Why I’ll eat pavlova on 26 January

Whether it comes from Australia, New Zealand or somewhere else, we can all agree that pavlova ultimately comes from heaven.

On Thursday, a few things will definitely happen. The Australian of the Year Awards will be all over the media.  Picnics and barbecues will break out all over the country, as many of us enjoy our last day off of this summer season – well, most of us will take the 27th, too; because, c’mon, this is Australia.

 

And my family and I will eat a pavlova.

 

The date of Australia Day may change in years to come – I reckon it should. If it does, all these other events will move with it. But my family tradition of putting away a pav on that day will continue, because whatever else it may be, 26 January is my birthday.

 

We eat pavlova on Christmas Day, too. Right after the traditional turkey and ham, and then the Christmas pudding, we somehow cram meringue, cream and fruit into our engorged bellies, because Christmas Day is my brother’s birthday. 

 

We’re into public holidays – my cousin’s on New Year’s Day, as well. We aren’t so into cake. But we are absolutely, definitely, into pavlova.

 

I remember having the backyard conversation with my mum that started this off. I can’t have been more than 6 or 7, but it's stayed with me – that’s how important it was. 

 

Mum said that on my birthday, I could wear whatever I wanted, and eat my favourite food. I chose to wear a white t-shirt and white Stubbies – awful decision. But my favourite meal was lasagne followed by pavlova – slam dunk. If ever the executioner asks me what I want for my last meal, I’ve got my answer.

 

My younger brother followed suit, appropriately recognising that you can’t improve on that combination? Birthday cake is okay, sure; birthday Christmas pudding is fitting if you share your day with baby Jesus – but birthday pavlova is the ultimate.

 

Pavlova, like my outfit, consists of several white layers. (Come to think of it, maybe I was trying to dress as a pavlova?)  There’s the cream; the crisp meringue shell; the fragile, ultra fluffy part; and then, best of all, the gooey meringue. Honestly, I’m salivating just writing this.

Source: Adam Liaw

Here's a classic pavlova recipe - with tips for avoid pav pitfalls - from Adam Liaw.

 

Topped with strawberry, passionfruit, maybe a bit of mango, but not kiwifruit for reasons I’ll get into, it even has that veneer of being healthy because it involves fresh fruit, even though that’s really just another way of giving you sweet, sweet sugar. 

 

But it’s all about the gooey meringue. Crunchy meringue is nice, as in Eton mess. I like the fluffy part, too – and some of the best pavs have a lot of it. But for mine, you need a molasses-like chewy bit for it to really be a perfect pav. 

 

A pavlova melts in your mouth, lifts your soul and fills your heart with joy, although it should be noted that in some cases, it may also make your heart stop. It is, quite simply, the best dessert ever invented – with lemon tart a close second.

 

It’s named for a ballerina, it looks like the Sydney Opera House, if someone dumped a bunch of fruit on it, and it’s 100 per cent Australian.

 

Oh, I know New Zealanders think they invented it – which is why I’ve recommended no kiwifruit on top, as it’ll only embolden them. One Kiwi academic has written a book about it, and in recent years they’ve even tried to create the World’s Biggest Pavlova to try and win the argument through sheer force of meringue. 

 

To them I say – it’s practically the same country, and if you’d only sign on, our Constitution’s all ready for you to become the seventh state, and make it a reality.  No, really – they were invited, and frankly, it’s getting rude.

Source: Feast magazine

Find our full collection of pavlova recipes here

 

I’m kidding. Let’s share pavlova, like we share Russell Crowe and Crowded House – by having everyone think they’re Australian. 

 

No, really – I don’t care who invented it – it can be a pan-Tasman shared experience, like having an ex-merchant banker as leader  – just as long as nobody forgets the pav on my birthday.

 

Pavlova’s famously hard to make - my mother and grandmother once made a fabulous version with just a fork while we were travelling and denied access to an egg beater, a feat that has passed into family legend. And it was worth the effort. Not only is it delicious, but it's the most Australian/New Zealander/arguably American before that/and probably originally German of all desserts.

 

In other words, it comes from a jumble of all kinds of places, like so many of us. But we can all agree, no matter where we are from or what day it is, that pavlova is the bomb.

 

In fact, we need a Pavlova Day. Like Shrove Tuesday, but for a superior dessert. It'll be a lot less controversial than lamb on Australia Day, that much is certain. And if they play their cards right, we might even share a slice with the Kiwis. 

 

Love the story? Follow the author here: Twitter @domknight.