In search of gazpacho

One of the things I love about living in the U.S. is that our cuisine is omnivorous.  Just think about this for a minute.  French fries, pasta with tomato sauce (gravy if you’re from Philadelphia), pizza, sushi, frankfurters, hummus and pita bread, tacos, and spring rolls are as American as apple pie (whose roots probably lie somewhere in continental Europe).

In the last couple decades gazpacho has become an American staple but what do you think of when you think of gazpacho? We usually associate it with Mexican, Tex-Mex, or Southwest cooking and the general consensus is that it is a chunky tomato soup served cold and loaded with several finely chopped vegetables. Most, but not all, gazpachos also have at least a little chile heat. Within the last few years I’ve started seeing restaurants outside of the southwest-mesoamerican context using gazpacho as a fresh, summery option.

That image of gazpacho isn’t exactly accurate. At least it isn’t absolutely complete.

In A History of Food in 100 Recipes, William Sitwell presents a recipe taken from Arte de reposteria (The Art of Pastry), a cookbook written in 1747 by Juan de la Mata.  De la Mata refers to his recipe as “the most common gazpacho” but when I describe the recipe it won’t resemble what we think of gazpacho in any way whatsoever.

First, toast some slices of bread with the crusts removed. Then dip the bread in water. Add a sauce made of garlic, anchovies, vinegar, sugar, salt, and oil and mix together. Leave aside until the bread softens. Add some of the ingredients of a Royal Salad (whatever that is).

Now it could be that Royal Salad bit connects with the gazpacho we know and love today, but the rest of it certainly doesn’t.  On the other hand, Sitwell traces the origin of the word “gazpacho” to a couple of possibilities, both of which seem legitimate and both of which mean more or less the same thing. Caspa means “residue” or “fragments” in Mozarab, the language spoken by Spanish Muslims.  Gazaz comes from Hebrew and means “to break into pieces.” In both cases, the reference is to tearing apart pieces of leftover bread to make a flavored bread soup served at room temperature. This Spanish concoction is a long way from Mexican chilled chunky tomato.

Wikipedia defines gazpacho as a chilled raw vegetable soup and describes its ancient origins as possibly a cold bread, water, olive oil, and garlic soup that arrived in Spain with the Romans. When tomatoes were exported to Spain in the 19th century, red gazpacho was born and that was the version that was exported internationally.  OK – sounds reasonable to me, but I have to believe that someone has done a more explicit charting of the conversion of flavored bread soup to raw vegetable soup. I just haven’t come across it yet.

This is all background to my first two gazpachos of 2017.  The first is taken from Mark Bittman’s Kitchen Matrix, a wonderful book based around a principle of how to create variations from a basic dish. For gazpacho, Bittman begins with the idea that the basic gazpacho is a raw vegetable soup with bread. The fundamental red gazpacho (he offers 6 red and 6 green recipes) is tomatoes, a cucumber, yellow bell pepper, bread, olive oil, vinegar, garlic, salt, pepper, and water.  This is tossed into a blender or food processor and processed until you reach the desired texture. Can’t get much easier than that, can you?

The results were mixed. It tasted just fine, although I added a little tabasco to intensify things a bit. Visually, though, it didn’t quite work. The color was an off-putting pinkish-grey and it lacked any real texture. I probably over-processed it contributing to the texture problem but I don’t know if less time in the food processor would have fixed the color.

My next effort came from James Peterson’s Splendid Soups.  In the introduction to his recipe, Peterson discusses bread and non-bread gazpachos and provides a little historical context and then proceeds to ignore the issue and launches right into a conventional tomato based gazpacho without bread. The big point made by Peterson, though, is not to use a food processor. He says that using a food processor turns the tomatoes pink and based on the difference between this gazpacho and the one I made from Bittman’s recipe, I think he might be right. On the other hand, tossing everything into a food processor is a lot faster than chopping all those vegetables into a small dice.

This gazpacho was terrific.  The vegetables all had some texture, the acid of the lime juice and the heat from the cayenne and tabasco came shining through without overpowering the basic ingredients, and the liquid drained from the tomatoes and cucumbers only had to be supplemented with a cup of tomato juice to make a soup (as opposed to a vegetable salad). On the other hand, it took a lot longer to make, so don’t think you can put this together 10 minutes before lunchtime.

As a variation, Peterson suggests adding some smoked fish to the gazpacho. I tried that and it was even better.  The smokiness really complemented the brightness of the soup.

I’ve provided a slightly adjusted version of Peterson’s recipe below, but you should know that this is only a template.  To quote Peterson’s introduction

I always think of gazpacho as a wonderful vegetable salad with all the ingredients so finely chopped that you can drink it instead of eating it. It’s also one of those soups that people never completely agree on; some insist on including bread, others vinegar, still others yogurt or cream. I don’t think any of this is terribly important; I just throw in the ingredients, tasting as I go along, guided by my own whims and what’s sitting in the refrigerator.

Other vegetables can be added (I bet scallions would be great) and balance of vegetables can easily be shifted. The seasonings are entirely  up to you. I should also add that Peterson thins the soup with ice cubes (which also help chill it down quickly) and, if needed, water.  I used tomato juice.  I’ve also seen a variety of different ways of serving gazpacho. The usual method is as a fully composed soup, but I’ve also seen it with onions, cucumbers, peppers, and other vegetables served as garnishes for diners to add as they wish.

I don’t know whether there is an “authentic” gazpacho and Sitwell’s discussions of the origin of the dish make me want to try and succeed with a bread-based version.  Until then, though, I’ll stick with chilled chunky tomato soup with chopped vegetables and a little heat (and a little smoked fish).

If you have a recipe for gazpacho, or want to weigh in on the bread/no bread identity of this ancient soup, please comment below.

Recipe

Ingredients

8 large or 12 medium tomatoes, peeled, seeded, and chopped (*)

3 garlic cloves, minced

2 large onions, finely diced

2 medium cucumbers (about 1 lb) peeled, seeded, and finely diced (**)

1 yellow and 1 green bell pepper, seeded and finely diced

2 jalapeno chiles, seeded and very finely diced

3 tbl of lemon juice, lime juice, or sherry vinegar

cayenne pepper to taste

salt to taste

freshly ground pepper to taste

tabasco sauce to taste

tomato juice to achieve desired “soupy” texture

(*) Unless tomatoes are local and in season, canned diced tomatoes may be a better option.  Hothouse or imported tomatoes may not be juicy or flavorful enough to create a strong soup base.  Three cups of canned diced tomatoes (2 14 oz cans, drained) chopped a little more fine is just about right.  When tomatoes are in season, use those.

(**) Usually you would salt the cucumbers to drain the water but in this case, the water in the cucumbers will be shed as the soup sits in the refrigerator and add to the soup base.

Directions

Add all the ingredients (except the tomato juice) together in a big bowl. Let rest in the refrigerator for at least 3-4 hours, if not overnight.  Remove from the refrigerator and test for salt, pepper, tabasco, and lemon/lime/vinegar.  Depending on how much liquid the tomatoes and the cucumbers have shed, you may also want to add some tomato juice.

If serving with additional garnishes (smoked fish, croutons, etc.), place the garnishes in the bowl and spoon the cold gazpacho over the garnish and serve.