Resurrection Pavlova

 

Holy Saturday.

The clan is gathering. The kitchen is beginning to buzz. The lamb is marinating. The bread is ordered and needs to be picked up this afternoon, which I'll do on my way to the Amtrak Station in Wilmington to fetch the daughter who is coming in from NYC.  Another daughter and her husband arrive either later tonight or very early tomorrow morning. The sermon for tonight's Vigil is done. The sermon for Easter Day needs a few tweaks.

There's lots to be done before The Great Vigil of Easter.

I'm excited about tomorrow's dessert.

It's a simple thing, really. Light. Sweet. A perfect ending to a festive meal.

It's called 'Pavlova'. According to more than one source, it's the 'national dessert' of both Australia and New Zealand. No matter: it's dramatic, relatively easy, and delicious. It will be piled high with strawberries, raspberries, blueberries and blackberries with a few slices of kiwi, a few sprigs of fresh mint and garnished with shavings of white chocolate.

I've made it once before, on the advice of my friend Jim O'Donnell who was one of the best cooks I know. Jim died a few months ago. This is my 'resurrection' gift in his honor - a way of celebrating his life and his many gifts and talents. It's a way to keep his spirit alive.

So, it has been given a new name. I'm now calling it 'Resurrection Pavlova'.

I'm sharing the recipe here, as I am occasionally wont to do. It would please me greatly if you gave it a try and, when you do, do it in remembrance of him - a testimony to the community we are called together to be, in Christ's name, and the power of His resurrection.

A most blessed Triduum to you all and a joyous Easter!

PAVLOVA SHELL

• 8 egg whites, at room temperature
• Pinch of salt
• 1 ½ cups superfine sugar
• 4 Tbsp cornstarch
• 2 tsp white vinegar
• 1 tsp vanilla

Preheat the oven to 350°. Draw an 8” circle on a sheet of parchment paper and line a baking sheet with it.

In a stand mixer fitted with a whisk, beat the egg whites and salt on medium-high speed until peaks form, about 3 minutes.

On medium speed, whisk in the sugar a little at a time. Turn the mixer to high to fully incorporate.

Add the cornstarch, and whisk until blended. Add the vinegar, then the vanilla. Use a spatula to scrape down the sides of the bowl. Beat at high speed for several minutes until the mixture is very stiff.

Pile* the meringue onto the parchment, using a spatula to spread it around the circle, and piling the sides slightly higher than the middle. Place in the oven and immediately reduce the temperature to 300°.

Bake the meringue for 1 ½ hours, then turn the oven off and prop open the door. Let the meringue cool completely. It can be stored uncovered for several hours.

*If the meringue can’t hold its shape, scrape it back into the bowl and beat for another couple of minutes. It should stand still when you pile it on the paper.

FOR A SMALLER MERINGUE (serving 6-8): halve all the ingredients, and the baking time. Leave the temperature at 350°, rather than turning it down. Follow all other instructions.

(From the Los Angeles Times, May 23, 2007)

FOR THE PAVLOVA
• 2-3 c heavy cream
• fresh berries and/or other fruit, cut up – as much as you like.
When ready to serve, whip cream until stiff, adding a little Grand Marnier if desired. Fill the shell with the cream, then top with fruit.

FOR A SMALLER PAVLOVA, use 1-2 c heavy cream.

Arroz Doce on the Feast of Stephen

I was looking through my old (1970 version) of The Betty Crocker Cookbook that my mother bought for me as a wedding present. The one that is now all taped up with duct tape and stuffed with pieces of paper on which I've scribbled various recipes.

I was looking for the trusty, reliable chart that tells you how to cook various cuts of meat. I wanted to be certain that the Christmas Pork Loin - which had been marinating in garlic, rosemary and thyme - would be cooked to absolute perfection.

I lost my grasp of the book, and everything tumbled out onto the floor.  As I started to pick everything up - Lo! - what did my wondering eyes did I see, but my grandmother's recipe for Arroz Doce - Portuguese Sweet Rice.

It was like a little unexpected Christmas present.

Julie, Mia & Bob

For a deeply religious country like Portugal, there is no end to the opportunity to dabble in the sin of gluttony with the staggering volume of its sweets. One of them is Arroz Doce, made from Carolino rice from the alluvial plains of the Ribatejo - although, all I had was Arborio Rice. (I wouldn't use any other grain, however).

Suddenly, there was nothing to be done but to make a pot of it in honor of 'Minha avo"

I had forgotten how long one has to stand over the stove to cook it. The really wonderful thing was that I pulled up a chair as did one of our daughters and we talked and talked and talked while I stirred lazily with a wooden spoon - just as I had done when my grandmother made it.

For special occasions, she used to serve it warm, sandwiched between crackly layers of puff pastry, but I didn't have that either, so I just served it in small cups, dusted with fresh ground cinnamon and some whipped cream, sprinkled with red and green sugar.

Ms. Conroy sampled some of it - just as soon as it had cooled down to a pleasant warmth - but she mixed in some raisins. Ah, the Irish! Whatever is to be done?

It's really "Alimento dos anjo" ("Food of the Angels") when it is warm, but it can be made the day ahead and reheated on low in the microwave. Stir in a bit or milk or cream if it's too thick.

So, you'll need:

Some all-purpose flour, for dusting (optional)
One sheet (17 1/4 ounce pkg) Frozen puff pastry, thawed (optional)
3/4 cup Carnaroli or Arborio Rice
Zest of 1/2 lemon, removed in long strips with a vegetable peeler
pinch of Kosher salt
4 cups water
4 cups whole milk (keep another 1/2 cup in reserve, if needed)
2/3 cup granulated sugar
4 large egg yolks
Confectioner's sugar, for sprinkling
Ground cinnamon, for sprinkling

Directions:

If you are going to serve this with puff pastry, crack up the oven to 400 F. line a baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside.

Lightly dust a work surface with flour and roll out the pastry to smooth it. Using a pizza cutter or sharp knife, trim the pastry into an 8x8 inch square. Cut the square crosswise and then vertically in half, so you have 4 squares. Cut each in half on the diagonal.

Space the 8 dough triangles evenly on the parchment, and bake until well risen and golden. 10-15 minutes. Transfer the triangles to a wire rack to cool.

Meanwhile, combine the rice, zest, salt and 4 cups of water in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil, lower the heat to medium, and cook, uncovered, until almost all the water has evaporated. About 30 minutes. Adjust the heat as needed so the rice doesn't scorch.

About 5 minutes before the rice is ready, heat the milk and granulated sugar in a saucepan over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until wisps of steam curl up and the sugar has dissolved. Turn down the heat to low and keep the milk at a gentle simmer. Beat the egg yolks in a small bowl.

Once the water in the pan of rice has almost evaporated, begin adding to hot milk mixture by ladleful, stirring lazily with a wooden spoon. Keep up this rhythm of adding milk, stirring, and cooking until the rice "slumps gently when mounded" (that's the translation from my grandmother's Portuguese - isn't it cool?) and all the milk is incorporated. Remove the pan from heat.

Spoon some of the thickened rice mixture into the beaten yolks and quickly stir to incorporate. Drizzle the egg mixture back into the pan, stirring constantly. Return the pan to low heat and cook for 3 minutes. The consistency should be "lava-like" (again, my grandmother's description). Remove the lemon zest. Let the pudding cool to warm, stirring occasionally. If the rice thickens too much, add more milk, warmed over low heat.

To serve, split open the pastry triangles. Place the bottom halves on plates, spoon the pudding on top and crown with their mates. Sprinkle with confectioner's sugar and cinnamon.

Or: spoon into a small serving bowl, dust with confectioner's sugar and cinnamon and crown with a heavy dollop of whipped cream.

Prepare to spend at least another 30 minutes in the gym the next day but it will be sooOOoo worth it.

If Good King Wenceslas comes by, on this Feast of Stephen, you'll have something wonderful to return the favor for his once having taken his page and gone out of his way to feed that poor peasant who lived "a good league hence / Underneath the mountain / Right against the forest fence / By Saint Agnes' fountain."

And, you can sing him the last verse of "Good King Wenceslas"

In his master's steps he trod
Where the snow lay dinted
Heat was in the very sod
Which the Saint had printed
Therefore, Christian folk, be sure
Wealth or rank possessing
Ye who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing

Merry Second Day of Christmas and Happy Feast of Stephen!