Rhubarb-hazelnut meringue cake




Rhubarb-hazelnut meringue cake

I wanted a drop-dead rhubarb dessert to use up the rhubarb left over from making that lovely Persian stew. I was imagining something nutty; something autumnal, and found just the thing at this lovely baking blog. 

The Berry Lovely recipe is for a 26-cm cake, which would be serious overkill for two people, even if I had a cake tin big enough! Luckily, the Young Man owed me one and agreed to scale it down to fit our equipment. With his graphic calculator. Knew it would come in handy someday : )

The cake was everything I hoped it would be: tart, but sweet and fabulously nutty--it even stood up to being prized out of a regular cake tin after I failed to heed the instructions about using a springform tin! The only teensy little problem is that it really doesn't keep well. Next time, I'll have enough friends over to make sure there are no leftovers.

Rhubarb-hazelnut meringue cake

Makes one 19 cm cake

For the cake layer
96 g butter
60 g castor sugar
2.5 egg yolks
1/4 tsp vanilla extract
120 g flour
1.5 tsp baking powder
90 ml milk

For the meringue layer
2.5 egg whites
160 g castor sugar
50 g ground hazelnut
300 g rhubarb
2 tbsp hazelnut slices

1 Preheat the oven to 180° C. Line a 19-cm  springform cake tin with grease-proof paper.

2 In a bowl beat the butter and sugar until creamy. Add the egg yolks, one at a time, and mix until incorporated. Add the vanilla extract. In a separate bowl, mix together the flour and baking powder, and add to the mixture, alternating with the milk.

3 Pour the mixture into the prepared springform tin and bake for about 20-25 min. Take out of the oven and let cool slightly. Lower the oven temperature to 160°C.

4 Clean the rhubarb and cut into small pieces. Beat the egg whites until soft peaks form, then gradually add the castor sugar and beat until stiff. Fold in the ground hazelnuts and the rhubarb pieces. Spread the meringue on the cake base and sprinkle with the sliced hazelnuts.

5 Put the cake back in the oven and bake for another 35-40 min. Cool the cake on a wire rack before removing it from the tin.

Enjoy!

Macrobiotic apple crumble cake

I am not one of the world's best bakers. In fact, I very rarely make anything resembling dessert except on very special occasions. Despite all this, I seem to have surrounded myself with some of the world's biggest sweet tooths, who have all learned to bring dessert with them when they visit, as they know they'll probably miss out otherwise (g).

And one, dear A, brought this cake, which while lush with apple and rich with a spicy crumble topping, is not overly sweet, and quite suitable for the non-sweet tooths among us.

Being macrobiotic, there are some unusual things about this recipe, which comes from Nakashima Shiho's Mocchiri chiffon sakkuri cookie dosshiri cake (Springy chiffon cakes, crunchy cookies, substantial cakes).

For one, it is made with tensaito, or beet sugar, which has lots of lovely minerals, is less sweet and said to be much healthier than refined sugar. Tensaito might be hard to come across outside Japan, but here it was right with the other sugars, and probably had been forever, I'd just never noticed it before (not being much of a baker... (g)). I don't suppose it would matter if you used any other kind of unrefined sugar if tensaito is not available. I won't tell if you don't.

Next, the fat in the cake is not butter or margarine, but the supposedly healthier rapeseed oil or canola oil.

And if all that novelty wasn't enough, a bain-marie is used when you whip the eggs! The original Japanese recipe just said to use a "water bath", so I improvised with a stainless steel bowl over a pot of boiling water. Since you will have a hand-held mixer whirring away on high when you do this, use common sense and put the bain-marie set up on a flat surface.

This might just be the strangest cake recipe I've come across, but I am quite enamoured with this results. And it made an unusual birthday/farewell cake for my dear Indian friend Sm, who was off back to India for 6 months. Too bad he came to our little farewell bash already laden with lots of leftover cakes from his work farewell. These kept us fed for the next two days. Waaay more sweetness than we in the Saffron household are use to!

Macrobiotic apple crumble cake

140 g plain flour

2 medium eggs
50 g maple sugar
60 ml rapeseed or canola oil

For the apple jam
2 large apples, peeled, cored and roughly chopped
2 tbsp tensaito (beet sugar)

2 tbsp raisins, plumped up in rum for 1 day

For the crumble
50 g plain flour
50 g walnuts, chopped fairly fine
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tbsp rapeseed or canola oil
1 tbsp maple syrup

1 Lightly oil and line an 18 cm spring form cake tin with greaseproof paper.

2 Make the apple jam. Place apple pieces in a small pan and sprinkle the tensaito/beet sugar over the top. Place over medium heat. Once the apples begin to release their juice, turn the heat up to high and cook until the apples begin to lose their shape and all the liquid has evaporated. Remove from heat and allow to cool.

3 Make the crumble. Place the flour, chopped walnuts and cinnamon in a small bowl. Stir a few times, then stir in the rapeseed or canola oil and the maple syrup. Stir until the mixture becomes crumbly.

3 Preheat the oven to 170 degrees C (160 if using gas).

4 Bring a large saucepan half filled with water to a rolling boil and turn off the heat. In a large, heatproof bowl that will fit neatly into the saucepan, beat the eggs and maple sugar with an electric mixer on low speed. Place the bowl on top of the saucepan of hot water and continue to beat at high speed.

5 Once the egg-sugar mixture comes to body temperature, remove the bowl from the saucepan. Continue to whip until stiff peaks form.

6 Turn the mixer down to low and gradually beat in the rapeseed or canola oil. With a rubber spatula, gently fold in the cooled apple jam and rum raisins.

7 Sift the four into the bowl and fold in gently with the rubber spatula. Pour into the prepared cake tin, spread the crumble mixture evenly over the top, and bake for 40 min, or until a skewer inserted in the middle comes out clean.

Enjoy!

Saffron papa's traditional Boxing Day mango sorbet

It is a tradition at Saffron Papa and Mama's that we have Saffron Papa's special mango sorbet on Boxing Day. It just happens that mangoes are at their best in Australia at just this time of year. When we were last visiting in 2006/7, Queensland mangoes were going for 99 cents each at the discount supermarket Aldi. While they had come up in price this time, they were still reasonable enough to make a nice big box of this luscious, fruity ice.

Ostensibly, this was made for the big 40th anniversary celebration, and we were not allowed any before then (!). However, it didn't actually make an appearance until after the shindig due to cries of No more! from our very well-fed party guests. Not to worry, that just meant all the more for us! (Sorry guys...)

The recipe is from Low Fat, No Fat Cookbook, a Reader's Digest title I am not familiar with, other than this one lovely idea (thinking, as I do, that taking all the fat out of food takes all the pleasure and flavour out of it).

There is a slight graininess to this sorbet that might be improved by churning it in an ice-cream maker. Lacking one of these, Saffron Papa uses an electric mixer in place of the whisk in the recipe, and I think he's on the right track, especially if you are doubling or tripling the recipe, as he tends to do. Not that it matters, really: This is just like eating frozen mango and much to be recommended after a big Christmas feast.

Oh, and in keeping with the tropical theme, the leftover coconut cream makes great pina coladas on the side!

Note: This sorbet contains uncooked egg whites, so make sure you use really fresh eggs.

Mango sorbet

Serves 4

1/2 cup (125 g) castor sugar
Juice of 1/2 lemon
500 g fresh mango flesh or mango pieces in syrup, drained
2 tbsp creamed coconut
2 egg whites

1 Place the sugar and 1 cup of water into a small saucepan and bring the mixture to the boil, stirring until the sugar has dissolved. Reduce the heat and simmer for 5 min to make a syrup. Strain the lemon juice into the syrup, then put aside for 15 min to coll.

2 Puree the syrup, mango and creamed coconut in a food processor, or with a handheld mixer, to make about 3 1/4 cups. Pour the mixture into a freezer-proof container, cover and freeze for 2 hours, or until just firm. (Use the fast-freeze setting if your freezer has one.)

3 When the mango mixture is frozen, whisk the egg shites until they form soft peaks. Scape the mango mixture with a fork to form crystals, then use a whisk to beat in the egg whites, making sure they are well mixed. Return the sorbet to the freezer and freeze for 1 hr 30 min.

4 Remove the sorbet from the freezer and whisk again, Press down with a spatula and return to the freezer for a further hour, or until firm.

5 Remove sorbet from freezer 20 minutes before serving. Any remaining sorbet will keep, frozen, for 3 months.

Enjoy!

Christmas roundup 2: Deluxe Christmas pies

I love Christmastime and one of the very best aspects of the season is the heady scents that emanate from the kitchen. And one of the very best aromas, for me, is that of Christmas pies. All that cinnamon and fruity goodness... While you can get inferior pies at any supermarket (at least in Australia), I really like making my own.

For many years, I've been making a version of the Christmas pies in Nigella Lawson's How to Eat; basically augmenting a jar of Robertson's mincemeat with grated apple, citrus juice and booze, but this year, at the urging of Saffron-Papa, we made these super luxury pies based on a tart recipe in The Ultimate Christmas Cookbook, a book we come back to year after year. The number and amount of dried fruits in these pies make the recipe prohibitively expensive to make in Japan, but very doable here in Australia.

And the results were really far superior than anything you could buy ready-made. Unusually, the pastry contains ground walnuts and is scented with cinnamon, vanilla and a touch of sugar. It is very rich and moreish. It is very buttery, making it admittedly somewhat difficult to work with. However, I think a little extra flour would help with this. The mincemeat itself is far superior to a bought mixture. It has a nice blend of tart and sweet fruits, balanced with some lemon and green grapes. We loved them!

The recipe gives the instructions for pastry first, but it is best to make the mincemeat in advance and leave it to mature for up to 4 weeks. Though, making it that far in advance might result in reduced supplies as you will "have to" taste at regular intervals to see how it is coming along (g). If you are in a warm climate, it will be best to store the mincemeat in a container in the fridge.

Deluxe mincemeat pies

For the pastry
225 g plain flour
10 ml ground cinnamon
50 g finely ground walnuts
115 g butter, cold from the fridge and cubed
50 g caster sugar
1 egg
2 drops vanilla essence
15 ml cold water

For the mincemeat
2 dessert apples, peeled, cored and coarsely grated
225 g raisins
115 g dried apricots, chopped
115 g dried figs or prunes
225 g green grapes, quartered and seeded [Saffron: I only used half this amount]
50 g chopped almonds
finely grated rind of 1 lemon
30 ml lemon juice
30 ml port or brandy
1/4 tsp mixed spice
115 g soft light brown sugar
25 g butter, melted

1 To make pastry, put the four, cinnamon and walnuts in a food processor. Add the butter and process until the mixture resembles fine breadcrumbs. Beat the egg, vanilla essence and water with a fork, and add, together with the sugar, to the food processor mixture. Process until a dough forms. Turn out and kneed briefly on a lightly floured surface until smooth. Form into a flat disc, wrap in cling film and chill in the fridge for 30 min.

2 Mix all of the mincemeat ingredients together in a large bowl.

3 Roll out pastry to a thickness of 5 mm and cut out circles for bases and stars for lids. Place the pastry circles in the lightly oiled holes of a muffin tin and fill with mincemeat. Top with pastry stars and chill for 30 min.

4 Preheat oven to 180 C. Place baking sheet in the oven to preheat. Place the muffin tin on top of the preheated baking sheet and bake the pies for 15 min, or until golden brown. Cool slightly before removing from the muffin tin. Serve warm or cold.

Enjoy!

Classic chocolate cake

If you've visited here before, you won't need me to tell you that dessert recipes are not front and center (g). The truth is, I'm a savoury person at heart. I have basically been making he same two cakes (banana bread and pavlova) for as long as I can remember. Why change a good thing, right?

But we made some really yummy chocolate cupcakes at my cooking class this month, so the Young Man's 14th birthday seemed like the perfect opportunity to give the recipe some legs as a full-blown birthday cake.

It was rather experimental, given that I'm no baker and that the recipe I had was for four! But some Net research gave me the confidence to give it a go, even without a backup in case of disaster. Don't you love the adrenalin of the kitchen??!

Well, it turned out to be a bit of a comedy of errors. Everything was going well, but a conversation going on with the YM at the side distracted me enough to forget to add the cream to the chocolate before folding that mixture into the meringue. Actually, the cake was in the oven (!) before I saw the full container of cream still on the counter. Then instead of quadrupling the cream in the original recipe, I multiplied it by 6. And had the oven set too high! But the kitchen gods must have been smiling on me, as the cake turned out beautifully for all that, and we all agreed that the extra cream, which gave it a luscious smoothness, was a good innovation.

Whew. With my confidence back, I reckon I'm going to give this a go with some walnuts in it next time. Or would that be trying my luck??

Classic chocolate cake

120 g milk chocolate
120 ml whipping cream
80 g butter or margarine (unsalted)
4 eggs, separated
120 g sugar
4 tsp plain flour
80 g cocoa powder

To garnish
Fruit (berries would be my choice)
Icing (confectioner's) sugar to dust

1 Sift flour and cocoa powder into a small bowl and set aside. Lightly oil a 20 cm springform cake tin. Preheat oven to 170 C.

2 Break up chocolate and place with the butter or margarine into a medium bowl. Melt slowly by placing in a larger bowl of hot (50-60 C) water. When melted, add cream and egg yolks and stir until smooth.

3 Beat egg whites with an electric mixer on high until soft peaks form. Add the sugar half at a time, and beat on high until stiff peaks form.

4 Add 1/3 of the meringue mixture to the chocolate mixture and blend well. Add the remaining meringue and fold in only until the mixture becomes marbled. Sift the flour and cocoa mixture again into the cake mixture and fold in until just mixed.

5 Pour carefully into prepared cake tin and bake for 40 minutes or until a skewer inserted into the middle of the cake comes with crumbs on it. Cool for 5 minutes in the tin before removing.

6 Just before serving, decorate with fruit and dust with icing sugar .

Enjoy!

Foodie weekend: Pumpkin pie

For too many years now, I've been promising to make my "traditional" Halloween pumpkin pie but not quite getting round to it.

I say traditional because although pumpkins, let alone pumpkin pie, were not part of my childhood Halloween in Scotland (or Australia, come to think of it), I did make this pie faithfully for many years when the Young Man was, well, younger (g).

This year, I thought I'd try it with the fragrant sweet spice blend instead of cinnamon. Especially since we were making the pie for a Halloween party hosted by a dear friend whose hubby is not partial to that spice. If you want to go this route, you'll probably want to double (or more) the "cinnamon" in the recipe. Just to be sure, taste it before filling your pie crust. Taste it twice or even three times if need be (g).

Given the price of butter in Japan these days, I followed my dear friend H's lead and made the pastry with half lard/half butter, with an extra pinch or two of salt to make up for the salt missing from the butter. Lard, sold in squeezable bottles here in Japan, is much easier to handle than butter, and gives a nice light crust.

I usually roll my pastry between two sheets of food wrap, which prevents it from sticking to the counter top and minimises cleanup afterwards. Double bonus!

The recipe is from a food column that Tamako Sakamoto had in the Japan Times many years ago (its seems to have ended in 1999!) . Even my photocopy is tatty round the edges and covered in stains. Evidence of many happy Halloweens past, and hopefully more to come in future.

I might not have grown up with pumpkin pie at Halloween, but fellow party-goer C, who hails from the US, pronounced the pie a success, even if it was a little light on the cinnamon (g).

Pumpkin pie

200 g plain flour
100 g butter (or 50 g butter + 50 lard + 2 extra pinches of salt)
Pinch of salt
5 tbsp cold water

Filling
300 g pumpkin, peeled weight
50 g butter
100 g sugar
2 egg yolks
150 ml heavy cream (also works with what is called "whip" in Japan)
1/2 tsp cinnamon (or 1 1/2 tsp fragrant sweet spices)
1/4 tsp allspice
Dash of vanilla extract

1 Sift flour and salt in large mixing bowl. Rub in the butter (& lard, if using). Alternatively, blitz flour, salt and fat in the food processor. Stir in water and blend until dough holds together. Wrap and chill until ready to use.

2 On a lightly floured board, roll out the pastry to a 5 mm thickness. Place the pastry in a lightly buttered 21-cm round pie dish. Prick the bottom of the shell with a fork and chill 30 minutes longer.

3 Now prepare the filling. Remove seeds from the pumpkin, wash and cover with food wrap. Microwave on high until very tender. Peel with a knife while warm. Push through a sieve or smooth in a food processor (you may need to add some of the cream to keep the blades whirring).

4 Cream butter in a mixing bowl and add pumpkin, sugar, egg yolks, remaining cream, cinnamon (or sweet fragrant spices), allspice and vanilla extract. Mix well..

5 Preheat the oven to 200 C. Line the shell with two layers of aluminium foil, weighted down with beans or aluminium pie weights. Bake in the oven for 10 min. Remove the foil and beans or weights Reduce heat to 180 C and continue baking for 15-20 min until the pastry turns lightly coloured.

6 Fill the shell with pumpkin mixture. Bake for 30 min or until set.

Enjoy!

PS I wonder if the Scottish Halloween is still homemade, with tangerines, nuts and apples the "treats" of the day like it was in my day (god that makes me feel old), or if Halloween is the same commercial "event" that is has become here in Japan?...

PPS The bottle of South African wine in the photo was a terrific foil for the pie. Especially as it provided a ready excuse for our dear hostess to regale us with tales of when she visited said winery.

A Persian New Year 4: Gulab jamun (Milk doughnuts in saffron and rose-scented syrup

There is a scene in one of my favourite films, Ae Fond Kiss, where the male lead (a 2nd-generation Glaswegian of Pakistani descent) gives the female lead (a "wee Irish girl" teaching in a Catholic school in Glasgow) a dish he calls "gulab jamin". It is so exotic sounding, that he has to repeat the name in so his girlfriend (and the rest of us) can get it.

In the film, we see the Irish girlfriend eating a bowlful of white balls, which could be ice-cream. But it was the name that stuck with me. Gulab. Sounds so much like golaab, or "rosewater" in Persian. Anyway some Googling brought up various recipes, some even containing that fragrant ingredient! And just in time for my No Ruz celebration, too.

I chose this one as it had the most detailed instructions, and a syrup of rosewater, saffron and cardamom that sounded heavenly. I've adjusted the sweetness and rosiness of the syrup to my taste, below, and suggest that you play around with the flavours, too. Next time I think I might try a rose and ginger syrup. Or maybe even add a whiff of cinnamon, or...

Since butter is a luxury food in Japan (around 280 yen for 200 g), ghee was not in the cards for me, but my jamuns worked just fine in oil. I also didn't have an hour to reduce fresh milk to the right consistency and used the powdered milk method. It worked a charm! (Although I have to admit I was a bit sceptical; enough to make this the night before, in case I had to abandon it and make something else for dessert (g).)

My Turkish guests reckoned there is something very similar in the Turkish culinary canon, the name of which escapes me now, but sounded remarkably similar to "loukoumas", which Wikipedia gives as a possible Greek version of the desert.

By whatever name, this is a lovely special occasion dessert. All I need now is to find out what those white balls were in the film that sparked my little culinary adventure (g).

Gulab Jamun

This is such a delicious recipe that does NOT translate well into English. I've seen translations of "cake-like fried milk balls in scented syrup" and seen people scratch their heads and go, what? Well, bear with the translations here, there's not too much of a western equivalency that I can think of. The name literally is gulab meaning rose and jamun- the only thing I can think of is a round fruit of the same name. (If anyone knows better let me know!) The synopsis...milk is boiled down into a thick, fudge-like consistency and mixed with the slightest bit of flour to form a dough, formed into balls, fried slowly in ghee (butter oil) and then when golden, put to soak in rose-scented sugar syrup. Wow! What's not to love? The consistency of the balls are tender and delicious, almost half cheese, half custard. You'll have to try and describe for yourself. I'm giving two methods for making the dough..the longer, traditional method and the easier, faster, thank-you-for-powdered-milk method. I'm also including a how-to for ghee, since frying the jamuns in ghee makes such a difference in taste. Oil...bleh :( Note: Work time is for the powdered-milk method and does not include ghee if you have to make it, which usually takes around 20 minutes. Also, does not include soak time. by Mina the Brat

50 min 20 min prep
24 gulab jamuns

Traditional Method
1 liter milk
1 1/2 tablespoons flour

Powdered-Milk Method
2 cups powdered milk
1 1/2 tablespoons self-rising flour [S: Mix 3/4 tsp baking powder into 1/2 a cup regular flour to make self-raising flour]
1/2 cup warm milk
1 teaspoon ghee or butter

Scented Syrup
2 cups sugar
1 1/4 cups water
2 tablespoons rose water or 1/2 teaspoon rose extract
1/2 teaspoon saffron (powdered, and optional)
1/2 teaspoon cardamom powder (optional)

Ghee
1 lb butter, -unsalted is best but salted will work in a pinch

To Make Ghee: Put the butter in a good saucepan and bring to a boil on medium heat. Then reduce to low. Now this is what will happen as the butter slowly simmers.
Moisture will be evaporated out of the ghee. The white protein-solids from the butter will sink down to the bottom of the pan and slowly turn golden. A foam will rise to the surface, and as it cooks will form a bit of a crust. The butter will cook into a gold color as well, and it will have a slightly nutty smell. When the moisture is gone, the ghee is done. Decant the oil and save the delicious golden buttery bits on the bottom of the pan for toast, or mixed with veggies or potatoes. If you've used salted butter, you don't want to use it on toast- the salt will knock you out, but it's still good in potatoes or whatnot.

To Make the Scented Syrup: Combine sugar and water and bring to a boil for 3 minutes. Remove from heat and add rose water or essence.

Traditional Method: Use a heavy-bottomed pan because the milk will stick. Use a non-stick pot if you have it. Boil the milk down over medium heat, while stirring, until it forms a paste. Add the flour and mix into a smooth paste. Oil your hands and roll them into uniform balls, place them onto a buttered plate and set aside.

Powdered-Milk Method: Combine the warm milk and ghee together. Mix the
powdered milk and flour together and sprinkle slowly into the wet mix to form a dough. Oil your hands and form uniform balls (about 24) and set aside on a buttered plate.

Cooking the jamuns: This is the most delicate part of the operation. Gentle, low heat is a must. Use a wok or karai for best results, with the ghee about 2.5-3 inches in depth. Heat the ghee on low to 215 degrees. Slip in the balls, one by one. They will sink. No touching at this point. Gently shake the pan to move the balls and keep them from getting too brown on one side. After about 5 minutes they will begin to float. You will notice them getting bigger. Now, use a wooden spoon or equivalent to gently agitate and keep them evenly browning. The ghee will slowly get hotter as the balls cook. After about 20 minutes, the ghee will have risen in temperature to around 245 degrees and the balls should be nice and golden. Remove a ball and put it in the syrup. If it doesn't collapse after 3 minutes, remove the others and add to the syrup. If it does collapse, fry for another 5 minutes and try again. Let soak for 2 hours at least before serving.

Serve room temperature or warmed up.

Enjoy!

PS Do try to check out Ae Fond Kiss. It handles the potential disconnect between religions with a sure and balanced hand (it's directed by Ken Loach), and the opening scene, a scathing rejection of "the West's definition of a Muslim" alone is worth the price of entry (if you can understand the Glasgow accent (g)).

Birthday cook-up round up 1: Pavlova

Alright, I confess, the big cook-up I've been on about the last while was to mark the passing of another year in my life and the start of a new one. For the last few years, I've cooked up a storm with an mix of food from different countries. Sometimes old favourites, like ab-gusht, appear on the menu, but more often it's new recipes that took my fancy at the time for whatever reason.

One year, I came across this recipe for pavlova, one of my favourite desserts from Australia, just as I was planning the menu for the big day. Now, pavlova might be totally bog standard in Australia, but I don't think I've ever seen it in Japan, and the reaction of my friends certainly confirmed this. My good friend and blogging sempai (mentor) Lea over at Aloha Mahalo has been kind enough to feature my pavs on her blog a few times (in the second link you will see that the Shoe-Box Kitchen has total counter space as wide as a chopping board is long (g)), and the response was so good she had to translate the recipe into Japanese for her readers.

The ideal pav is crisply meringuey on the outside, and moist and fluffy on the inside. But if you've made a pav before, you'll know that it's a tempremental beast. It can look marvelously rotund in the oven, but when you take it out the next morning (as I tend to do as it has to be left there until it is cold, and overnight is pretty much the only time you can safely tie up the oven for such a period of time (g)), it has shrunk to a shadow of that glorious mound you were salivating over the night before!

Or, you could attempt it in June--smack bam in the middle of the Japanese rainy season--as a birthday surprise for your best mate's hubby, and discover that a crisp, biscuity finish is just not going to happen in all that humidity (why do these things seem so obvious only in hindsight?? (g)).

Anyway, whatever trials and tribulations may befall you, the good new is it will taste great regardless, especially topped with unsweetened whipped cream (perhaps with the addition of some rose water, as I did one time, but certainly no sugar as the pav is sweetness personified) and any tart fruit you can think of (passionfruit, strawberries and other berries and kiwifruit being the favourite choices in Australia). Only don't put the topping on until right before you serve your pav, or you won't get the meringuey crunch that makes a pav.

And on the topic of the origin of this light and airy confection, I find myself swayed by arguments put forth by Bron over at another favourite foodie haunt of mine, Bron Marshall Classic & Creative Cuisine, that New Zealand may hold the honour. Do go and check out what she has to say because even if she doesn't convince you with her prose, at least you can die and go to culinary heaven having seen her lusty and luscious pavlova pictures. Now that's how you make a pavlova!

Incidentally, I have discovered that passionfruits freeze really well in the skin (as nature intended (g)), for thawing out and topping pavlovas at a later date. This might help anyone in Japan looking to make a pav in deepest, darkest February as I do. Passionfruit pickings can be pretty slim at this time of year--unless you want to fork out for a posh one from an upmarket grocer's (g). One or two is enough for me, but go for the 3 in the OR, if that floats your boat (g).

Margaret Fulton's pavlova

INGREDIENTS
4 eggwhites, at room temperature
pinch of salt
1½ cups castor sugar
1½ tsp vinegar
1 tsp vanilla
300ml cream, whipped
pulp of 3 passionfruit or 1 cup sliced strawberries

METHOD
· Preheat the oven to 200-210C. Place a piece of baking paper on a baking tray and mark out a 20cm circle (the pavlova will spread a little).
· Beat the eggwhites and salt in an electric mixer until they stand in stiff peaks. Sift the sugar and gradually sprinkle in 1 tablespoon at a time, beating at full speed only until all sugar has been added. Lastly, fold in the vinegar and vanilla.
· Spoon large dollops inside the circle on the baking sheet and smooth over the top lightly.
· Place in the oven (reducing the temperature to 150C) for 1 hour. Turn off the heat and leave pavlova in the oven until cold. If using a gas oven, bake at 150C for 1 hour,
reduce heat to 120C for a further 30 minutes and then turn oven off and leave the pavlova in oven until completely cooled.
· When pavlova is cooled, slide onto a large, flat cake plate and remove the baking paper [S: I find peeling the baking paper off first the way to go]. Don't worry if the pavlova collapses slightly; also expect cracks on the surface. Whip the cream until stiff and spoon over the top of the pavlova. Spoon over the passionfruit pulp or strawberries to serve.
Serves: 8-10

Recipe from The Margaret Fulton Cookbook - revised and updated edition of the 1968 classic.

Enjoy!

PS There is no significance to the number of candles on the pav. That was the number of "girlie" ones left over from a box bought for the YM's 13th birthday party.

PPS Photo credits for this go to the YM. I was too busy getting ready to blow the candles out (g).