Classic Gazpacho

I found a wedding venue website this week that had a section called Your Dream Begins Here, and I closed it immediately. We're getting married at St. Brigid's, where I was baptized and confirmed and attended roughly nine hundred Sunday Masses, and the reception will be at Florian Gardens because Maureen knows the owner and negotiated a price that made me want to hug her. This is not negotiable. This is just who we are.

Meghan came over Wednesday night to help with a vendor list, and by help I mean she arrived with a legal pad, a bottle of wine, and the organizational intensity of someone who has spent fifteen years in law and cannot turn it off. By the end of the evening I had a timeline, a budget framework, and a vendor list. Meghan had eaten half a bag of chips and written more in two hours than I'd written all week. My sister is a wonder. A slightly terrifying wonder.

Sean D.'s mother Linda called Tuesday to talk about the wedding. She's warm and slightly overwhelmed by Donovan family operational chaos. She suggested a restaurant she likes in the North End for the rehearsal dinner. I said yes absolutely, because agreeing to reasonable things is a skill I'm practicing.

I made gazpacho this week for the first time — blended cold tomatoes at eleven PM because the heat was unconscionable and I'd read about it in a magazine. Maureen has never made gazpacho. Sean Sr. would regard it with the deep suspicion he reserves for anything he cannot identify as Irish. I ate it standing at the counter and thought it was excellent and slightly lonely and very adult, all at once. There is a whole category of food that is good and also feels like growing up, and gazpacho is in it. Six more days of August. The oven is calling.

The gazpacho was not planned — nothing that happens at eleven PM in August ever really is — but standing at the counter with a cold bowl and six days left of summer, it felt exactly right: something new, something grown-up, something entirely mine. If you’re in the same kind of week I was in, this is the recipe for it. No oven required.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Chill Time: 2 hours | Total Time: 2 hours 15 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

2 lbs ripe Roma or beefsteak tomatoes, cored and roughly chopped
1 English cucumber, peeled and roughly chopped (reserve a small piece for garnish)
1 red bell pepper, seeded and roughly chopped
1/2 small red onion, roughly chopped
2 cloves garlic, smashed
1 slice day-old crusty bread (about 1 oz), crusts removed, torn into pieces
3 tablespoons good olive oil, plus more for drizzling
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 cup cold water, or more as needed
Fresh basil or chives, for serving

Instructions

Soak the bread. Place the torn bread in a small bowl, cover with cold water, and let it soak for 5 minutes. Squeeze out excess water and set aside. This gives the soup its body without any cooking.
Blend the vegetables. Add the tomatoes, cucumber, red bell pepper, red onion, and garlic to a blender. Blend on high until completely smooth, about 60 seconds.
Add bread and seasoning. Add the soaked bread, olive oil, red wine vinegar, salt, and pepper. Blend again until very smooth and emulsified. Add cold water a little at a time until the consistency is silky — thick enough to coat a spoon but pourable.
Taste and adjust. Season with additional salt and vinegar as needed. Gazpacho should taste bright and slightly sharp; the flavors will mellow as it chills.
Chill thoroughly. Transfer to a covered container and refrigerate for at least 2 hours. Cold is not optional — it’s the whole point.
Serve. Ladle into bowls or glasses. Drizzle with olive oil and top with finely diced cucumber and a few torn basil leaves or snipped chives.

Nutrition (per serving)

Classic Gazpacho — The Cold Soup You Make at Eleven PM When the Heat Won’t Quit