Caprese Salad

The Caprese salad asks everything of its ingredients and nothing of its cook. That's what makes it terrifying for some and liberating for others. There is no technique that will rescue a mealy supermarket tomato or rubbery mozzarella. You cannot mask mediocrity with a clever sauce. What you bring to the plate is precisely what your guests will taste.

This dish hails from the island of Capri, where it emerged sometime in the twentieth century as a celebration of the colors of the Italian flag: red tomatoes, white mozzarella, green basil. The Italians understood something fundamental. When ingredients are perfect, the cook's job is to step aside and let them speak.

I've served this salad to food critics and to children at backyard barbecues. The reaction is always the same: a pause, a moment of recognition, then the quiet work of eating something that needs no improvement. Your success depends entirely on one summer afternoon at the farmers market, selecting tomatoes that smell like tomatoes and mozzarella still swimming in its whey.