The Austro-Greque Pavlova

Are the fruits even more succulent this season than in years past? They have stilled ingenuity, silenced conversation. Perfection can be so stifling. We could be baking pies but instead we just gaze, awe struck. At our most ambitious, we make grand arrangements on silver platters and pick from them while reclining languidly on couches, late Roman empire-style. Or we just eat them over the sink.

Finally, a kilo of apricots that were a little tart appeared, waking a little ambition. Such a sensuous season does inspire grandeur, but a grandeur that accommodates dreamy lotus-eating idleness. The Pavlova is nothing if not grand, and a little lazy, and quite economical- perfect for our efforts to let economy interfere in no way with our everyday luxuries.

To all these pluses, add that the oven will be on, but only just barely. Honestly it's so hot during apricot season anyway that you may not even notice.

The Pavlova as made by the Australians (it is their marvelous invention) is a meringue topped with fruit and whipped cream- theirs has the meringue stabilized with vinegar and corn starch. Since I  did not grow up making them this way and I have always liked how these turn out, and because I love recipes with very few ingredients, I have left them out. As to the Austrians? No one has more beautifully captured the apricot's affinity for chocolate. The Austrians are also good with ground nuts. As I had a handful of almonds and a chocolate bar, and some juicy but very tart Greek apricots, it seemed an ideal collaboration. 

We will need:

4 egg whites

300 g/ 1 1/2 C sugar

100 g/ 3  1/2 oz. dark chocolate, chilled

100 g/ 3 1/2 oz. almonds

dash salt

500 g/ 1 generous pound apricots

400 ml/ almost 2 C heavy cream

Break the the chocolate into pieces and pulse it in a food processor until finely ground. Do the same with the almonds plus 1/4 C of the sugar, and set aside.

Set aside another 3/4 C sugar, and beat the egg white in a clean bowl until they become foamy, then start adding the sugar by spoonfuls, beating all the while. Most meringue recipes call for beating until it holds stiff peaks. We want it to be billowy and glossy and thick, but not extra-stiff. It should be easy to fold in the chocolate and almonds without breaking the mixture down in the least.

Turn the oven to 120 c/ 250 f. Place a piece of non-stick baking paper on a pan, draw a circle almost (but not quite) as large as will fit your cake dish or tray, and mound the meringue into the center. (The meringue will swell a little in the oven, certainly gaining a couple of centimeters in diameter). Give it higher sides, an indentation in the middle. It's a proverbial piece of cake to shape it with a spoon.

Bake it for about an hour, until the bottom is dry and it can be lifted from the paper carefully. It is delicious still soft in the center. Keep it on the paper until you are ready to assemble it.

Meanwhile, use some of the remaining sugar to take the sour tang from the apricots.The meringue is quite sweet; it is good to balance that sweetness but also to be aware that the sweet meringue will be a contrast to the tart fruit- too sparing with the sugar, and the fruit could seem sour by comparison. As in all things, let taste guide you.

Demararra sugar is delicious.
White is fine too.

The fruit will bathe itself in its syrupy juices as the sugar melts and draws them out. About an hour before serving, whip the cream, adding just enough sugar to brighten the taste, and stopping short of stiff peaks- we will need it soft. The usual assembly is to pile the fruit and its juices onto the meringue, and to crown it with the cream. The very dry surface of the meringue absorbs moisture beautifully. But cream and meringue is a gentler combination- let the meringue be softened by the softly whipped cream, rather than the tangy juices of the fruit. Spread on half, pile the fruit gently into the center, and frame this with the rest of the cream, mounding it in a ring around the fruit. The apricots glow like a jewel with this treatment, and the cream makes a soft layer of flavor, a welcome creamy barrier between the juice and tang and the sweet dry crispness. 

Play a few hands of cards before you serve it- don't be in haste. It is a mess to dish out after a two or three hours, but the meringue (not unlike a corset) will make for an elegant presentation until you make the first slice. Once it is cut into, collapsing on itself so airy and creamy and juicy and crisp, it is so delicious that no one will mind at all. 

Fit for a Queen.
Even on a peasant budget.