Mary Berry’s Pavlova Recipe (The One I Make Every Summer)

Mary Berry’s pavlova is a six-egg-white meringue with a crisp shell and a marshmallowy centre, topped with whipped cream and fruit. The trick to getting it right every time isn’t really the recipe, it’s three small things: dissolving the sugar properly, baking it low and slow, and leaving it well alone to cool in the oven. Get those right and the rest looks after itself.

I’ve made this pavlova more times than I can count now. Birthdays, Christmas, a slightly disastrous attempt at a dinner party when I thought I’d “have a go at a wreath shape” (don’t, not on a deadline), and more ordinary Sunday afternoons than I’ll admit to. It’s the dessert I reach for when I want something that looks like I’ve made an effort without actually having made much effort, which feels like the entire point of a good pavlova.

This is Mary Berry’s method, made the classic round way rather than in a wreath, because that’s how I make it most of the year. (Worth knowing, if you ever get into a debate about it: the dessert’s exact origins are genuinely disputed between Australia and New Zealand, with food historians tracing the technique back even further to European meringue traditions. Mary Berry’s version is firmly the British classic regardless of where it started life.) I’ll talk you through it properly, including the bit where mine cracked right down the middle at my eldest’s birthday and nobody at the table cared even slightly.

What you need

The ingredient list for a pavlova is short, which is part of why it’s such a forgiving bake once you understand what each thing is doing.

For the meringue:

• 6 large egg whites, at room temperature
• 350g caster sugar
• 1 tsp white wine vinegar
• 1 tsp cornflour

For the topping:

• 600ml double cream
• 1 tsp vanilla extract (or vanilla bean paste if you have it)
• 50g icing sugar, sifted
• Fresh fruit of your choice (I’ll come on to what works when)

A few notes on the ingredients before you start. Use caster sugar, not granulated. Granulated sugar takes longer to dissolve and you’ll end up with a grainy meringue or, worse, a weeping one. Room temperature egg whites whip up with more volume than cold ones straight from the fridge, so if you remember, get them out half an hour before you start. I rarely remember, for what it’s worth, and it still works, it just takes a couple of minutes longer.

The cornflour and vinegar aren’t optional extras. Food writers who’ve tested this in detail explain that the vinegar delays the egg whites setting, which lets you whisk in more air for a lighter result, while the cornflour stops the centre from overcooking and helps prevent weeping. Between them, they’re what gives you that proper marshmallow centre rather than a meringue that’s crisp the whole way through. Skip them and you’ll get something closer to a meringue nest than a pavlova.

How to make it

Preheat the oven to 160°C (140°C fan, gas mark 3). Line a baking tray with baking parchment and draw a 23cm circle on it as a guide. I use a dinner plate for this, no need for anything fancier.

Whisk the egg whites. Pour them into a large, completely clean and grease-free bowl (any trace of fat will stop them whipping properly, so if in doubt, give the bowl a wipe with a bit of lemon juice or vinegar first). Whisk on a medium-high speed until they look like soft, cloud-like peaks.

Add the sugar gradually. This is the step people rush, and it’s the one that matters most. Add the caster sugar a tablespoon at a time, whisking well between each addition, until it’s all incorporated and the meringue is thick, glossy and stands up in stiff peaks when you lift the whisk out. Rub a tiny bit between your fingers. If it feels gritty, keep whisking. If it feels smooth, you’re done.

Fold in the cornflour and vinegar. Mix them together in a small cup until smooth, then fold gently into the meringue with a metal spoon or spatula. You want to keep as much air in there as possible, so resist the urge to stir vigorously.

Spoon onto the tray. Pile the meringue inside your drawn circle, building the sides up slightly higher than the middle. This creates a natural well for the cream and fruit later, and it also helps the pavlova hold its shape as it bakes.

Bake for about an hour to an hour and fifteen minutes, until the outside is pale and crisp and it sounds hollow if you tap the base. It should lift cleanly off the parchment.

Turn the oven off and leave it to cool inside, with the door shut, for at least an hour, ideally overnight. This is the step people skip when they’re in a rush and it’s the one I’d least recommend skipping. A sudden change in temperature is what causes the worst cracking and sinking, far more than anything you did wrong with the whisking.

Whip the cream. Once the meringue is completely cold, whip the double cream with the vanilla and icing sugar until it just holds soft peaks. Don’t take it further than that, over-whipped cream goes grainy and won’t sit nicely once it’s piled on top.

Assemble just before serving. Spoon the cream into the dip on top of the meringue and finish with your fruit. Do this as close to serving as you can manage. A pavlova left dressed for hours will go soft on top, which still tastes good but loses that contrast between crisp shell and soft centre that’s the whole point of the dessert.

The bit where I tell you it cracked and it was fine

I’d love to tell you that every pavlova I’ve made has come out of the oven looking like the photo on a recipe card. It hasn’t. My most memorable one cracked straight down the middle while it was cooling for my eldest’s birthday, a proper deep crack, the kind you can see across the kitchen. I genuinely thought I’d have to start again with about two hours’ notice and not enough eggs left in the fridge to try.

I didn’t start again. I piled the cream and a ridiculous amount of strawberries and raspberries on top, mostly to hide the crack if I’m honest, and put it on the table. Nobody noticed or cared. It got demolished within about ten minutes, crack and all. That’s the thing about pavlova that I wish someone had told me years earlier: it’s meant to look a bit rustic and a little broken. The cracks are part of its charm, not a sign you’ve failed. Save your worrying for the ones that don’t crack at all, oddly, because that can sometimes mean it’s slightly underbaked.

Why has my pavlova cracked, sunk, or gone brown?

This is the bit most recipes skip, and it’s the bit people actually need. Here’s what’s usually going on.

A little cracking is completely normal and nothing to fix. It happens as the meringue contracts slightly while cooling. Mary Berry’s own pavlovas crack too, you just don’t tend to see it because of how they’re styled for photos.

Significant cracking or sinking usually comes down to one of two things: the oven was too hot, or the pavlova cooled down too quickly. If your oven runs hot (mine does, by about ten degrees, which took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out with an oven thermometer), drop the temperature slightly next time. And always let it cool inside the switched-off oven rather than taking it straight out onto a cold worktop.

A pavlova that’s turned beige or brown rather than staying pale has almost always been baked too hot or for too long. The sugar starts to caramelise, which changes both the colour and the texture, making it harder and more brittle rather than that classic crisp-shell, soft-centre combination.

Weeping, where you get sticky liquid seeping out from the base or sides, comes down to undissolved sugar most of the time. If you added the sugar too quickly or your mixer wasn’t quite up to the job, some of it won’t have fully dissolved into the egg whites, and it’ll separate back out later as syrup. The fix next time is patience: add the sugar more slowly and check the mixture between your fingers before moving on.

A soft, sticky centre that hasn’t set at all generally means it needed longer in the oven, or the oven temperature was a touch too low to dry it out properly in the time given.

None of these mean your pavlova is ruined, by the way. Even a weepy or cracked one still tastes exactly the same once it’s under a pile of cream and fruit. I’ve served plenty that I wasn’t proud of from the outside and not one person at the table has ever known.

Can you make pavlova ahead of time?

Yes, and this is genuinely one of the best things about it for entertaining. The meringue base will keep for up to a month if you wrap it well in clingfilm and then foil and store it somewhere cool and dry, not the fridge, as the damp in there will soften it. I’ve made the base several days before Christmas Day before now and it’s come out exactly as crisp as a fresh one.

What you shouldn’t do is dress it ahead of time. Once the cream and fruit go on, you’re looking at a few hours at most before the meringue starts softening underneath. I always assemble mine within an hour or so of serving, sometimes literally while people are sitting down at the table, because it really does make a difference to that contrast in texture.

What fruit works best, and when

Mary Berry’s classic version uses strawberries, raspberries, blueberries and pomegranate seeds, and it’s a genuinely lovely combination, but pavlova is one of those desserts that adapts easily through the year.

In summer, I stick close to the original: whatever berries look best that week, usually strawberries and raspberries from the local greengrocer rather than the slightly sad punnets you sometimes get in the supermarket out of season. In fact, that’s worth saying outright: this is a dessert where the quality of your fruit matters more than almost anything else you do. Good fruit needs very little dressing up.

Come autumn, I’ll swap in poached or stewed blackberries and apple, which sounds like an odd pairing with meringue but works really well against the sweetness. At Christmas, I tend to follow Mary’s lead with the pomegranate, which looks fantastic against the white cream, plus clementine segments if I’ve got them going spare from the fruit bowl. None of these are complicated swaps. The base recipe doesn’t change at all, only what goes on top.

Frequently asked questions

How long does a pavlova base keep?

The unfilled meringue will keep for up to a month if stored somewhere cool and dry, well wrapped in clingfilm and foil. Once you’ve added cream and fruit, it’s best eaten within a few hours, or a day at the absolute most if kept covered in the fridge, though the texture will have softened considerably by then.

Why do you add vinegar and cornflour to a pavlova?

They stabilise the egg whites and help create that classic pavlova texture: a crisp outer shell with a soft, marshmallow-like centre. Without them, you’d end up with something closer to a standard meringue, which is crisp all the way through rather than soft in the middle.

Can I make pavlova the day before a party?

Yes, the meringue base is best made the day before, or even further ahead, and left to cool completely in the oven overnight. Just don’t add the cream and fruit until shortly before you’re serving it.

Why has my pavlova gone soggy or started weeping?

This is almost always down to sugar that hasn’t fully dissolved during whisking. Add it more slowly next time, a tablespoon at a time, and test the mixture between your fingers for grittiness before moving on to the next step.

Can you freeze a pavlova base?

You can, though it’s a little riskier than simply storing it in an airtight container, as meringue can pick up moisture in the freezer and go slightly sticky once thawed. If you do freeze it, wrap it tightly once fully cold and thaw it at room temperature before filling.

Why did my pavlova crack?

A little cracking is entirely normal and won’t affect the taste at all. More significant cracking is usually down to the oven being slightly too hot or the pavlova cooling too quickly once it comes out. Letting it cool slowly inside the switched-off oven makes the biggest difference.

Liked this Mary Berry Recipe? Explore my takes on other recipes from the queen of cooking and baking!

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Browse my full Mary Berry recipe collection here!

Becky

Meet the award-nominated UK lifestyle blogger behind Spirited Puddle Jumper – a mum of three living in South East London! Becky shares the real ups and downs of family life, parenting tips, and lifestyle inspiration, proving that being a mum doesn’t mean you stop being fun or having other interests! Follow along for honest insights into UK family life and opinions on a whole range of topics, from travel and food, to beauty reviews, home and DIY, business and health and wellness.