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.
Marion’s Gazpacho
2 to 3 servings
1 can tomatoes, about 15 ounce size, refrigerated thoroughly
Cucumbers, about 1/2 to 3/4 pound [see Kitchen Notes]
1 firm red bell pepper, washed, the top removed, and seeded
2 scallions
2 teaspoons paprika [see Kitchen Notes]
1 Tablespoon tomato paste
1 Tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
1 Tablespoon freshly squeezed lime juice [see Kitchen Notes]
Fresh cilantro or watercress, rinsed – about 1/3 cup
Equipment: A cutting board, a knife, a food processor.
Cut the cucumber into large chunks and drop into the bowl of the food processor. Cut or break up the pepper into chunks and drop the chunks into the processor. Cut the root end off the scallions and peel off any leaves that you wouldn’t want to eat. Then cut each into 3 segments and add to the processor.
Add the tomato paste, olive oil, paprika and lime juice. Then take the can of tomatoes out of the refrigerator, open it and pour the tomatoes into the processor, along with juices. Put in the fresh cilantro or watercress.
Process everything. Work quickly. It’s best to work in spurts and stop to check the flavor and texture. You do not want to overprocess this and end up with sauce or juice. The goal is a nice crunchy chunkiness. You also want to be sure that no ginormous vegetable chunks have become irreducibly trapped in the blades. Cucumbers seem to be the biggest offender with our now declining processor, happily lodging themselves on a blade and then riding around and around in perpetuity. If you see some outsized hunks of cucumber swanning around, fish them out [carefully!!!], chop them a little by hand and return to the processor for one more very brief ride. As you are checking for uniform texture, also give it a taste to make sure it is appealingly zippy. Adjust with additional paprika or lime juice, I don’t object to a dash of hot sauce—Cholula is our current house brand.
Serve right away—if possible, in chilled bowls. If you can’t serve immediately then cover the soup and refrigerate it. Don’t leave this sitting around, even in the fridge, for long—freshness is the point. Later in the summer, if you have access to your own good home-grown tomatoes, and if you can keep from eating them straight off the vine right there in the yard, which personally I never could, then use them for this recipe.
Kitchen Notes
Cucumbers. If you are using unwaxed cucumbers, cut off the ends and partially peel the cukes, then cut into coarse chunks and drop into the processor. If you are using waxed cucumbers, peel completely.
Lime juice. As a variation, you may want to try vinegar, a more classic approach. I recommend a Japanese rice vinegar or, for a fuller taste, sherry vinegar.
Paprika. In case we have not said it enough in the past, use the best you can find. I prefer sweet paprika with this recipe—not smoked or hot—but, as always when it comes to food, I can see the argument for all sides.
Also this week in Blue Kitchen, 5/28/2008
You can’t spell “team” without c-h-o-c-o-l-a-t-e. In which we get to meet Team USA as they prepare for the Coupe du Monde de la Pâtisserie—the World Pastry Cup. Better yet, we get to sample their teamwork, at WTF? Random food for thought.
Brit punk, fast, smart and loud. Wire’s debut album Pink Flag serves up rock music just the way I like it, at What’s on the kitchen boombox?
Boy oh boy do I wish I had that memory of my first real cocktail! What a perfect memory. Brandy Alexander… Chumleys… It couldn’t get more perfect than that. So jealous. I’m not a huge fan of tomato based gazpacho, which is odd because I *heart* tomatoes… Oh well, lovely post Marion.
Love cold soup!!! This sounds lovely. I like all kinds of gazpacho. And that watercress vichyssoise. I think you’re on to something here!!!
finally, a recipe for gazpacho that doesn’t require fresh tomatoes! i’d eat this, and i’d eat it good. awesome. 🙂
I do remember the first time I had gazpacho. Yours looks delicious. I’d love to try some of the other types of gazpacho out there. I’m pretty sure I’ve got a recipe somewhere for the almond gazpacho….
YAH!!!
WIRE!!!
Something I cook to lots.
Love the blog and best wishes.
I miss my parents tomatoes
Jeremy
Ann—Marion was telling me about Chumley’s this morning. I never got there before it closed [in the last few years, I think], but it sounds like a great bar. You can keep all the trendoid places, as far as I’m concerned. Give me real places like this.
Mary—Thanks! I hope we get another cold soup up here before the season’s out.
Grace—And tomatoes are one of the rare forms of produce that don’t lose nutritional value in the canning process. So you’d not only eat it good, it would be good for you.
Fearless Kitchen—Speaking not as the cook in this case, but as the happy diner, I can tell you it’s really good.
Jeremy!!! Thanks!!! And thanks for the shout out for Wire. For those of you whose eyes don’t wander over to the sidebar on the right, Jeremy’s referring to the What’s on the kitchen boombox? post.
Tomatoes. Last year we didn’t have many; all the amateur farmers at work had poor yields because of the drought. Some didn’t have any yield. This year we have nothing but rain in the Midwest and no one can get their backyard crops into the ground. But if I ever get some wonderful August riches, the first thing I’ll do is make this wonderful gazpacho. Thanks, Marion
This definitely puts me in the mood for summer! I make gazpacho every week with tomatoes, cucumbers and green and yellow bell pepper from the farmers’ market. I use V-8 juice for the base, and a splash of balsamic vinegar, plus some ground bread for the thickener.
excellent! I love gazpacho! perfect for summer!
I wanted gazpacho after I watched Almodovar’s film “Mujeres Al Borde De Un Ataque De Nervios”. I nagged my girlfriend until she finally gave in and made me one.
I strongly suspect it will go again this summer, which is announcing itself pretty hot, here in SE USA…
Ooooh! What a lovely gazpacho recipe! I haven’t seen it with scallion and cilantro before…sounds tasty! 😀
I’ve never had gazpacho – must try it. Wonderful site — keep up the great work.
— jean
Well, I remember the first time I had gazpacho. Let’s just say it was memorable for all the wrong reasons. Yours sounds like a recipe worth trying, though. Perhaps it will help me get over my gazpacho bias.
Beautiful post, Marion. I love the list of memories with which you began.
Carolyn—There certainly are lots of gazpacho recipes that call for fresh tomatoes. But the nice thing about this one is that canned tomatoes work just as well, so no need to wait.
Lydia—V8 Juice as a starter? An inspired idea, I think—a great way to introduce lots of flavor.
Ginny, canarygirl and Jean—On Marion’s behalf, thanks so much! Jean, do give it a try.
floreign—Orrrrr… You could totally impress your girlfriend by making this simple recipe yourself. I’m just sayin’.
Susan—Sounds like a story to share over a glass of wine. Or two.
Christina—And I was honored to make the list!
I just might 😉
i’ve never had it. hope to soon! looks awesome.
I wanted to ask you about what kind of paprika you recommend, but I saw you answered this in the footnotes.
I just want to contribute this: by definition, paprika is the Hungarian word for peppers, and the best paprika is coming from Szeged, Hungary, just like the best mustard is coming from Dijon, France and the real Budweiser being a Czech product.
floreign—As Marion says, sweet paprika is our first choice. And if you look in our cupboard, you’ll see we definitely use Hungarian. That said, smoked Spanish paprika does have its uses. But use a very light hand with it—its smokiness can quickly overpower a dish.
diva@theSugarBar—Thanks! If you try it, let us know what you think.
I remember the first time I had gazpacho–I was traveling in Spain and we stopped in a small restaurant in Cordoba. Never having really tasted cold soups before, I was a little skeptical–until I actually tasted it. In Cordoba, they put red onions and shredded cheese on the top, along with green onion. It was to die for.
This soup sounds delish! I can’t wait to try it.
amayala—What a wonderful introduction to gazpacho! Anthony Bourdain had an interesting introduction to cold soups that I quote in my post on Watercress Vichyssoise.
evi—Thanks! And thanks for adding me to your blogroll. I always enjoy your stories of East Village life.
The cafe in my neighborhood used to serve really good gazpacho but it closed down last year because of the bad economy.
I love gazpacho.
You know, ming, I’ve been noticing how comparatively empty of shoppers many stores are these days. A friend of ours who owns a wonderful home design boutique says all the retailers are just holding their breath right now.
Hi. I just discovered your blog, and it’s great, but please, do not call gazpacho something that has absolutely nothing to do with it… gazpacho is a liquid soup and yours is full of bits, and being from Seville, and having tried many a gazpacho recipe (each home has its own) I have NEVER seen one made with canned tomatos. This is like making a New York cheesecake with no cheese. Revise your cooking books, please, and stop missinforming people…
Beatriz—Thanks for visiting! One thing we point out in this post is that there are many versions and varieties of gazpacho, both purely liquid and chunky, especially as it has traveled beyond the borders of Spain. And while I agree that fresh tomatoes might be better, the convenience of canned tomatoes means we’re more likely to make it more often.