My party piece quick cook pavlova
It breaks all the rules, it's sexy as hell, and it's here for all your summer dessert needs
Hello friends. This is my go-to, failsafe, most-loved pavlova recipe. But it’s a rebel. I say that because it breaks all the rules: it doesn’t use a stabiliser, and it doesn’t require you to keep the oven on for longer than 45 minutes. Controversial, I KNOW. But it works. Summer is the right time to make it, as it can be done ahead in the morning, while the kitchen is still cool, and then piled high with softly whipped cream and glorious seasonal fruit, of which there is a happy abundance right now. It’s best baked and eaten on the same day, but I don’t think you’ll have any trouble finishing this beauty. Before we get to the recipe, here’s its rebellious back story, featuring my most-loathed secondary school teacher. It’s quite amazing that I ever found my way back to cooking, let alone made it my profession, after this experience, but I’ve always been a bit bloody minded. Did you, or someone you know have a teacher that ruined a subject for you that you later managed to salvage? Do share your story in the comments if so. Or share this as a lesson in failure-made-good with someone you think needs to read it.
When I was at secondary school, there was a notorious ‘home economics’ - as an aside, why is it called this? it’s so deeply unappealing - teacher who was an absolute nightmare. To say she had not found her vocation is something of an understatement. She had an aggressive dislike of children/teenagers, and a clear distain for tasty or delicious food. She was wildly misplaced to teach cookery, and she was not a kind lady. She was mean. REALLY mean. And I know now, most probably desperately unhappy. Her screeching voice scalding any wayward kids in a corridor or classroom was enough to send a shiver down your spine. Her high pitched trill was like nails scratching down a blackboard. And in turn (because you get what you give), the young people she taught did not respect her or her teaching methods, and I don’t think anyone in any of her classes came away with a love or knowledge of food and cooking, which is such a shame, and such a wasted opportunity.
I will always remember her least fondly for the ‘pavlova incident’, in which she tasked us all with creating a dessert of our choice in one of her classes. It was billed as such a special treat, but I had the temerity to have chosen to make a delicious pavlova that my mum made on repeat at home, and the teacher in question flipped her lid. She took incredible personal offence at the idea of baking a pavlova during a double home ec period (which, if my memory serves me correctly, was two hours near enough), and took sadistic pleasure in repeatedly screaming at me that I couldn’t make a pavlova during the allotted time.
But I had seen my mum do it, I had frequently fought with my sister over the last crumbly, creamy spoonful, and so I knew it could be done. And I knew it was a joy. But when I proceeded to make said pavlova, and pull it, somewhat triumphantly (and yes, I can see how that would be annoying) out of the oven, she responded by grabbing it out of my hands in a rage and sliding it immediately into the bin, to the gasps of myself and my classmates. Eton mess for the wheelie bin. I burst into tears and was scarred by this for a good few years, convinced from then on in that I just couldn’t bake.
It was a sad episode on so many levels, but mostly because there was nothing wrong with the pavlova she ditched. WHAT A WASTE! In fact, once I got over the shame, I eventually returned to this recipe, and it’s something I still turn to, and have refined over the years. I love to make it when I’ve got friends coming over, not least because you can rustle it up and bake it in not much more than an hour, and having the oven on for 3 or 4 hours at a time atm is not something I’m hugely keen on.
It’s what I call my ‘marshmallow’ pavlova, because it’s soft and yielding and ever so slightly chewy in the middle. It is cooked at a slightly higher temperature, which means it can come out golden, rather than icing sugar white, and it does sometimes crack a little bit, due to the temperature fluctuation and quicker baking time. None of this bothers me - because it still tastes wonderful, looks gorgeous, has a fabulous texture, and, once covered with softly whipped cream and fruit, is a total dream. I have made it to rapturous response more times than I can count. It’s a winner, and I think it’s the perfect summer dessert for your repertoire, especially while there is so much gorgeous fruit around. Plus, frankly as I age, I’ve started to try to let go more and more of my obsessive perfectionist traits, especially as I bring my girl up. I accept the cracks. And perhaps that’s not such a bad thing…
So here is my pavlova recipe, and I really hope you’ll make it and enjoy it. It’s so simple. You don’t even need cream of tartar. It’s pretty failsafe, but if you do have a fail, there’s always, always Eton mess. Never for the wheelie bin. Peace out Miss *******n.
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