Everyone hates cold soups until they try one. In the heat of summer, or on a warm autumn weekend evening when the sun's just about to think of doing that amazing drop from just above the horizon to nowhere in 10 minutes (why does that happen in the Emirates?), a chilled soup served to the table outside is truly just what the doctor ordered.
So how do you break through the resistance? Well, first I'd give 'em a nice wide-bowled glass with a touch of something very cold, white and distinctive in it (Californian, even: an Esser, a cheeky Fetzer or then again perhaps a nice old world Fuissé, dahling) . Just to get 'em used to the idea of something cool to start with. Break 'em in gently.
And then hit them with it. Serve up a gazpacho or a vichyssoise. Do it fast so that they're caught by surprise - start the eating yourself, lifting your spoon, sipping and saying things like 'I used to hate cold soups, but once I plucked up the courage to try one it just simply chaaaanged my liiife!'. It's important to drawl the words 'changed' and 'life' in a slightly nasal way. Think Lloyd Grossman crossed with Kenneth Williams. Don't worry, people are natural sheep. They'll follow.
Once they've taken that first hesitant taste, go for approval quickly and ask their opinions. Before they can answer, raise your glass with a quick cheers! Then go back to the question but pick 'em off, one by one.
They'll be like putty in your hands.
On no account try this with the strawberry soup first. It'll get twisted and wrong: it's too much, too soon. You'll never get away with it. They'll riot.
You'll probably liquidise your first gazpacho, and that's fine. After that, try the diced version. I do hope you'll be delighted.
THE SOUPS THAT CAME OUT OF THE COLD