By the time Christmas Day arrives, I want dessert to do what dessert does best. Bring a little theatre without demanding my last ounce of energy. This berry wreath pavlova looks wonderfully celebratory, a crackly ring of meringue piled with cream, berries, chopped figs and a tart redcurrant drizzle. And yet it feels light enough to follow even the most enthusiastic roast. It’s festive, yes, but more importantly it’s generous, effortless in spirit, and exactly the sort of sweet ending Christmas deserves.

This berry wreath pavlova is my kind of festive centrepiece: dramatic, airy, and quietly forgiving. It arrives to the table like a snow-dusted crown, and yet it’s made from the simplest of things, egg whites, sugar and a little patience.

And the shape? That wreath isn’t just for looks. It makes serving easier (no nervous slicing), it gives you a natural trench for cream, and it invites people to tear off a cloud-soft portion with a crisp edge… and then go back for a second “tiny” piece.

Why a wreath, not a mound?

A classic pavlova has its place, of course, but the wreath feels properly Christmas. It sits there like edible decoration, and it gives you more of what everyone really wants: that contrast between the crackly shell and the marshmallow middle. Plus, because it’s a ring, the topping spreads out generously. Every slice gets cream. Every slice gets fruit. Nobody ends up with the sad, bare bit that tastes faintly of regret.

The berries, the figs, and that little redcurrant moment

I keep the topping in the berry family, raspberries, strawberries, blueberries, because they look like jewels against the white. Then, for a slightly grown-up sweetness, I add chopped figs. They bring a soft, honeyed depth that makes the whole thing feel richer, even though the dessert still tastes bright and light.

Now, the detail that makes this berry wreath pavlova feel intentional rather than simply “topped”: a quick frozen redcurrant drizzle. It’s sharp and glossy and just tart enough to cut through the cream. More importantly, it gives you that festive finish, the kind of crimson streaks you’d swear were planned, rather than the happy result of warming berries in a pan while pretending you’re not watching the roast potatoes.

Timing, without the stress

I make the wreath earlier in the day, or even the night before, and let it cool slowly. That gentle cooling does two important things: it keeps the shell crisp, and it helps prevent cracking. Even so, if it cracks (and it might), I refuse to see it as a flaw. Cream exists for a reason, and berries are excellent at disguising the truth.

Then, when you’re ready to serve, you do the best part: you pile on the cream, you scatter the berries in generous clusters, you tuck in the figs, and you let the redcurrant drizzle fall where it wants. The whole thing takes minutes, and yet it looks like Christmas on a plate.

Serving notes (and the bit everyone remembers)

Serve it straight away, while the edges still snap and the centre still yields. It’s glorious with coffee, and it’s even better when someone returns to the fridge later and eats a stolen slice in silence, standing up, fork in hand. Not that I’m confessing to anything.

If you’re after a dessert that feels festive but not fussy, this berry wreath pavlova is it. Crisp, creamy, bright with fruit, and just messy enough to be irresistible. If you enjoy this sort of pud, then chances are you’d love to make my Orange and Poppy Seed Cake, a light Citrus bake perfect for the Winter!