Make the most of summer produce with a tangy gazpacho that manages to be both light and surprisingly hearty.

Take me to the soup!

The calendar has turned to September, friends. Most years I’m desperate for the fall to come. I’d be happy if it was sweater weather and apple season all year round.

But this year I sort of wish I could freeze time (but also, skip over the next bit entirely). We still have a week before Kindergarten starts for M, which means, I’m not yet worrying about an email from the school saying that someone has Covid. And Z is at the perfect baby stage where he’s sleeping more, crying less (sort of), and has a personality, but isn't yet mobile.

I hate this instinct of mine to imagine that whatever is coming will be bad. Or that if I imagine all the possible bads, that I can stop them from coming. What is that? Did I inherit some DNA from great great great great-grandmother Esther who escaped the pogroms?

Anyway, I’ve been dealing with all this dread by eating gobfulls of not-great food. I’m not even trying to food shame myself. I don’t think anyone would classify my current eating regimen as “balanced.” And I’m certainly not eating only things that taste absolutely delicious. I’m eating for the sole purpose of thinking about something other than my fears. It’s not great, Dan.

Consequently, I’m trying to come up with meals that are a little more veg-heavy while still being fun and tasty and most importantly, simple. Because, though I’m cooking and eating to stop myself from worrying, I’m also deeply committed to worrying and thus, don’t want to take too much time away from the task of imagining any and all worst-case-scenarios. You know, in case I CAN stop them from happening with my imagination.

So, this gazpacho. I used to hate gazpacho. As Lisa Simpson described, it’s tomato soup served ice cold. But when it’s good, it’s oh so much more than that. Our favorite farmstand had tons of beautiful tomatillos, so I bought some and threw them into the toaster oven (but you can obviously use a real oven too) and then threw them into the soup. The rest is really your standard Spanish gazpacho with none of the American faff that we often add. Think veggies at their peak, aromatics, salt, vinegar, and lots of olive oil.

I also realized that, while straining is a pain and you end up throwing out a lot of stuff that you could otherwise eat, it also makes the texture SO MUCH BETTER. So now I strain even though it’s a pain. But you certainly don’t have to. It saves time and this recipe yields a lot more soup when it includes the tougher stuff.

A couple of notes:

• Please don’t reduce the oil content in this soup. It gives the dish its body and staying power. Without it, you might as well open a can of V8.

• Tomatillos are a little sour and as such, give another dimension to the soup. But you can absolutely skip them and use all tomatoes.

• Start with 1/2 tsp of kosher salt. I’ve found that this soup can easily taste too salty if you go overboard.

Tomatillo Gazpacho

Yield: about 3.5 cups (depending on how juicy your veggies are) 
Time: 25 minutes, all active (less if you choose not to strain the soup)

¼ lb tomatillos, husks removed, rinsed of the sticky residue, and halved
1¾ lb heirloom, plum, or other red tomatoes
1 small cucumber, peeled and roughly chopped
1 small zucchini, roughly chopped
3 large scallions, green and white parts roughly chopped
2 Tbsp red wine vinegar
1/2-1 tsp fine sea salt
½ cup olive oil

Preheat the oven or toaster oven to 350. On a parchment or foil covered baking sheet, place the halved tomatillos face down. Bake for 5-7 minutes or until the tomatillos have softened a bit, but aren’t completely mushy.

While the tomatillos are cooking, roughly chop the rest of the vegetables.

Add the tomatillos, tomatoes, cucumber, zucchini, scallions, vinegar, and salt to your blender and blend on high for 2 minutes. 

While the blender runs, add the olive oil in a slow stream until it’s completely incorporated, about 2 more minutes. 

Strain the soup through a fine mesh sieve.

Test for seasoning and add more salt or vinegar if needed.

Chill for 2 hours or up to 1 week.