plate 52: new zealand

And so I arrive at my final destination. There's been some debate about where the journey should end. But after a bit of deliberation, I'm going to finish with a good old-fashioned food fight. Instead of throwing ingredients around the kitchen in a frenzy (I actually do that most weeks anyway), this brawl centres on pavolva.

As you can see, I've labelled the post New Zealand, so maybe I'm leaning towards the Kiwis being the inventors of this snowy-white, marshmallowy-centred, crisp-crusted, light-as-air beauty that is this infamous dessert. Who would've thought something so sweet could have created so many bitter arguments between us Aussies and our mates across the Tasman?

There's one thing the two countries do agree on though - that the sugary, fruit-topped dessert was named after Anna Pavlova, the Russian ballerina who toured Australia and New Zealand in the '20s. Apparently the dancer's biographer wrote that a chef at a Wellington hotel created the dish in her honour in 1926.

The truth of where it really originated may not ever be revealed, but in the search for the answer I'm going to keep making pavlova. I was so scared about my first attempt, there just seem to be so many rules: absolutely NO yolk in your egg whites (calls for precision egg-separating skills); no moisture in the air; a completely dry bowl for beating the mixture; and leaving a just-cooked meringue in the oven to cool when it finishes baking - if you pull it out straight away it could crack: a pav maker's nightmare.

To help me achieve pavlova perfection, I called upon the pavlova queen - AJ's grandma Trich - to supervise me. Lucky she was available because she helped make almost every step of the way as smooth as my meringue mixture ended up being.

Not a skerrick of yolk in the whites was the first hurdle cleared. Next was beating the egg whites till stiff - easy: a Mr Squiggle Blackboard move of the bowl - "upside-down, upside down" - confirmed it was firm enough to start adding the sugar.

I used a Donna Hay recipe that called for pure icing sugar instead of the traditional caster sugar. Not that I've attempted a pav any other way, but I think perhaps it was easier for that type of sugar to dissolve. (At this stage some people also add vinegar, which is supposed to enhance the marshmallowiness of the centre and the crispness of the outside.)

A good meringue mixture should be very smooth and glossy, and I can proudly say that mine shone, almost blindingly, in my face. Oh the joy!

Next task was to spread the mixture evenly among two rectangles that I'd drawn up on some baking paper - this helps keep things nice and even. Since I was making a layered pav, each rectangle needed to be exactly the same size.

Into the oven at 120C (which I think probably needed to be 140C - nowhere in Donna's book Seasons does she say whether her recipes use conventional or fan-forced ovens). I kept the temperature lower for fear of it overcooking, so it took a little longer than the 25 minutes instructed. But it didn't seem to matter. I just waited until it was fairly dry, then turned the oven off and left it in there for 30 minutes to cool before bringing it out onto the bench, in all its crisp, dry glory to cool it down totally.

The trickiest part came next, when I had to get the meringue off the baking paper. It was stuck! We very gingerly peeled back the paper, and tried using an egg slide at one point, too - don't do that, it causes more cracking. Patience is key here, so if this happens to you just persevere. And don't worry if it cracks a little. A few uneven edges are a hallmark of every, ahem, rustic pavlova.

Finally the meringues released and I got to layering with whipped cream and mixed berries (which are in season and super yum right now). There was a bit of pressure cooking for 12 people and wanting to make it perfect. The pictures of Donna's recipes always look amazing, too, so it's a miracle when yours does actually look just like it. Seems like there was a miracle. Well, I think her name was Supervisor Trich.

While the pav looked great, I just hoped and prayed for that deliciously soft and chewy centre beneath the crispy crust. Success! The pav cut like a dream - I heard the slight crunch as the knife went through, then it slid with ease as I carefully cut the whole thing into 12 pieces for awaiting, salivating mouths.

As for the flavour, deeelicious. It wasn't sickly sweet like some pavs are where you can actually taste the grains of sugar. The silky cream sandwiched between the layers of magical meringue topped and filled with tangy-sweet ruby-red raspberries and little nuggets of blueberries was a blissful end to Destination Degustation. In my book, a good food journey must end with dessert. Even if you think your dessert stomach is closed, you have to find the key and open it!

Thanks so much to everyone who made my tastebud trip around the world so memorable. Even when I cried, swore and broke down in utter self-disappointment, you were all there being incredibly supportive, encouraging and helpful - I'm very, very grateful. Now go forth to the comfort of your kitchens and start cooking up some of my favourites, if you haven't already: Maltese; Malaysian; Greek; Argentinian; South African; Spanish. Heck - make them all and make your own judgements. I hope the food brings you as much fun and enjoyment as it did for me. xx