← Back to Blog

Cherry Tomato Caprese Salad — Simple and Right, Like Everything This Week

Two weeks from today is the wedding. I keep writing that sentence in different ways and it keeps being the same sentence: two weeks from today is the wedding. I have run every possible simulation of this day in my head and I know it will be different from all of them, because that is what days are, and I am choosing to be okay with that.

Final fittings this week — the dress, the alterations done, the woman at the bridal shop who has been extraordinarily patient with my particular combination of certainty and second-guessing saying, "You are going to be beautiful," and meaning it in the professional way but also in the genuine way, and I stood in front of the mirror in the dress and thought: yes. This is right. This is exactly right. My mother was right that my father is going to cry. My father is absolutely going to cry.

Sean D. and I had dinner with his parents Tuesday night — a good dinner, Linda's excellent cooking, Ed with his three-word sentences and complete approval communicated through them. Linda held my hands at the door when we left and said, "Thank you for making him so happy." I said, "It's mutual." She said, "I know. That's what I mean." This is a good family I'm marrying into. I knew this. Saying it again feels like gratitude.

I made a simple dinner this week that felt right for the pre-wedding period: roast tomato soup, made from whole tomatoes roasted until they caramelized, blended smooth and finished with cream. Basic and perfect and comforting. The kind of meal that doesn't compete with the enormous thing happening in two weeks but instead just maintains you, nourishes you, keeps you ready for what's coming. That is what good soup does. That is what it has always done.

The soup felt like the right call for that Tuesday night — something warm and low-effort and good — and it reminded me how much I’ve been leaning on simple tomato recipes this whole stretch of pre-wedding life. This Cherry Tomato Caprese Salad is in the same spirit: honest ingredients, almost no work, and a result that looks like you did more than you did. When Linda’s warmth and Ed’s quiet approval are still sitting with you two days later, you don’t need dinner to be complicated — you just need it to be good.

Cherry Tomato Caprese Salad

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 2 cups cherry tomatoes, halved
  • 8 oz fresh mozzarella, torn into bite-sized pieces (or use ciliegine/small balls)
  • 1/4 cup fresh basil leaves, torn
  • 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
  • 1 tablespoon balsamic glaze (or aged balsamic vinegar)
  • 1/2 teaspoon flaky sea salt, plus more to taste
  • 1/4 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper
  • Optional: 1 small garlic clove, very finely minced

Instructions

  1. Prep the tomatoes. Halve the cherry tomatoes and place them in a large, shallow serving bowl or on a rimmed platter. Season lightly with a pinch of salt and let them sit for 5 minutes to draw out their juices.
  2. Add the mozzarella. Tear the fresh mozzarella into irregular, rustic pieces and nestle them among the tomatoes. Uneven pieces hold the dressing better and look more inviting than uniform slices.
  3. Build the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together the olive oil, balsamic glaze, and minced garlic if using. Taste and adjust with salt and pepper.
  4. Dress and finish. Drizzle the dressing evenly over the tomatoes and mozzarella. Scatter the torn basil leaves on top. Finish with another pinch of flaky sea salt and a few cracks of black pepper.
  5. Serve immediately. Caprese is best eaten right away while the basil is bright and the mozzarella is at room temperature. Serve with crusty bread to catch the juices.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 240 | Protein: 11g | Fat: 19g | Carbs: 6g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 320mg

Kate Donovan
About the cook who shared this
Kate Donovan
Week 61 of Kate’s 30-year story · Boston, Massachusetts
Kate is a thirty-five-year-old nurse practitioner in Boston and a widowed mother of two whose husband Sean died of brain cancer at thirty-three. She makes Irish soda bread and beef stew and shepherd's pie because the recipes are all she has left of a man who was supposed to grow old with her. She writes about cooking through grief and finding out you can still feed your children on the worst day of your life.

How Would You Spin It?

Put your own twist on this recipe — what would you add, remove, or swap?