Absolutely! Swap in GF breadcrumbs, and you’re all set. I did this once when my sister-in-law visited—tasted brilliant (bit pricier, though).
“Is this spicy?”
Nah, not unless you want it to be. Add a dash of cayenne if you crave heat, or hot sauce. Or both! Your kitchen, your circus.
“Is ranch dressing essential?”
Wait, essential? Maybe not. I’ve used honey mustard or even no sauce in a pinch, but ranch stands out (I mean, it’s in the title).
“Can I freeze it?”
Sure, although I find freezing sometimes makes the cheese a bit grainy after reheating. Still edible, just not as picture-perfect. (Apologies to Instagram.)

So, that’s my take on Longhorn Steakhouse Parmesan Chicken—sometimes cheerfully imperfect, always eaten quickly. If you give it a whirl, let me know how it goes! Or, you know, just enjoy it in peace. And if you want to learn how to make perfect chicken every time, here’s a great explainer from Bon Appetit that saved me more than once.

Olivia Coleman