Level: Scoolinar

Dear Sussan, It’s Red Now

#PlatingChallenge

Profile: Amateur

Type: Appertizer

Ingredients: Tomato; Cucumber; Cayenne pepper; Bow; Garlic; Olive oil; Sherry vinegar; Salt and pepper; Water; Old bread; Fried bacon; Almonds

Story about „Dear Sussan, It’s Red Now“

I made another gazpacho. Not because it’s trendy, and not because I needed a quick bite—
I made it because I wanted to summon summer into a glass. Not the kind of summer that sweats beneath the aircondition and counts the days until vacation, but the old-fashioned kind, woven with fingers from sun-scented tomatoes, a cucumber that crunches under the knife, and a red pepper that laughs and doesn’t know how to be quiet.

I poured summer into the blender. That was the magical moment — the tomatoes seemed to remember the days they still hung on the vine, watching sunsets. The cucumber brought a whisper from the garden, and the pepper—she was pure color, pure emotion.

In that moment, I knew another letter was born, but this time in a different hue. A letter not written with a pen, but with olive oil. Not read with the eyes, but with the palate. A letter that doesn’t ask for an ending — because it’s remembered by its beginning.

Why this dish?
It all began with a green gazpacho. It was a day that smelled of cucumbers and spinach,
and the color in the bowl reminded me of young grass in a June sunrise. I tasted it with a bit of doubt, but also with hope — and I was enchanted.

Then my dear Sussan @sussan_scoolinaryteam said:
“Have you considered creating more ‘letters’ in different colors?
It would be really exciting to see how you keep developing this poetic way of cooking.”

That is the reason why red gazpacho. Because colors aren’t just pigments— they’re feelings, memories, and suggestions from the people we love, nudging us in directions we didn’t even know we wanted to go.

What was the hardest part?
Choosing the right moment. Not the ingredients—I had those. But I waited for the day
when my soul would be quiet enough to hear the tomato whisper. Because gazpacho doesn’t like to be rushed. It won’t forgive absence. The hardest part was pausing, breathing, cutting through the noise, and giving myself fully to that simple freshness, as if the whole world had stopped.

What was the most beautiful part?
The blender. Yes, that moment when everything comes together. When cucumber dives into tomato, the pepper smiles from the background, and garlic—just nods quietly, knowing it belongs, but never pushing forward. Sound melted into color, color into scent. And for a second, the world held its breath.

It turned out to be the gentlest moment of the day: a spoonful of cold gazpacho, a breeze at the window, and the feeling that somehow, out of nowhere, I had made something that tasted like love.

Mover foto a...

No se han encontrado álbumes. Por favor, cree y seleccione un álbum.

Álbumes

Título del álbum

Privacidad

Público Todos los diputados Mis conexiones Sólo yo

Cancelar Cree