Panzanella
On a hot summer’s day in Lucca, there are few more comfortable places to have lunch than under the stone arches of the old trattoria. De Giulio, well protected from the sun’s gaze. The menu never changes (it’s sad to have a chef there, one would think) and the food is solid and not unusual, but the combination of decent food, smiling service, affordable prices and a perfect location, makes this place dear to its many customers. I usually stick to the usual summer suspects: either papa al pomodoro or panzanella, both stalwarts of Tuscan cooking. The first is a thick bread and tomato soup served at room temperature; The latter is a salad of crumbled aged bread, tomatoes and red onions.
I just googled “panzanella” and got about 9,060,000 results. No one can doubt that this summer dish has made it big on the food world stage, with versions ranging from monastic to Siberian.
Panzanella comes from the central regions of Italy: Tuscany, Lazio, Umbria, Marche and Abruzzo, but Tuscany is perhaps the most famous. At its most basic, it is a mixture of old and dry bread, soaked, squeezed and crumbled, tomatoes, red onion and basil, dressed in oil and vinegar and eaten slightly chilled. But variations abound: cucumbers, olives, capers, pieces of anchovies, sliced boiled eggs, anything can go in Panzanella. I’ve seen versions where the stale bread is soaked for a short time and then squeezed and roughly chopped (rather than crumbled) and others where fresh bread is used, toasted, rubbed with garlic and then cut into neat cubes or torn into rough pieces. You see: one basic idea, infinite interpretations.
This is my version, pretty close to the one I often eat in Lucca’s trattorias, with a few personal tweaks. The quantities are not important, but I prefer a salad heavy on the vegetables and lighter on bread.
Roughly, for 1 large serving or 2 small servings, I usually use:
60 grams of dry bread
200 grams of tomatoes (net weight)
Half a red onion, maybe a sweet crushed onion
Oil, vinegar to taste.
Basil or mint
Capers, sliced green olives, cucumbers, depending on the mood.
the bread. It must be from a loaf with a fairly chewy crumb. In my experience, a sourdough loaf works best (as opposed to a baker’s yeast loaf). It must be not only stale, but stone dry, to withstand soaking without turning to pap. Cut the bread into large pieces and dip them in cold water. Once you can feel them soften (seconds, not minutes), lift them out. Some parts will be softer than others (the crust always remains a little harder) and that’s okay. Squeeze them between the palms of your hands, extracting as much liquid as possible.
Crumble them into irregular crumbs or pieces into a bowl. This mixture should feel on the dry and crumbly side. Dress them with a little salt, oil and a little vinegar. It is important that the bread is not wet.
The tomatoes. Use good, ripe tomatoes. I cut them into small cubes, use slits, juices and all. Dress them with a little oil and salt.
the onions. I always use red onions in salads, maybe the sweet tropia variety (and I never use them in regular cooking actually – one of my fixations). Slice them thinly, put in a jar and cover with half wine vinegar (white or red) and half water, add a generous pinch of sugar and a fresh bay leaf, if you have it. Leave them to marinate for at least an hour. Especially in the summer, I tend to keep a Tupperware of these pickled red onions in my fridge at all times because I use them a lot in salads. If you don’t particularly care about the taste of vinegar, just soak the onions in cold water for about an hour.
To assemble the salad, Add the tomatoes to the bread (keep some of the back to add to the salad) and the onions. Mix everything together with your hands and check if there is salt and vinegar: the Panzanella should be pleasantly acidic and refreshing. Refrigerate until slightly cool. Add a lot of basil, mix lightly, drizzle with oil before serving, sprinkle the leftover tomatoes on top.
Sometimes I like to add some capers, for their salty punch, and occasionally some sliced cucumbers (the slices were first salted for about thirty minutes, drained and dried on a cloth, with a little vinegar). Instead of basil, I also use mint. Occasionally I use sliced green olives, omitting the capers.
