By The garden is at its peak, which means Helen and I are at our busiest since retirement was supposed to make us less busy. Tomatoes coming in — the Brandywines that Helen insists on growing even though they crack in the rain, and the Romas for sauce, and the cherry tomatoes that produce with the relentless enthusiasm of something that doesn't know when to stop. The zucchini is producing at a rate that suggests it's trying to take over the county. I've put three on the neighbor's porch already. They haven't asked for them. They don't need to. That's what neighbors are for in July — receiving zucchini whether they want it or not.
I made gazpacho. It's not a Vermont dish — I'm fairly sure my mother never encountered a gazpacho in her life, and if she had she'd have heated it up because cold soup is a concept that takes some persuading for a New England woman. But Helen learned it from a colleague at the hospital, and she made it once, and I ate it on a hot July day and understood immediately why people in Spain have been doing this for centuries. Tomatoes, cucumber, bell pepper, garlic, bread, olive oil, vinegar, all blended until it's smooth. Cold. Served in a bowl. Topped with more diced cucumber and a drizzle of oil. It tastes like summer concentrated into a spoon.
I'm still thinking about James. He's two weeks old and already has the Bergstrom scowl — the expression that says "I am skeptical of this entire enterprise." David sent a photograph. The baby looks like a potato with opinions. I love him enormously.
The blog has about sixty regular readers now, which Helen finds hilarious and I find bewildering. Sixty people, most of them strangers, reading about an old man's garden and his beans. Someone from Massachusetts wrote to ask for the baked beans recipe. I sent it. Someone from Vermont — Stowe, up north — said her grandmother made the same brown bread in a coffee can. Of course she did. That's Vermont. We've all been making the same six recipes for two hundred years and none of us are tired of them yet.
Helen picked the first zucchini today and made zucchini bread, which is the diplomatic solution to a vegetable that nobody can eat fast enough. Sugar, oil, eggs, flour, grated zucchini. You can't taste the zucchini, which is the point. Zucchini bread is the vegetable kingdom's witness protection program. The zucchini gets a new identity and everybody's happy.
Garden, baby, bread, sixty readers. July. We're doing fine.
Helen’s zucchini bread solved the abundance problem, but I kept thinking about what else that garden haul could become—something that felt less like disguise and more like a real meal. With July coming in hot and the zucchini only picking up speed, soup seemed like the honest answer: let the vegetable actually be itself for once. Here’s the recipe we landed on.
Creamy Zucchini Basil Soup
Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 1 medium yellow onion, roughly chopped
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 2 pounds zucchini (about 4 medium), trimmed and roughly chopped
- 3 cups vegetable broth
- 1/2 cup fresh basil leaves, packed, plus more for garnish
- 1/4 cup heavy cream (or full-fat coconut milk)
- 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
- 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
- 1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
- 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
- Extra-virgin olive oil, for drizzling
Instructions
- Soften the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft and translucent, about 6–8 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more, until fragrant.
- Add zucchini and broth. Add the chopped zucchini and pour in the vegetable broth. Raise heat to bring to a gentle boil, then reduce to a simmer. Cook uncovered until the zucchini is completely tender and yields easily to a spoon, about 12–15 minutes.
- Add the basil. Remove the pot from heat. Stir in the fresh basil leaves and allow them to wilt into the hot soup for 1 minute — this preserves their bright green color and flavor.
- Blend until smooth. Using an immersion blender directly in the pot, blend until completely silky and smooth. Alternatively, carefully transfer in batches to a countertop blender, venting the lid. Return soup to the pot.
- Finish and season. Stir in the heavy cream, lemon juice, nutmeg, salt, and pepper. Return to low heat and warm gently for 2–3 minutes. Taste and adjust seasoning — it may want a pinch more salt or another small squeeze of lemon.
- Serve. Ladle into bowls and finish each with a drizzle of good olive oil, a few small basil leaves, and a crack of black pepper. Equally good served warm or chilled on a hot July afternoon.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 165 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 11g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 420mg