Perils with a Pavlova

Whether served at my Grandparents' quaint dining room table on days of rare English sunshine or recreated by my Mum in our American suburban home as we tried to ignore the onslaught of midwestern mosquitoes, Pavlova has always been a nostalgic classic. Crisp meringue that melts in your mouth with a soft marshmallow inside, and a lavish assortment of fruit tumbled on top of a generous spreading of cold whipped cream. This summer delicacy is a simple yet luxurious treat any baker should try.

With Summer wrapping up, I wanted to seize my chance to bake a pavlova while raspberries are still in season. Despite successfully popping out a handful of pavlovas in the past, I had yet to concoct one in my Brooklyn apartment and had no idea how the meringue would react in my new oven - hopefully an understandable conundrum. The other unknown I found myself with was self-inflicted. While I typically go for a classic British recipe by someone like Delia Smith, this time I branched out and braved an American recipe. A quick search found me the lovely Heather Thomas, alias That Bread Lady, an Arizona baker, whose pavlova recipe looked worth a shot. Her recipe encouraged the addition of distilled vinegar and cornstarch, two elements I had yet to add to any pavlova I’ve made. I typically like to trust the integrity of the egg white with only a little addition of cream of tartar to stabilise; however, all my past pavlovas have slightly collapsed in the centre, so I found myself in a more open-minded mood.

I started my meringue, which involves a meticulous preparation checklist that feels not at all dissimilar to checking your mirrors, seatbelt, etc, before driving a car. And like driving a car, completing this checklist avoids unnecessary stress and disaster later on. I started by letting my eggs reach room temperature, grabbing a spanking dry mixing bowl with not a drop of water in sight, and an equally dry electric whisk. I separated my yolks from my whites, ensuring not a drop of yolk nor a stray shard of eggshell could compromise the purity of my egg whites. With my remaining ingredients measured out with my reliable Bomata Scale, I was ready to go. I added a touch too much cream of tartar, resulting in my whites shooting almost immediately into soft peaks upon whisking; only time would tell if this would affect the bake. I then gradually added the sugar and watched the meringue, mesmerised by my convenient and compact Chidoll Whisk, develop into a glossy white mountain before finally whisking in the vanilla extract and folding in the vinegar and cornstarch, as recommended by Mrs. Thomas. I lathered the thick, silky mixture onto my sheet pan, popped it into the oven, and crossed my sticky fingers, making sure to never open the oven during the bake, otherwise my creation would catastrophically collapse from the heat escaping. Watching a pavlova collapse feels equivalent to hitting your funny bone; why, god, why?

Now that my pavlova was on the way, it was time to prepare my toppings. Typically, I go for whipped cream with fresh strawberries and raspberries. Thomas, however, recommends a layer of lemon curd. Since I had never made lemon curd, I jumped to add another feather to my cap. Thomas’s lemon curd was exceedingly easy and satisfying to make. I simply popped all my ingredients into my Michaelangelo stainless steel saucepan, which I have to shamelessly plug as it remains scratchless despite a full year of use. With a little heat, I magically had sweet, tart, creamy lemon curd. My main takeaway is to ensure consistent whisking to avoid curdling the eggs. Speaking of which, while Thomas’s recipe (and every other recipe for lemon curd I have found online) calls for the use of whole eggs, I merely used the yolks left over from the meringue, and the results were delightful nonetheless - I genuinely could not tell the difference.

Once the pavlova had reached the fortuitous 90-minute mark, I turned the oven off, but crucially kept it inside the oven to set. This takes a minimum of three hours, in my experience, although my mother, a Delia Smith devotee, keenly insists the best pavlovas are left in the oven overnight. In the meantime, my roommates and I went on a stimulating pub crawl around Bushwick. We had yet to do one despite moving in nearly a year ago - not a great representation of my culture.

We returned four hours later, allowing the pavlova ample time to set, so it was now time for the big reveal. To my dismay, it had given way slightly in the centre - typical. However, I was not going to let that distract me from its strong potential - I have come back from much worse. I added a thick layer of my homemade lemon curd, an even thicker layer of whipped cream - to which I added no sugar, since there was so much in the meringue and curd, and finally some raspberries I’d bought from my local market. I served myself a generous quarter of my masterpiece and dug in. The tartness of the curd impeccably complemented the sweetness of the meringue. I will now be making lemon curd for all my future pavlovas. I did, however, regret not adding sugar to the cream since the raspberries were tarter than normal, and adding sugar to the cream would have balanced better on my palate. As well, I found the texture of the meringue’s outside a little chalky and not as crisp as I would have liked. This could’ve been my heavy hand with the cream of tartar, or the new additions of the cornstarch and vinegar. Or perhaps I should have just listened to my Mum and left it in the oven overnight. Regardless, the only way to confirm will be to make it again, so it appears another pavlova is in the works!

Thankfully, all my friends loved it and had only praise for my work. I hope that was not just the beer talking. Pavlova will forever be a core childhood dessert I will hold onto, recreate, and share for the rest of my life, and I hope you will too!