Sourdough Panzanella Salad

Last summer, I found myself at a farmer's market with three types of heirloom tomatoes I couldn't resist, a sourdough loaf going stale, and absolutely no plan for dinner. A vendor mentioned panzanella—that Tuscan bread salad that transforms yesterday's bread into something better than fresh—and by evening, I understood why Italians built entire meals around this idea. The magic happens when warm croutons meet cool tomatoes and a fragrant basil vinaigrette, creating something that tastes even better the longer it sits.

I made this for a potluck on the hottest day of July, worried the bread would turn to mush in the car ride over. Instead, guests kept going back for more, and someone asked if it was a restaurant recipe. The quiet victory of watching people eat something you made, especially something this simple, stayed with me longer than expected.

Ingredients

• Day-old sourdough bread (250 g, about ½ loaf): Stale bread is your secret weapon here—it has the structure to soak up dressing without falling apart, which fresh bread simply cannot do.
• Extra-virgin olive oil (2 tbsp for croutons, ¼ cup for vinaigrette): Quality matters more than quantity; this is where your olive oil shines without being masked by heat.
• Sea salt (½ tsp for croutons, to taste in vinaigrette): Sea salt dissolves differently than table salt and adds subtle mineral notes.
• Heirloom tomatoes (500 g, mixed colors): The variety of sweetness, acidity, and texture across different heirloom varieties creates depth; cherry tomatoes work in a pinch but lack that complexity.
• Cucumber (1 small): Peeling it completely helps the croutons stay crisp by reducing excess moisture in the bowl.
• Red onion (½ small): Thin slices soften slightly as they sit, mellowing that sharp bite into something almost sweet.
• Garlic clove (1 small, minced): One clove is enough; too much overpowers the basil and makes the dish taste aggressive rather than inviting.
• Fresh basil (30 g, packed): Bruising it slightly as you pack it releases oils, giving the vinaigrette a more vibrant flavor.
• Red wine vinegar (1½ tbsp): The acidity awakens the tomatoes and keeps the bread from tasting too heavy.
• Dijon mustard (1 tsp): This acts as an emulsifier, keeping the oil and vinegar from separating while adding subtle depth.
• Honey (½ tsp): A tiny touch balances the vinegar without making the salad taste sweet.
• Fresh mozzarella or burrata (50 g, optional): Tearing it by hand instead of cutting creates irregular pieces that distribute better throughout the salad.

Instructions

Toast your croutons until they smell like honey:

Heat the oven to 180°C (350°F), toss bread cubes with olive oil and salt, spread them on a baking sheet, and stir once halfway through the 10–15 minute toast. You'll know they're done when the kitchen fills with that nutty, toasty smell and the edges turn golden—don't let them darken too much or they'll taste bitter.

Build the vinaigrette while bread cools:

Combine basil, olive oil, vinegar, mustard, honey, minced garlic, salt, and pepper in a blender or food processor and pulse until the basil is finely broken down but the vinaigrette still has slight texture. Taste it on a tomato piece to adjust seasoning before moving forward.

Assemble the salad with care:

In a large bowl, combine tomatoes, sliced cucumber, and thin red onion slices, then add the cooled croutons. Drizzle generously with the basil vinaigrette and toss gently—aggressive stirring bruises tomatoes and breaks up the croutons unnecessarily.

Let it rest and marry the flavors:

Set the bowl aside for 10 minutes, allowing the bread to drink in the dressing and the flavors to settle into one another. This pause is non-negotiable if you want the magic to happen.

Finish and serve with confidence:

Transfer to a serving platter, scatter torn mozzarella or burrata across the top if using, and garnish with a few fresh basil leaves. Serve immediately while the contrast between cool and crisp elements remains alive.

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There's something about watching people close their eyes while eating this salad on a warm evening that reminds you why cooking matters. It's not complicated or showy, just honest food that tastes like summer and effort.

The Timing of Bread in Your Kitchen

The best panzanella meals start with an awareness of when bread ages. A sourdough loaf at its peak on day one is often better forgotten by day two—but day two is exactly when it becomes perfect for this salad. Learn to anticipate this moment: plan a farmers market trip knowing you'll have a stale loaf in your breadbox, or ask a bakery for yesterday's sourdough at a discount. This simple shift in thinking transforms waste into intention.

Why Basil Deserves Its Own Vinaigrette

A simple vinaigrette would work, but blended basil creates something entirely different—a sauce that tastes like summer itself, bright and verdant and alive in ways a scattered garnish never achieves. The blender breaks down the basil's cell structure, releasing oils and chlorophyll, which then coat everything evenly. This is why texture in the dressing matters as much as taste.

Making It Work for Your Situation

Panzanella adapts gracefully to what you have on hand and what your guests require, without losing its essential character. A vegan version skips the cheese entirely and becomes even more about the tomatoes and bread, which many find more satisfying anyway. Add capers or olives if you want salinity and umami, substitute balsamic vinegar if red wine vinegar feels too sharp, or use any rustic bread if sourdough isn't available—the dish remains recognizable and delicious.

• Make the vinaigrette in the morning and let the basil steep in the oil, which deepens the flavor considerably by dinner time.
• If serving a crowd, assemble the salad components in a large shallow bowl so everyone can reach the croutons at the bottom.
• Leftover panzanella tastes completely different on day two, which is fine—it becomes more like a bread soup, still delicious but transformed.

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This salad became a regular in my summer rotation because it asked so little and delivered so much. Make it once, and you'll understand why Tuscans built an entire tradition around transforming stale bread into something worth planning a meal around.