One Pot Creamy Pesto Chicken Pasta

If we were neighbors, I’d hand you a steaming bowl of this and say, just try it first, we can talk after. The first time I made One Pot Creamy Pesto Chicken Pasta, I was late home, the dog was judging me, and the only clean thing was a big pot. I tossed stuff in, gave it a stir, and honestly thought I’d stuffed it. But then the pasta went silky, the chicken stayed tender, and the pesto did that little fragrant whoosh, and I did a tiny victory lap in the kitchen while pretending I was calmly plating dinner. It’s the kind of weeknight magic that feels like you got away with something.

Why I keep making this on busy nights

I make this when I want dinner to feel a bit special without faff. My family goes a bit bonkers for the creamy sauce, and I love that the pasta cooks right in the pot with the chicken, so everything tastes like it belongs together. There’s also the whole one pot thing which means fewer dishes, which means I can sit sooner. I used to add too much liquid and it was soup city, but now I know better, and maybe you will too. And if you’ve had a long day, this smells like a hug when it hits the heat.

Ingredients I grab without overthinking

2 tablespoons olive oil
500g boneless chicken breast, cut into bite size pieces (thighs are great too, juicier)
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped, or a generous spoon of the jarred stuff if that’s what you’ve got
250g short pasta, like penne or fusilli; shells are fun, spaghetti works if you break it in half
3 cups low sodium chicken broth (I sometimes use water with a stock cube when I’m in a hurry)
1 cup milk, whole if possible, but semi skim is fine
60g cream cheese or mascarpone for extra silk, optional but lovely
1/2 to 3/4 cup basil pesto, store bought is fine; homemade is fab if you’ve got basil to use up
If you want to make your own, this guide is spot on: how to make basil pesto
A handful of grated Parmesan, plus more to serve (my grandmother insisted on a certain brand, honestly any decent hard cheese works)
1 small lemon, for zest or a squeeze of juice
Salt and freshly ground pepper
Optional add ins: a cup of baby spinach, a handful of peas, chopped sun dried tomatoes

Let’s cook the whole thing in one pot

Heat a big heavy pot over medium. Add the olive oil and the chicken. Season with a good pinch of salt. Let it get a bit golden on one side before you stir. If it sticks a touch, that’s flavor. Don’t crowd it too much, or it steams and gets a bit meh.
Stir in the garlic. Give it about 30 seconds so it smells like you want to live here. If it looks like it might brown too fast, splash in a spoon of broth.
Add the pasta, the rest of the broth, and the milk. Stir, then bring it up to a lively simmer. This is where I usually sneak a taste of the broth for salt. Cover with a lid slightly ajar and cook 8 to 10 minutes, stirring now and then so nothing sulks at the bottom. Don’t worry if it looks a bit thin at this stage, it tightens up.
When the pasta is just shy of tender, stir in the cream cheese until it disappears. Add the pesto and most of the Parmesan. The sauce will turn glossy and greenish and you’ll think yay, this is it. If it feels too thick, add a splash of water. If it’s too loose, let it burble for another minute.
Finish with lemon zest or a small squeeze of juice, then black pepper. Taste, adjust salt. Turn off the heat and let it sit for two minutes so the sauce clings. Serve with extra cheese because that’s simply sensible.

On second thought, if your chicken pieces are on the chunky side, give them an extra minute before adding the liquids. And if a stray noodle sticks out of the pot and looks dramatic, just push it in, mate.

Little notes I learned the messy way

Keeping the lid slightly open helps the sauce reduce without boiling over. I once clamped it shut and it went frothy, not my finest hour.
Pasta brands vary. Some slurp more liquid than others. Save a bit of hot water on the side to thin, you probably won’t need it, but it’s nice to have.
Chicken is done when it’s opaque and tender. If you like numbers, here’s the official word on safe temps: food safety chart.
If your pesto tastes a bit intense, a spoon of cream cheese calms it down. Actually, I find it works better if I add pesto off the heat, keeps it bright.

Variations I tried, including one I wouldn’t repeat

Spinach swirl: toss in a big handful of baby spinach right at the end. It wilts in seconds and makes you feel quite virtuous.
Lemony pea mood: a cup of frozen peas and extra lemon zest is lovely in spring.
Roasted tomato vibe: stir through chopped roasted cherry tomatoes for sweet little pops.
Rotisserie shortcut: shred leftover roast chicken and add it in the last 3 minutes so it doesn’t dry out.
Gnocchi experiment: I tried swapping pasta for shelf gnocchi once. It went a bit gluey, not tragic, but I wouldn’t do that again.
Vegetarian: skip the chicken, add mushrooms and a splash of extra broth. Works a treat.

Gear I use, or what to do if you don’t have it

A heavy pot is brilliant for this. I love my cast iron Dutch oven, it keeps things even. If you’re curious, I’ve had good luck with this brand: sturdy cast iron. But if all you’ve got is a deep nonstick skillet with a lid, that’s fine too. A wooden spoon is handy, and a measuring cup helps, but I’ve eyeballed the milk before and lived to tell the tale.

Storage and reheating, real talk

Cool leftovers, pop them into an airtight container, and refrigerate up to 3 days. Reheat gently on the stove with a splash of water or milk to loosen. Microwave works for lunch, stir halfway. I think this tastes even better the next day, but honestly in my house it never lasts more than a day. If you freeze it, the sauce can split a bit when thawed, still tasty but a tad dodgy looking.

How I like to serve it

I shower it with Parmesan and a squeeze of lemon. Sometimes a little basil on top if the plant has not given up on me yet. If we’re feeling fancy, I add a simple salad and a crusty slice to mop the pot. Family tradition here is letting everyone add their own pepper at the table, no idea why, it’s just become a thing. And if I’m solo, I eat it on the sofa with a cuppa, no shame.

Pro tips I learned the hard way

I once tried rushing the simmer and cranked the heat, regretted it because the milk caught on the bottom. Medium heat, gentle stir, patience, you’ll keep those creamy vibes.
If the pesto goes in too early, it can lose that fresh basil punch. Off heat works best for me.
Salt the chicken at the start. I forgot once, and all the seasoning had to come from the sauce. Not bad, just not quite right.
Starch is your friend. Don’t drain anything, the pasta water in the pot is what makes it silky. If you’re curious why, this read is neat: pasta water basics.

FAQ because you keep asking me

Can I use gluten free pasta
Yes, but it drinks liquid a bit differently. Start with a touch less broth, top up as you go. Stir more often so it doesn’t stick.

What if I only have thighs
Brilliant choice, they stay juicy. Cut them smaller and give them an extra minute before the liquids go in.

Can I skip the cream cheese
Absolutely. It’s creamy without it. A splash more milk, or even a spoon of yogurt off the heat, works too.

Is store pesto okay
Totally. I keep a jar for emergencies. Add lemon to brighten it, and a bit of Parmesan. If it tastes flat, a tiny pinch of salt usually fixes it.

Do I need a Dutch oven for this
I say yes when I want it super even. But honestly, any deep pot with a lid will do. I once made it in a saucepan and it was fine, I just stirred more.

Oh, random aside before I forget, I once timed my stirring to a favorite song and the pasta turned out spot on al dente right at the chorus. Coincidence, surely, but now I hum every time. If you try that and it works, you owe me a bowl.

When you crave a cozy dinner that practically cooks itself, One Pot Creamy Pesto Chicken Pasta is the move. It’s simple, it’s bright, it’s creamy, and its great for those nights when you need the kitchen to be kind. And if you spill a little, that’s just seasoning form the chef.