Cauliflower Soup

If you’re anything like me, you regularly come home from the farmers’ market with far more than you can eat. So much freshness, so many deals and all of it so hard to resist. Plus you never know what will have vanished by the following week according to Mother Nature’s whims. One has to get their fill while they can.

At the moment, I have a something purple in my crisper that needs finishing up – whether it’s a little turnip or a kohlrabi, I’m not sure.

There are also a couple of pints of blueberries and a bowl of cherries in there that are nearing the end of their rope. Neither are tempting as far as eating out of hand, but that’s where the fun begins.

The cherries can be pitted and chopped, then thrown into muffins or something a little more decadent. As for the blueberries, I looked them up in my small-batch preserving book and found a fabulous sounding recipe for Maple Blueberry Conserve with Walnuts. In their newfound form, my ailing berries will be fantastic mixed with yogurt or spread on a piece of hot toast.

This soup is a favourite I discovered last summer when a large head of cauliflower was biding its time in my fridge. It serves six to eight and comes from Amelia Saltsman’s The Santa Monica Farmers' Market Cookbook. It freezes beautifully and is warm and soothing come the cool fall months.

I have made no adjustments here, as the recipe stands up perfectly on its own. It's a great way to showcase some of those fresh herbs you may be growing on your porch, too. The best part about it is the peas, a sweet, happy burst when you get one in a mouthful. They can still be found at the markets if you look carefully.

If you don't have an immersion blender, I can't recommend one highly enough. (If you're not sure what I'm talking about, a Google image search should clear it up). I use mine all the time, mainly to make salad dressings and puree soups. They clean up so much faster than a regular blender or food processor and, when it does come to hot soup, there is none of the scariness involved in transferring it from pot to blender.

Indian-Style Cauliflower Soup with English Peas

2 tbsp canola or other mild cooking oil

1 tsp cumin seeds

1 tsp ground turmeric

1/2 tsp ground coriander

1/2 tsp ground cumin

1/8 to 1/2 tsp red pepper flakes

1 tsp kosher or sea salt

1 onion, chopped

1 large clove garlic, finely hopped

1 tbsp minced fresh ginger

1 large head cauliflower (about 2 pounds), cut into small florets

1/2 cup water

4 to 6 cups chicken or vegetable stock

1 cup shelled English peas (about 1 pound in the pod)

1/2 lime

small handful each of fresh mint, chives and cilantro, chopped

In a wide pot, heat 1 tablespoon of the oil over medium heat. Add the cumin seeds and stir until brown, 1 to 2 minutes. Add the ground spices, pepper flakes and salt and cook until fragrant, 30 to 60 seconds. Reduce the heat to medium-low, add the remaining tablespoon of oil and the onion, and sauté until translucent and soft, 5 to 7 minutes. Add the garlic and ginger and cook 1 minute. Stir in the cauliflower and water, cover, raise the heat to medium, and cook for 5 minutes. Add 4 cups stock, re-cover, and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to low and simmer gently until very tender, 15 to 20 minutes.

Use an immersion blender or regular blender (if so, do it in batches) to puree the soup, leaving a little texture. Add the remaining 2 cups stock as needed to achieve the consistency of heavy cream. Return the soup to medium-low heat, add the peas, cover and simmer until the peas are tender but still bright green, about 5 minutes. Give the soup a squeeze of lime and serve with a sprinkling of the herbs.

Savouring Stratford

Stratford is like that girl in high school -- the one that was pretty, smart, athletic, and everything else endearing.

Every time I go there, I start thinking it's time to pick up and move. There's the obvious thriving theatre and arts scene, but there's also gorgeous scenery, quaint neighbourhoods, and, thanks in part to the chef school, fantastic restaurants and great places to get good food.

Already a hotspot with theatre-goers, Stratford is trying to play up its reputation as a go-to spot for foodies. New projects this summer offer proof -- the town has published a culinary guide for visitors and developed a program that helps discerning eaters identify which restaurants use food from local producers.

They've also created an "Epicurean Trek" through Perth County, one that's well worth taking. About 20 spots are featured on the map, which is featured in the culinary guide (or can be downloaded at www.wecometostratford.com). Makes for a great little daytrip for those of us opting for "staycations" this summer.

You'd never make it to all 20 spots in a day, but you can tailor make your own trek according to whether you feel like doing it by car or by foot or if you'd rather focus on farms or on shops. The best part: each stop guarantees samples.

I recently hit Stratford myself and did a mini-trek, merely scratching the surface. A few highlights:

- Kitchen Connaisseur, right on the Ontario Street strip, a neat little specialty shop that sells their own line of sauces, oils, vinegars, condiments and so on. Loads of tasters are available, which allowed me to discover something to-die-for called Maple Cappuccino sauce. The best part is, once you've tried a sauce, fawned over it, and bought a jar to take home, you can hit up the shop's website for ecipes for what to do with it. (My Maple Cappuccino, for example, could be slathered on cedar planked salmon or used to make creme brulee).

- Soiled Reputation, an organic farm just outside of Stratford proper, manned by Antony John, formerly of Food TV's The Manic Organic and a favourite supplier of chefs from Toronto (like Jamie Kennedy) and elsewhere. John is an engaging, knowledgeable guy and more than willing to chat about ecologically sound growing, birds, and most anything else food-related. Some of his vegetables can be bought on site, including his salad greens -- a work of art, containing everything from a variety of lettuces to a mish-mash of herbs and edible weeds.

- Rheo Thomson Candies and Chocolate Barr's Candies, both downtown and both worth visiting if you have any semblance of a sweet tooth. The latter has been in town for nearly 40 years and all their candies and chocolates (including the famous Mint Smoothie) are made on site. Ditto for Chocolate Barr's, owned by Derek Barr and his wife Jacqueline. Barr got his start at Rheo Thomson's and then branched out on his own. Don't leave without getting yourself a salted caramel or a chili pepper truffle.

- Tea Leaves Tasting Bar, which is run by a most lovely, most knowledgeable woman named Karen Hartwick, who is a "tea sommelier," and one of only a couple of people in Canada with her particular credentials. You can just sample and shop, or you can book a group tasting or seminar ahead of time (a tea and chocolate tasting, for example, or a make-your-own herbal session). Hartwick also runs a B&B should you feel like making a weekend out of it.

There's no shortage of places to lunch, whether you pick up the fixings for a picnic at your various stops or decide to sit on a patio someplace. I dined at County Food Co., which opened last summer and sources most of its food from Perth County. Choosing something from their salad bar was not easy; I opted for a roasted beet salad, another one with the very first of the summer's tomatoes and a third that consisted merely of freshly picked carrots tossed in a honey-dijon glaze with fresh thyme. Blessed summertime.

If you do head out trekking, be sure to check the guide as many spots only welcome visitors during specified times. (Farmers, for example, do have other jobs to get to). Happy staycationing!

Food, Inc.

The irony is not lost on me that I've pulled into a Walmart parking lot to chat with Elise Pearlstein, one-half of the producing team responsible for the documentary Food, Inc.

I was headed north on Highway 85 when my phone rang and the superstore in St. Jacob's was the quickest place to park and pull out my laptop so the two of us could discuss the film, which takes a critical (and rather scary) look at the way America's food system works (and opens for a six night run at Waterloo's Princess Cinema tonight).

Adding to the Walmart irony is the notion that the St. Jacob's store is a stone's throw from a very popular, well-established farmers' market in a community largely populated by Mennonites, who have a reputation for embracing simple living.

I try explaining the concept to Pearlstein, who lives in L.A., including the part about how the Mennonites themselves patronize the WalMart. She has a good laugh, but she's not surprised. Nothing about North American consumption surprises her these days.

The idea for Food, Inc. came about when Robert Kenner, her producing partner and the film's director, read Eric Schlosser's book Fast Food Nation and initially thought of doing a film version.

Ideas evolved as funding came together and, says Pearlstein, "Rob realized that all food had really become fast food. Shlosser talked specifically about the fast food industry but the same suppliers that got huge from fast food are supplying most of the food in supermarkets."

In the end, Food, Inc. uncovers the seedy side of America's corporate food industry, complete with plenty of scary facts:

- The average American eats over 200 pounds of meat annually.

- America's top four beef packers control more than 80 per cent of the market.

- Thirty per cent of the U.S. land base is devoted to growing corn, an ingredient that can be found in everything from ketchup and salad dressing to batteries and diapers.

- Thirteen slaughterhouses handle the majority of beef in the U.S. (though there were thousands in the 1970s) and the largest slaughterhouse in the world, in Tar Heel, North Carolina, kills 32,000 hogs per day.

- Genetically modified ingredients can be found in 70 per cent of processed foods.

It was a daunting film to make, said Pearlstein, because they found the industry completely shrouded in secrecy. Though they aimed to look at all different sides of the issue, the big food corporations were completely unwilling to participate. Farmers, especially those contracted to these companies, were also fearful of going on the record.

"There's a very tight grip," explains Pearlstein of the corporations' power over the farmers (who, the film says, invest $500,000 in their farms on average only to make $18,000 annually).

"I thought, 'God. I'm in America? In the Midwest?' Just to think there is that fear, and seeing how extensive corporate power translates into threat against freedom of speech. That's not specific to food, really, it's just a cautionary tale of what happens when companies become too powerful."

Farmers weren't the only ones who needed to be careful about what they said. Pearlstein said the production team had to work extensively with a first amendment attorney in order to avoid future litigation.(Remember the Oprah/Texas beef industry lawsuit in the late '90s?)

"I've never had that feeling in 15 years of documentary making," Pearlstein said. "And it's not nuclear weapons or government secrets we're talking about. It's food! The combination of the litigious nature of the industry and the subject you're talking about just doesn't really compute."

The film does offer some hope. Organics are the fastest growing sector of the food industry, jumping 20 per cent annually. And people are beginning to ask questions.

"For a variety of reasons, I feel like there's a resurgence of interest in farming and awareness of where our food comes from," Pearlstein told me, adding that Food, Inc. premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival late last summer in the midst of Maple Leaf Foods' listeria outbreak.

"Food-born illness doesn't discriminate. Obesity is everywhere. This is becoming a mainstream interest. And it's a non-partisan issue. It's not something that you can deny is a problem."

Food, Inc. premieres at The Princess tonight at 7 p.m. and plays nightly through Thursday with an additional afternoon screening on Sunday. See www.princesscinemas.com for more details.

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Ribs

Everybody has their own tips, tricks and sworn secrets when it comes to making ribs. This weekend, the experts will be duking it out in Victoria Park at the Downtown Kitchener Ribfest & Craft Beer Show, all of them trying to prove that theirs are the tenderest and the tastiest.

Many of the Kitchener fest's "ribbers" hail from London, and, for no apparent reason, most of are Greek. Some of them spend their whole summer on the ribfest circuit, going from one city to the next.

In an effort to pick up a few pointers, I recently chatted with George Kefalidis of Crabby's BBQ, last year's winner here in Kitchener for Best Ribs Overall. While some believe that true ribs require some gnawing, Kefalidis says he guarantees nothing less than fall-off-the-bone tenderness.

"I say to watch it every time, because maybe it's gonna fall off the bone and make your shoes very messy," he laughs.

Here are a few of Kefalidis's best suggestions:

- Start with good meat. "All my meat is Ontario meat," he says. "I try to support our local farmers." Buy ribs fresh from your favourite butcher or from the farmers' market.

- Never boil ribs. And never start cooking on the barbecue right off the bat, otherwise, says Kefalidis, "they're never going to be tender. Bake the ribs, then give the final touch on the barbecue. Put lots of sauce on at the end and caramelize it. Then you have a totally different taste."

- For optimum barbecue flavour, use charcoal or firewood over gas or propane. Kefalidis favours cherry, apple or pear wood to give a natural fruity, smoky taste. He never opts for liquid smoke. (You can make homemade woodchip smokers for your gas barbie at home -- look online for tips).

Kefalidis uses a liquid marinade made with a tomato base and cranberry juice, which he says tenderizes the meat really well. He bakes his ribs right in the marinade and then uses an oil-based sauce that also involves whisky. (Most people, he says, opt for a ketchup-based sauce).

Like I said, everyone's got their tricks. My mother-in-law's ribs are some of the best I've had. I don't know the exact recipe, though I've seen her making them many a time up at the cottage. Something to do with a can of Coke. She also layers thin slices of lemon across the rib racks that get so perfectly caramelized by the end of the long, slow cooking process that you can actually eat them, rind and all, along with your ribs. Heavenly. I don't even think the barbecue is involved, come to think of it -- just the oven.

Here's a tried-and-true recipe for ribs that I've made and loved, courtesy of my former volleyball teammate Angry Johnny (who is actually not angry at all). He got it from The Chez Piggy Cookbook, a collection of recipes from the great restaurant of the same name in Kingston.

This recipe suggests cooking ribs in the oven at 300F for two hours, but you could also try it lower and slower, say for three hours at 200F, for even greater tenderness. It's also worth pulling the silvery membrane off the back of the rib racks to allow for better flavour penetration and less toughness.

Vary the amount of chopped chilies according to how spicy you like things. As for the beer tips (read below), while I'm not sure whether they come from Angry Johnny or from Chez Piggy, I say it's worth following the instructions.

Ribfest runs from noon to 10 p.m. today and again tomorrow from noon to 6 p.m. See www.kitchenerribandbeerfest.com for further details.

Ly's Grilled Fire Ribs

1/4 cup lemon juice

1 cup water

4 lbs pork ribs, fresh from market

1 cup ketchup

1/4 cup beer (drink the rest)

1/4 cup molasses

2 tbsp oyster sauce

1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce

1/4 cup brown sugar

2 tbsp chopped garlic

2 tbsp chopped chilies

Preheat oven to 300F.

Mix lemon juice and water and set aside.

Bake ribs in oven, uncovered, for two hours, brushing them every 30 minutes with the lemon/water mixture.

Mix remaining ingredients in sauce pan and simmer for eight minutes. Open another beer.

Preheat barbecue to medium. Brush ribs with sauce and barbecue 20 minutes, turning every five minutes and brushing with more sauce.

Guilty Pleasures

Regular readers of mine have, I think, become accustomed to reading about the local, the fresh and the relatively healthy in this space.

Indeed, there is nothing that gets me excited quite so much as fresh ingredients. Minutes ago, I unpacked a bag of organic produce into my fridge, squealing over every item, each so lush and colourful I wanted to fetch my camera and take pictures of it.

It's easy to cook and eat well in these parts and most of my time and energy with this column goes into finding people, places and ingredients that allow us achieve that.

But today I'm venturing over to the dark side. Purists, avert your eyes. I have some no good eating habits and I'm going to reveal them. Then I'm going to corrupt you (or at least try) with a recipe. C'mon, now: find me a person that doesn't occasionally indulge in something they'd be embarrassed to be spotted eating and I'll find you a liar.

Though I've always had my guilty pleasures, being pregnant has given me both no excuse (what worse time than to fill your body with processed, prepared foods) and every excuse (I'm gaining weight anyway, and might as well get these cravings met and out of the way) to eat naughty things that I otherwise try quite hard to ignore.

Such as? Well, Kraft Dinner, which I love to the point that I can't even keep an emergency stash in the house because it would never last to see an emergency. I also love Tater Tots, HP Sauce and those bags of assorted Peek Freans sandwich biscuits (you know, with the round ones with the sugared jelly centre -- my husband and I once stood for what seemed like minutes and stared longingly at a bag of them in the supermarket, waiting for one of us to break down and put it in the cart).

Other vices: Alphagetti, Cheez Whiz (on toast, preferably rye) and ketchup chips. And Helluva Good Dip on ruffly chips at the cottage is another fave, one that inevitably gives me gut rot because I cannot find the off-switch.

This particular recipe is for something I saw the queen of Southern kitsch, Paula Deen, making on Food TV. I immediately looked up the recipe, printed it, and emailed my mom to tell her I was bringing my own cake to my forthcoming birthday dinner.

I made this dirty little treat in about 15 minutes and everyone licked it up, including my brother, who, hours earlier, proclaimed that nothing ruins an ice cream sundae like banana. Paula says this recipe feeds 10 to 12. Some flexibility is required because you're probably unlikely (as I was) to find jars of sauce the size she has suggested and will end up using some guesswork. In fact, I winged it and made a smaller 9x9 pan version and it worked out just fine. This isn't rocket science, after all.

I made two official adjustments here. Paula uses "milk chocolate covered toffee bits" but I substituted salted peanuts because I thought a contrast to all the other sickly sweet ingredients was in order. Ms. Deen also wishes us to top the whole shebang off with "nondairy whipped topping," which you and I know as Cool Whip. That's one low I won't sink to. I whipped up some of the real thing instead.

Don't worry, there's plenty left to feel guilty about. I heard on the radio this morning that if one knew how maraschino cherries were made, they'd never eat them again.

Frozen Banana Split

24 ice-cream sandwiches, unwrapped

6 medium bananas, peeled and thinly sliced

1 12-ounce (350 mL) jar hot-fudge sauce

1 12-ounce (350 mL) jar butterscotch sauce

1 12-ounce (350 mL) jar maraschino cherries, drained and finely chopped

8 ounces (225 g) salty peanuts

1 250 mL container whipping cream, whipped to soft peaks and sweetened with a tablespoon or so of sugar

coloured sprinkles, if you're so inclined

Line a 13x9 inch baking pan with aluminum foil, leaving some overhang. Place half of ice-cream sandwiches evenly over bottom of pan, completely covering bottom and cutting sandwiches to fit, if necessary. Top evenly with banana slices. Pour hot fudge sauce over bananas. Top with cherries and half of the peanuts and pour butterscotch evenly on top. Layer with remaining ice cream sandwiches and spread whipped cream over the top. Sprinkle with remaining peanuts and coloured sprinkles. Cover and freeze for at least four hours. Remove from pan using foil handles. Cut into squares and serve.

100 Mile Dieters

While many readers will be perusing this newspaper over a cup of steaming hot coffee or a mug of Earl Grey, a good number of folks in the region will today wake up, hit the kitchen in search of a hot bevvy, and then remember the new, decaffeinated normal.

When Waterloo's Healing Centre for Naturopathic Medicine held a meeting in late May to see if they could round up 100 people to eat food solely grown within 100 miles of their home for 100 days this summer, naturopaths Rachel Vandenberg and Michael Torreiter weren't sure they'd find enough enthusiasts.

Nevermind that. They had to turn people away from the info session and then schedule a second. In the end, a few hundred people have committed to three-plus months of local eating.

And while they won't be indulging in margaritas on the deck, popcorn at the movies or ice cream at the DQ this summer, I suspect these folks will instead discover the joys of homemade popsicles, minty herbal tea and potato chips made the old-fashioned way. Along with that, no doubt, will come a new appreciation for just how much effort -- and organization -- is required when you can't eat anything pre-packaged.

I thought it would be fun to follow a few people to see how they fare on the 100 mile diet. Today, you'll meet three sets of participants and find out how they've been readying themselves for Day 1. I'll check back in with them in late August, at Day 50, and again on Day 100, as they celebrate Thanksgiving.

Perhaps those of you indulging in all things from all places this summer will gain new perspective on what grows within 161 kilometres of your doorstep. As for those of you also taking part, maybe you'll find inspiration and ideas. No doubt, you'll also find a couple of friendly faces with whom you can commiserate.

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Elliot Fung and Amy Poth-Fung and sons, Spencer, 3-1/2 and Grayson, 15 months.

Elliot works at RIM and sits on Wilmot Township Council; Amy is a teacher in Ayr. Part of what made the challenge doable for this family is that much of the 100 days would fall while Amy was on summer holidays and able to dedicate some time and effort to sourcing and preparing food.

Where: New Dundee

Already craving: "Amy will miss olive oil," says Elliot. "We go through a lot of olive oil. And we eat a lot of bananas in this house so that'll be tough."

How they got ready: Doubling their backyard vegetable garden, clearing out the pantry and lots of research on the internet.

Happy discoveries: Lyndon Fish Hatcheries is just blocks away and Elliot drives past Herrle's Country Farm Market en route to work every day.

Potential snags: "I don't think the kids will notice a difference because they eat what we eat," says Elliot. "But if we're at the cottage and everyone goes for an ice cream, Amy and I won't but Spencer won't understand why he can't. We'll probably just let him have it. We're not too concerned about that."

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Maureen Whyte

A 44-year-old singleton with a very busy lifestyle, Maureen works full-time for the region, part-time for a transport company, takes a couple of courses and volunteers for two organizations. As such, she's been known to eat a 10 p.m. dinner or two of homemade nachos.

Where: Kitchener

Already craving: Martinis with olives, freshly ground pepper. Also: "I'm psyching myself up for no tea."

How she got ready: A veggie patch in the backyard, an herb bed -- including a curry plant -- and creating some room in the freezer.

Happy discoveries: Oakridge Acres Country Meat Store in Ayr, grapeseed oil from Joseph's Winery in Niagara and flour from Tavistock's Oak Manor Farms.

Potential snags: Family dinners. "My mom's not quite understanding why I'd want to do this. Instead of going there, she'll just have to come to my house."

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Anita and Brian Wagner and sons Michael, 16, and Nick, 14

Anita, an RN at an oral surgeon's office, is the only one in the family excited for the challenge. She's always been interested in local meat and dairy products and doesn't feel it will be a huge stretch. The men in the family are less enthusiastic. Husband Brian, who works as a manager for a company that supplies Toyota, will be fine as long as he's eating food prepared at home by Anita. Same goes for the teenagers. When asked why they're participating, the boys mumble, "'Cuz Mom's making us."

Where: Kitchener

Already craving: Twice-a-day coffee and smoothies that include pineapple juice and almond milk for Anita. The boys will miss Cookie Crisp cereal, chocolate bars, Pepsi ("But it says, 'Made in Mississauga!' ")and their morning glass of OJ.

How they got ready: Stocking up through Bailey's Local Foods, making room in the freezer and buying a pasta maker.

Happy discoveries: Local health food stores, Our Farmer's Choice on Courtland Avenue in Kitchener and the farmers' markets.

Potential snags: "I have no idea what he eats all day," says Anita of Brian, who's often dines out on the go. At the very least, he'll be eating locally in the morning and at dinner.

Strawberries

Part of me said to write about something a little less predictable than strawberries this week. But a bigger part thinks that at a time when those glorious, plump red berries are at their peak, you, like me, want new ideas for how to eat them.

I'm pretty certain there is no other produce item that Ontarians anticipate more than the strawberry. All of us have great memories around them, be they from strawberry socials, jam-making with grandma or shortcake on the back deck.

When I was in my early-20s, I helped run a summer daycamp for four to seven-year-olds and I'll always remember our berry picking outing. It was one of those perfect July days and each tyke was given a styrofoam cup to fill with their pickings. I am not sure any berries ever made it into the cups, though, so busy were these kids stuffing the warm, sun-soaked fruit into their mouths. 

Each one of them boarded the bus for home freckled from the sun, blissfully stuffed, covered in red stains (even on their bums, from having plunked down for a rest in the patch) and totally tuckered out. The bus smelled like a candy factory.

Every year I plan to slather on the sunscreen and go strawberry picking. Without fail, though, I instead end up dashing into my favourite berry farm on the fly to buy a pre-picked flat or two. I'm not sure this will be my year to hit the fields, either, because, at eight months pregnant, I can barely tie my shoes. But there's always next year. Having a ten-month-old in tow will no doubt add a whole new dimension to the experience. And present a prime new opportunity to create memories.

So now for that recipe. Well, pavlova's nothing new, but it's the perfect way to showcase fresh berries and a change from the ubiquitous shortcake. I hosted a baby shower for a friend last week and thought this would be the perfect way to end the meal. This cake is meant to feed 12 but six of us (half of whom were preggers) easily ate the whole thing. C'mon, it's pretty light.

This is a combination of one recipe I found in Bon Appetit magazine and another from The Complete Canadian Living Cookbook -- with a few tweaks of my own. 

The Bon Appetit recipe actually included a tablespoon of crushed pink peppercorns in their meringue, stirred in just before baking. This gives your meringue a lovely floral flavour. I planned to try this but discovered that the pink peppercorns in my cupboard were bordering on moldy (this at 9 p.m.) so I had to forgo them but I encourage you to give it a whirl. For a unique twist, you could also use basil in place of mint for the syrup. 

I recommend splurging on the vanilla bean because it gives unparalleled flavour. The rest of the ingredients here aren't going to set you back too much so it's easier to justify. 

Pavlova with Strawberries, Vanilla Cream and Mint Syrup

Meringue:

6 egg whites

1 cup sugar, divided

1-1/2 tbsp cornstarch

2 tsp white wine vinegar

Vanilla Cream:

1 cup chilled whipping cream

1 tbsp sugar

1/2 vanilla bean, split lengthwise

1 pint strawberries, hulled and quartered or sliced

Mint Syrup:

1/4 cup light corn syrup

1/4 cup packed, fresh mint leaves

2 tbsp water

Line baking sheet with parchment paper. Using a nine-inch round cake pan as a guide, mark circle on paper and turn over. 

Position rack in centre of oven and preheat to 275F. Using electric mixer, beat egg whites to soft peaks. Add 3/4 cup sugar, beating to medium firm peaks. Mix remaining 1/4 cup sugar with cornstarch and gradually beat in. Continue beating until very stiff. Stir in white wine vinegar. 

Spoon mixture onto prepared circle. Form into a nest shape with a hollow about 12 cm wide and sides about 3 cm higher than hollow. Bake for 1-1/4 to 1-1/2 hours. Turn off oven and let cool in oven until completely dry (about an hour). Slide onto serving plate.

Whip cream with sugar. Scrape in seeds from vanilla bean. Spoon into meringue nest, leaving the raised side bare. Arrange berries on top of cream. 

For the syrup, blanch mint leaves in boiling water for 30 seconds and squeeze dry. Puree with corn syrup and water, then cover and chill at least two hours to allow the flavours to develop. Bring to room temperature and strain through sieve. Drizzle the syrup over the whole pavlova or, better yet, on and around each piece after you plate it. Garnish with more mint leaves, if you like.