Could you love cold soup?

The air in New York City in the summer is thick and heavy – you could slice it with a knife, like a piece of pound cake. Personally, I adore a sweaty summer day. Maybe it has to do with being from Egypt. I’m accustomed to scorching heat and find something sexy about this season in the city. Many New Yorkers flee to the beaches or north into the countryside. Those left behind have a sort of die-hard New Yorker energy. It’s pirate-like – nothing can chase us out of here.

It was fresh and buttery, like eating a big bowl of sunshine

But there are days when it feels too hot to eat. Recently, in the middle of a heatwave, I decided to throw a lunch party because, well, that’s what I do. Serving anything hot was out of the question, so there was no better time to have a cold-soup party. Soups are the unsung heroes of dinner parties. They’re relatively easy to put together for a large group of people, and can be made in advance – allowing you to actually be present with your guests. Gazpacho or maybe vichyssoise come to mind first when thinking about cold soups, but there are endless variations. I especially love cold soups made of courgette, sweetcorn and any other vegetables with a hint of sweetness. And I was recently in South Korea where I was introduced to naengmyeon, a noodle soup made of a beef broth, which can also include cucumber and pears. 

Good, thoughtful cooking takes into consideration not only the quality of the produce but a whole set of decisions. A chef I used to work for would say, “A good meal depends on a cavalcade of sound judgments, many of which occur well before you lift a knife.” What she meant, of course, was that produce matters, but also consider the time you have to put together a dish, the tools available to you, and, as she emphasised, the weather. Who wants to eat a buttery braise over polenta in August? Not me.

When organising my lunch, I set out to find a bunch of city slickers who hadn’t run off somewhere to cool down. I called my friend and neighbour Alex Tieghi-Walker, a Welshman living in New York, and asked if he’d be interested in hosting a party at his gallery, Tiwa Select, located a few doors down from where I live. Alex is vivacious, generous, full of life. His gallery, which celebrates craft and engages mostly with self-taught artists, feels like a physical manifestation of his qualities. 

His gallery is beautiful and considered, yet somehow also has an accidental air. Not many spaces like it exist in New York any more – mostly due to astronomical rent, and the inability to do anything without a set-in-stone five‑year business plan. At a time when it’s getting harder for artists to afford to take risks, spaces like Alex’s feel more crucial. They are a beating pulse of culture and what make cities so unique.

That morning, I prepared three big pots of soup at home and walked them two blocks down to Tiwa’s. The first was courgette and sweetcorn, which was fresh and buttery, and felt like eating a big bowl of sunshine. I cooked both ingredients simply with a bit of butter and then puréed the whole thing. I left a bit of texture so that there is a slight bite; I find totally puréed foods can be like baby food. Next, the yoghurt and beet soup was rich and creamy with a little tang – I’d dressed it with some red wine vinegar. Finally, I made a green minestrone, which tasted very vegetal. There was a little bit of sweetness from the peas that was balanced with crisp, leafy spinach.

The soups were pale yellow, light pink and bright green respectively, and (accidentally) made for the best palette. I used some pottery bowls Alex had lying around – which happened to be almost the exact same colours. The soup looked like a little pool of paint at the bottom of the bowl. I made sure to have a big pile of sesame bread, as well as some tins of high-quality tinned sardines just for a little extra something.

The soup theme carried on to dessert, which was a blood-red strawberry and sour cherry granita I had made the night before, served with a big splatter of crème anglaise. Granita is easily one of my favourite summer desserts. It’s easy to make and requires no special equipment. I simply purée the fruit of my choice with a bit of sugar and place in the freezer, making sure to fluff with a fork every half an hour for the first couple of hours. I also like to sprinkle a bit of Maldon salt on top. 

@lailacooks