Has broth. Has cut up stuff. Eat it with a spoon.
Well, my mate's definition has one other component: warmth.
So he doesn't eat this amazing gazpacho. And every year, when the garden is bursting with tomatoes, peppers, and cucumbers, I get this spicy, acidy compulsion for gazpacho, a cold, raw, flavorful soup. Nothing else will do. So I wait, and wait, till....
...I'm invited somewhere! And I have an outlet. People who will eat my soup. One year, it was friends from church. Another year it was a family get together. This year, it was the neighborhood picnic.
And it's such a beautiful soup.
Note about the photos: the bell peppers are not included because they were still out in my garden, and frankly, I'm afraid of slugs after dark.