I live in the Niagara region, a tooth of land jutting between lakes Ontario and Erie. It is an area renowned for its farmland and its abundant fields are one of the (many) reasons I call it home. Tomato season here stretches from mid-July to October, but the specific scent of a snapped tomato vine is the fragrance of hottest summer to me. When the season is high, there is such pleasure in popping an elfin Sun Gold between your molars, or wrapping audacious slices of Brandywine in cottony white bread with homemade mayonnaise and nippy cheddar.
Here, I have a tomato salad that has the tumbled look of a panzanella, but the craggy chunks of bread aren't given the opportunity to soak up the dressing. I've bulked it up a bit with halloumi – that firm, saline, squeaking cheese – but a mild, milky cheese could take its place. A torn wedge of unripened mozzarella or a creamy slump of burrata would be exceptional, as would a subtle chèvre. Do not feel hamstrung by the basil and parsley; if the market or garden is overgrown with chives, dill or similar soft herbs, they can be twirled into the dressing as well or instead. Or, chop the herbs by hand and include a filet or two of anchovy, which will bring the dressing closer to a (brawnier) Green Goddess variety.
I've written this up with an oven in mind, just in case weather keeps you from cooking outdoors. But if the sun is on your side, this can be done over a campfire or barbecue. Instead of tearing the bread into croutons, grill fat slabs until the crust starts to blacken and the crumb is good and tiger-striped. Slice the lemons thick and they can be grilled as well – same goes for the cheese. But if you are nervous about either, place foil over the grates or pop a cast-iron skillet on the fire for the halloumi. Assemble as before, tearing the toasts before serving, or perching the whole production atop one proud tranche per person.