Sourdough Panzanella Salad Heirloom

There's a moment every summer when I realize I have a half loaf of sourdough sitting on the counter and the farmers market has delivered the most impossibly vibrant heirloom tomatoes—some striped like candy, others deep purple-red. That's when panzanella stops being just a recipe and becomes an excuse to celebrate what the season has handed me. This salad came together one humid afternoon when I wanted something that felt substantial but didn't require heating up the kitchen, and the combination of crispy bread, sweet tomatoes, and a basil vinaigrette so green it practically glows became an instant tradition.

I made this for a potluck on the longest day of the year, bringing it in a ceramic bowl still slightly warm from the oven's residual heat. When I lifted the cloth covering, someone said, "That's what summer looks like," and I realized they were right—it wasn't just food, it was a moment captured in salad form. People came back for seconds, and one friend asked if she could take the last bite of vinaigrette with a spoon, which felt like the highest compliment.

Ingredients

• Day-old sourdough bread, cut into 2 cm cubes (250 g, about ½ loaf): Day-old bread is crucial here—it's sturdier and won't turn to mush when the vinaigrette hits it, but it still has enough structure to get wonderfully crispy at the edges.
• Extra-virgin olive oil (2 tbsp for toasting, 60 ml for vinaigrette): Use the good stuff you actually enjoy tasting, because there's nowhere for mediocre oil to hide in something this simple.
• Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper: These aren't just seasonings; they're the foundation that lets everything else shine.
• Heirloom tomatoes, assorted colors, cut into wedges or bite-sized pieces (500 g): The variety of colors and flavors is what makes this salad sing—cherry tomatoes alone won't have the same depth.
• Cucumber, peeled and sliced (1 small): Peeling it leaves those little green flecks in the flesh, which adds both texture and visual appeal.
• Red onion, thinly sliced (½ small): The thin slicing matters because it distributes the sharpness evenly without overpowering any single bite.
• Fresh basil leaves, packed (30 g, about 1 cup): Pick leaves that smell impossibly fragrant—that's your signal they'll make a vinaigrette worth remembering.
• Red wine vinegar (1½ tbsp): It provides acidity without the harshness of white vinegar, and it plays beautifully with the basil.
• Dijon mustard (1 tsp): This acts as an emulsifier, helping the vinaigrette coat everything evenly and stick around longer.
• Honey (½ tsp): Just enough to round out the sharpness of the vinegar and add a whisper of complexity.
• Fresh mozzarella or burrata, torn (50 g, about ½ cup, optional): If you use it, let it soften slightly at room temperature so it melds into the salad rather than staying cold and separate.

Instructions

Preheat and prepare your workspace:

Set your oven to 180°C (350°F) and get a baking sheet ready—this is the moment to think through the order of everything so nothing catches you off guard.

Make the croutons golden:

Toss your sourdough cubes with olive oil and sea salt, then spread them on the sheet in a single layer. Toast for 10 to 15 minutes, stirring once midway through, until they're golden on the outside but still have a tiny bit of give in the center—you want that textural contrast. Let them cool completely on the sheet so they crisp up further.

Blend the basil vinaigrette:

In a blender or food processor, combine your basil, olive oil, red wine vinegar, mustard, honey, minced garlic, and a pinch of salt and pepper. Blend until it's smooth and that gorgeous green color, then taste it and adjust—this is your chance to make it exactly what you want. If it seems too thick, a splash of water helps.

Compose the vegetables:

In a large bowl, combine your tomatoes (which should be at room temperature), cucumber slices, and thinly sliced red onion—the cool vegetables against the warm croutons create a lovely contrast. Add the cooled croutons now, being gentle so they don't shatter.

Dress and let it marry:

Drizzle the basil vinaigrette over everything and toss gently, coating each piece. Let it sit undisturbed for about 10 minutes—this resting time is where the magic happens, as the bread absorbs the dressing and flavors knit together.

Finish and serve:

Transfer to a serving platter or keep it in the bowl, scatter torn mozzarella or burrata on top if using, add a few fresh basil leaves for color and a final hint of aroma, and serve right away while the textures still have their personality.

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What I love most about this salad is that it proves you don't need complicated technique or expensive ingredients to create something memorable—just good things treated with intention. It's taught me that sometimes the best meals are the ones where the food speaks for itself and you're just there to listen.

Choosing Your Bread Wisely

The bread you choose shapes the entire salad, and sourdough's slight tang and sturdy crumb are ideal, but don't feel locked in. A rustic Italian bread like pane toscano or even a day-old baguette works beautifully—what matters is that it has enough structure to toast into something crispy rather than chewy. I've used focaccia scraps in a pinch, and while it's richer than sourdough, it created something equally delicious, just different. The one rule I live by: never use soft sandwich bread, because it will dissolve into paste the moment the vinaigrette touches it, and that's a tragedy you can avoid with one thoughtful choice.

Tomato Season Is Everything

This salad is honest about what it needs: tomatoes at their absolute peak. In winter, when tomatoes are pale and mealy, panzanella becomes a less joyful thing, and I've learned to respect that rather than force it. The heirloom varieties matter not just for flavor but for texture—some are juicy and fragile, others are meaty and dense, and having a mix means every bite surprises you. If you can grow your own or find them at a farmers market where someone can tell you about them, that's where the magic starts.

The Basil Vinaigrette as a Bridge

This vibrant green sauce is what transforms a bread salad from rustic simplicity into something that feels intentional and alive. The basil carries the whole dish, so use leaves that smell like summer incarnate—if you're smelling them and already want to eat them, you're on the right track. The mustard isn't there to announce itself; it's a whisper that helps everything stick together and makes the flavors feel more cohesive than they have any right to.

• Make extra vinaigrette and keep it in the fridge for drizzling over grilled vegetables or stirring into ricotta for an instant spread.
• If you don't have a blender, you can roughly chop the basil and whisk everything together by hand for a more rustic, textured vinaigrette.
• The vinaigrette is best used the same day you make it, as the basil will darken and lose some of its brightness over time.

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This salad has become my go-to answer when someone asks what to bring to a summer gathering, because it's generous without being heavy, and it says something honest about the time of year. Make it once and you'll understand why it's been feeding Italian tables for centuries.