Easy Jamaican Brown Stew Chicken

I embarrassingly have to admit that I had never tried brown stew chicken until I met my husband. Which, when you consider how much I’ve always loved Jamaican food and Caribbean home cooking, feels like a personal failing. I grew up around bold flavours, slow-cooked stews, and pots that bubbled away on the stove for hours, yet somehow this classic completely passed me by. That all changed many moons ago when I met him—and honestly, I’ve never looked back.

Brown stew chicken has since become one of my absolute favourite stews to make. Not just to eat (although, wow), but to cook. It’s ridiculously easy. And I don’t say that lightly. This is the kind of recipe you could make half-asleep, on autopilot, or—dare I say it—almost blindfolded. There’s no fussy technique, no overthinking, no precision stress. Just good ingredients, good seasoning, and letting the pot do what it does best.

One of the things I adore most about Jamaican and African-style cooking is how intuitive and forgiving it is. These cuisines are built on cooking from the soul, not rigid rules. You cook with what you have, you taste as you go, and you trust yourself. Got a couple of carrots sitting sadly in the fridge drawer? Throw them in. Half a bell pepper that needs using? In it goes. Is it traditional? Maybe not. Is it delicious? Absolutely. And honestly, who’s ever had fun sticking to the rules anyway?

That flexibility is exactly why brown stew chicken has earned a permanent spot in my kitchen rotation. It’s comforting, deeply flavoured, and endlessly adaptable. It’s the sort of meal that feels like a hug but still delivers that rich, savoury punch you want from a proper stew. The gravy alone deserves its own fan club—dark, glossy, savoury with just a hint of sweetness, clinging to the chicken in the most satisfying way.

This recipe is straight from my cookbook Sugar & Spice, which I’m very lovingly giving out for free. No catch, no gatekeeping—just good food shared openly. If you love this recipe (and I have a strong feeling you will), make sure you grab a copy of the cookbook because it’s packed with dishes like this: comforting, bold, and rooted in flavour-first cooking.

Brown stew chicken also holds a very special place in my heart because it was one of the first meals I ever made for my fiancé. I remember being completely frantic. Proper stressed. I knew I could cook, obviously, but there’s something about cooking for someone you really care about that turns the pressure all the way up. I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted him to love it. I wanted that moment where the first bite is taken and everything goes quiet. And—if I may say so myself—I absolutely nailed it.

Since then, this recipe has been cooked, tweaked, tested, and perfected many times over. I also had the pleasure of collaborating with the incredible cook Niyi Olapede, who regularly serves versions of this dish at his supper clubs. Seeing how he approached brown stew chicken, how he layered flavours and respected the roots of the dish, helped me finalise the version that made it into the cookbook. It’s soulful, bold, and deeply satisfying—exactly how brown stew chicken should be.

One of the biggest misconceptions about Caribbean cooking is that it’s hard to recreate at home or requires specialist ingredients. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Most of the ingredients in this brown stew chicken recipe can be found in a regular UK supermarket. That accessibility is part of the magic. These are pantry-friendly recipes designed to feed families, stretch ingredients, and deliver maximum flavour without unnecessary complexity.

That said, if you’re someone who loves a punchy sauce (and if you’re here, I’m guessing you are), I highly recommend picking up your ginger and garlic from an Asian grocer if you can. I find the flavour is sharper, fresher, and more aromatic—exactly what you want in a stew where the sauce does most of the talking. It’s a small upgrade that makes a noticeable difference.

In this recipe, I use a combination of brown sugar and browning sauce, and I know that can raise eyebrows. Browning sauce, for anyone unfamiliar, is essentially a dark liquid seasoning made from caramelised sugar and water. It’s used across Caribbean cooking to add deep colour and a slightly smoky, rich flavour without making dishes overly sweet. It’s common in gravies, stews, soups, meats, and even cakes.

Using both brown sugar and browning might feel a bit extra, and honestly—it is. But I love what the combination brings. The brown sugar adds warmth and subtle sweetness, while the browning gives that signature dark colour and depth that brown stew chicken is known for. If you’d rather use just one, that’s completely fine. Again, this is forgiving cooking. Do what works for you.

If I had to give just one non-negotiable tip for making the best brown stew chicken, it would be this: remove the skin from the chicken before cooking. I know some people love chicken skin, and usually I’m right there with you—but in a stew, it just doesn’t work. The skin goes soft, rubbery, and soggy, and it doesn’t add anything positive to the texture. Removing it allows the chicken to absorb all that gorgeous gravy and keeps the final dish rich rather than greasy.

At its core, brown stew chicken is about confidence in the kitchen. It’s about trusting flavour, embracing intuition, and letting go of perfection. It’s the kind of recipe that tastes even better the next day, that fills the house with the most incredible aroma, and that reminds you why home cooking matters.

So whether this is your first time making brown stew chicken or it’s already a staple in your kitchen, this recipe is here to guide you—not control you. Cook it your way, taste as you go, and most importantly, enjoy the process. Because that’s what this dish—and this style of cooking—is really about.

Photo Credit: Mowie Kay