The Pavlova Incident

Over the summer in my lack of full-time working I gradually started to learn how to cook. Most of it was in an attempt to have something a bit more significant in my day than getting out of my pajamas. J has been most astounded by the ways my cooking skills have grown by leaps and bounds. Which sometimes rubs me the wrong way, even though its true. I couldn't cook like this before. But still, does he have to point it out?

Anyways, one day, we were supposed to have dinner with J's friend Sean and his girlfriend Megan. And I started to get that pesky female instinct that says that I need to bring something to this dinner to contribute. So we call and decide that J and I will bring dessert.

So that means I have, oh, about 2 and a half hours to find a dessert recipe, get ingredients (because J's house is a little less than stocked...) and make a dessert.

I stumbled upon a recipe called Easy Pavlova. I love pavlova. My aunt Belinda (my cooking aunt) makes it and it is delicious and perfectly light, which was great considering we were having the nicest Indian summer ever.

So I run out and buy eggs, icing sugar, corn starch and raspberries for a sauce.

When I got back I realized I have to beat the egg whites. I thought it wouldn't be a problem. I can follow a recipe/direct J to do it, right?

Except, like I said, J doesn't have a very well stocked kitchen. So it was lacking an electric mixer. And a whisk. So we valiantly tried to whip our whites with a fork.

Unfortunately J had gotten a tiny bit of yolk in the whites, plus they weren't room temperature, and there was no acid in our bowl to keep them together.

We ended up making the raspberry sauce and buying vanilla ice cream, which was still delicious, but made me feel slightly like a cooking failure.

Also, I may have a slight fear of whipping egg whites now.