Peach Caprese Salad

Labor Day. The annual cookout. Tommy is twenty months old and running everywhere. Megan is seven months pregnant and sitting. The contrast between a toddler in perpetual motion and a pregnant woman in perpetual stillness is comedy and biology and the specific exhaustion of a family growing faster than the infrastructure can handle.

Tom sat on the new porch (his porch, the one we built together) and held Tommy on his knee and watched the backyard and said nothing and said everything. Patrick stood at the grill arguing with Kevin about charcoal versus gas. Colleen brought soda bread and pie and the particular Irish grandmother energy that says, "I brought too much food and I dare you to complain." Nobody complained.

Megan goes back to school next week. Her tenth year. She's teaching until Ellie comes, which means she'll be eight months pregnant in a classroom of nine-year-olds, which means the children will be more fascinated by her belly than by any lesson she teaches, which Megan has accepted with the grace of a woman who uses everything — including a visible pregnancy — as a teaching moment. "Baby development is science," she says.

Made pulled pork for the cookout — smoked for twelve hours on the patio smoker. The pulled pork is my Labor Day contribution and it is non-negotiable. Tommy ate a pulled pork sandwich deconstructed into its component parts: meat in one hand, bread in the other, sauce on his face, joy everywhere.

The small future-kid-conversations have begun. Megan teaches small fourth-grade at a small public school in Wauwatosa. The small adoption-vs-biological conversation is in the small early-discussion stage. The small five-year-plan includes the small kid-or-kids in some form. The small kitchen is the small place where the small future is being practiced.

The small Lakefront Brewery shift-work continues to be the small steady-paycheck. The small forty-hour-week brewery-floor job pays the small twenty-two-an-hour rate that the small Milwaukee-blue-collar-economy supports. The small benefits are the small union-decent. The small ten-year-tenure-target is the small career-anchor.

Megan is from a small Irish-Catholic Milwaukee-suburban family. The small Sunday-dinners at her small parents’ house rotate with the small Sunday-dinners at Jake’s parents’ house. The small in-laws on both sides have been the small welcoming-presence. The small two-family-network is the small extended-support the small newlywed-life rests on.

Megan and Jake married in June 2024. The small newlywed-rhythm is in its small second year. The small two-bedroom rental on the small east-side of Milwaukee continues to be the small first-home. The small thirty-year-mortgage-eventually-someday is the small five-year-goal. The small marriage is the small foundation the small life is being built on.

The small Polish-American heritage is the small kitchen-identity. The small pierogi-recipe-cards from Babcia Helen (Jake’s grandmother who passed in 2018, who had lived two blocks from the small Bay-View family-house) is the small monthly-Saturday-tradition. The small kielbasa-and-sauerkraut. The small bigos. The small recipes that came over from the small Krakow-region in the small 1910s.

The small Milwaukee-winter is the small six-month-condition. The small cold-weather-comfort-food rotation runs October through April. The small soups, the small stews, the small braises, the small heavy-baked-goods. The small Midwestern-comfort-vocabulary is the small kitchen-language.

The pulled pork handles itself after hour three — that’s the whole point of a smoker. What it doesn’t handle is the rest of the spread, and with Megan off her feet and Tommy impossible to put down, I needed something that came together in ten minutes without a burner or a pan. Peach Caprese is what I bring when the backyard is already doing the heavy lifting. Late August peaches from the farmers market, good mozzarella, a drizzle of balsamic, and it sits next to a platter of smoked pork like it was always supposed to be there.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 10 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

3 large ripe peaches, pitted and sliced 1/4 inch thick
8 oz fresh mozzarella, sliced 1/4 inch thick
1/2 cup fresh basil leaves, torn or left whole
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 1/2 tablespoons balsamic glaze (or reduced balsamic vinegar)
1/4 teaspoon flaky sea salt
1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Optional: 1 teaspoon honey, drizzled

Instructions

Slice and arrange. Alternate slices of peach and fresh mozzarella on a large serving platter, overlapping slightly. Tuck basil leaves between the layers as you go.
Dress it. Drizzle the olive oil evenly over the entire platter, followed by the balsamic glaze. If your peaches are on the tart side, add the optional honey drizzle now.
Season. Finish with flaky sea salt and freshly ground black pepper. Serve immediately at room temperature — do not refrigerate before serving or the mozzarella will firm up and the peaches will weep.

Nutrition (per serving)

Peach Caprese Salad — The Side That Keeps the Peace at a Labor Day Cookout