Pita with cheese and tomato is the plain morning sandwich of the Israeli kitchen: a fresh pita, a soft white cheese, sliced tomato, and not much else. The angle here is restraint. With only three real components and no sauce to hide behind, the sandwich is entirely a question of ingredient quality and balance. It is the breakfast a household assembles in a minute before work or school, and it works precisely because nothing is doing too much. Done well it is clean, bright, and faintly tangy; done badly it is bland cheese and a watery, mealy tomato turning the bread soggy.
The build is short and exposed. The pita is fresh, warm if possible, either split into a pocket and filled or left flat and folded around the contents. The cheese is usually gvina levana, a soft fresh white cheese, spread thick, or sliced halloumi or a firm yellow cheese laid in; the choice changes the sandwich more than anything else does. Tomato is sliced and salted, sometimes with cucumber added to push it toward a deconstructed Israeli salad inside the bread. Olive oil, salt, pepper, and often a scatter of za'atar finish it, and that za'atar and oil are what turn a flat assembly into something with character. Done well, the cheese is creamy and lightly sour, the tomato ripe and seasoned so its juice is an asset rather than a leak, the pita soft enough to fold without cracking. Done badly, the cheese is watery or flavorless, the tomato pale and out of season so it weeps into the crumb, or the whole thing is under-seasoned so it reads as bread and filler.
Variation is mostly in the cheese and what gets added around it. Bulgarian or feta-style brined cheese pushes it salty and sharp; halloumi griddled until it squeaks turns it into a hot sandwich; cream cheese makes it softer and milder. Cucumber, olives, a boiled egg, or a smear of hummus each nudge it toward a fuller breakfast plate. Heated on a griddle it becomes a melted toasted sandwich with the tomato softening into the cheese. Those richer and griddled forms have enough identity to deserve their own treatment rather than being crowded in here. On its own terms this is the quiet baseline of Israeli breakfast: get the cheese tangy, the tomato ripe, and the za'atar present, and three plain things become a sandwich worth making.