[Sca-cooks] gazpacho

[Huette von Ahrens]

Forget what you know: This is gazpacho

The Spanish classic is ripe for variation. But
first you have to understand it.

By Leslie Brenner, Special to The Times 

What late summer's harvest gives us ripe, juicy
tomatoes, thoughts turn naturally to gazpacho.
Festive and flavorful, it's August's marvelous
scarlet liquid salad.

Yet somehow, over time, what began as one of
Spain's great gifts to the world's culinary
repertoire has become a sort of anything-goes,
toss-it-all-into-the-blender affair. An authentic
gazpacho is as delicious as paella, and far
easier to reproduce. Sadly, more often than not
in the hands of American cooks, it's a chunky,
insipid purée that can only be rescued by the
addition of more tomato juice.

Real gazpacho — that is, tomato gazpacho made
from the traditional ingredients used in Seville,
capital of the cold soup — is one of those
simple, perfect dishes in which the whole is much
greater than the sum of its parts. It has deep
tomato flavor, sure, but never uses canned juice:
Gazpacho demands only the ripest tomatoes. But
underneath that, it's got body and bite, which
come from the bread and garlic that are its base.
It's got a little zing — that's from Sherry
vinegar. And it's got soul, which comes from
good, fruity olive oil. Get the balance right,
and you've got a dream of a summer soup.

Once you understand what defines gazpacho, then
you can play, add garnishes, experiment.

It may come as a surprise that the tomatoey
salad-soup that we all know and love has origins
that have nothing to do with tomatoes.

In fact, gazpacho predates the 16th century
arrival of tomatoes (and peppers) in Europe; most
culinary historians say that its roots go back to
Islamic Spain, sometime between the 8th and 13th
centuries. According to Clara María G. de Amezúa,
an authority on Spanish cuisine and founder of
the Alambique cooking school in Madrid, gazpacho
dates back to the 7th century.

In those days, garlic, salt and bread were
pounded in a mortar-like vessel called a
dornillo; vinegar and olive oil were then beaten
in. The thick soup that resulted has much in
common with sopa de ajo, a traditional hot soup
that is still eaten in much of Spain, as well as
ajo blanco, the cold soup from Malaga also known
as "gazpacho blanco," or white gazpacho.

Once Columbus brought back tomatoes and peppers
from the New World, these were added to gazpacho,
along with cucumber. The result is the marvelous
cold soup that reaches its apogee in the
restaurants and homes of Seville, where it's
served with a variety of garnishes, including
finely chopped green pepper, cucumber, green
onions, hard-boiled eggs and toasted (or dried or
fried) bread cubes. It's no accident that tomato
gazpacho happened in Seville: According to De
Amezúa, the vegetables that Columbus brought
spread through Spain via Seville.

It all begins with bread

Although there is debate among linguists as to
the derivation of the word "gazpacho," the most
widely accepted explanation is that of Spanish
philologist Juan Corominas, who suggests the
origin is the pre-Roman Mozarab word caspa,
meaning "fragments" or "flakes," as in small
pieces of bread.

"A gazpacho is not a gazpacho without bread,"
says Anya von Bremzen, a cookbook author and
expert on the cooking of Spain. In her upcoming
book, "The Greatest Dishes: Around the World in
80 Recipes" (HarperCollins, February 2004), she
offers a traditional, Seville-style gazpacho —
using bread, of course. "And it has to have cubes
of fried bread as a garnish," she adds. It has
to? "Well, no," she concedes. "But they're
awfully good."

Hmmm. So those cold, chunky puréed soups made
from all the tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers and
onions you can stuff in the blender aren't
exactly gazpacho. And tomato juice or V8 juice?
Banish the thought. Watermelon gazpacho? It may
be good (or maybe not), but in any case, gazpacho
it ain't.

Olive oil and vinegar, on the other hand, are
essential; De Amezúa calls them "the secret of a
good gazpacho." And apparently she isn't the only
one in Spain who thinks so: A Spanish saying
counsels, "With a bad vinegar and a worse oil, a
good gazpacho cannot be made."

This holds as true for the red gazpacho that's so
celebrated in Seville as it does for ajo blanco,
the "white gazpacho" of Malaga. In this version,
garlic and salt are pounded together with bread
and almonds, along with good Sherry vinegar and
olive oil. In the summer, green grapes are added
as a garnish; some cooks also add grapes into the
purée. In spring, chunks of melon or apple might
substitute as the garnish.

Gazpacho's ability to refresh is important — it's
more than coincidence that Andalusia, the region
that invented it, is known for its hot summers.
Vinegar was known to the Romans for its
restorative properties, and that may be one
reason its presence in the soup has stood the
test of time. In Seville's tapas bars, gazpacho
is often served in tumblers, as a drink; trendier
restaurants there present it in shot glasses.

Variations on Seville's tomato gazpacho abound
throughout Andalusia. In Jerez de la Frontera,
chopped onions are added; in nearby Sanlúcar de
Barrameda, homemade mayonnaise is in the purée.
Crushed cumin goes in the mix in Granada. In
Cordoba, a thicker version called salmorejo, made
without water, is served with strips of Serrano
ham and chopped or quartered hard-boiled eggs.

Ajo blanco has its spinoffs too: One made from
pine nuts instead of almonds is the order of the
day in Almuñécar, near Granada; egg yolks beaten
into pounded garlic, salt, water-soaked bread,
olive oil and Sherry vinegar make up a version in
Peloche, a town in the Extremadura region, which
is adjacent to Andalusia.

It took some time — several centuries — for
gazpacho to achieve the kind of international
renown it enjoys today. "The idea of gazpacho as
a Spanish national dish is purely late 19th
century," says Clifford A. Wright, a food
historian and author of the upcoming book "Little
Foods of the Mediterranean" (Harvard Common
Press, October 2003). "Two Spanish authors
attribute it to Eugenia, the wife of Napoleon
III, for introducing it to the French court," he
explains.

American de-evolution

We forward-looking, tomato-loving Americans have
long been fond of it. Mary Randolph, a first
cousin of Thomas Jefferson, included a gazpacho
recipe in her 1824 cookbook, "The Virginia
Housewife."

However, it didn't become popular in the U.S.
until the mid-20th century. M.F.K. Fisher,
offering a recipe in her 1942 book "How to Cook a
Wolf," called it the "perfect summer soup ... a
soul-satisfying thing to drink, chilled, midway
in a torrid morning."

By the 1960s, it was all the rage, especially in
New York. "It was the thing that all the chichi
people wanted to have," recalls Jean Anderson,
author of "American Century Cookbook" (Clarkson
Potter, 1997). Before long, a variation,
buttermilk gazpacho, became the darling of the
summer soup set; it included hard-boiled eggs,
canned tomato or V8 juice, and a generous
quantity of buttermilk — but no bread, olive oil
or vinegar. The version collected in "American
Century Cookbook" doesn't even have fresh
tomatoes.

Most mid-century renditions of tomato gazpacho
included neither bread nor olive oil nor vinegar
but several, among them the 1964 edition of "Joy
of Cooking," called for fresh herbs, à la Fisher.
Curiously, both Fisher's recipe and that of "Joy
of Cooking" had bread crumbs sprinkled on top.

Craig Claiborne's recipe in the 1961 "New York
Times Cookbook" called for four raw eggs and
tomato juice, but no bread. Eighteen years later,
"The Silver Palate Cookbook" echoed Claiborne,
calling for three beaten eggs and canned tomato
juice — no bread. By then, the soup had become
fashionable among the fledgling California
foodies who were just discovering fresh pasta,
balsamic vinegar and herbes de Provence.

By 1990, gazpacho had gone haute: Top New York
chefs began copying each other's gazpacho sauces
when David Bouley sauced a white plate with one
and topped it with a layered crab salad.

Since then, gazpacho's popularity has endured.
But lately, more traditional versions compel us.
Here in L.A., Hans Röckenwagner has been
featuring a traditional ajo blanco, made with
grapes, at Röckenwagner Brasserie. He adds a
drizzle of paprika oil for zip.

Lately, the soup has been very hot — er, cold —
in Paris. Three years ago when I visited in early
September, fairly traditional versions were on
the menu in just about every other restaurant I
dined in, including a couple of Michelin two-star
establishments. Its popularity shows no sign of
abating.

Smooth Spanish style

But nowhere is gazpacho as fashionable as it is
today in Spain. "There are a wave of young
Andalusian chefs who are all doing it," says Von
Bremzen. "People are obsessive about making it
really smooth." Toward that end, when Von Bremzen
makes it at home, she first purées it in a food
processor, then forces it through a sieve and
finally whirls it in the blender or purées it
again with an immersion blender. My rendition of
Gazpacho Sevillana calls for merely using a food
processor, but the obsessive — or those who want
to follow Spanish fashion — will want to follow
Von Bremzen's three-step method.

Spain's gazpacho obsession doesn't end with
smoothness, by any means. There's actually a
gazpacho deconstruction movement afoot on the
Iberian Peninsula. Von Bremzen recalled one in
which the bread was served apart from the soup,
and the tomato was in the form of clear
tomato-water. "It tastes like gazpacho," she
marvels, "even though it looks like water."

If Spain has a king of gazpacho, that would be
Dani Garcia, chef of Tragabuches, a restaurant in
the Andalusian city of Rondo. Garcia serves a
gazpacho tasting menu at his restaurant. One
version has cherries in the purée in place of
some of the tomatoes; it's garnished with smoked
cheese ice cream (no kidding) that has been dried
and turned into a kind of dust. His ajo blanco
consists of a flat, black caviar raviolo, with
tiny threads of candied spaghetti squash strewn
around it and the ajo blanco spooned over.
Garcia's cookbook, "Tragabuches," includes
recipes for seared tuna with tomato gazpacho
sorbet and green apple gelée; ajo blanco with
figs, marinated sardines and caviar; and ajo
blanco ice cream with fresh lychees and a drizzle
of balsamic vinegar.

Gazpacho sorbets are also big, especially in
Madrid, where they're being drizzled with olive
oil. Traditional tomato gazpachos are being
garnished with granitas, such as cucumber-mint.

It's almost as if all of Spain has taken to heart
the words of Sancho Panza, who said in "Don
Quixote": "I'd rather stun myself with gazpachos
than to be subjected to the misery of an
impertinent doctor who will make me starve."

Of course, Panza was probably referring to the
hot gazpachos of La Mancha, an aromatic soup made
by hunters from whatever game they'd brought back
and served on top of bread. But that's another
story.


Ajo blanco (white gazpacho)

Total time: 25 minutes plus 2 hours chilling time

Servings: 6

Note: This recipe is adapted from one by cookbook
author and Spanish cuisine authority Anya von
Bremzen. Use a light, fruity olive oil,
preferably Andalusian. Andalusian olive oil is
available online from tienda.com or
spanishtable.com. Do not use a peppery oil, such
as Tuscan.

3 1-inch slices day-old rustic bread, medium
round loaf, divided

2 cups ice water, divided

2 cloves garlic, crushed using a garlic press

1 cup whole blanched almonds, ground in a blender
or food processor

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/3cup plus 2 tablespoons light, fruity olive
oil, divided

1 1/2 tablespoons aged sherry vinegar, or more to
taste

2 cups baby lettuces of different colors

1 cup edible flowers, broken into petals

3 fresh black mission figs, cut into quarters

1. Remove the crusts from the bread slices and
tear two of the slices into bits. Soak in
one-half cup of ice water for 5 to 10 minutes,
then drain in a small sieve, pressing to squeeze
out as much liquid as possible. Crumble into a
blender.

2. Add the garlic, almonds, salt and one-half cup
or more of the water to the blender, and blend to
form a paste. With the blender running at the
highest speed, drizzle one-third cup of the olive
oil through the feed tube to emulsify.

3. Scrape the mixture into a mixing bowl. Whisk
in the vinegar and the remaining 1 cup of water.
The consistency should be that of very thick
cream or very thin mayonnaise. Add a little more
vinegar and/or salt to taste, if desired. Chill
the soup for at least 2 hours so the flavors
develop.

4. For the garnish, cut the remaining slice of
bread into quarter-inch cubes. Heat the remaining
olive oil in a skillet, and cook the bread cubes
to form golden brown croutons. Drain on paper
towels and set aside.

5. Place the soup in a glass pitcher. Pile a
small heap of the lettuce in the middle of a soup
plate and top with flower petals, 2 fig quarters
and some croutons. To serve, bring the pitcher to
the table and pour the soup around the lettuce
and figs in each bowl.

Each serving: 373 calories; 7 grams protein; 23
grams carbohydrates; 4 grams fiber; 30 grams fat;
3 grams saturated fat; 0 cholesterol; 329 mg.
sodium.

*

Gazpacho Sevillana

Total time: 1 hour, plus 2 hours for chilling

Serves: 6 to 8

Soup

3 pounds very ripe tomatoes (about 5 medium)

1/4 cup Sherry vinegar

1/2pound French bread, crusts removed, torn into
small pieces (about 3 cups)

3 cloves garlic

1 1/2 teaspoons salt

1 medium cucumber, peeled, seeded and roughly
chopped

1 medium red pepper, roasted, peeled and roughly
chopped

3/4cup water

1/3cup best-quality extra-virgin olive oil

Freshly ground white pepper to taste

1. Peel the tomatoes and cut them in half
horizontally. Set a sieve over a large bowl and
gently squeeze the seeds and juice out of the
tomatoes, letting the sieve catch the seeds.
Roughly chop the tomatoes, reserve the tomato
water and discard the seeds. Add the vinegar to
the tomato water, stir to combine, then add the
bread, combining to moisten the bread.

2. Using a mortar and pestle, grind the garlic
with the salt to form a smooth paste. Place the
paste in the bowl of a food processor with the
bread mixture and some of the tomatoes. Process
until very smooth, then transfer to a large,
nonreactive bowl. Process the remaining tomatoes
with the cucumber, red pepper and water until
very smooth. With the motor running, pour in the
olive oil in a stream. Add the purée to the
tomato-bread mixture, stir to combine and add
salt and white pepper to taste. Chill for at
least two hours.

Garnishes

1 medium cucumber, peeled, seeded and cut into
1/4-inch dice

5 green onions, finely sliced

1 green bell pepper, cut into 1/4-inch dice

1/3cup toasted pine nuts

1/2 cup chopped green olives with pimentos

2 eggs, hard-boiled

1 tablespoon olive oil

1/2 cup ( 1/4-inch) fresh bread cubes

1. Place the cucumber, green onions, bell pepper,
pine nuts and green olives in small serving
bowls. Peel and separate the eggs. Cut the egg
whites into quarter-inch dice and place them in a
small serving bowl. Place the yolks in a small
sieve and, using the back of a spoon, press them
through the sieve into a small serving bowl.

2. Heat the olive oil in a small skillet over
medium heat. Stir in the bread crumbs and lightly
brown. Place in a small serving bowl.

3. Ladle the chilled soup into small bowls, and
serve with the garnishes.

Each serving: 184 calories; 4 grams protein; 22
grams carbohydrates; 3 grams fiber; 10 grams fat;
1 gram saturated fat; 0 cholesterol; 582 mg.
sodium.

*

Gazpacho shots

Total time: 20 minutes, plus 2 hours for chilling

Servings: 8

1 clove garlic, peeled

1 teaspoon salt, divided

1 1/2cucumbers, divided

2 medium, very ripe tomatoes, seeded and roughly
chopped

1/2red bell pepper, veins removed, roughly
chopped

3 tablespoons lime juice

3 ounces vodka

1/2teaspoon ground cumin

1/2 teaspoon sweet Spanish paprika

1 lime, cut into 8 wedges

1. Using a mortar and pestle, grind the garlic
clove with one-half teaspoon of salt to a smooth
paste. Seed and roughly chop the half-cucumber.
Transfer the garlic paste to the bowl of a
blender, and add the tomatoes, cucumber, red
pepper, the lime juice and the vodka. Blend on
high speed until very smooth and frothy.

2. Place a fine-mesh sieve over a pitcher, and
pour the mixture into the pitcher, pushing the
contents through the sieve with the back of a
wooden spoon. Adjust the seasoning and chill.

3. In a small bowl, combine the cumin, paprika
and the remaining one-half teaspoon of salt. Peel
the remaining cucumber and cut into 5-inch
dipping sticks. Dip one end of each cucumber
stick into the spice mix.

4. Pour the gazpacho into shot glasses, garnish
with the spice-dipped cucumber sticks, and serve
with lime wedges.

Each serving: 41 calories; 1 gram protein; 4
grams carbohydrates; 1 gram fiber; 0 fat; 0
saturated fat; 0 cholesterol; 295 mg. sodium.




=====
Blessed are they who can laugh at themselves for they 
shall never cease to be amused.

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