Panzanella
- Howie Bulka
- Sep 3, 2025
- 7 min read
The law of diminishing marginal utility states that the utility or satisfaction gained from each additional unit of a good or service consumed is less than the prior unit. That is, the more you consume of something, the less additional pleasure it provides.
I first learned about things ‘marginal’ as a young man, a student of economics, at San Francisco State University. Economists are mad about marginal things. Marginal utility, marginal cost, marginal benefit, marginal returns are axiomatic in the demand driven view of ‘economic man’ that prevailed when I was a student. I was impressionable once upon a time, and these theories became well learned lessons, forever after influencing my understanding of the world and years later, of the restaurant business.
To illustrate the law of diminishing utility, economists like to use the example of a thirsty man given a glass of water. The first glass of water will be blissful. It will quench his terrible thirst. He gulps it down. He would have paid dearly for that first glass of water. The second glass of water is refreshing, but halfway through he begins to drink more slowly. He consumes it, he enjoys it, but not as much as the first. Offered a third glass of water, the man declines it. He’s satiated and drinking more water will not provide any additional utility (benefit). In fact, a bloated belly may cause him distress. If you asked the man what he would be willing to pay for that third glass of water, the answer would be zero.
The law of diminishing utility helps us to understand how much people enjoy what they consume and how much they are willing to pay for that pleasure. As a chef and restaurateur, I often, if not daily, find myself ruminating on the calculus of pleasure, price and value. Most recently, charged with the task of writing a recipe for Panzanella, our recipe of the month for august, I found it useful walk down memory lane, referencing the axioms of modern economic theory, as I looked to the law of diminishing utility to solve ‘The Heirloom Tomato Problem”
For those unfamiliar, an heirloom tomato is truly a thing to behold. They arrive at local farmers’ markets and green grocers in the summer months, in a dazzling display of colors, shapes and sizes. They are delicious in the same way that a peach is delicious, unabashedly. Eaten out of hand, the juice runs down your arm. It's hard to imagine a recipe or preparation that could improve them. A pinch of salt and pepper, good olive oil and a tranche of crusty bread make a perfect summer supper. Simple and sublime.
Heirloom Tomatoes are open-pollinated. That means they are pollinated, as Mother Nature intended, naturally by wind and insects or they are self-pollinated (also agreeable to Mother Nature). Because they are not cross-pollinated (hybridized), they maintain their varietal characteristics, their unique flavors, colors and size from generation to generation. The seeds from the Heirloom tomatoes growing in my garden, given the requisite care and attention, will produce an identical tomato next year. The Heirloom tomatoes of today are varieties that date back at least fifty years.
By comparison, the tomatoes we typically find in supermarkets are hybridized tomatoes. These include the ubiquitous cherry tomatoes, pear shaped ‘Roma’ tomatoes, ‘Globe’ or ‘Beefsteak’ tomatoes and in recent years ‘Cluster’ tomatoes. All supermarket tomatoes are primarily selected and subsequently hybridized for traits that prioritize durability, consistent appearance and high yield, always at the expense of flavor. Supermarket tomatoes are grown in green houses, mostly to extend their growing season, and picked green so that they can be shipped to market without bruising. Again, flavor is sacrificed for more economic considerations. It’s the way of the world, I’m afraid.
Panzanella is a simple salad made of tomatoes and stale bread. Tradition allows for a fair degree of interpretation. Fresh basil, red onion, cucumber, olives or parmesan cheese are often added, always with a light hand. Olive oil is added copiously, vinegar sparingly.
Panzanella comes to us from Tuscany where it is made with Pane Sciocco, the common table bread of the region. Traditionally baked in wood ovens, Pane Sciotto has a thin brittle crust and an open airy crumb. It is made today, as it has been for the last eight hundred years, without the addition of salt. Without salt to preserve its moisture, Pane Sciocco becomes impossibly dry, hard as a rock, in just a day or two. The frugal home cooks of Florence have become quite adept in the use of stale bread, creating a repertoire of simple comfort foods which include Ribollita, Pappa al Pomodoro, Pancotto and of course Panzanella.
I have made Panzanella before, but I had never standardized a recipe for it. So, with a pile of mixed heirlooms stacked on the prep table, I cut big cubes of Acme baguette, tossed them with copious amounts of extra virgin oil and toasted them in the pizza oven such that the outside was golden brown and crunchy, while the insides remain soft. These contrasting textures, I would learn, are fundamentally important to a great Panzanella. I cut a generous amount of Heirloom tomatoes, Brandywine’s, Green Zebra’s and Black Crim, into a large dice and tossed them into a stainless-steel bowl with a bit of red onion, basil, salt and freshly ground pepper. Left to sit for a while, the tomatoes render their juices. Later, I added a modest amount of toasted bread. Tossed with the tomatoes, the toasted bread absorbs the marvelously delicious ‘jus’ of tomato essence, olive oil and vinegar that accumulated in the bottom of the bowl. The result are these sexy croutons that are all at once, crisp, chewy, flavorful and juicy.
With a heavy hand I plated the Panzanella in a pasta bowl. No reason to serve anything so delicious sparingly, right? With a dusting of grated Parmesan-Reggiano over the top, my Panzanella was pretty enough to be posted on Instagram and so we did. Confident this was the winning recipe; I sat myself in a corner booth and fork in hand dove into my Panzanella. The first bite was mind-blowing. Crazy delicious. A riot of flavor and texture in your mouth. The next was also delicious for sure, but it couldn’t live up to the bracing boldness of that first bite. On the third bite my interest was waning. By the fourth bite I was digging for the toasted bread, a respite from the intensity of the tomatoes. Soon all the toasted bread, the parmesan and the red onion were gone, there wasn’t much to begin with, leaving behind a bowl full of beautiful Heirloom tomatoes, which I was loath to eat. An economist observes that the Heirloom Tomato’s Marginal Utility, the first derivative of its Total Utility Curve, is steeply downward sloping. In layman’s terms, the first bite of an heirloom tomato is a hard act to follow.
For the next version of my Panzanella, I took note of the quantity of tomato that was able to hold my interest in the first outing, roughly 6-8 mouthfuls and added to that an equal part of that killer toasted bread. When it was time to plate the Panzanella, I switched to an oval plate and garnished the salad with an overly generous blanket of shaved parmesan. The result was a salad just as beautiful as the first, half the size, but still suitable as a starter or a light meal. Every bite is a happy marriage of the three primary ingredients: Heirloom tomato, toasted bread and Parmesan. Each bite is complex and nuanced and so each bite leaves you longing for another. Its Marginal Utility is still diminishing, it’s a law after all, but at a much slower rate. The revised Panzanella, the version I share with you now, is a winner. It seems that with perseverance, a little culinary common sense and a bachelor’s degree in economics we have solved ‘The Heirloom Tomato Problem’.
How to Make Panzanella
Serves 2 as a Main Course or 4 as a Starter
300 g (2-4 Ea.) Heirloom Tomatoes, Nice and Ripe. Various colors and sizes.
To Taste Salt
To Taste Black Pepper, Freshly Ground
Pinch Chili Flake
50 g Red Onion, peeled, quartered, sliced paper thin
Few Leaves Fresh Basil, torn
As Needed Simple Vinaigrette (recipe follows)
1 Recipe Croutons (recipe follows)
50 g Parmesan-Reggiano, shaved (see notes)
As Needed Olive oil
Make Simple Vinaigrette.
Make Croutons.
Shave Parmesan-Reggiano (see notes)
Cut the Tomatoes, off the core if they are large, into large bite sized chunks. Halves or quarters if they are small.
Place the tomatoes into a medium bowl.
Season the tomatoes with salt, pepper and chili flake.
Add the red onion. Add basil. Stir gently to combine.
Rest at room temperature for 15-30 Minutes.
Drizzle with app. 2 tablespoons of the Simple Vinaigrette (shake before using)
Add the croutons. Stir well to combine, allowing the croutons to pick up the juices in the bottom of the bowl.
Rest at room temperature for at least ten minutes or up to one hour.
Adjust seasoning and Vinaigrette.
Portion onto salad plates, as appropriate.
Garnish very generously with Shaved Parmesan-Reggiano piled on top.
Sprinkle with a few leaves of torn basil.
Drizzle with good olive oil.
Serve
Note that it is possible to shave parmesan with a chef’s knife, but you probably can’t. We suggest using a French mandolin or better still or a Japanese Benriner. Slice the cheese about the thickness of a dime, thicker if the cheese is crumbling. Be careful!
Simple Vinaigrette
120 g Good Olive Oil
40 g Red Wine Vinegar, also good
25 g Red Onion, peeled and sliced
Pinch Salt
Combine the vinegar, red onion and salt in a small bowl. Set aside at room temperature for an hour or more.
Strain the vinegar. Discard the Onions.
Combine the strained vinegar with the olive oil in a sealable container. A Jelly Jar with a screw top lid works well. Store refrigerated until use.
Shake well before using.
Note that this recipe makes more vinaigrette than you’ll need for the Panzanella recipe.
Serve additional dressing on the side or save for another time. It will keep indefinitely in the refrigerator.
Croutons
100 g (net) Baguette, Levain or Country Style Bread (stale is ok) cut into 1-inch cubes
¼ cup Olive oil
2 cloves Garlic, peeled and smashed
Heat the olive oil in a sauté pan. Add the Bread Cubes and the Garlic.
Cook over a low heat, stirring often, until the bread cubes are mostly golden brown. They should be crunchy on the outside but still soft in the center. They will burn easily so stay on it.
Remove Garlic Cloves.
Hold at room temperature until needed.
If you have questions, comments, or suggestions, we’d love to hear from you.
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