Forget Tomatoes, Think Melon
I only realized how bored I was with regular gazpacho once I swapped out the red tomatoes for ripe watermelons. That burst of cold, sweet juice doesn’t just feel good. It spreads through your mouth like a silent alarm—wake up, this is summer at its peak and nothing’s pretending to be fancy. It’s not to impress anyone, it’s just so weirdly refreshing and unexpectedly savory because a pinch of salt and splash of vinegar really do the trick. I’ve been making this lately more out of spite for summer’s relentless heat than anything else. Plus, it’s bright pink, so every spoonful is like eating a secret sunset. When the oven’s off and the air’s thick, this is what I want. Something that feels like a splash of cold water—only edible and way more fun.

Watermelon Gazpacho
Ingredients
Equipment
Method
- Peel and seed the watermelon, then cut into 1-inch cubes using a sharp knife and cutting board. Spread the cubes evenly on a baking sheet or in a bowl.4 cups watermelon cubes, seedless
- Place the watermelon cubes in a blender and blend until smooth, about 1-2 minutes, creating a vibrant pink purée with no visible chunks.4 cups watermelon cubes, seedless
- Finely dice the peeled cucumber and red bell pepper, then transfer to a large mixing bowl. Stir in the chopped herbs, vinegar, and season with salt to taste.1 small cucumber, 1/2 small red bell pepper, 1/4 cup fresh herbs (basil or mint), 2 tablespoons white vinegar
- Pour the watermelon purée from the blender into the mixing bowl with the chopped vegetables. Stir thoroughly to combine, ensuring the ingredients are evenly distributed.4 cups watermelon cubes, seedless, 1 small cucumber, 1/2 small red bell pepper, 1/4 cup fresh herbs (basil or mint), 2 tablespoons white vinegar
- Transfer the mixture to a container, cover, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour until thoroughly chilled and flavors meld.
- Stir the chilled gazpacho once more, then ladle into bowls and garnish with additional herbs if desired before serving cold.
Maybe it’s just me, but this feels like a tiny rebellion against the usual hot soups of winter. A little strange, a little wild, and honestly, a little necessary right now. I keep thinking about that first sip, how it wiped my brain clear for a second—like, oh yeah, summer, I got you.