gazpacho garnished with pumpernickel crouton, goat cheese, sweet corn and herbs

When I was in the market last, there were still a few fresh, juicy tomatoes —but they are dwindling fast.  Time to savor the waning flavors of summer.  Perhaps, you have just enough time to make a refreshing gazpacho.  Or as a Son-of-the-Boar said, “gazpach-a-what?”

Gazpacho is a Spanish soup featuring fresh tomatoes and other garden vegetables.  It is served cold —and in some instances served as a drink (if you take that route, might consider a splash or two of vodka—shh, don’t tell everybody).

If you are fortunate enough to find fresh, local tomatoes in the market, excellent!  If not, probably best to wait until next season, or if you are desperate, try a high-quality canned tomato.  Whatever you do, do not use out-of-season, pale, stale, orange tasteless tomato placeholders that appear in the grocery stores in the offseason for this soup —or for that matter, anything else.

Ingredients:

Tomatoes (about 3 pounds, peeled, seeded and chopped)
Cucumber (two, peeled, seeded and chopped)
Bell Pepper or other Sweet Pepper (I used a red Marconi Pepper, chopped)
Onions (two, most folks use red, but I used sweet yellow, chopped)
Jalapeño peppers (two, seeded and minced)
Garlic (four cloves, minced —but remember the Boar’s crew loves some garlic)
Olive Oil (half cup)
Fresh Lime Juice (three)
Balsamic Vinegar (around three or four teaspoons)
Worcestershire Sauce (around four teaspoons)
Cumin
Kosher Salt
Fresh Ground Black Pepper
Paprika
Fresh Herbs (I used basil, Italian parsley and cilantro but others would probably work)
Tomato Juice

The directions are difficult on this one: put everything in a blender or food processor and blend until the mixture has a smooth texture.  I added the tomato juice after everything else was processed and just added it until it reached my desired texture.  In my view the overall texture should be more like a cream soup than a chunky salsa –-but some folks like it more rustic.

Taste the mixture and adjust the seasoning as needed.  Then refrigerate for at least four hours —I let mine chill overnight, but you know how I like to let things Sit a Spell.

Before you serve the gazpacho taste it again and adjust the seasonings —the flavor tends to fade a bit as it chills.

I garnished mine with pumpernickel croutons, kernels of sweet corn, fresh herbs, goat cheese and drizzle of olive oil.  But you know that I like to keep things simple –feel free to get elaborate if you choose.

Savor a last taste of summer, my friend.

Fresh Spinach Pasta with Prosciutto

Ahh, Arkansas summer… a romantic time of play and frolic through sweltering heat, thick-humid air, and a splendid assortment of crawling-flying-wiggling bugs.  Mostly, we pass the time by braising ourselves in tepid lakes or streams until we hear the first hog call rising from the mountains.

But some summers just aren’t that pleasant —and we broil!

Even for the ardent flame dancers, creating with fire is less appealing after a long day of high broiling.  Instead, we opt for light summer suppers, like this spinach pasta dish.

Ingredients:

Pasta of Choice (featured here is a fresh spinach pasta made by Sophie’s Stand in Hot Springs, Arkansas–available at several farmer’s markets in Central Arkansas)

Olive Oil

Walnut Oil

Butter (unsalted, about eight tablespoons)

Prosciutto

Sweet Onion (diced)

Garlic (about four cloves, minced)

Red Bell Pepper (half, diced)

Salt and Pepper to taste

Cover the bottom of a large sauce pan with a nice olive oil and bring to medium heat.  Saute the prosciutto until crisp and set aside.

sizzling vegetables

Add half the butter and a few splashes of walnut oil.  Once the butter melts and sizzles, add onion, garlic and red bell pepper.  Lower the heat to allow for a low sizzle until the vegetables are tender —I like to let them go until they begin to crisp, but you know how I like to let things sit a spell.

Cook the pasta in boiling salted water until al dente.  If using a fresh pasta like the Sophie’s Stand spinach, start checking after two minutes of cooking.

Add the remainder of the butter to the sauce and allow it to melt.

Drain the pasta and add it to the sauce pan.  Tip: adding a couple of tablespoons of pasta water gives the sauce a more velvety texture.  Mix everything together to make sure the pasta is coated with the sauce.

Top with diced prosciutto and fresh grated parmesan cheese.

Endure the broil, my friend.

Grilled Farmer’s Market Salsa

Perhaps, the most pleasing flavor of all is fresh.  And this time of year, our farmer’s markets are brimming with it!  For freshness on a chip, stir up a batch of this grilled farmer’s market salsa.

Ingredients:

Tomatoes (I used four medium size Early Girl variety for the salsa pictured but play around with different varieties —I particularly like the Purple Cherokee Heirloom)

Sweet Onions (two small vidalia)

Garlic (a whole head—but my family stands ready to repel vampires at a moment’s notice.  If your leanings run more batty, consider reducing the garlic a bit)

Jalapeño Peppers (four de-seeded and de-veined. To add heat, leave the seeds and veins)

Fresh squeezed lime juice (I squeezed three but was prepared with more if needed depending on taste)

Cilantro leaves (about half a bunch —again depends on taste)

Kosher salt

Black Pepper

Coffee break between farmer’s market and salsa making

Directions:

Preheat your grill for medium, direct heat.  Slice the tomatoes, onions and peppers in half.  Break apart the garlic cloves.  Coat the ingredients with olive oil and season with kosher salt and black pepper.

Vegetables on Grill

Place the vegetables on the grill (a grilling basket comes in handy here).  Grill until the onions and peppers begin to char and the garlic becomes soft.  The tomatoes will be a bit mushy.  This usually takes around ten minutes.

Rough chop the vegetables and put into a food processor or blender.  Add the lime juice, and cilantro leaves.  Process until desired consistency.

Ingredients in processor

Taste to determine if you need additional salt, pepper, lime juice —or whatever else strikes your fancy.

Feast on fresh, my friend.

For years now, I have been secretly practicing my rain dance —you know, for those rare times when I would rather indulge in feasting and wine instead of spending hours upon hours at the baseball fields.  Based on the deluge we had this spring, I may have overdone it: we are now three levels into rained out games—who knew they would feel compelled to make them up?

But more importantly, rain puts me in the mood for soups and stews, and those thoughts often turn to gumbo.  In A Feast Needs a Story we danced with our roux in celebration of Roux-Making Day.  And in Creating in Prose we learned how an enthusiastic gumbo feaster helped inspire this blog.

But we have barely stirred the pot, my friend —that is, until now…

Gumbo stands as the most famous dish of the much ballyhooed Creole cooking of Louisiana.  Appearing on tables around New Orleans in the early 1800’s, it has often been referred to as a melting-pot dish because of the way it brings people together and transcends barriers of class and race.

The cultures that have influenced gumbo are as varied as the ingredients.  The word “gumbo” derives from a West African word for okra.  Ground sassafras leaves (or file’, which are often used for thickening and flavor) are a contribution of the Choctaw Indians.  And the roux that binds it all together originates in France.  Now that’s a pot of culture.

The power and spirit of gumbo have been immortalized in poetry as in these excerpted lines from “Ode to Gumbo” by Kevin Young published in Cornbread Nation 7 The Best of Southern Food Writing:

“Gumbo starts with sorrow —with hands that cannot wait but must—with stirring & a slow boil & things that cannot be taught, like grace”

“Like God Gumbo is hard to get right & I don’t bother asking for it outside my mother’s house. Like life, there’s no one way to do it, & a hundred ways, from here to Sunday, to get it dead wrong.”

“Blood is thicker than water under any bridge & Gumbo thicker than that.”

And alas, gumbo has instigated its share of arguments, mostly over what goes in it and sometimes who makes it best.   Some feasters believe gumbo must have okra while other just as ardent feasters say “it has no place in the pot.”  For some, gumbo is about seafood and others believe it is chicken and sausage —yet others declare duck to be king!  And if you want a real showdown just mention tomato…

Proudly, the Convivial Boar is an equal opportunity gumbo feaster: I like’m all!  I’m certain that other gumbo posts are in our future, but let’s begin with this one:

Sausage and Chicken Gumbo

Roux

I like to use equal parts flour and vegetable oil.  For the gumbo pictured I mixed 1 and 1/2 cups of flour and 1 and 1/2 cups of oil and slowly coaxed it to a dark brown (about the color of an old copper penny).

My dance with this Roux lasted about forty-five minutes during which I savored two mugs of brew.  Remember, you must constantly stir the roux or it will burn and you will have to start over —which means another round of brews making it all the more challenging.

Trinity

Onions, bell peppers, and celery are referred to as the trinity and are the foundational ingredients for much of Creole cooking.  I like to dice them roughly into small bite-sized pieces.

Having finished my dance with the roux, I added the trinity and sautéed the vegetables for about fifteen minutes.

You may notice that I used red bell peppers instead of green, click here to find out why —bonus points for the Boar!

Broth

You know how I feel about broth —and if you don’t click here.  For this gumbo I used a chicken broth prepared in the same manner as my earlier posts on broths.  If you know me, you know I did not measure but my estimate would be that I used about six cups —mostly, I just added until I like the thickness.

Chicken

Often, I cook the chicken pieces for the gumbo in the stock pot to make the broth, but this time I already had a whole roasted chicken.  I simply diced it and seasoned generously with creole seasoning (I like Zatarain’s).

Sausage

Sliced andouille sausage adds a nice Creole flare to the pot.  Originating in France, andouille is a smoked pork sausage, and the Creole version is a bit spicy —need a family vacation idea check out LaPlace, Louisiana nicknamed, “The Andouille Capital of the World”  (Note: the Boar has a lot of great vacation ideas and like a fine bottle of wine, the Boar’s family has decided to wait for a special time to uncork those trips).

Simmer and Season

Once the chicken and sausage is added to the pot, the gumbo needs to simmer.  I plan at least an hour (longer if I have it. In fact, gumbo is often better the second day after it has more time for the flavors to meld).  During the simmering phase is a good time to taste and add seasoning.  For gumbo, I keep it simple: black pepper, kosher salt, granulated garlic, and Zatarain’s Creole seasoning.

For this gumbo I added chopped green onions just before serving.  Serve the gumbo over rice.  Have crackers and hot sauce on hand as well.

Put a deluge of poetic culture in your pot, my friend.