In Praise of Meringue

I went to a garden party at the weekend, and there was a plate piled high with a pyramid of the most scrumptious, voluptuous meringues, oozing cream from their middles. Because of the usual meringue ‘sandwich’ format you can eat four, and actually, you’ve only had two. Pop a couple of strawberries on the side and it’s one of your five a day, healthy eating meals. Add to that the fact that they are mainly air, and there is no reason you should ever stop eating them.

Some creative culinary types make them into splendid pavlovas. I know why they’re called pavlovas too, because you start salivating at the very thought. Acres of twirly, snowy landscape, floating on a sea of fluffy cream, with little brown crusty bits just waiting to be tweaked off and nibbled as antipasti.

The perfect meringue will not be bleached white like the disappointing ones in bakers’ shops, but homely off white/taupe/ecru etc (can’t get away from Adrian Mole’s socks these days, sorry), with crunchy outers and slightly gooey innards.

There is nothing akin to the joy of the diabetic coma inducing sweetness and cloud like fluffiness of the meringue.

All hail the meringue!