Gazpacho

Ironically, we at rooted are not big fans of the term “farm to table.” While at its heart it means well, it has been overused and abused to a point that it makes us forget that all of the food at our table comes from a farm somewhere (unless your table is laden with funyuns and cheez whiz, of course). But there is a spirit in that notion that is alluring—out of the earth and onto the supper plate—that implies an intimacy and connectedness to our food which many of us lack in the hubbub of everyday life. Being in the Yakima Valley, we have the enormous privilege of indulging in that connection. We can drive by thriving fields, stop at the roadside produce stands where the ripe and ready are sold, and be back in our kitchen whipping up something fresh and lovely in no time. From the dirt to a dish just like that.

Aileen and I, having recently returned from summer vacations, were truly craving that connection we can only get at home. Driving the ag-land back roads, it just felt good to see all the growing and flourishing. The plants look full of life. So much is ready and being harvested. Stepping into the cool shade of a produce stand, I swear I can hear angels sing as a single shaft of light encircles a tomato table. I had a flash of gazpacho in that moment. If you’re a raw oyster fan, you know what makes it great is that it tastes like the sea. That fresh, briny salt smell you catch in a breeze when you’re on the coast is an oyster in your mouth. Gazpacho is like that for land. A spoonful between your lips tastes like dark, wet earth and thick green growth.  It’s both light and complex on your tongue—a cool wind heavy with the fragrance of fertile land.

We were surrounded by gazpacho. Tomatoes, peppers, onions, garlic, herbs.  It had to be done. It incorporates so many fresh, ripe elements, we could think of no better way to slake our need to reconnect with the Valley and our food. It made us a bit misty-eyed to gather the firm fruits into our arms. We frequent these stands regularly, so to see them evolve from the one or two choices in the spring, to a full space of options in the late summer and fall is akin to watching a child grow up.

I have an old, quickly scrawled recipe I jotted down on a paper scrap that has managed to survive the last 20-odd years. It is a pretty simple and reliable base to start with. Gazpacho, essentially a cold tomato soup made in blender or food processor, is blissfully forgiving and entirely adaptable. Extra chunky? Go for it. More heat? Try a hot pepper of your choosing or shake the Tapatio bottle extra hard. Red pepper, green pepper? Whatever floats your boat. Keep tasting and adjusting until it works for you.

Back at Aileen’s house we did just that. We kept going until we got what we wanted. We felt the flavor needed to be punched up a notch, so we threw in a mystery pepper I picked from a field on the roadside, added red wine vinegar, extra garlic and extra lime juice. We like a bit more texture so we pulsed the food processor rather that letting it run. After a few adjustments, we got it just right. Savoring the spoon slowly, we found our connection. And just like that I got my land oyster.