One of the projects occupying my time this summer has been something that many of you already know about. I'm in the process of turning Kelli's Kitchen into a book.
That has meant reading my way back through nearly six years of weekly columns. It's been an entertaining exercise. I've laughed at recipes I'd forgotten, rediscovered stories I'd almost lost, and occasionally found myself wondering, "Did I really write that?" More than anything, though, I've started noticing patterns that weren't obvious while I was living them one week at a time.
July always feels like the point of no return. Even when we catch a few cloudy days or a little monsoonal humidity, we all know what's coming. The long stretch of summer has arrived. There are still weeks of triple-digit afternoons ahead and every trip outside becomes a strategic calculation of how quickly you can accomplish your task before retreating back to the air conditioning.
That's usually about the time I begin questioning all of my life choices. I don't want to turn on the oven. I don't want to stand over the grill. I certainly don't want to write about cooking. And then, almost without fail, something starts coming out of the fields that reminds me exactly why I love this season.
As I flipped through those old columns, I realized they were measuring the seasons as much as the years. One July it was the first watermelon. Another, it was fennel that left folks scratching their heads at a produce distribution. Then came sweet corn, golden beets, and tomatoes just beginning to blush. The ingredients changed from year to year, but the story rarely did. Somewhere between triple-digit temperatures and another trip to a local farm, I remembered that the best meals of summer don't begin with a recipe, they begin with whatever was harvested that week.
If you're looking for inspiration this week, the produce market at Lattin Farms is now open for the season, with Alanis Family Farm once again filling the market with beautiful, locally grown produce. Every visit offers a little snapshot of where we are in the growing season, and I can think of few better places to begin planning dinner.
Rather than force myself to invent something entirely new this week, I thought it would be fun to embrace the season and revisit a favorite recipe from a past July column. Consider it this week's Heat Index, a recipe that has helped me survive more than one Nevada summer.
As I've been organizing these columns for the book, I've been reminded that Kelli's Kitchen was never just about recipes. It's been about the people who grow our food, the seasons that shape our tables, and the community that gathers around them. Looking back through these July columns, I'm grateful that they've captured a little piece of each summer along the way.
One final note: As public health officials continue investigating the current Cyclospora outbreak, this seemed like a good week to skip the leafy salads and revisit one of my favorite chilled summer soups instead. Whatever finds its way onto your table this week, wash your produce well and, whenever you can, buy from farmers you know and trust. We're fortunate to have outstanding local growers like Alanis Family Farm supplying the produce market at Lattin Farms, where the best flavors of the season are just beginning to arrive.
The Best Gazpacho
Originally featured in Kelli's Kitchen, July 2021
Recipe by Julia Moskin
Ingredients
2 # ripe red tomatoes, cored and chopped
1 Anaheim pepper, cored, seeded and chopped
1 cucumber, peeled and chopped
1 small mild onion, peeled and chopped
1 clove garlic
2 t sherry vinegar, more to taste
Salt
½ c extra-virgin olive oil, more to taste, plus more for drizzling
Directions
- Combine tomatoes, pepper, cucumber, onion, and garlic in a blender (or use an immersion blender in a deep bowl). Blend until completely smooth.
- With the blender running, add the vinegar and 2 teaspoons of salt. Slowly drizzle in the olive oil until the soup becomes smooth and emulsified. Add a little more olive oil if needed for a creamy texture.
- Strain through a fine-mesh sieve, pressing on the solids. Transfer to a glass pitcher and refrigerate for at least 6 hours or overnight.
- Before serving, adjust the seasoning with additional salt or vinegar. If the soup is too thick, stir in a few tablespoons of ice water. Serve well chilled with a drizzle of olive oil.


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