The Myth of Pavlova Making

By James Anthony

There are many things that Kiwis and Aussies agree on - such as a sneering disdain of northern hemisphere rugby teams - and many things they never will, such as Wallabies versus All Blacks, pronunciation and who deserves Russell Crowe’s nationality.

And wide as the Tasman Sea that physically divides is - some 2000 kilometres - that is nothing compared with the public divide over that wonderful dessert dish … the pavlova.

Now the Kiwis claim it was theirs and we know it’s ours and that’s about as far as discussions should go on the matter.

As far as I know every time I munch into a pavlova I bless the Aussie who came up with it and also the person who baked it for me.

Pathetic, true, but despite being a damn good cook this fellow has never had the courage to have a go at making the delicacy. This Christmas, however, was different.

I was determined to make one.

I should also say, my friend had run out of time to make two and so with a couple of wines under the belt I sort of volunteered to do the second one. No sooner had the words left the mouth when realisation - and reality - dawned … Oh My God!

Here I was, an absolute novice, taking on the legendary pavlova.

As all will know, there is a real rivalry between women over their pav successes and having listened to it for some generations, you do believe the mystique and aura of the pavlova. Anyway, big mouth firmly set shut, it was time for the recipe book and my Don Quixote-ish tilt at the windmills of female culinary supremacy.

Well, I have to say for such a worshipped thing, the recipe of a pavlova is rather basic and only takes up about 11 lines of a 250-page cook book. Hmmmm, must be all to do with the cook’s skills - or their grandmother’s secret family concoction!

So feeling seriously nervous, it was short time organising all of the ingredients, making sure the mixer was within reach, and the caster sugar, vanilla, cornflour, vinegar, and eggs were all set to go.

First up it was the eggs. You need to separate the whites from the yolk and - according to the gals - you must ensure not one trace of yolk goes into the good stuff.

Righto. To save eggs - it had been mentally calculated I’d need up to 15 to achieve my three - it’s advisable to get the first separation done and then get another cup to work over while you do the next egg. It’s sensible and I got away with only having to break five.

Then it seems you need to beat the egg whites silly - or until they stiffen - then add in your cold water, beat a bit more and then start working in your caster sugar. This must be done with reverence and gradual increments of sugar (so they say) so following the instructions I also waved a dead chook around a couple of times for luck.

Temporarily dispensing with the chicken, the next step was to slowly mix the vinegar, cornflour and vanilla. More beating, a few more orbits with the chook and all was ready.

In a slight change from tradition, which ordains that pavlovas be circular, my little effort became footy shaped and looked a treat.

Without breathing, and removing an errant chicken feather from my lips, the preheated to 150-degree oven was opened and the treasure was gently slid into it. It has to be baked for 45 minutes and then allowed to cool. During this time there should not be opening of the oven door, no big movements or noise and definitely no clucking of chickens!

Peace, tranquility and mung beans. Ohmmm.

Okay, 45 minutes later the oven was breathlessly switched off and then the long, long wait to see if things turned out okay.

This is a very nervous time as reputations can be shattered as easily as the crunchy exterior of a pavlova when it is moved before being fully cooled.

So, seemingly hours (and a few champagnes) later, it was time. The door was slowly opened and what lay before expectant eyes was a majestic pavlova that would turn the bluest-rinsed old duck’s hair grey. It was the most wonderful pavlova I’ve ever made. Actually, being the first that was no surprise really.

After covering it with cream and strawberries it was time for the Christmas Day taste test. Did it make the grade?

Apparently so, said the other diners, however, for me it was particularly sweet. It Just goes to show that if give things a try and see how you do, the rewards can be bountiful. Failure is nothing; not making the effort is worse.

And don’t believe those who say pavlova making is hard - it isn’t.

Pavlova Recipe

3 egg whites
3 tablespoons cold water
1 cup caster sugar
1 teaspoon vinegar
1 teaspoon vanilla essence
3 teaspoons cornflour