The salmonella outbreak done pissed me off some, because I was on a serious tear making this soup every other day or so, and I had almost -- almost -- perfected it when the maters disappeared.
However, today I went over to Bill and Louisa's house to discover them, their four girls, two friends and the dog up to their ears -- almost literally -- in tomatoes. I shit you not, there were five giant Rubbermaid crates full of tomatoes, and most of the refrigerator full as well. It turned out that Bill's friend Mike does some work for an organic farm, and the farmer got a bumper crop of tomatoes; so many tomatoes, in fact, that he could afford to enhance his brand by only sending the really good-looking ones to the market. The rest -- the lumpy ones, the funny-colored ones, the ones with mushy spots where they lay on the ground -- Mike took home with him.
So there we were, and there was this embarrassment of tomatoes; we all spent the afternoon putting them up in jars, which was a nice companionable thing to do, and we were all very jolly despite being hot and sweaty and covered with tomato seeds and bits of skin. And I went home with a big box full of quart jars -- the apocalypse will have spaghetti sauce, by God -- and a smaller box full of fresh, almost-perfect organic tomatoes with which to make cold tomato soup.
I am not officially calling this soup gazpacho, because "real" gazpacho is one of those things about which people regularly come to blows, and mine is not orthodox. For instance, I cook my tomatoes, and I understand that Real Gazpacho is never cooked. But raw-tomato gazpacho can taste pallid and salsa-like unless the tomatoes are immaculate, and they rarely are these days -- cooking concentrates the flavor a bit, which seems like a good idea. I also add tomato paste, which is anathema. But my soup is tomato, and it is cold, and it has bits of cucumber and onion and soaked bread in it, and if you wanted to call it gazpacho I sure wouldn't object.
This is the perfect thing to eat on a sweltering-hot day. I like mine with a dab of yogurt in it, which must horrify the Gazpacho Gods still further, but it is just fine plain. Here is how it is done.
Get a couple of pounds of tomatoes. Since they will be cooked, it's OK if they're not awesome, but they should be pretty good. Wash them and cut them in half, or in quarters if they're really huge, and seed them - you do this by holding the tomato over a bowl and squeezing it so the seeds pop out, and then you chase the strays out with your fingers. Reserve the seeds and tomato water in the bowl.
Heat kind of a lot of good olive oil over medium-low heat in a large, deep skillet or pot with a lid, and throw in a chopped garlic clove or two -- go easy, you are not making marinara. Gently cook until garlic is fragrant and translucent; do not allow it to brown. Then add the tomatoes just as they are, stir them around a bit and cover the pot. If you are adding herbs -- I like tarragon in this application -- that need some cooking, add them now too.
While the tomatoes are sweating, strain the seedy tomato water in a fine mesh sieve into a small bowl. Reserve tomato water; throw the seeds away, or feed them to the chickens, or take them somewhere and germinate them, whatever. Into the tomato water put a medium-sized piece of the middle of a loaf of firm white bread, French or Italian or sourdough or whatever, with no crusts. Stir around and leave to disintegrate.
The tomatoes are done when they are squishy and their peels slip off easily. Do not cook them further unless you want to try drinking a glass of sticky red sauce. When they are done, let them cool until they can be easily handled, and pull off the peels. Then put the whole shebang -- tomatoes, bread and tomato water -- along with a couple teaspoons of tomato paste in the blender and whizz till smooth. If you want parsley, add it towards the end of the whizzing. Taste for salt and pepper; it will need a fair bit of both. If it seems impossibly bland, try adding some vegetable bouillon -- I am hopelessly addicted to Better Than Bouillon brand concentrate. If it is too thick, add some water. Set it aside.
You can start chilling it now, or you can do like I do and put in some finely chopped cucumber, red onion and/or red pepper first. Either way, put it in the fridge and do not touch it until it has chilled at least overnight. The flavors need time to bloom and meld. Taste again for salt before serving. It might need more pepper too, or a dash of sherry vinegar, and it isn't a bad idea to stir in a drop or two of really excellent olive oil to finish.
This is extremely good for you and will make you feel virtuous as hell. Since we don't know how long tomatoes will be offlimits in the stores, I do recommend acquiring friends who are farmers.
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