Whip Smart Kitchen

Recipes, methods & musings for the whip-smart home cook

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Brambleberry Lavender Dutch Baby

Breakfast, BakingLeannda CavalierComment

A puffy-centered, crisp-edged oven-baked pancake flavored with soft lavender and filled with bright berry compote. Top with lavender whipped cream for ultimate brunch-master status.

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Disclaimer: This post contains affiliate links. That means I get a small commission if you buy products I recommend at no additional cost to you. I only recommend products I believe in from companies I believe in—either I use them myself or I've at least done thorough research and vetting. Please reach out if you have any questions or want more info!

Yeah, got it. Dutch baby good. Jump to the recipe, please!

I don't know if you've been getting the days-long downpour I've been working with this week, but either way, I've got a recipe that never fails to brighten my day: I give you the Brambleberry Lavender Dutch Baby!

Okay, so it's a weird name, but hear me out: it's so, so, SO good. 

A dutch baby is a buttery oven-baked pancake that puffs up with soft, golden-brown splendor in the middle and crispy, browned edges. The classic way to eat it is with powdered sugar and a little lemon, but you can also top it with fruit or even savory toppings like eggs and avocado. 

 Right?

Right?

The first time I heard about a Dutch baby, also known as a puff pancake or German pancake, was watching Alton Brown's Good Eats. He explains that it's basically a big, sweet popover, using pretty much the same ratio of eggs, flour and milk as both those and Yorkshire pudding. 

I've since made them all, and while they're all delicious the Dutch baby has unquestionably been my most-repeated of the three.

You can mix dutch babies with a bowl and a whisk, but lately I've been using my food processor, which is the perfect size for the batter. It makes the batter nice and smooth, and takes up a lot less dishwasher real estate. 

I also recently started letting the batter rest, a tip I gleaned from The Kitchn. It allows the flour to absorb the liquid, PLUS it makes it unnecessary to start out with room temperature eggs, which is an easy and annoying thing to forget. 

Dutch babies are fascinating to me because the way they puff up is like magic, but it's really all smoke and mirrors. Or steam and mirrors, to be precise. As the liquid heats and vaporizes, it expands between the fat and flour for a puff that ages much better than the sleeves in your childhood photos. 

Which brings up an important point. Avoid the temptation to open the oven too early when you make your Brambleberry Lavender Dutch Baby! And it will tempt you.

Trust, my friend. Maybe use it as motivation to clean your oven window, which I may or may not need to do as well.

Back to the name. I did look around internet-land for the reason behind it, and like Alexander Hamilton, I will never be satisfied. 

Basically the prevailing story is that while its roots are in Germany, the name "Dutch baby" originated at Manca's Cafe in Seattle in the 1900's, where they subbed in "Dutch" for "Deutsch" (German for "German"—think the Pennsylvania "Dutch", who are actually German).

The thing is, that's not the part I'm curious about. I want to know why it's called a Dutch baby. When you talk about eating that beautiful Dutch baby and going back for seconds around unwitting strangers, which part is it that gets the stares and questions?

"Ma'am,* I couldn't help but overhear you were going to eat a Dutch baby, which is disturbing, because clearly the baby would be Deutsch, which is German," is never how the conversation goes. If you said the baby-eating, you were correct. Pick up your prize on the way out, it's a Brambleberry Lavender Dutch baby recipe. 

*Please don't call me ma'am. 

 *Please don't call me ma'am. 

*Please don't call me ma'am. 

ANYWAY. 

The Brambleberry Lavender Dutch Baby is a brunch favorite among guests of the Cavalier household, which we've had a LOT of this summer. It works out great for me, because:  

  1. I don't have to get up super early to make it.
  2. It comes together fast, and I can hang out while it bakes.
  3. It all comes out at once, so I can sit at the table before everyone else is on their last bites.

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE cooking for other people, and I don't see it as a burden. Plus we have an open kitchen, so I'm technically still in the mix even while I'm cooking. Still, it's nice sometimes to not have to spend breakfast standing at stove or the waffle maker while everyone else takes their coffee to the table. 

Besides, I'm the possibly the slowest eater in history, so I'm pretty sure people get annoyed with waiting for me to finish savoring my last bites.

Dutch babies are great on their own, but I love mine filled with compote and topped with whipped cream, which is how the Brambleberry Lavender Dutch Baby was born. 

Compote has been a breakfast-topping favorite of mine since college when I learned about it on Chopped started making it to put on chocolate protein pancakes—very healthful of me, considering I also added chocolate syrup and whipped cream—so it was a no-brainer . 

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So what exactly is compote?

Compote is a chunky, sweet sauce made of fruit, sugar and citrus simmered together. It's quick and easy to throw together, especially if you keep frozen fruit on hand—amazing for thrown-together breakfasts and last-minute desserts. 

It's tangy and sweet, and as an added bonus, it's Gorgeous. Ain't no question if I want it, I need it. 

So where did the lavender inspiration come from? Two things. 

First was another college comfort. I used to live down the street from and volunteer at The Wild Ramp, a hyper-local farmers' market co-op in Huntington, West Virginia. They sold Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams, and I loved trying out all the unique flavors including my favorites, goat cheese and cherries and yup, lavender brambleberry. 

...I also may have put this on the chocolate protein pancakes once or twice. 

Second, I really love lavender and keep a lot of it on hand.

I've had a lot of people ask me:

What do you actually DO with lavender?

I think it's one of those ingredients people want to buy because they like the smell and it just sounds special, but putting it into use is more difficult. It is becoming more prevalent though, so there is inspiration around if you're reading menus (one of my favorite things to do, as a food-obsessed person).

You can simmer a little of it with equal proportions of sugar and water to make lavender syrup for coffee or lemonade, sprinkle a pinch into whipped cream (which you should put on top of this recipe), or add it to your tea for a floral touch. My favorite thing to do with it, though, is sprinkle it into batter. Waffles, pancakes, cakes—you name it!

Which is why it was a natural fit for a Dutch baby. 

If you saw my recent Instagram post with the recipe for Brambleberry Lavender Compote, you may have seen that a lot of the comments were people asking where to get dried lavender. I've seen it at some specialty stores like Whole Foods, but my personal favorite place to get it is on Amazon, where you can buy it in bulk for much less than the smaller portions you might find at the store. 

Above is the specific kind I like to buy, but it comes with a lot. I keep it in a mason jar and use it to double as a decoration on my bookshelf. You can shop around and see what works for you, but wherever you get it make sure it's culinary grade! Other types might be contaminated as they're not processed with food safety in mind.

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Don't forget the lavender whipped cream. It's so easy to make, and it's so worth it. 

 Sam gets it. 

Sam gets it. 

I mean look at this. Look at these. Keep the daisy home for the day, because you brought dollops of LAVENDER WHIPPED CREAM to the party. 

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If you make the Brambleberry Lavender Dutch Baby, let me know by sharing a photo with the hashtag #whipsmartkitchen and tagging me on Instagram, Facebook or Twitter.You can also upload them using the "tried it" feature on Pinterest to help out others looking for brunch recipes. I LOVE to see your photos, really. It makes my day. 

If you're into this recipe, you may want to subscribe to my newsletter so you'll always be notified of my latest recipes! You'll even get a freebie I put together to help make cooking a little smoother even for beginners. 

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Let's get mixing!

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Blackberry Blood Orange Breakfast Cake

Baking, Breakfast, Dessert, Italian, Recipe, SummerLeannda CavalierComment

This Blackberry Blood Orange Breakfast Cake is a summery twist on an Italian classic. Juicy blackberries and hints of tangy blood orange give this lightly sweet yogurt cake plenty of personality to accompany your morning coffee.

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Feeling the cake, but not feeling the chat? Click here to jump to the recipe.

Disclaimer: This post contains affiliate links. That means I get a small commission if you buy products I recommend at no additional cost to you. I only recommend products I believe in from companies I believe in—either I use them myself or I've at least done thorough research and vetting. Please reach out if you have any questions or want more info!

I'm so excited about this recipe for so many reasons.

In 2016, I traveled with my husband, bonus parents and bonus sister to Italy. It was incredible, and I'm pretty sure I belong there. Yes, I know it's one of the most overly-romanticized places on Earth. Yes, I know there are problems there too—I watch Last Week Tonight. But really, I've spent so much time since trying to replicate the feeling of being there at home.

This cake feels like Tuscany. The flavor and texture. The ingredients. The simplicity. Everything.

It was inspired by a traditional yogurt and olive oil cake made in the medieval hill town of San Gimignano in the Siena, Tuscany region of Italy. Torta allo yogurt is a classic. Don't be afraid of the olive oil. You won't taste it in this recipe any more than you would taste the flavor of canola oil, and it's incredibly common in Italian baking, which is all about what's available locally.

Part of the reason this dessert caught my eye is that the first variation of this recipe I saw in A Family Farm In Tuscany: Recipes and Stories from Fattoria Poggio Alloro by Sarah Fioroni (about a farm near where we took an agrotourism excursion) is so simple that it uses a yogurt cup as a form of measurement for the flour, oil and sugar. I just love that.

I chose not to do that here because packaging can be so different here in the U.S. and I personally buy it in bulk, but the sentiment is pretty beautiful. It honors the idea that baking is about ratios, but it's also rustic. It's the kind of thing my Ya-ya would teach me to do.

Making it seasonal

Yogurt and olive oil cake is also practical because it uses ingredients most people who cook regularly will already have on hand, and you can add any seasonal touches you may have. In winter you could totally make it a cranberry or rosemary orange cake. Spring? Hello, lavender and honey. Fall? Cinnamon spice sounds good!

My version, blackberry blood orange breakfast cake, plays up some of my favorite fresh flavors of summer. I've been very into blood oranges lately. Partially because they have folate in them which is good for pregnancy, and partially because they are DELICIOUS. They're a little more tart than regular oranges, and I personally think they're more flavorful in general.

It doesn't hurt that they're gorgeous, either.  

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As for the blackberries, I have never not been into those juicy little summer candies. They're wild and beautiful, tart then sweet. A little seedy, but in a good way. Blackberry is one of my go-to flavors, whether for preserves, compote, flavored water or sweets—but honestly none of that can compare to a gooey, just overripe blackberry baked into this cake. 

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Perfection.

Blackberries are also rich in polyphenol antioxidants, which give them their dark, jammy color. The science on just how beneficial those phytochemicals are is a little shaky, but loading up can't hurt right? They're also a good source of dietary fiber, vitamin C, vitamin K, and too many blackberries is probably better than other foods that tout polyphenols like olive oil and red wine, right? 

This cake isn't super fluffy like your typical dessert cake. It's on the firmer side and light, like so many great Italian treats. Think about crunchy biscotti soaking up your cappuccino, or chewy ciabatta drenched in olive oil and dried herbs. It's incredible with coffee or tea in the morning, but don’t rule it out for dessert. 

Plus, it's beautiful. I didn't even work all that hard to arrange the fruit on top and look at it. I know this is almost the same as the main shot above, but seriously. STRIKE A POSE, CAKE. 

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Just like that. STRIKE IT. 

Baking the cake

Making it is simple too. Totally beginner-level. If you are a true beginner, there's one place I really want you to pay attention, and that's when you're beating the eggs and sugar. If you just do it quickly like with a lot of typical cake recipes, you're not going to get the volume you need. You really do want to let it go about five minutes or until it doubles in and looks creamy-yellow and foamy, like the photo below.

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Sweetening the deal

I love serving this cake with whipped cream. Even better? Blood orange whipped cream! It only takes a few minutes and one extra ingredient to whip up, and you're already zesting oranges, so it's honestly crazy not to. Besides, if you've never made whipped cream, learning how allows you to level-up approximately 1,000 desserts. 

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Just do it, okay?

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Seriously, I hope you make this and I hope you love it as much as we do over here! If you do, let me know by sharing a photo with the hashtag #whipsmartkitchen and tagging me on Instagram, Facebook or Twitter. You can also use the "tried it" feature on Pinterest to help out others looking for a tasty seasonal cake!

Let's get baking!

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Blood Orange Blackberry Breakfast Cake Nutrition Info

Blood Orange Whipped Cream Nutrition Info

High-rise buttermilk biscuits supreme

Breakfast, Method, Baking, Recipe, Slow FoodLeannda CavalierComment

Flaky, buttery biscuits in a golden crust that rise like champs. They're perfect solo with some butter and jam, or with my personal favorite comfort food—creamed turkey.

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Disclaimer: This post contains affiliate links. That means I get a small commission if you buy products I recommend. I only recommend products I believe in. That means I've used it myself in most cases, and at the very least I've researched it thoroughly and find it trustworthy—I would never recommend anything I wouldn't use myself. Please reach out if you have any questions!

I'm just here for the biscuits and I've already scrolled through 106 photos. Jump to the recipe.

I'm not quite sure how we got to December, but here we are. It's probably a little tired to talk about how the years whir by faster the older you get, but it always seems to surprise me regardless. This is about the time my work starts to slow down and I get to relax and spend time doing the things I love.

JUST KIDDING. I'm panicking about how much baking I can get finished, trying to finish Christmas shopping (I'll start in September next year... is probably a lie), packing frantically and trying to get some recipes photographed last-minute. Oh, and telling everybody else in my life not to sweat the small stuff I'm sweating. 

Despite being hopelessly overcommitted (re: nutso), I have been trying to find ways to tie in reflection and gratefulness into my work here. Which is how we landed on biscuits. 

Biscuits supreme is a recipe I grew up on. It’s a favorite in my Ya-ya’s recipe box, given to her by her mother, my Nee-nee. If you search "biscuits supreme”, you’ll get a good number of similar biscuit recipes with slight variations. As far as I can tell, the original came from a midcentury Better Homes and Gardens cookbook, and like so many other recipes, was passed down through countless families like a delicious game of telephone. 

On a Christmas visit, shortly after I moved to Tennessee, my Ya-ya gave me the recipe printed on an index card in her angular handwriting—one of the few family recipes we have that's actually written down with measurements and full instructions.

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I wish my handwriting was half as interesting as hers, or my great aunt’s whimsical swooping letters. Both should be fonts. I've tried for years to copy them from sticky notes and birthday cards to make my own version, but it's never quite right.

I'm better at emulating their cooking skills, which brings us back to biscuits. To round out the connection, I do like to experiment with things to put my own spin on them. Millennials, amirite?

Why mess with a good thing? Because butter.

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I reaaaaally wanted to use butter. The original recipe calls for shortening, which I’m not opposed to using, but I do try to keep use of heavily processed ingredients to a minimum. It was a product of it's time and it makes total sense here, but butter brings the flakiness in a way shortening can't. 

 

The first time I tried to make biscuits (not my family’s recipe, a random one I found online), I ended up with a crunchy disc. Pretty tasty… but more like a cookie than a biscuit. English biscuit? Um, maybe (no). Definitely not making the cut in Tennessee or West Virginia. 

These biscuits on the other hand. These. Biscuits. Tall and tan and flaky and buttery. These are the biscuits from Ipanema.

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Butter makes a difference because as it cooks, it turns to steam and leaves pockets. That’s why the best biscuits have streaks around the middle like the dough is stacked in layers—it is! The thing is, using butter isn’t enough.

If you just mix the butter in any way you want, those pockets won’t form. If you want flaky, pull-apart layers, you need the right technique. Conventional advice I’ve always heard says to cut cold butter in, then mix it in with your fingers until you have pea-sized chunks.

 The misshapen one with the arrowhead-shaped top is the last cut, made of scraps. If you're worried about presentation, just skip it (or make it and scarf it down directly out of the oven before anyone sees it). 

The misshapen one with the arrowhead-shaped top is the last cut, made of scraps. If you're worried about presentation, just skip it (or make it and scarf it down directly out of the oven before anyone sees it). 

It's a good start, but there’s a better way if you want a next-level biscuit. I looked to one of my favorite books, Cooks Illustrated's The Science of Good Cooking for some sage advice. 

I think the biggest help the book offers is the idea of fraisage and lamination—stay with me here, we’re not talking about covering it with plastic. We’re talking flattening the butter and folding it into the dough in layers in this form of lamination, meanwhile fraisage is a French technique where you smear butter into a dough with the heel of your hand. Think about the buttery strips when you tear into a croissant, or a pie crust falling apart and melting in your mouth. Mmmm. 

The book suggests flattening the butter rather than breaking it up into pea-sized chunks, keeping it nice and cold until baking time and folding the dough over onto itself several times. 

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We'll do a rustic version, because as much as I love learning about food science, most people probably don’t want cooking to feel like lab work. I’d personally love to work in a test kitchen, but I’m pretty short on time most days in real life. 

Besides, sometimes I just want to feel more artist than scientist, you know? We’ll riff on it. 

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My family’s recipe already used two of the book’s tips. First, a little shortening is actually a good thing. I’ve always seen shortening as a) one of those supposedly healthy fats that turned out to be worse than butter, and b) a foolproof way to make dough come together. Butter is difficult to work with, but shortening is hard to mess up. 

That is true, but it’s also a hasty generalization. I teach public speaking, so we can't have that. Turns out it serves a separate purpose too—it helps keep the biscuits tender by reducing the moisture content and forming a weaker gluten structure. Weak gluten = tender. Who knew?

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Our family recipe also features two leaveners, which the book recommends, in the form of baking powder and cream of tartar. I left the leaveners the same, but I changed the milk to buttermilk, which changes the acidity and reacts to them a little differently. I think it balanced out pretty well. 

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It's fun looking at how these recipes handed down through the years stand up to science-based techniques. Possibly one of the most fun things is that you don't have to care if you like it the way you already do it. There's rarely only one "right" way to do something. 

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I love my family's classic biscuit recipe, and I love that my Ya-ya makes them for me with creamed turkey when I come home. I love how simple the recipe is to put together. I love that it tastes like what her family sat down to eat during a time I can only imagine. I love reading it in her handwriting and hearing the instructions the way my Nee-nee must have taught her. 

It's also incredible that knowing the concepts of lamination and fraisage help me understand croissants, pie crust, puff pastry, certain breads, other biscuits, scones... and they get me thinking about how I can play with other recipes for a similar effect. Is it possible to make a biscuit or croissant cookie hybrid? Is that already a thing people are standing in line for in Brooklyn? What would you call it? I just googled what I thought it would be called, and that is a different thing. Don't worry about it.

Allow me to distract you with an action shot: 

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This week is super-fun because I'll be posting TWO recipes. I've been pretty inconsistent lately, I know. I doubt anyone is visiting daily to see if I've updated (though, please tell me if you do, because I will die), but I do want to at least follow my own content calendar. I have this anxiety that my strategic communications students will find my blog and berate me for not sticking to the standards I hold them to.

"Mrs. Cavalier, you're not posting consistently enough," they say, in my anxiety-fueled nightmares. "Did you even set objectives? No one is going to stick around if you don't give them content to come back for and serve them. That's what you said."

YES I SAID IT. And it's true. Class, if you're here, it takes SO long to grade your stuff. I love you all anyway. And to anyone who does come here regularly, I really am sorry. I'm working on it. Did I mention I'm also a football sideline reporter and caterer on the weekends? Because this has been a long, rough semester. 

Anyway, I submitted final grades at about 3 a.m. Saturday, and I'm ready to get back to work. That's why later this week I'm posting a recipe for one of my favorite recipes ever: creamed turkey.

Yuuuup Brooke County (West Virginia) people, get ready.  

If that sounds a little suspect to you, I get it. But I promise, creamed turkey is legendary. It is the comfort food of comfort foods. 

While you're here, I'd love to hear what your favorite family recipes are! Let me know in the comments at the end of this post what recipe is most treasured in your family, and whether you've tried it out for yourself. 

If you make this biscuit recipe, I'd love to hear about it! Just comment below, or post a photo to Instagram, Twitter or Facebook with the hashtag #whipsmartkitchen and tag me! You could also use the "tried it" feature on Pinterest. I'm always happy to answer questions as well. 

Let's make some biscuits!

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Maple brown sugar pavlova with raspberry compote

Fall, Baking, Dessert, Recipe, WinterLeannda Cavalier2 Comments

A light and airy dessert with fluffy maple brown sugar meringue, velvety maple whipped cream, and tangy raspberry compote. 

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Disclaimer: This post contains affiliate links. That means I get a small commission if you buy products I recommend. I only recommend products I believe in. That means I've used it myself in most cases, and at the very least I've researched it thoroughly and find the company trustworthy—I would never recommend anything I wouldn't buy and use myself. Please reach out if you have any questions!

I'm just here for the dessert, man. Jump to the recipe, please.

We are waist-deep in the season of all-pumpkin-everything. Pumpkin spice lattes, pumpkin bagels, pumpkin butter, pumpkin festivals and, of course, pumpkin pie. Listen. I love pumpkin. I love all the things previously mentioned. Give me a pumpkin spice latte float with pumpkin ice cream, I'll drink it happily! Do not doubt my pumpkin devotion. 

That being said, if you're ready to change up your sweets menu, I get it. Autumn brings us so many more flavors to play with, and honestly there is such a thing as taste fatigue. That's exactly why I came up with maple pavlova with raspberry compote.

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After so many heavy, ultra-sugary, dense desserts, I needed something completely different. Pavlova was in my mind, and maple syrup was in my fridge. Mad food scientist mode: engage. 

Pavlova is a light and fluffy dessert with a crisp exterior, a marshmallowy interior and contested origins. Everyone seems to agree it was created for prima ballerina Anna Pavlova sometime in the early 20th century, but the where is less clear. Some say the first one was made in New Zealand, some say Australia, some even say the United States. I won't speculate, as I'm mostly interested in it's uncontested deliciousness.

Take a minute to look at this thing. It's imperfect—ahem, rustic—but that give it a beautiful quality more composed desserts can't quite recreate. Curious that it was made for a ballerina, because it's more the dancing scene from Harriet the Spy than Swan Lake. 

A wild little cloud of deliciousness. 

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It's not exactly a meringue, but it's in the family. Meringues are typically a fairly uniform texture–crispy and crumbly throughout. Pavlova, on the other hand is soft and cushiony in the middle. It's typically dressed with whipped cream and fruit, which is what first drew me to it. I was looking for a light dessert I could make in a summer I knew would be swimming-heavy. I stumbled across a recipe for chocolate swirl pavlova with raspberries, and I've made my version of it more times that I can count. For parties, for family and at least twice, around midnight for no real reason. 

One of the things I love most about pavlova is that it simultaneously feels light and incredibly decadent. Actually, the way I make it probably has something to do with that. I almost always layer one on top of another, drizzle a ton of melted dark chocolate over and grate more chocolate on top...

Anyway, the wafers (for lack of a better word) combined with the whipped cream melt in your mouth, and the contrast between crisp and creamy keep things rich and interesting. The longer it sits in the refrigerator, the softer the wafers become, but in a good way. Almost like eating a really light mousse pie. 

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But... raspberry and maple?

You may be questioning the maple-raspberry combo, and I don’t blame you, but I swear they go together. I did it on my own to see how it would be, but later found out it’s an actual thing. They’re listed together in Karen Page and Andrew Dornenburg's The Flavor Bible, which is about as legit as you can get. 

 Me too, Pete, me too. 

Me too, Pete, me too. 

You can always make this without the raspberry compote. I've done it both ways, and both are great. Still, the maple and raspberry are really fun together, and I mean, why not? 

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Whipping it up, in practice

Pavlova is pretty easy to make, but there are some things to pay attention to if you're a baking newbie. First measure the ingredients exactly. Second, be mindful of how things look and feel at all times. It's really important that the batter is set up correctly when you bake it. 

Stiff peaks are what you're looking for, and I do mean stiff peaks. When you bounce the whisk lightly into the surface of the batter, pull it up, and flip it upside down. The peaks that form should be short and stand straight up. If you plunge it too far, the peaks will still be long and soft, so make sure you’re doing it lightly. In this case, over-beating is better than under-beating. 

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I actually find the look of the batter itself to be a better indicator. Make sure the mixture is shiny and a little silvery—pearlescent. It should look almost like a cross between marshmallow cream and extremely thick shaving cream. The air you’ve beaten in is so well incorporated that the batter is rich and smooth, and when you move a spatula through or pile up spoonfuls, it holds its shape. 

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When cooked, the pavlova should be light and airy. The outside should be crisp and crumbly, and the inside should be soft and a little spongey, but still lighter than angel food cake. All of it should melt in your mouth. 

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In this recipe I use cake pans because pavlova does best when all parts are baked very consistently. If one of the wafers is getting more heat than the other, you might run into two very different layers. Maybe event a burnt one. The cake pans guarantee you can fit both wafers on the same rack of a standard oven. If you're willing to risk it though, you can definitely try using sheet pans on different racks. I've done it that way as well, and it can be done. 

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If you do use the cake pans, I recommend cutting down the parchment paper into rounds just a couple inches wider than the pan, and pressing it into the bottom as best you can. If you leave it in big sheets, the edges tend to pop up and the bottom of the wafers won't bake flat. 

Baking in the pans does make the sides a little less smooth-looking than a typical pavlova, but I actually like the way it looks both ways. Either way, the pavlova should peel away from the parchment paper fairly easily if baked correctly. 

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One of the best things about this recipe is that you can make the wafers and the compote ahead. The meringue part can be made the day before, and the compote can be made several days before. You could technically make the whipped cream ahead too, but I think that part is best fresh, and takes no time to whip up. 

Question for you: Have you signed up for my email list yet? I sent out emails every time I post a recipe, and soon I'll send out a poll to see what else you want to get in email. Want recipe roundups? Curated articles and tips? Something else? Sign up and let me know!

When you sign up, you'll automatically receive the WhipSmart Kitchen Guide to Mise En Place, a PDF I put together to show you the secret to getting every recipe right, every time. Just click below for a free download. I hope you like it!

Hey, one more thing: I want to hear from you! Wanna make this recipe? I'd love to see your photos on social media! Just tag me and hashtag #whipsmartkitchen on Instagram, Twitter or Facebook. You can even try out the "tried" feature on Pinterest! Have questions about it? I'm happy to answer them in the comments or through email. 

Have an unrelated question or something you're struggling with in the kitchen? I'd love to help you out if I can, but I won't know until you ask.

So let's get baking!

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