The history of insalata Caprese is a bit cloudy but there seems to be two possible explanations to its origins that involve sandwiches. The dish originated on the island of Capri (near Naples, Italy) where a patriotic mason might have modeled a tricolor sandwich after Italy’s flag after World War I or King Farouk of Egypt might have requested a stuffed sandwich with the Caprese ingredients thirty years later in the 1950’s. Either one of those sandwiches could have even been the precursor to this fresh and gratifying Caprese burger.

In any event, it’s easy to see why Insalata Caprese has become the iconic dish it is. An Italian flag made from tomatoes, basil and mozzarella — ingredients whose importance can’t be overestimated in Italian cuisine. More importantly, preparing the dish correctly not only demands the freshest possible ingredients but uncommon sophistication, patience and restraint, traits embodied by the very best traditions of Italian cooking.

But for all of that, Caprese has only ever been mildly intriguing to me — I’ve never even ordered one at a restaurant. Which, if I’m reading these diatribes correctly, might have been a good thing. Food lovers from all corners of the internet strongly suggest insalata Caprese in the United States are a cruel mockery of the original dish, an abomination that continues to insult the people and culture of Capri. I’m paraphrasing (as there may be children nearby), but that’s the sanitized gist. I always thought the fresh basil smelled inviting when I served it to guests as a server, and the fresh mozzarella was, well, fresh mozzarella — no further explanation necessary — but I couldn’t get past those damned tomatoes.

For the longest time as a kid, I did everything I could to avoid tomatoes, especially those large beefsteak tomatoes. You know, the ones that are bursting with seeds floating in some form of revolting ectoplasmic goop. I vividly remember watching my grandparent’s neighbor-lady take these giant bites of ripe tomato from the basket she used to bring over from her garden. When she started to rub one of them on her shirt, I knew the horror that would soon unfold — I always knew, but I could never make myself turn away. She smiled and laughed as that slimy tomato ooze slowly ran down her chin, relishing the panic and terror in my eyes. Clearly, my grandmother’s unassuming, little town had been quietly taken over by aliens that reveled in the torture of the small humans. They may have looked and talked like us, but they weren’t human. No human could ever suck the gooey guts out of a raw tomato like that?*

Eventually, I came to terms with tomatoes while working in a restaurant kitchen — the food industry will quickly disabuse you of any weird food hang-ups you may have. It will disabuse you of many things. Free from otherwise sweet old lady aliens torturing me with ripe tomatoes, I actually began to enjoy them outside of cans and jars, craving fresh tomatoes for the first time in my salads and sandwiches. This Caprese burger might not be the nuanced, national treasure that is so revered throughout Italy but if you use fresh tomatoes, freshly-picked, flavorful basil and a nice, quality mozzarella, it might be close. Or as close as we can get here in the States. (That last bit was for you, angry Italian food writers, forum haters and Reddit rage-machines.).

Image: ForkingSpoon

Caprese burger with pesto mayonnaise recipe

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