September 4, 2015

Andalusian Gazpacho

Natacha Sanz Caballero Soups and Stews, Drinks Andalusian gazpacho, cold soup, Gazpacho, green pepper, soup, tomatoes

I find it hard to define gazpacho. In general, you’d see it classified as a cold soup —like what one usually eats with a spoon, served in a bowl or in a soup plate. Yet, that’s not how I remember my mom having gazpacho in the summers of my youth. And she should know, because she’s Andalusian, from Seville, the land where gazpacho originated.

Growing up, I remember my mom drinking gazpacho from a glass, throughout the day, as if it were water. Her gazpacho was smooth and fluid, resembling more a juice than a soup, but rich in flavor and depth, thanks to fresh-from-the-market ingredients and the fruitiest of olive oils, extra virgin, from olives harvested in Onteniente, pressed at the town’s co-op and stored in my grandma’s cellar. The jar of gazpacho was a staple in our fridge, and in the summer months, when tomatoes were in season, we were never without it.

My gazpacho is thicker, definitely more a soup than a juice, and it’d be harder to drink it from a glass. I use a food mill to separate the tomato from its peels, but that’s the extent of my use of the food mill, and therefore the extent of smoothness in my gazpacho. The bits of carrot, cucumber and pepper that remain after blending the ingredients stay there, as does the bread, which thickens the gazpacho just so. And that’s the beauty of gazpacho: a cold soup jammed packed with vitamins, minerals and fiber, that one can drink, or eat, according to their fancy. A precursor of today’s popular shakes and smoothies, that has been consumed by generations of Andalusians first, then Spaniards, for centuries, and that has recently found a place in the worldwide cuisine.

I’ve seen recipes for watermelon gazpacho, cantaloupe gazpacho and even strawberry gazpacho, and no matter what you call those concoctions, the idea is the same as with the original gazpacho: to deliver a handful (or a bowlful!) of the earth’s goodness in one simple meal.

I make Andalusian gazpacho the traditional way, my mom’s recipe in terms of ingredients, but with a bit of a difference when it comes to the process, in order to achieve a thicker consistency. I use good quality extra virgin olive oil, and the freshest of ingredients I can find, usually sourced locally at one of Fort Wayne’s new and wonderful farmers markets. Who knew that even in the Midwest, my gazpacho would remind me of Spain —and of my mom.

But what is gazpacho, anyway, and how did it come to be? Gazpacho is a cold soup that is believed to have originated in Andalusia’s interior, a land where olive oil and orchard products are plentiful, and where summers are hot and dry. That’s why the traditional gazpacho is called gazpacho andaluz, Andalusian gazpacho. The first gazpachos in Andalusia can be traced to Roman times, where soldiers prepared a concoction of bread, garlic, vinegar, olive oil and water, ingredients readily available at the time. That’s probably where ajoblanco, a kind of gazpacho that incorporates almonds to the aforementioned ingredients, originated.

Cucumbers from Asia were introduced at a later date, and it wasn’t until well into the XVI century, with the introduction of tomatoes and peppers from the New World, that gazpacho started to take shape as the dish we know today. Salmorejo, yet another variant of gazpacho popular in Córdoba (one of eight Andalusian provinces), which includes tomatoes but not peppers and cucumbers, is another variety that developed in the XIX century.

When eaten as a soup, gazpacho can be accompanied by what’s called tropezones, small pieces of pepper, cucumber, onion or croutons, served separately as garnish for each person to customize his or her soup.

 

ANDALUSIAN GAZPACHO

Gazpacho Andaluz

Ingredients:

2 cloves of garlic, peeled

1 medium cucumber

1 green pepper or 1 red pepper

1 carrot

3 pounds tomatoes

1/2 inch-thick slice of baguette bread (it can be a few days old)

1/2 cup olive oil

3 tbs Red wine vinegar

Salt to taste

 

For garnish (optional):

Finely chopped onion

Finely chopped green pepper

Finely chopped tomatoes

Toasted bread cubes or croutons

 

Place the bread in a small bowl, add the vinegar, and let it soak. If peeling the tomatoes before blending, blanch them first —add to a pot of boiling water for 30 seconds to one minute, so the skin will come off more easily— and let cool.

If using a stand-up blender, add in this order: cucumber, garlic, pepper, carrot, a pinch of salt and about 1/4 cup olive oil. Blend well and transfer the mixture to a large bowl. If using a hand blender instead, put the ingredients in a bowl, or the blender cup, immerse the blades, and blend until smooth.

Quarter the tomatoes and blend, working in batches if necessary (with my upright blender, I usually have to do this). If you didn’t peel the tomatoes, pass the resulting tomato puree through a food mill fitted with the medium blade. Add the bread soaked in vinegar to the blender, add the tomato puree and a pinch of salt and blend together.

Transfer the tomato and bread mixture to the bowl with the vegetable mixture. Add water to adjust desired thickness. Drizzle with some extra virgin olive oil and stir with a wooden spoon until both purees blend. Refrigerate.

Ladle into bowls and serve cold. If desired, garnish with the chopped vegetables and toasted bread cubes.