REMEMBRANCE OF DESSERTS PAST
AH MELBA, AH MARLENE, AH PAVLOVA....
Aside from the Lamington, a cube of stale cake dunked in chocolate syrup and rolled in dessicated coconut, Australia doesn’t have many claims to confectionary fame. However, dining last night with friends at the Violon d’Ingres, a restaurant new to us in Rochefort, I was surprised to find as the dessert du jour none other than the Pavlova. With memories of the deep shells of crisp meringue, piled high with whipped cream and fresh fruit, that so often graced the tables of my childhood, I naturally ordered it, even though, despite being often referred to as an Aussie achievement, the true birthplace of the Pavlova lies elsewhere.
In Love and Death, his take on War and Peace, Woody Allen shows Bonaparte agonising about his place in culinary history. "My spies,” he says, “tell me that my illustrious British enemy is working on a new meat recipe he means to call Beef Wellington." This dish, also known as Boeuf en Croute, a filet of beef baked in a pastry crust, did become a staple of haute cuisine, but not for any reason connected with the Iron Duke. Of the stories circulating about its source, the most credible links it not to the victor of Waterloo but to the city of Wellington in New Zealand – which, unexpectedly, can also claim credit for the Pavlova, created there to celebrate the Russian ballerina's 1926 tour.
When it comes to celebrity desserts, the best Australia can field is the Pêche Melba. In 1893, when Melbourne-born soprano Nellie Melba worried that the ice cream she enjoyed might chill her vocal chords, master chef Escoffier, who had already accommodated her wish for a light crisp bread by inventing Melba Toast, insulated scoops of vanilla ice cream in a pink-tinted syrup that made them resemble peaches.
Less warmly remembered is the Madame Marlene, a concoction of blue ice cream inspired by Marlene Dietrich's most famous film, The Blue Angel. During her 1968 Australian tour, the chef at a Sydney hotel chose to unveil this creation at a press conference. Marlene smiled politely and placed it on the floor by her chair where it melted, unsampled. It has not been heard of since.
So how was the Rochefortais take on this venerable confection? Well, there was meringue and whipped cream and fruit, but a few knobs of the first, held together with some blobs of the second and doused with the third in the form of a strawberry coulis, while no disgrace, didn’t measure up to my childhood memories. They just don’t make them that way any more.
The Pavlova at the Violon d’Ingres, Rochefort.
Thanks, Helen. Like yourself, I would never include cornflour. That's like flour in a souffle. A betise, as the French would say. I did a pavlova - a number of them, in fact - for a family Christmas dinner a few years back, with 20 people at the table, including half a dozen children. They say the French don't like new dishes, but for this they made an exception.
Ahhhh. My mother made these to perfection. A thin crust and a full marshmallow centre. I lost count of the ways we decorated them. Fresh cream from the dairy of a lass I worked with. My mouth is watering thinking of them Sometimes, like your first photo then others with coffee in the cream and grated chocolate on top. And - no cornflour in the pavlova. Some cooks add this to ensure stability. Thank goodness I still have the recipe.