salmorejo

What if I told you there was a chilled soup just perfect for summer? A soup that really makes the best of your surplus of red, juicy ripe tomatoes? Maybe you would say, 'I know gazpacho, and I'm not that crazy about it.'

Well, it's not gazpacho. It's the lazy southern Spanish version called salmorejo.  Lucky for me (and you) salmorejo is like a cross between gazpacho and romesco.  You could also think of it as a liquified pa amb tomaquet.  Either way, it's just amazing.

Salmorejo hails from Córdoba, and is usually accompanied with hard-boiled egg and mini-ribbons of jamón. What's the word itself mean? Folks are divided. It could be a derivation of the Latin for brine and vinegar. It could also come from the Latin for salt and pestle.

Either way, you need to get this simple soup cooking before your tomato season comes to an end. Trust.

salmorejo

• 6-8 tomatoes
• 1 baguette, day old if possible
• small clove of garlic, minced
• 1/4 cup olive oil
• generous drizzle of apple cider vinegar
• salt

Peel the tomatoes and cut into pieces. Combine in a blender with the bread, also cut into pieces with crust removed, and garlic.  Blend until homogenous, then add the vinegar, salt to taste, and olive oil. Blend again until beautifully creamy. Refrigerate.

Apricot Tart

In the tiny village where we are living this month, there is no grocery store. There are two bread shops that sell the essentials of life: coffee, cookies, yogurts, olive oil, wine, etc.  They also have the most basic of produce, a list which may not be of interest to everyone but I feel is worthy if only anthropologically:

• lettuce...not exactly iceberg, but...
• tomatoes
• spring onions
• squash
• apples
• kiwis
• peaches
• plums
• apricots
• potatoes

That's about it. The most beautiful and interesting are the apricots, and I'd been eyeing them, buying a few for breakfast now and then. The other day I took the plunge and bought a big bag, subconsciously driven by some weird urge to whip up this very tart. Reminiscent of both the French countryside childhood I never had and my time at Bottega.

The chance arose when we had some friends over for lunch, all very thrown together.  Chorizo, ensalada rusa, green salad, chickpea salad and pork loin stuffed with jamón and idiazabal.  With cider to drink. And this tart, which I made using my oh-so-useful trick: when faced with a pathetically outfitted kitchen, freeze your butter for things like scones, biscuits, and pastries. Then grate it with your neighbor's Microplane or grater. A cornmeal-like dough in no time.

Here's the recipe. Pardon my grams.

apricot tart

• 6-8 ripe apricots
• 3 tbsp brown sugar
• 1 tbsp regular sugar
• pinch salt
• 113 grams butter
• 175 grams pastry flour
• 1/4 c of ice water
• egg, beaten

Freeze butter. Mix flour, sugar and salt. With borrowed microplane, grate butter into dry ingredients, stir with a fork or two. Drizzle ice water into mixture until it comes together. Form into a disc and wrap with plastic wrap. If you're in a hurry, place in the freezer for twenty minutes.  Roll out with a wine bottle, always starting from the middle and moving 15 degrees clockwise (or counter) each time. Put in the freezer for ten minutes or the fridge for longer.

Meanwhile, quarter the apricots (or cut them into sixths) and toss with the brown sugar. Distribute over the crust and then fold the edges up. Brush (or use your fingers to brush) the egg over the exposed crust. Bake for 20 or so minutes at 200º C.

365 tuesdays

Orange juice may be ubiquituous in Spain and Basque Country, but that's about where the delicious fresh-squeezed innovation stops. American chef and Donostian by marriage Kevin Patricio has solved this problem, just in time for summer, with his new pushcart, Good Juice. They serve juices made from everything: mango, carrot, berries, even spinach. Or you can watch them take a huge knife to a young coconut for some fresh coconut water to sip through a straw. Refreshing.

Part of the 365cities project.

Kaixo, Ataun

This July we will live in Ataun, aka paradise, aka Garden of Eden, aka Goeirri profundo, aka Andoni Munduate's village. We pulled into our new country abode yesterday evening, with the cows, sheep and the people staring at the crazy American family on bike.

Last night we had dinner in the local tavern. People here are very Basque, and Spanish doesn't come out of their mouths very naturally. There we were speaking English, with everyone staring...little B started singing a popular song just to make sure everyone was aware of our presence. 

On the way out, an old man called after her (in Basque): "hey, blondie, goodbye!" She turned to him, hesitated for a millisecond, and said (with a whole lot of attitude, and in basque, which she later translated for us) "What did you say??"  The old man said "Ala!" (which is an expression of great surprise), the teenage boys next to us shut their mouths, and we beamed with pride.

This town is so small that the market is in the bread store, and there is a butcher but no fish monger (big deal here). Our new apartment is the apartment of the parish, so there are relics, priests garments, and books everywhere. We have a little table on the balcony where we take our meals, and today we rustled up som piquillo peppers, slow cooked with garlic and olive oil, lentils, hardboiled eggs, potatoes, bread, and wine.

This afternoon we were invited to watch a local race in which a horse, a biker, and a runner race up the highest hill in the town to see who wins. However, we have some unfinished business to attend to in town, not to mention the opening of the Loaf. San Sebastián calls...

Now Open: Zumos Good Juice

Hot off the presses doesn't really describe Zumos Good Juice, the latest addition to San Sebastián's La Concha beach. Cold and straight from the juicer is more accurate.  The same folks that brought you La Madame have taken on the responsibility of providing Donosti with exciting, fresh-squeezed juices all summer long.

Order a coconut water (hangover cure?) and watch them take a gigantic knife to fresh young coconuts brought from Africa. I'm thinking the coconut with black straw sticking out of it will be the hottest accessory on the promenade of La Concha this summer.

If you want something with more flavor, there's several juices to choose from, including my favorite, the Diosa Verde (Green Goddess): mango, green apple, spinach, cucumber, celery, lemon and pineapple.

Looks like this summer we'll have good juice and good bread. Do I hear a Mexican restaurant? Anyone??

hours: 12-8, closed on Tuesdays and when weather does not permit