My first kitchen job involved making six gallons of gazpacho every Sunday. This was back when earning your chops meant something, and making that whole batch with just a knife and peeler, no blender, was the most tedious task on my list. It was also the most popular dish on the menu. By the time I’d learned that recipe—straight out of the Moosewood Cookbook—by heart, I figured I knew everything there was to know about cold Spanish soups.
When I finally made it to Spain, reality set in on many levels. Sangria, it turns out, is just for tourists, while the locals drink a mix of red wine and Sprite called tinto de verano.
