#64: An Italian Pavlova Adventure

Ciao Nonni!

This past fortnight (eek!) has been filled to the brim with looking after the princelings, and trying to keep all three of us from getting bored and going insane.

Hence the skipped letter. I am sorry. I genuinely missed writing the dispatch last week, but I just couldn't find the time. Two children really aren't that much to handle, but I was still collapsing into bed every night. Poor me. 

But my salvation has come, in the form of my dear husband. He flew into Rome airport on Thursday morning, and after navigating train replacement buses from Fiumicino to Roma Centrale (a true test of anyone's coping abilities), he finally arrived in Lucca early in the afternoon. Just in time for us to both make a fashionably late entrance to a beautiful Thanksgiving lunch with some of our American friends here.

Thanksgiving is not something I would have ever thought, as a cynical Australian, I would celebrate. But it has been so nice to get involved in other people's cultural events. You might remember that last year I made the fateful decision to contribute a plate of homemade lamingtons to the dessert table, and thus followed hours spent at multiple supermarkets trying to locate dessicated coconut. Which it turns out is widely available everywhere, I just couldn't find it...

This year, apparently having learnt nothing, I embarked on a quest to make that most quintessential Australian dessert. A pavlova.

Don't start, New Zealanders.

Of the six ingredients on the list for a mighty pav, four had to be substituted with alternatives. It seems that when it comes to baking, the Australians and the Italians don't like to share notes. Only the egg whites were straightforward. Cornflour (amido di mais) was found, but not in the baking section of the supermarket. Caster sugar, don't start. White vinegar had to be apple cider vinegar. And the Italian cream situation is just insane. Try to find heavy cream or double cream here, I dare you. It doesn't exist. 

In any case, it was an inauspicious start to the proceedings. Add to this the fact that I'd never actually made a pavlova from scratch before, and you'd be forgiven for thinking that I was doomed from the outset.

Luckily I am blessed with a ridiculously unfounded sense of optimism, and despite all indicators, I felt like it was going to work out.

The preparation went remarkably smoothly, and when I put the creation in the oven things seemed to be going to plan. I checked on it approximately every 2 minutes for an hour and half of baking time (only by looking through the glass of course!) and then left it to slowly cool for another couple of hours. When I finally pulled it out, it had held together spectacularly. Not a single crack!

Then came the challenge of getting it from our apartment to the home of our friend who was hosting the lunch. She lives right in the very heart of the centro storico, so driving was absolutely not an option. 

But being already borderline late after picking David up from the train station, walking was also out as it would take too long. So, I rode my bike. One hand on the handlebars, and the other balancing the pav on a cake platter like a deranged maître d'. For anything less fragile I would just put it in my front basket, but cobbles and pavlova are not friends. 

Somehow, through a Thanksgiving miracle, I made it. Pav intact. 

Final assembly happened after lunch, and I piled on as many varieties of berries as I could find. I know I am biased, but I was quite proud of how it looked. And I was chuffed at how enthusiastically it was devoured. Not a single skerrick of meringue remained. Mission accomplished!

In other news, we are eagerly awaiting the arrival of David's mum on Tuesday. Liz is coming to us after a stint with David's brother Mark (who lives in New York) and will stay for about 10 days. The kids are beside themselves. We've said that we are waiting to put up our Christmas tree for when she arrives, so there is plenty of excitement ahead. 

All my love,

Kate

PS. Full credit to RecipeTin Eats for the recipe. She’s the true Australian treasure.