Strawberry Pavlova

Having spent a couple of years bemoaning the quality of British strawberries, I am cautiously pleased by what I've eaten this year. Early in the season of course. I've always associated the good old strawb with my birthday in July, but that's modern growing methods for you.

A week or two ago I mentioned Eton Mess. That's simply meringue, strawberries and cream. Put them all together and you have today's hero, the pavlova. The one fact which is beyond dispute is that it was named for famous ballerina Anna Pavlova, who toured Australia and New Zealand in the 1920s. Because it's light apparently, and because, to a febrile imagination, the base resembles a tutu. Beyond that, the two countries are at spatulas drawn to claim to have invented it.

Was it Bert Sachse, at the Esplanade Hotel in Perth in 1935? Unlikely. A recipe named Pavlova appeared in a rural New Zealand magazine in 1929 and, surely the clincher, it featured in that country's 1933 Rangiora Mothers' Union Cookery Book. For once I sit on the fence; however, rival claimants may care to investigate Spanische Windtorte (Viennese, despite the name), or the German Schaumtorte. Nothing much new under the sun.

Anyway, today is L's version, with more than a nod to Lady Claire Macdonald. Oddly, you will tend to find this on the sweet table at lunch parties here in Johnston Towers. I say oddly, as L can't eat cream*, and I don't care for meringue. But I can promise you it is a show stopper and there are never any leftovers.

There are, as I'm sure you know, three types of meringue, French, Swiss and Italian. Today we use the former method. It's the least stable, but as you will be slathering the base with cream and fruit, it doesn't matter.

Ingredients

For the Pavlova

4 large egg whites; 200g caster sugar; 1 tsp vinegar (white wine or cider).

For the topping * (L has just informed me that she doesn't put cream on hers)

300ml double cream, whipped stiffly; OR 300ml crème fraiche; OR thick yoghurt. Many other variations are possible. See below.

Fruit of choice. As this is a strawberry pavlova, you know what I would suggest. Have enough fruit chopped to cover the centre, with whole or halved ones to decorate the edge if you're feeling flash.

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Using a silicon baking mat is easiest, but you can't draw a circle on that. So your options are, use the mat and do the circle by eye, or use greaseproof paper. Draw a 23cm circle on the paper. Turn it over (you'll still be able to see the circle), and lightly oil it.

Whip the egg whites to stiff peaks, then, still whisking, gradually add the sugar. This is easiest done in a machine. When the sugar is all in add the vinegar.

Preheat the oven to 140˚C/Mark 1. Spread the meringue mixture evenly on the baking sheet or greaseproof paper and bake for an hour. L tends to make her base the day before in which case she would leave it in the oven to keep it crisp. If using that day, take out of the oven, remove the greaseproof paper from the bottom and leave to cool on a wire rack.

Once cool, decorate according to your mood. French meringue won't look as fancy as other varieties, but it doesn't matter as you will literally be covering over the cracks. I really didn't have to tell you, cream first then fruit, did I?

Variations

Sweetness: L uses 50g less sugar than standard recipes. Adjust to taste. Similarly she wouldn't turn the cream into Chantilly by adding sugar as there's more than enough of the sweet stuff in the base.

The base: Lady Macdonald has a recipe where she adds two rounded teaspoons of powdered cinnamon to the pavlova mixture. A small word of caution based on real life experience. If your spice cupboard is arranged alphabetically (sorry, I do have some anal qualities) cinnamon and cumin are quite close together and look similar. You have been warned. Ginger would work too, I think.

The Cream: With strawberries, lemon curd goes very well. Try swirling a spoonful or two to your cream or whatever for a nice marbled effect. Or fruit coulis.

Fruit: Once again there are no limits. Tinned mango works well. Tinned fruit can come into its own here, as it's already softened. I mentioned ginger above. A marriage of pear and a little stem ginger is one made in heaven. In the Antipodes I gather that passion fruit is popular and in New Zealand how could you forget kiwi fruit?

Needless to say, as I publish this the sun has gone away. Never mind, bookmark this for some summer weather.