Let Me Tell You About This Toast (It’s Ridiculously Good)
Alright, grab a chair—this Peach, Burrata, and Prosciutto Toast might sound fancy, but honestly it’s my unruly-love-child of a snack and a dinner that pretends to be swanky. The first time I made it, we’d had a particularly bonkers Tuesday, and I was trying to use up slightly bruised peaches. It was either this, or peach pancakes at 8pm (tempting temptation, but toast won). And lo, a weeknight ritual was born, mostly because my household eats cheese like we’re warming up for a dairy Olympics. There was one particular night my partner tried eating his with a knife and fork and the toast just…disintegrated. We still laugh about it. Never again.
Why You’ll Love This (Or Why I Keep Making It Anyway)
So, I make this, truthfully, whenever I want to convince myself summer isn’t just thunderstorms and mosquito bites. It’s quick, it looks impressive (convincing everyone I’ve got my act together), and it’s flexible—sometimes too flexible, honestly. My family practically fights over the last piece, and I swear, the combo of juicy peaches and that creamy burrata just calms everything right down. Plus, it’s saved my mood more than a few times when all I’ve got in the fridge is questionable fruit and a block of cheese. Ah, kitchen optimism.
What You’ll Need (Or What’s Lurking in My Pantry)
- 4 thick slices of rustic bread (sourdough is my go-to, but ciabatta has rescued me in a pinch—store-bought works, promise)
- 2 ripe peaches, sliced (nectarines will do, honestly I’ve even used plums when things got desperate)
- 1 ball of burrata cheese (about 100g—I suppose mozzarella works, but it’s not quite as gooey-good)
- 6-8 slices prosciutto (I use whatever’s cheapest; speck is fine, or skip it for a veggie version, just use extra olive oil and pepper)
- 1 small handful fresh basil, torn (or mint if your basil looks sad—parsley once, and it was…fine, I guess!)
- Good olive oil, for drizzling (I won’t judge if it’s the one in the plastic bottle, got to use what you’ve got)
- Flaky sea salt and black pepper, to taste (table salt’s fine, really, just go easy or it’s chaos)
- Optional: drizzle of honey or balsamic glaze (yup, out of honey I’ve used maple syrup, shhh)
Here’s How You Actually Do It
- First, get your bread slices and toast them until they’re golden brown and a little bit crunchy—not too hard or your jaw will hate you. Sometimes I just use my oven’s grill setting if I can’t find the toaster, or the pan if I’m feeling wild.
- While the bread is doing its thing, slice the peaches nice and thin. Doesn’t have to be perfect—no peach-judging here.
- Take the burrata, gently rip it apart with your hands (this is the fun bit—it’s supposed to get a bit messy) and divide it among the toasts. If you’re using mozzarella, just slice it up and pop it on. Honestly, I always sneak a taste at this point.
- Drape the prosciutto over the cheese, as artistically as you like (or just slap it on, like I usually do).
- Layer the peach slices on top; you might need to tuck a few under the prosciutto if you’re feeling all chef-y, but who’s watching?
- Sprinkle over the basil, tear it as you go. If it looks a bit wilted, just roll with it—it’s all flavor.
- Drizzle over the olive oil—and if you’re feeling lush, a bit of honey or balsamic glaze. Big fan of the honey, personally, but nobody needs to know if you use syrup instead.
- Finish with a pinch of flaky sea salt and a crack of black pepper. Take a step back, admire your work, and then immediately eat one before anyone catches you (seriously).
Stuff I Wish I’d Known (Notes from My Kitchen Disaster Chronicles)
- The bread: too thin, and you’ll end up with an accidental salad when the toppings fall off. I learned that one the peachy hard way.
- Don’t be shy with the olive oil. Dry toast is sad toast—trust me, I’ve tried skipping it when I ran out, and it just wasn’t right.
- I used to assemble everything while the bread was still hot, thinking it’d melt the cheese perfectly. Honestly though, sometimes it just makes the burrata run clean off. Let it cool for a tick if you don’t want a cheesy escape.
Experiments I’ve Tried (Variations, For Better or… Not)
- Traded peaches for figs once—very nice but a bit sweet for me (my mum loved it, though).
- Grilled the peaches on the BBQ—that was a win, if you like things extra fancy.
- Tried with blue cheese and walnuts instead of burrata and prosciutto…honestly, too much for me, but give it a try if you’re feeling bold!
- Skipped the prosciutto and doubled the basil for a vego friend—surprisingly summery and fresh.
Your Toolkit (And My Oddball Solutions)
- Toaster or grill, or even just a frying pan with no oil; whatever to crisp that bread. I can’t always find the grill rack, so I just stick it straight on the oven shelf sometimes. Not the most elegant, but it totally works.
- Sharp knife for the peaches (careful with slippery hands—peaches are sneaky!)
- Small spoon for drizzling honey or glaze—fingers work, just don’t tell my gran.
- If you don’t have a bread knife, a serrated steak knife honestly does the trick. Just not the one with the loose handle, learned that last week…
Keeping It Fresh (As If There’s Leftovers… But Just In Case)
If you somehow have more self-control than anyone in my home, keep leftover toast unassembled—bread in a bag, toppings in little containers. The assembled toasts go soggy overnight, but I’ve microwaved them for a rogue midnight snack and, you know, it’s not awful. Suppose you could crisp them back up in the oven, but ours are always gone by 10pm, so who’s to say?
How I Like To Serve It (And My Odd Traditions)
I like piling these on a big wooden board, more rustic-style, and letting everyone dive in with their hands (forks and knives have been banned by family consensus, after The Incident). We’ve even taken them out on picnic blankets—just wrap the ingredients and assemble outdoors. Makes you feel like a picnic pro, trust me.
Mistakes I’ve Made (Pro Tips That Are Actually Warnings)
- Don’t rush the toasting—once, I tried to make these in a hurry and ended up with charred bread and raw inside. Grr.
- Tried stacking too much on each slice; everything just tumbled off and it became more salad than toast. Simplicity really is key.
- Never skimp the olive oil; it’s the thing that brings all the flavors together. Forgot it once, and everyone noticed.
You Ask, I Answer (Just Chatting FAQ)
- Can I use canned peaches? Eh, technically, but only if you’re really desperate—I found them too syrupy, kind of turned the toast into a dessert situation.
- What if I can’t find burrata? Mozzarella’s the closest thing, or a good ricotta. Not quite the same, but you get that creamy fix. Actually, hit up the cheese counter and see what’s cheapest—burrata prices make me wince sometimes.
- Vegan version? Sure! Skip the prosciutto, use a vegan cheese or heaps more basil, and maybe add toasted walnuts. Taste won’t be quite the same, but it’s got its own charm.
- What bread works best? Sourdough is my personal hero, but if you’ve got that supermarket “Italian” loaf, use it! I once tried pita and…I mean, it was an adventure. Would not recommend unless desperate.
- Can I prep these ahead? You can toast your bread and cut peaches ahead, but assemble right before eating. They get soggy fast—I learned the messy way!
Totally unrelated, but do you ever just lose half your basil in the bottom of the fridge? There’s probably a scientific study about herbs and fridge black holes. Anyway, these toasts—move quick and eat faster, because they don’t wait for anyone. Enjoy, mate!
Ingredients
- 4 thick slices of rustic bread (sourdough is my go-to, but ciabatta has rescued me in a pinch—store-bought works, promise)
- 2 ripe peaches, sliced (nectarines will do, honestly I’ve even used plums when things got desperate)
- 1 ball of burrata cheese (about 100g—I suppose mozzarella works, but it’s not quite as gooey-good)
- 6-8 slices prosciutto (I use whatever’s cheapest; speck is fine, or skip it for a veggie version, just use extra olive oil and pepper)
- 1 small handful fresh basil, torn (or mint if your basil looks sad—parsley once, and it was…fine, I guess!)
- Good olive oil, for drizzling (I won’t judge if it’s the one in the plastic bottle, got to use what you’ve got)
- Flaky sea salt and black pepper, to taste (table salt’s fine, really, just go easy or it’s chaos)
- Optional: drizzle of honey or balsamic glaze (yup, out of honey I’ve used maple syrup, shhh)
Instructions
-
1First, get your bread slices and toast them until they’re golden brown and a little bit crunchy—not too hard or your jaw will hate you. Sometimes I just use my oven’s grill setting if I can’t find the toaster, or the pan if I’m feeling wild.
-
2While the bread is doing its thing, slice the peaches nice and thin. Doesn’t have to be perfect—no peach-judging here.
-
3Take the burrata, gently rip it apart with your hands (this is the fun bit—it’s supposed to get a bit messy) and divide it among the toasts. If you’re using mozzarella, just slice it up and pop it on. Honestly, I always sneak a taste at this point.
-
4Drape the prosciutto over the cheese, as artistically as you like (or just slap it on, like I usually do).
-
5Layer the peach slices on top; you might need to tuck a few under the prosciutto if you’re feeling all chef-y, but who’s watching?
-
6Sprinkle over the basil, tear it as you go. If it looks a bit wilted, just roll with it—it’s all flavor.
-
7Drizzle over the olive oil—and if you’re feeling lush, a bit of honey or balsamic glaze. Big fan of the honey, personally, but nobody needs to know if you use syrup instead.
-
8Finish with a pinch of flaky sea salt and a crack of black pepper. Take a step back, admire your work, and then immediately eat one before anyone catches you (seriously).
Approximate Information for One Serving
Nutrition Disclaimers
Number of total servings shown is approximate. Actual number of servings will depend on your preferred portion sizes.
Nutritional values shown are general guidelines and reflect information for 1 serving using the ingredients listed, not including any optional ingredients. Actual macros may vary slightly depending on specific brands and types of ingredients used.
To determine the weight of one serving, prepare the recipe as instructed. Weigh the finished recipe, then divide the weight of the finished recipe (not including the weight of the container the food is in) by the desired number of servings. Result will be the weight of one serving.
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