Another pavlova ‘inventor’

Press, 12 July 1985, Page 11

Another pavlova ‘inventor’

Australia names Bert Sachse

KEN COATES serves up a second helping of New Zealand’s national dish.

The Aussies appear to be ahead of the Kiwis in the great pavlova mystery (“The Press,” July 6) simply because they produced a man who claimed to have whipped up the world’s first. Bert Sachse created his pavlova in 1935 when he was chef at the long-gone Esplanade Hotel, one of Perth’s top three hotels, according to a magazine article unearthed by a Christchurch woman, Miss Greta Spriggs. Bert, who started out as a shearers’ cook, claimed that he was asked to make something unique as a cake or sweet, writes Hugh Schmitt in “Woman’s Day” of August 27, 1973. After a month of experimentation and many failures, he lit upon the recipe which survives today. Although Bert Sachse had a great respect for the Russian ballerina Pavlova, he said it was the house manager of the Esplanade, Harry Nairn, who named the creation.

The tone of the magazine article is brashly Australian, the pav being described as “essentially homegrown Aussie tucker.” Bert says he never ceases to be amazed at how popular his gastronomic brainchild has become — not only in Australia, but also in England, Europe, and the United States. (Maybe he didn’t have the gall to add, New Zealand.) Just how the dish, termed “a crusty, meringue-like sweet-cake topped with whipped cream and (usually) passionfruit,” should have been named pavlova in 1935 is not clear.

Perhaps the word had filtered across the Tasman from New Zealand where it was being used at least for the preceding six years, or maybe Mr Nairn had been on a visit to this country. The Australian article recalls the legend that the famed Russian ballerina was visiting Perth at the time and that the Jchef, Sachse, created it for her and named it accordingly. Not so, said Bert Sachse. Aged 75 at the time of the interview, he could not even recall whether Pavlova was indeed visiting Perth at the time. “All I know is that Mrs Elsie Ploughman, the proprietress, and Harry Nairn, the house manager, wanted me to make something different and unique as a cake or sweet,” he recalled. “I had always regretted that the meringue cake was invariably too hard and crusty, so I set out to create something that would have a crunchy top and would cut like a marshmallow.”

He thought his “invention” (a “Woman’s Day” quote) would be a seven-day wonder. Yet today, nearly 40 years later, it is almost an institution in Australia, says the magazine. Bert later moved to Perth’s Palace Hotel where he was head chef and when the public heard that he was in charge of its kitchens, orders for pavlovas flooded in. “Back in 1935 when I first made them, pavlovas were served at afternoon tea parties at the Esplanade,” he says. “A lot of eastern states people stayed at the hotel, so I suppose that’s how it spread over Australia.”

Bert Sachse had a chequered career. He was born in Kalgoorlie’s twin city of Boulder and early in life worked on the goldfields. As a young man he pioneered a wheat farm at Kununoppin, married and raised a family of five children, four daughters and a son. In 1926, the struggling farmer found it was costing him more to produce a bushel of wheat than he was getting for it. He and his wife, Mary, and the kids just walked off the farm.

They had seven hungry mouths to feed so he and Mary started a restaurant-pie shop at Mullewa, 300 miles north-east of Perth.

“Mary taught me to cook, and one day a shearers’ team passed through town,” he remembers. “They needed a cook, so I went with them on the station run.” Through the grim days of the depression, the farmer-turned-cook slaved over an oven for shearing gangs and droving teams, earning up to $2B a week — big money in those days. Bert stuck at it, and later worked in top-class restaurants and hotels. “I wouldn’t work anywhere

where the chef was no good at his job.” His skill got him his job at the prestigious Esplanade, or “The Nade” as it was known by locals. He became known as “the pavlova man” and worked at Perth’s toniest golf club, the Lake Karrinyup Country Club. At 44, he joined the R.A.A.F. and became a sergeant cooking instructor. Before the war ended, he was given a citation for his service to Air Force gastronomy. Because of the shortage of eggs and cream, Bert’s pavlova faded in wartime, but his postwar pavs came up as crunchy and toothsome as ever. The creator remembers a pavlova salesman coming to him at the hotel and trying to sell him the cakes he invented. The chef told the salesman: “I invented the pavlova, and I can make them with my eyes closed. But good luck to you if you can make them commercially.” He described the ingredients and the method of making his pavs as simple, but the cooking as tricky. He believed it could be cooked properly only in a gas oven. Here is the chefs recipe devised (after many failures) in 1935: Ingredients: The whites of six eggs Six ounces of sugar (a heaped cup) An ounce of cornflour Just under a dessertspoonful of vinegar A few drops of vanilla essence A good pinch of cream of tartar One third of a pint of cream

Three or four passionfruit Method: Put the egg whites, cream of tartar,, and vanilla essence into a bowl and beat well until the mixture becomes firm and snowy. Mix the sugar and cornflour and fold the mixture into the eggwhite mixture, taking the spoon to the bottom of the mixing-bowl each time.

As soon as the sugar and cornflour are incorporated with the eggwhite mixture, add the vinegar and mix in. 7 > ;

Line the bottom and sides of a 7Ms in to Bin fairly deep cake tin with brown paper and sprinkle two dessertspoonsful of both arrowroot and sugar over the paper, saving a little to sprinkle over the top. Pile the mixture which should be fairly stiff into the middle of the cake tin and sprinkle some arrowroot and sugar mixture over the top.

Turn the gas oven on full heat for 15 or 20 minutes before putting the pavlova in the oven, then turn the heat down as low as it will go. Put the cake tray on the half-way shelf.

If the pavlova shows a faint tinge of brown after 15 minutes in the oven, the temperature is correct and the cake should be cooked after an hour and a half.

However, if the cake starts to go too brown, turn the oven off completely. Relight after 15 minutes and keep an eye on the pavlova.

After 1% hours the pavlova should be biscuit-brown with a crunchy crust.

Turn it upside-down, take the paper off the bottom (which is now the top) and cover with whipped cream (unsweetened) and squeeze the passionfruit over the top of the cream.

A final tip: cut the cake with a hot, wet knife.