Chilled, chunky and chock full of healthy vegetables, this lively gazpacho makes a refreshing, simple first course all summer long.

Late last August, I was surprised to see that I hadn’t written about any of the cold soups we enjoy in the spring and summer, so I somewhat belatedly posted a recipe for Watercress Vichyssoise. In an effort to not make the same mistake twice [after all, there are so many exciting new mistakes to be made], I’m turning the kitchen over to Marion and her wonderful gazpacho this week.

I remember the first time I had pizza. I remember the first time I used chopsticks and the first time I made a pot roast and the first time I saw Terry and my first actual cocktail in an actual bar [it was a brandy Alexander—hey, I was an entry-level drinker—and it was Chumley’s].

I no longer remember the first time I had gazpacho. Although clearly there must have been a day when this Spanish soup came into our life, somehow I no longer remember it. Looking back it seems gazpacho has always been there for me, alongside Chinese food and raspberries and inhaling and exhaling.

Gazpacho is so much a part of our everyday life that it is a staple in our household every summer. Preparing it is so simple, almost as simple as eating it, and it is ever so useful. You can serve it to a vegan. You can make it when you don’t have electricity as long as you have a knife and a bowl and a willingness to chop. It is cooling and calming, it is reliable, it is esthetically pleasing, and it is full of healthy deliciousness.

Culinary histories trace gazpacho back to the Middle Ages in Andalusia. Originally, gazpacho was most likely pounded bread, garlic, oil, and water—the most basic sustenance, food for survival. Then came the Columbian era, and the arrival of the tomato from the New World. By 1600, tomatoes were being cultivated and devoured all over the Mediterranean. I sometimes wonder which tomato dish came first—the cooked or the raw. I can see some practical Spanish countrywoman, standing among her vines on a slow hot morning, holding the hot red fruit in her hand and thinking It seems a shame to fire up the stove.

Alice B. Toklas believed that gazpacho had inspired many cultures to create their own cold soups of chopped fresh vegetables. Actually, she regarded a host of cold vegetable-based soups—gazpacho, Polish chlodnik, Turkish cacik, and Greek tarata—as the same soup, which may be stretching things from the pragmatic side, but I get her taxonomic point.

There are many versions of gazpacho—probably more versions than there are cooks. Some call for hard-boiled, sieved eggs, some for ham, shrimp, peaches, veal broth, beef broth, red wine, aquavit, strawberries, yellow tomatoes, green tomatoes, roasted tomatoes. There are some recipes floating around online that are based on watermelon. The classic Andalusian form also calls for a paste of bread and olive oil, or a paste of pounded almonds. I want to try them all. Continue reading “Gazpacho: Cold, tangy, perfect for summer” →