Halcyon Soup

Christi Vivar

by Jesse Yancy
August 6, 2008

Soups should grace our tables more often than they do. In terms of sheer sustenance, soups are among the most nourishing of foods. Even under the most grueling situations, soups have fed the body, as well as the soul, for countless generations before the red-and-white can with the medallion in the middle invaded our pantries.

One soup you’ll never find in a can is gazpacho, which would never survive the brutal canning process. Gazpacho rated an entire chapter (Beautiful Soup) in “The Alice B. Toklas Cookbook,” and became a culinary craze sometime in the late ’70s. Ratatouille (the eggplant dish, not the cartoon) was in vogue at that time as well.

Gazpacho is the king of cold soups. It is a great way to serve fresh summer vegetables and is easy to make. Historical recipes of this dish invariably recount bread as one of the basic ingredients, on par with oil, salt and garlic. While my recipe does not include bread at that juncture (I don’t like the texture), take it from someone who crumbles cold cornbread over his final bowl, bread is an essential element, and any well-textured bread will do.

This recipe is from my halcyon days in Oxford, where I was desultorily studying for a degree, diligently exploring my capacities for vice and working in a string of eateries. The Bean Blossom Bistro was the first health-food restaurant in Oxford. It was located on Jackson Avenue across from the old telephone exchange. The Good Food Store, Oxford’s first health-food store—then in its second incarnation—was on the corner next door.

Carol Davis opened up the bistro in 1978. We had worked together at the old Moonlight Café, which Betty Blair had opened up in the Hoka a couple of years earlier. Carol and I became fast friends during that time, and when she opened her own place, she brought me with her. We were very young, and though it springs to my mind to say that Oxford in those days was an intoxicating environment, perhaps youth itself was our wine.

The Bean Blossom, like so many small restaurants, was founded more on good intentions than experience. I don’t think we ever seated more than 50 people at one time, and usually far, far less. The kitchen could barely hold more than three people. Our menu changed daily, though we could always whip up a tofu burger, or a veggie stir-fry or a great salad any time you wanted it. Carol introduced me to a lot of new foods, including adzuki beans, which I cook like cowpeas, and tofu, which I deep-fry.

She also brought gazpacho into my world, and for that I am evermore grateful. I remember dipping the soup from a bucket in the bottom of our double-door refrigerator, a sheen of oil glistening atop the mixture. We served it with a variety of breads, and today, each bowl I eat is a serving of delicious nostalgia.

Include tender summer squash, mild fleshy peppers or a tomatillo if you like, but do not, and I repeat, do not puree this mixture. You’ll end up with something that looks horrible and tastes bitter to boot. Gazpacho is not a liquid salad; it is a splendid summer soup. I think it’s a good idea to chop the ingredients fairly fine, but you might like some things chunkier in your bowl.

Like memories themselves, this soup improves with age. Then it gets kind of moldy.

BEAN BLOSSOM GAZPACHO

2-3 cloves of garlic
2 teaspoons salt
3/4 cup olive oil
2 tomatoes
2 cucumbers, peeled
1 white onion
1 yellow bell pepper
1 bunch of celery
1 teaspoon cumin
1 teaspoon fresh basil
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 tablespoon lemon juice
about 4 cups low-sodium V-8

Smash and mince the garlic very, very finely. Put the garlic in the bottom of a glass or enamel bowl with a teaspoon of salt and about a half a cup of olive oil. (If you want to try adding bread, now is the time.) Bruise these ingredients together, then let the mixture sit while you chop into fine pieces the white onion, tomatoes, cucumbers, the heart of the celery bunch (with leaves; use the tougher outer stems for another dish) and the bell pepper. Add these ingredients to the bowl with your garlic, oil and salt. Add another teaspoon of salt, the cumin, fresh basil, black pepper and another quarter cup of olive oil.

Then add just enough low-sodium V-8 (it’s good stuff, trust me) to cover, and add the freshly-squeezed lemon juice. Let this mixture sit for a couple of hours in the refrigerator in a sealed glass or ceramic container (overnight is better).

An hour before serving, add more juice to create the consistency you want, adjust the salt and pepper and return to the refrigerator. Serve in chilled bowls (fresh chopped chives or basil is a good touch) with good, hard bread.

 
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