Summer heat. Vermont hot, which is still hot even if Texans would laugh. We opened every window in the farmhouse and set up the fans and Frost relocated to the bathroom tiles, which are the coolest surface in the house and which he defends with the territorial intensity of a dog who has found his summer headquarters and will not be displaced.
I made gazpacho again — the cold tomato soup that isn't Vermont but has earned a place in this kitchen through sheer deliciousness. Garden tomatoes, garden cucumbers, a bell pepper from the farm stand, garlic, good olive oil, red wine vinegar, and a hunk of stale bread to thicken it. All blended smooth and chilled. You serve it cold in a bowl and eat it slowly and the heat outside becomes bearable because the soup inside is fifty degrees and your body is confused and grateful.
Helen's flower bed is planted. The daylilies and coneflowers are in, small and tentative, and Helen checks on them every morning the way she used to check on patients — with professional concern and personal investment. The black-eyed Susans won't go in until fall. "They need to establish roots before winter," Helen says, and I nod, because I've learned that when Helen talks about plants, the correct response is agreement followed by getting out of her way.
We had dinner with Jerry Thibodeau and his wife, Marie, on Saturday. Jerry's eighty-two now and sharp as ever. We grilled hamburgers and ate on the porch and Jerry told stories about farming in the fifties that I've heard before and will gladly hear again because Jerry tells them better each time. Marie brought a blueberry buckle. Jerry brought a bottle of wine from a vineyard in the Champlain Islands that he insists is good and I insist is "ambitious," which is the most Vermont compliment I can give a wine that's trying very hard.
The neighbors matter. In a farmhouse on a road that doesn't get much traffic, the people nearby are the people you rely on when the power goes out or the tree falls or the world does something unexpected. Jerry has been next door for sixty years. His father was next door before that. The Thibodeaus and the Bergstroms go back generations, waving from porches, sharing firewood, trading syrup for vegetables. It's not friendship, exactly — it's deeper than that. It's proximity elevated to permanence. We're here. They're here. The land holds us both.
Hot week. Cold soup. Good neighbors. Summer.
The gazpacho used up most of the good tomatoes, but the garden doesn’t slow down for anyone, and by midweek there were more on the counter than I knew what to do with. Blender salsa is what happens when the tomatoes win — same cast of characters as the soup, rougher and quicker, the kind of thing you can have ready before Jerry finishes his second story about the old days. It keeps in the fridge, it goes on everything, and it makes the heat feel like a reason to cook rather than a reason to stop.
Blender Salsa
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 4 medium ripe tomatoes, cored and quartered (about 2 lbs)
- 1 small white onion, roughly chopped
- 1 jalapeño, seeds removed for mild or kept for heat
- 1 green bell pepper, roughly chopped
- 3 cloves garlic, peeled
- 1/2 cup fresh cilantro leaves and tender stems
- 2 tablespoons fresh lime juice (about 1 lime)
- 1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
- 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
- 1/4 teaspoon sugar (optional, to balance acidity)
Instructions
- Prep the vegetables. Core and quarter the tomatoes. Roughly chop the onion and bell pepper. No need for precision — the blender handles everything.
- Add to blender. Place the tomatoes, onion, jalapeño, bell pepper, and garlic into a blender or food processor. Add the cilantro, lime juice, salt, and cumin.
- Pulse to desired texture. Pulse 8–12 times for a chunky salsa, or blend for 15–20 seconds for a smoother consistency. Do not over-blend or the salsa will become foamy.
- Taste and adjust. Taste for salt, acidity, and heat. Add the sugar if the tomatoes are particularly acidic. Add more lime juice or jalapeño as needed.
- Chill before serving. Transfer to a jar or container and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes to let the flavors come together. Serve cold with chips, eggs, grilled meat, or anything else on the table.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 28 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 0g | Carbs: 6g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 148mg