Soups tick lots of boxes: comforting, delicious, nourishing, healthy and a trustworthy companion to bread and butter. That last one is a real indication of proper food: if you’re mopping it up with bread, you’re winning. While I’m well aware I’m adding to an endless list of recipes here, there’s a simple formula to most soup making. It involves building layers of flavours and seasonings until comfort is guaranteed. You can taste a soup that has lacked love. This week I’m presenting cold and warm versions, one from the southern regions of Spain, the other with an Asian accent.
Gazpacho traces its origins to Roman times, when stale bread was soaked in water, spices and olive oil until softened and eaten in the same manner as porridge. As with most regional dishes, the recipe is a topic for heated debate. Generally the Andalusian versions blend local ripened tomatoes, bread, garlic, olive oil and vinegar. Traditionally, a pestle and mortar was used to pound the ingredients into a puree without adding air. My recipe slow-cooks tomatoes to intensify the flavour and sweetness before chilling them and blending. In the next few weeks, Irish tomatoes will arrive on shelves packed with sweetness. The X factor in the recipe is delivered through really high-quality olive oil, Tabasco and a pinch of sugar. I’ve topped mine with olives, some feta and basil leaves to reflect the Mediterranean vibes. Sunshine in a bowl.
Gazpacho will always remind me of the great chef Alain Ducasse, who has multiple three-Michelin-starred restaurants around the world.
A few years ago, I was privileged to be invited by Massimo Bottura to cook at his Reffetorio project in a church in Milan. Chefs were invited from around the world to cook a three-course meal for the homeless community north of the city. The ingredients were left over from supermarket shelves. We didn’t know what ingredients we had until the morning of the dinner. Ducasse had cooked a week before me, serving a pretty and delicate gazpacho soup. Unfortunately, most of the bowls were sent back to the kitchen with complaints that the soup was cold. This certainly calmed my nerves at cooking among such esteemed company. Three Michelin stars carried no weight here.
The second recipe is a more orthodox warm bowl, blending cauliflower with spices and coconut milk until smooth and comforting. Peanut rayu (Katie Jane Sanderson’s White Mausu version is unmatched), and lime zest and juice bring this to the next level of seasoning. These are simple recipes that reward you richly.
