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I believe summer pasta salads are emotionally superior to my high school relationships — they hold up, they’re colorful, and nobody ghosts you. Also, everyone is pretending to be healthy at potlucks right now, which is a mood. I mean, if we’re bringing vibes (and carbs), bring the best version of Caprese Pasta Salad you’ve ever texted your group chat about.

I will say this up front: this salad makes people soft. Like, adults asking for seconds soft. It’s not subtle. It’s a whole personality. If you want an excuse to bring something that looks effortless but is secretly sleeping on the job, this is it. Also, yes, I have a playlist for making it. Don’t ask.

I once turned a salad into an audible disaster

Let me tell you about the time I ruined tomatoes so spectacularly that the kitchen smelled like regret. I was optimistic (as one is when reading Instagram captions) and decided to roast the cherry tomatoes for "depth" — big mood, right? Except I forgot them entirely because I was taking a call about a dog I don’t own and when I went back they had given up and become a syrupy, sticky mess that sounded like someone whispering into a skillet (is that even a sound?). The mozzarella puddled like it had been stood up. The basil wilted in a way that was almost respectful.

Embarrassing detail: my cat judged me from the counter and left paw prints on the tea towel. I tried to salvage it by tossing in more oil and pretending that caramelized tomatoes were my plan. Spoiler: not the plan. The texture was wrong (slimy), the smell was like a balsamic soap commercial, and my friend politely texted "it’s…unique" which in friend code equals "burn it." I cried. I laughed. I took a nap. None of it solved the salad.

Also, note to self, never multitask tomatoes and emotionally charged phone calls. Or maybe do, if you like living perilously. If you want to see the wreckage (I won’t show you — trauma), but I do link to other salads I didn’t wreck like this for comparison of what a rescued pasta salad looks like.

How I made peace with tomatoes and why this version works

What changed? Mostly me. Less ego, more elbow grease. And the small realization that cherry tomatoes are literally made to be eaten raw in a salad like this. No roasting. Cold mozzarella is the gentle cousin to hot melted mozzarella. The emotional shift: accept simplicity. The practical change: cold pasta (cooled on a baking sheet if we’re being dramatic), nice little dice on the cheese so it behaves, and basil torn not chopped — tearing keeps it alive longer, scientifically insignificant but emotionally significant.

This version works because the components each get to be themselves. The pasta is a platform, the mozzarella is the soft punctuation, the tomatoes provide the kisses of sweetness, and the balsamic is the sassy narrator. I call it Caprese Pasta Salad in my head when I want to sound fancy, but then I eat it with a fork like a toddler, so who even am I. I still worry that I’m one improperly dressed tomato away from chaos, but confidence is doing it anyway.

Ingredients

Pasta (short shapes like rotini, penne, or farfalle)
Fresh mozzarella cheese (cubed or mini balls)
Cherry tomatoes (halved or quartered if large)
Fresh basil leaves (torn)
Balsamic vinegar
Olive oil
Salt
Pepper

Budget-friendly swaps and availability chatter: use whatever short pasta is on sale (I have feelings about orzo but it’s fine), mozzarella comes in big blobs sometimes so cube it and pretend it’s artisanal, cherry tomatoes are seasonal so don’t be ashamed of grape tomatoes or a sad roma if that’s what’s left at the store.

Also, if you hate basil for reasons that are probably valid, try a little arugula — I won’t stop you, but I may judge you out loud.

One more internal link because why not spread the pasta love: if you’re team protein-in-salad, this other recipe gives you structure for adding chicken without killing the vibe and yes, it involves grilled chicken.

Cooking Unit Converter

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The messy but very do-able cooking process

Cook pasta according to the package instructions and let it cool.
In a large bowl, combine the pasta, chopped cherry tomatoes, cubed mozzarella, and fresh basil leaves.
In a separate bowl, whisk together balsamic vinegar, olive oil, salt, and pepper to make the dressing.
Pour the dressing over the pasta salad and toss to combine.
Serve chilled or at room temperature.

Non-linear explanation: sometimes I toss everything and then taste and think "more acid!" and then adjust. Other times I whisper compliments to the mozzarella (it responds better to kindness) and it behaves. TIP: if the pasta is still warm it soaks up oil like a tiny sponge and then the salad is dry later — so COOL it. Also, literally stir while you hum a song. It’s proven to improve flavor (not proven).

Do you have kids / guests / plants that will eat this too?

Do you ever make something and then everyone disappears and you realize you made it for ghosts? Same. What I want to know is: will your in-laws like basil? Will a toddler eat mozzarella but refuse tomatoes on principle? Have you ever served something that made someone cry (happily)? Tell me. Do you prefer forks or toothpicks? I assume shared experiences here: we’ve all pretended at least once that we had leftover salad when the honest truth is we ate it all on the couch. Talk to me like I’m an honest comment section and I will be unhelpfully empathetic.

Also, last thought — if you’re bringing this to a potluck, label it "Caprese-ish" and watch grown adults debate the authenticity. I find that entertaining.

FAQ: quick hits and soft opinions

Can I make this ahead of time? +

Yes, make it a few hours ahead and keep it chilled; if you make it a day ahead the basil will darken and the pasta can soak up dressing — still fine, but not as photogenic.

What’s the best mozzarella to use? +

Fresh mozzarella (the kind in water) is the vibe here. If you only have shredded, it’ll work in a crisis but I will personally judge you less harshly and more quietly.

Can I add protein? +

Absolutely — grilled chicken or chickpeas are both solid. If you want inspiration for a chicken pasta salad that won’t fight your basil, I keep a thing for that over here where chicken meets pasta charm.

Does the dressing need sugar? +

No. Balsamic has enough sweetness naturally; if yours is sharp, a tiny pinch of honey will be fine but also controversial.

How do I keep the basil from going brown? +

Tear it and add it just before serving. Salt and oil wilt it quickly, and that’s fine if you like the wilted-basil aesthetic. I do sometimes.

I am sitting here thinking about the first time I brought this to a picnic and someone called it "insanely simple and perfect" and then two minutes later dropped the whole container — we mourned together, then ate the half that escaped on the blanket, which was probably the best bite. Life is sticky. Food is therapy. I will probably make this again tomorrow but then remember we have guests on Sunday and panic-cook an entirely different salad and it will be fine because edible things fix the minor catastrophes of adulthood, except when they don’t and that’s okay too.

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