Gazpacho

I have become interested in gazpacho lately. Partly, this is because we enjoyed some wonderful gazpacho while traveling in Spain recently. But more urgently, this interest arises from the overwhelming quantity of tomatoes we are harvesting each day from our garden.

Here’s what I have learned about gazpacho recipes.

They can be divided into those that use canned or jarred tomato juice or equivalent, and those that don’t. In my mind, the ones using canned tomato juice can be ignored. It’s not that it’s cheating (though it probably is), but rather that the whole beauty of gazpacho lies in the garden-fresh goodness of the tomatoes, a trait that’s completely lacking in the canned juice. And you can tell.

Among the remaining recipes, these can be divided into those that use bread in some form as a thickening agent, and those that don’t. There are reputable advocates on both sides of this divide, but I side with those who do not use bread. I am a tomato purist.

Among the recipes still remaining, there are those that call for the whole soup to be pureed to a silky smoothness, and those that prefer chunks. The gazpachos we enjoyed in Spain recently were the pureed type, and quite delicious. On the other hand, in the past we have also enjoyed very chunky gazpachos in both Spain and Portugal on a past trip to different regions. I like to have it both ways: noticeable chunks in an otherwise smooth soup.

After all this research, I ended up with five not-quite-right-for-me recipes from the Internet. I used features of all five, and what follows here is my own recipe. It came out with perfect all-tomato, no-bread, smooth-yet-also-chunky goodness. I hope you enjoy it, but be warned: Use the very best fresh, local tomatoes you can find. The better the tomatoes, the better the soup.

Ginger’s Own Summer Gazpacho

4 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 English cucumber, peeled, seeded
  • ½ large red bell pepper, stemmed, seeded
  • 1 small hot red pepper (such as cayenne), minced (optional)
  • 2 garlic cloves, minced
  • 2 – 2 ½ pounds very ripe red tomatoes, peeled
  • ½ large onion, chopped (chop about 1/3 of this coarsely, the rest finer)
  • 2 Tbsp (or more) sherry or red wine vinegar
  • Salt and pepper, to taste
  • 3 Tbsp olive oil, more or less
  • Quartered cherry tomatoes (optional), chopped chives and basil (for serving)

Preparation

Cut 2-3″ of the cucumber into ¼” pieces and set aside; coarsely chop remaining cucumber and place in a large bowl. Cut one-quarter of the bell pepper into ¼” pieces and set aside; coarsely chop remaining bell pepper and add to bowl with chopped cucumber. Chop one-quarter of the onion into small pieces (1/8”) and set aside; coarsely chop the rest and add to the large bowl with the cucumbers and peppers.

Cut the tomatoes into four or six wedges and seed them over a strainer set above a bowl to catch the liquid. Squeeze liquid out of the seeds.

Transfer about ¾ of the tomatoes and all of the juice to a blender. Add about ¾ of the cucumber mixture. Add garlic, hot peppers, vinegar, salt, and oil; and purée on medium speed until smooth. Adjust seasonings with salt and vinegar, if desired. Add the rest of the tomatoes and the cucumber mixture from the large bowl, and puree only briefly so that coarse pieces still remain. Add the pieces that have been set aside. Transfer to a large bowl or pitcher and chill at least an hour; overnight is better.

Divide gazpacho among bowls. Top with cherry tomatoes if you use them, chives, and basil.

Aunt Shirley’s Apple Cake

My mom’s sister Shirley was an intense personality worthy of an entire blog post all by herself. Probably more than one. But I want to focus here on one small memorable thing about her: she made the best apple cake I’ve ever eaten. I’m sure many of my cousins remember, as I do, her gifts of apple cake wrapped in foil direct from her freezer, where she always seemed to have a supply

Aunt Shirley passed away many years ago, but her apple cake lives on. And now that Dan and I have an apple tree of our own, Aunt Shirley’s apple cake has become a necessity in our lives. We make batches and batches of it in the fall. It freezes well and lasts into the following spring.

Coincidentally, I have unearthed considerable archaeological history of this cake, including facts that may be unknown to our family until now. The recipe, or its nearly identical antecedent, reappeared in my life shortly after Aunt Shirley let me copy hers. It came to me on the Usenet newsgroup rec.food.cooking in 1988 and credits “an old issue of Gourmet magazine.” The magazine article credited a Mr. John Kram, who owned a bakery in East Baltimore in the 1930s. This rings true to me: Shirley grew up in East Baltimore and might have still been living there in the ’30s. Shirley, however, called her recipe “Helen’s Apple Cake.” I don’t know who Helen is. I have also seen a version of this cake called “Jewish Apple Cake”; the Jewish Museum of Maryland may have published a version.

Without more ado, but with relevant commentary where I have made modifications, here is:

Aunt Shirley’s Apple Cake

This makes three bread pans’ worth of apple cake, and I get 8 to 9 slices per pan.

Ingredients

about 10 apples (Note 1)
2 tsp cinnamon
3 Tbsp sugar

3 C unsifted flour
1 Tbsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt

4 unbeaten eggs
2 C sugar (Note 2)
1 C cooking oil
1/2 C orange juice (Note 2)
1 Tbsp vanilla (Note 2)

Preparation

Prepare the apples:

Core and peel the apples, and slice into wedges no more than about 1/4″ thick. Mix with the cinnamon and 3 Tbsp of sugar.

Make the batter:

In a medium bowl, mix together the flour, baking powder, and salt. (Note 3)

In the bowl of your mixer, beat the eggs, sugar, oil, orange juice, and vanilla all together. (If you haven’t already done so, now would be the time to grease and flour the baking pans.) Then add the dry ingredients to the mixer bowl, and mix just enough to blend thoroughly.

Assemble the cake:

Pour about 1/6 of the batter into the bottom of each of the 3 greased-and-floured pans, using about 1/2 of the batter in all. Layer in apple slices vertically as tightly as you can. Pour another layer of batter over the apple slices, and end with another layer of apples wedged in tightly.

Bake at 350 degrees for 1-1/2 hours (90 minutes), or until a cake tester comes out dry. (Note 4)

Wrap in foil and freeze the whole cake (as Aunt Shirley did), or cut into 8 or 9 slices, wrap each slice individually in wax paper, and freeze in a zipper freezer bag (as Dan and I do). Or eat it all up without freezing–it will keep about a week in the fridge.

Notes

(1) In the history of this cake, there has been some disagreement about the number of apples. John used 5 cups, about 1-3/4 pounds. Helen used 6 apples. Aunt Shirley said to use much more than Helen did. Dan and I are on Shirley’s side on this. Cram them in. It just gets better.

(2) Shirley and Helen used 2-1/2 cups of sugar, but I find this much too sweet. I side with John on the sugar; 2 cups is plenty. Shirley and Helen used 1/3 cup of orange juice, but John used 1/2 cup. I’ve tried them both; either works fine. As for the vanilla, John used only 2 tsp; Shirley and Helen increased this to 2-1/2 tsp. I am a vanilla extremist, so I use 3 tsp (1 Tbsp).

(3) There is a strong divide when it comes to process. The article in Gourmet magazine alleges that John went through an elaborate procedure worthy of the magazine’s title, specifying what went in first, second, third, and so on. Shirley and Helen, on the other hand, just said, “Beat all together until smooth.” I’ve tried this a number of ways, and I’m generally in the Shirley camp. However, I’ve noticed that in the presence of the orange juice, the baking powder starts activating. So I like to wait to add the dry ingredients until everything else is ready and the cake can be assembled.

(4) John used a tube pan and baked the cake for only 50 minutes to an hour. Helen baked the cake for an hour and a half, but I don’t know what kind of pan(s) she used. Shirley baked the cake for 1-3/4 hours. Maybe my oven is different from hers, but I find that 1-1/2 hours works perfectly for me, every time.

Dealing with the garden, part 2

You know the garden situation is getting out of hand when you turn down an invitation from friends to go out for dinner because you *must* *keep* *eating* *salads*.

Really, really good salads.

But today for lunch I made a zucchini frittata with one of the (er, many) garden zucchinis. Thanks to my friend Vicki Rowland for the idea!

Zucchini Frittata

Ingredients

  • about a half of a medium onion, sliced thin and then roughly chopped
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • Olive oil, for sauteing
  • 1 medium zucchini, * thinly sliced into rounds
  • about half a red pepper, thinly sliced into rounds and then roughly chopped (quartered, perhaps)
  • a bunch of chopped herbs from the garden: oregano, rosemary, thyme, basil
  • 6 eggs
  • a tablespoon or two of milk
  • Salt and pepper
  • 1/4 cup grated fresh parmesan
  • 1/2 cup grated mozzarella

Ingredient note: 

* Our “medium” zucchini is equivalent to someone else’s “large” zucchini. Our large zucchini can be used for batting practice.

Directions

Preheat the broiler.

If you haven’t already thinly sliced the zucchini and the red pepper, I’d suggest using a mandoline. It’s really fast and easy!

Heat the olive oil in a medium nonstick saute pan on the stove. Add the onion and saute till transparent. Add the garlic. Saute for a short time and then add the herbs, the sliced zucchini, and the sliced red pepper. Cook until the zucchini is tender, but not cooked through, about 2 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.

Blend eggs in a blender with a little bit of milk and some salt and pepper.

Pour the egg mixture into saute pan and let it sit for a minute or three, or until there isn’t much loose egg left in the pan, or until you don’t want to cook the bottom any more without cooking the top too. Add grated Parmesan and mozzarella on top, and place pan in the broiler for a minute or two–until the top is beautifully brown.

Take pan out of broiler, let it cool and set in the pan for 5 minutes. When cool invert a plate on top of pan and turn over. Take photographs (alas, I didn’t–but I should have!). Slice and serve.

Ginger’s Cranberry Margarita

This started out as my friend’s friend’s best-ever recipe for a cosmopolitan. And it was a good enough cosmo, except that I’m not really a great fan of vodka.

“This might be better with rum,” I suggested.

But there was no rum in the house. It was, after all, a second home, and the liquor closet was only half stocked.

“Brandy?” I persisted. “Cognac? How about tequila?”

It turned out they had a surprisingly good tequila. Now, I am (she said modestly) a master of the true margarita. And thus was born Ginger’s cranberry margarita. The drink for which everyone was willing to abandon their cosmos.

Ginger’s Cranberry Margarita (recipe makes two drinks)

Mix the following:

  • Juice of one lime
  • 2 jiggers of cranberry cocktail (added sweetener is okay, but not the cranberry-apple stuff. Try to avoid high-fructose corn syrup or indeed any corn products in anything you eat or drink.)
  • 2 jiggers of triple sec or cointreau or one of each (add more if you have a particularly juicy lime or a drinker with a particularly sweet tooth; this is your main sweetener in this drink)
  • 3 jiggers of reposada tequila (never, NEVER use anything less than “100% de agave” tequila for anything where tequila is the main ingredient. Certainly not for any margarita)

Stir. Check for balance. Pour into two margarita or martini or, hey, even wine glasses. Add ice to bring the liquid level to the top of the glass.

If you want to be fancy, decorate with a thin slice of lime on the glass.

Enjoy!