2013 Mini blog. Week 2 - Bread

Bye bye: YOU DIDN'T HEED THE WARNING, LUCY!  And lo, it was inevitable. Even Sue joined Paul and Mary in gently suggesting that spending four hours on a simple round loaf with tomatoes plonked on top might not quite stop the show or seal the deal, but Lucy plowed on – her tomato and garlic bread looked tasty enough, but not a twirl, plait or animal shape in sight.  Booooring.

Ma baker: Ruby Ruby Ruby! Looking ever shell-shocked in her hipster grandad cardigan. Cue a few bitchy cutaway shots of Kimberley, as she tried her best to look rilly rilly pleased for her new pal Rubes, whilst internally monologuing: 'This is an outrage! I made a blimmin' Middle East Crisis solving peacebread! How's a doughy peacock going to deal with the UN's issues? That's it! Sod this effortless poise and total control, next week I'm busting out the sympathy-inducing stress tears and some effing edible sparkles.'

Living up to glorious middle-class stereotype: Lucy will take Rob's mushroom-foraging and Howard's watercolours-by-the-lake and raise you 'growing her own yeast using an apple from her garden'. Hang on... She grew her own whaaa?! From a whaaa?! Wowsers. Time to step up, bakers. That's one middle-class legacy to live up to.

Baking craving: Pretty much all the showstoppers. Yes, even Ali's chocolate and tikka ying and yang loaf. Tikka – yum, chocolate – yum. What's not to like?  And let's not forget Frances' matchsticks/breadsticks, complete with cardboard matchbox and blowtorched chocolate matchheads. Flavour schmavour – they looked brilliant.

Perkins' food history: Muffin men were a real thing – loud wacky characters who wandered the streets trying garner attention and money. Basically, the chuggers of their day, until the police were invented and ASBOed the lot of them for excessive bell ringing.

Blue plaster alert: Injury free this week, but quite a few breadsticks dropped on the floor. I get the feeling you can't apply the three second rule when you're on camera.

Mel and Sue-watch: Not their most supportive of weeks, as Mel tried to kill Rob with a laser whilst Sue took an elbow to Howard's muffin. Oh, on that note - more baking innuendo please. My Nice Buns Bingo Card is looking a bit empty.

Next week: Just Desserts. Trifles, floating islands and petit fours (apart from Glenn who is planning ENORME ones).

2013 Mini blog. Week 1.

Bye bye: Lovely lovely Dylan Moran-alike Toby. *sigh*  Using salt in the technical challenge was one thing, but, for Paul and Mary, over-baking his choc cake was a mess up too far.  Toby just about held back the tears, but it was still very upsetting, especially when he threatened to quit baking.  (Before he remembered the upside of baking: CAKE.)

Ma Baker: Space engineer Rob – a mild man who gave but a brief smile of acknowledgement at the Star Baker announcement.  However, it was clear that, on the inside, he was performing a full-on Brazilian samba of victory complete with feather headdress and bejeweled party outfit.

Living up to glorious middle-class stereotype: Lucy was inspired by cardamom after a trip to Injyah and grows her own rhubarb.  Of course she was/does.  However, she also turned out to be rather cool and looks bloody excellent in a denim jacket, so not quite the GROLIE I'd feared. Yay!

Special mention: Glenn’s husband. BOOM. #equalmarriage

Baking craving: a fairly disappointing selection perhaps – a lack of general finesse and too many messily decorated giant cakes for me. (Though, can a cake ever be too big?) Time, pressure and over-ambition got to them.  I have to confess that I did like the look of Christine's hat though.  I'm now hoping for an eighties revival this season - let Brendan's legacy of dated cakes live on.  Maybe some marzipan shoulder pads and a giant mobile phone made of butter-iced sponge.

Mel is the BEST: more than happy to re-enact the ghost pottery scene with Toby – “front or back, I’m easy” - before adding some hazelnut testicles to Frances' squirrel (not a euphemism).

Blue plaster alert: TOTAL CARNAGE. Fingers and thumbs strewn all over the tent.

Next week: Bread.  Inevitable plaiting tangles and Hollywood scornballs.