2013 Episode 6 – Sweet Dough week

Last week: Rob made a dalek out of biscuits and Kimberley named, and used, five types of cherries.

 

This week: Dough dough dough dougggggh sweet child o’mine.  (Erm, it’s Sweet Dough week.) 

 

Beca becomes my new third-favourite (after Howard and Christine - and the best a baker can hope for just now) as she tells us “It’s a learning and sharing experience at the minute - feel free to throw up at this point.”  No such attitude from Christine – she has STEEL in her eyes: “all seven of us want to get to the final”.  But WHO WILL?  Boys aside (sorry Glenn and Howard), it feels like it could be anyone’s just now.  Apart from Frances – you know, cause Mary hates her.

 

Signature bake: Sweet tea loaf.  For example, says Sue, a Welsh Bara Brith or an Irish Barm Brack, which are either made-up or I need to seriously increase my knowledge of celtic sweetbreads. It just needs to include yeast – the rest is a free for all.  Three hours: GO!

 

We learn that a tea loaf is a sweet, yeasted bread often flavoured with fruits and spices which is traditionally served – get this – at tea-time.  I know!  Though, frankly, I'm not a fan of fruit in cake, as it takes up valuable room which could be filled with buttercream or chocolate.  Paul then spouts some important, but - let's face it - pompous advice about retarding yeast.  Mary is rocking some hot pink lippy and discussing loaf size.

 

Over to the bakers, all of whom are using enriched dough - I've watched enough Bake Off that I should know what this is by now, but in truth, I do not have a clue, and just think it sounds like cheating.  Christine tells us she is currently “infusing sultanas in Assam tea”, which does not sound mouth-wateringly delicious, but she then invents the word “plumpcious”, in relation to her apricots, which is why she is amazeballs.  Christine is producing an Oxford Nutty Fruit Loaf, because she’s from round there – she thinks she’s invented it, but I’ll tell her now (*hilarious inside-joke alert*) that Oxford Nutty Fruit Loafs are already well and truly established, in the form of every loon who’s stood for election at the Union.

 

Frances’ loaf will be a Chai Tea Loaf, with an inner cinnamon swirl.  She reaches under her counter to show Berrywood her presentation tools, as Mary mutters “here we go” in the bitchiest way possible.  Frances has simply decided to present a TEA loaf in a giant TEA cup, so that it looks like a chai latte – this is hardly high on the Conceptual Pretension scale, but you can sense Mary rolling her eyes and pursing her pink lippy.

 

Kimberley’s using chai too, for a Chai Spiced Ginger and Date Tea Loaf.  Kimberley is rocking a new hair scarf today, and I like it - in fact, I think Kimberley has excellent hair styling in general.  (More hair reviews to follow.  No, seriously.)  She’s using lots of different types of cardamom this week.  (Well, two.  Which is definitely lots by cardamom standards.)  And.... well, that's about as exciting as it gets at Kimberley’s counter so far.  We need some At Home footage of Giuseppe the Aviator.

 

Howard admits he has put his mix in the wrong bowl and somewhere in Middle England, Deborah screams vindication for Custardgate at the TV.   We then get the perfect explanation for his confusion, as Howard announces he making his loaf out of.... hemp.   Yes, viewers that’s hemp.  HEMP!  Stoner Loaf for all!  Mary claims “I know nothing about hemp.  Is it a grass?” !!!!  Yeah RIGHT, Bezza, yeah right...  Sue tells her that it’s full of Omega 3, but the leaf part is “naughty cigarettes”.  Mary pretends she hasn’t heard and forges on, poker faced.  We then see her surreptitiously lift the hemp flour to her face and take a MASSIVE inhale.  We know her game.

 

Hair review #2: Glenn’s hair - newly trimmed and looking neat.  He’s making a Devonshire Panettone, though Paul won’t accept that it’s a panettone unless it’s cooled upside down (literally no clue).  Glenn gets that look of terror in his eyes that Paul seems to consistently inspire in him– and we’re talking about a man who faces down teenagers for a living.

 

Beca, as you might expect, is making Bara Brith (pronounced Barrra Breeeeeeethhh).  It’s her gran’s recipe (I’ve already forgotten the Welsh for gran), but she’s not convinced that gran’s way is the Hollywood way, so Beca asks Paul whether she should add her fruit in now or later, and he explains that it would be unfair to tell her, in a surprisingly unsmug and patronizing way – well, by his standards.  Then, just as he’s leaving her bench, he leans in, tells her she’s already done it wrong anyway and scarpers.  Honestly Paul, you can be a right ****.   Not satisfied at having ruined Beca’s morning, he sidles up to Howard and tells him off for kneading with one hand only.  Leave it, Howard, it’s not worth it!

 

Unlike Beca, Ruby decided to leave her fruit out until after the first prove, so maybe Paul won’t be such a **** to her.  She’s making a Citrus Tea Loaf and sporting her Geography Teacher Arm Patch jumper – Grandad Cardi is no doubt in the wash.  She also (Hair Review #3) has her curls unpinned this week – as you might expect, she remains an un-minger.

 

Most bakers are just whacking their loaves into a tin, but Howard’s not even bothering with that and just squishes it into a ‘that’ll do’ brown lump - a laissez faire approach where hemp’s involved? Oh you surprise me...  Kimberly meanwhile has rolled her dough into a long “sausage”, cut it into three, plaited it and curled it into her tin.  This is clearly showing off.

 

We're then treated to Beca doing a memorable Scouse impression of Paul, which is basically pure Welsh, except for an over-emphasised phlegm sound.  It's a perfect intro to...

 

Food history #1: Wherein Patagonians improve Welsh bara brrrrrrah by soaking it in rum. Well, duh!

 

Also of note: ANIMAL SHOT!!!  I thought they’d gone, but no – we are treated to a distant blurry view of a sheep behind a fence.

 

Back in the tent, it's time to get the loaves out of the ovens. Glenn has decided to fashion a Blue Peter-style contraption out of a giant pot, some string and a wooden spoon which will allow him to cool his panettone in such a way (upside down) that Paul will accept that it is panettone - apparently just adopting an Italian accent and doing lots of hand gestures wouldn’t be sufficient to guarantee authenticity.

 

Frances’ loaf has a crack in it.  It looks exactly like a little bum.  Mel is delighted and fashions it some bum cleavage trousers.

 

Time’s up – here we dough!

 

Berrywood think Ruby's citrus loaf has “excellent” flavours but is “slightly doughy” inside.

Howard’s Weed Cake, I mean, his Date and Hemp Yorkshire Loaf is up next. Mary says “it looks like it's going to be rather good for me” in a way which is definitely not a compliment.  Paul thinks the hemp is “quite pungent”.

 

Over at Beca’s station, Paul concedes that, in spite of adding the fruit too soon, Beca has managed “the best bake you could have done with the prove that you had”.  Mary likes the cranberries – that's the fruit, not the band.  (Course, she may like the band too – we just don't have independent confirmation.)

 

The outside of Glenn's panettone looks mouldy to me, but the inside is bright yellow, which Mary likes a lot.  The flavours also get praise, but it's “definitely underbaked”.

 

Christine's doughy offering is deemed uneatable, lest it upsets Paul's constitution.  Christine takes the hit with complete grace.

 

Compliments for Kimberley's idea and flavours, but the loaf is underbaked and underproved.

 

No bum loaf for Frances after all – the inside has a superb swirl on show and Mary gets over her Frances issues and thinks it's “lovely”.  Paul agrees, but finds the outside “boring”. !!! Poor Frances – she can't win.  She laments not having used the icing sugar stencil she’d made at home, intended to make the loaf look like the milky top of a cappuccino.  (Then again, one time a barista accidently fashioned a willy and balls shape on the top of my latte, so maybe ‘boring’ was for the best, after all.)

 

The Technical Challenge: Apricot Couronne.  It's Paul's recipe and, true to form, he says he hopes they don't bugger it up - but clearly secretly hopes they do, so he can feel superior, yadda yadda yadda.  The bakers look as perplexed as ever, but crack on in a way that truly impresses; baking a redacted recipe under time pressure and on national TV would just make me sob and hide in the proving drawer.

 

Beca reads that she has to roll out a rectangle and after rolling out an oval with slightly straight sides, Beca decides that’ll do.  We watch the bakers spread their apricot mixture over their ‘rectangles’ – it looks like little vomit balls, but am sure it will be delicious.

 

The twisting is also causing difficulty; Glenn reads the instruction “Twist the two dough lengths together” and immediately begins twisting the dough lengths separately.  Fortunately, Mel is on hand to gently push him in the right direction.  Twisting achieved, Glenn puts his dough back in the drawer for some more rising and Mel launches into THE PUN OF THE SERIES:

 

Mel: is that going to work?
Glenn: sure!
Mel: Prove it. (*Winks to camera and does Brucie muscle pose*)

 

BOOM!

 

Pun done, time for innuendo: Howard takes his couronne out of the drawer and exclaims “Oooh, it’s a bit big, isn’t it?”.  Glenn looks on aghast, worried about the size of his own - “I’ve just seen Howard’s... it’s twice as big!”.  And how we laugh as we pretend they might be talking about their man bits.

 

But let the dramatic music crescendo, as the final touches (glazing and icing) are added. Then it's time for Paul to sneer at the offerings!

 

Paul concedes that he can’t sneer at the visuals, as “they all look pretty good”.  Mary is so flabbergasted that Paul’s opened with a compliment that she stays rooted to the spot, even though Paul wants to move on to tasting, so he can spit out couronne bits in fury.  But disaster ahoy – it turns out they all taste good too!  (Paul’s brain is already concocting his next technical challenge, where the instructions will be: “Make sixteen Religieuses.”  And that will be it.)

 

The ranking is deemed hard, as there’s not much in it.  Howard is last, then Beca (6), Glenn (5), Christine (4), Kimberley (3) and Frances (2) - so number one is Ruby Ruby Ruby.  Paul immediately launches into some unnecessary egotistical flirtation: “That looks like the one I would have done”.

 

Filler shot: no animals, but a series of hanging pans in front of some Union Jack bunting. 

 

Show-stopper: Two different varieties of European sweet buns, twelve of each.  More foreign names for Sue to mangle – like 'brioche' and 'schnecken'.  The bakers also get half an hour to do some evening baking, so their dough can prove overnight. 

 

Beca's been soaking her prunes in rum for the past four days, so WELL DONE HER, especially when she outright confirms that her tactic is "Booze".  The booze will come in the form of Chocolate and Rum-soaked Prune Brioche and Cardamom Spiced Lemon Ice Buns.  Mary, with a wry sparkle in her eye, announces that Paul "is an expert in buns”.

 

Christine is adding white sugar to brown sugar to butter to golden syrup, so clearly her tactic is “Diabetes”.  She’s making Schnecken Buns and Vanilla Custard Skolebrod.  “Skolebrod” oooooh, that’s a good word, isn't it?  Surely, there’s some umlaut action in there - maybe that tiny Scandi circle accent, which my mum once inexplicably produced in a text.  (It turns out it's got the line through the O and means 'school bun' in Norwegian.  Don’t say you don’t learn anything from this blog.)

 

Glenn “can't get it out” - he is referring to his overly chilled dough, which is wedged in his bowl.  He’s making - get ready for more foreign words we can attempt with a silly accent -Almond and Apricot Brioche and Sticky Caramel Kanelbullen - or cinnamon swirls, as the Swedish would say, because they're incredibly excellent at English.  The swirls are like doughy balls of yarn, which Glenn seems to think stick together by magic.  WE SHALL SEE, intone Paul and Mary's subtext.

 

Howard, meanwhile, is making Peachy Buns and German Baumschnecken, which proves that he is just the best – there's no way you can say any of that without a funny voice and an attack of the giggles.  Mel learns that Schnecken is the German for snail and she and Howard have a moment, as she affectionately says “CUTE! You're a little Schnecken, Howard.”  Howard chuckles a thank you, at which point Paul sticks his jackboot in – “she calls you a snail and you say thank you?!?!”  Howard handles this with grace and aplomb - “I need compliments!”  And lo, Howard, you shall get them.  Paul, you won’t.

 

Kimberley is going to make a kumquat marmalade, so whoever had that on their Organic Middle Class Bingo Card can cross it off.  The marmalade will go in her Double Chocolate and Hazelnut Brioche and Danish Kanelsnurrer, which I can pronounce perfectly, as I’ve watched The Killing, The Bridge AND Borgen, so, you know, tak and hi hi.

 

Freudian interlude, whilst Kimberley, a professional psychologist, bitches about, I mean, analyses her opponents, describing their “stealth-baking personalities”.  Beca is “solid” (Sue quickly clarifies that that’s her baking style, not the effects of her baking on her body shape); Ruby is the “baking ninja”; Glenn is a “flavour machine”; Christine is “absolutely consistent” and Frances is the “design guru gem”.  It’s Sue who takes on the psychological profiling of Howard: “he’s a maverick. He will not be tamed.”  Quite.

 

Standby for yet more Euro-comedy words: Twisted Swedish Kanelbullar (and Saffron St. Lucia Buns) from Ruby.  Frances’ foreign bun word isn’t Scandiwegian, so time to harshen our comical Euro-accents as we move south east to the Czech Republic – for her Rhubarb and Custard Kolaches, which will be fashioned to look like zeros and will be matched with Hot Cross Brioches – to make a bun/fun game of noughts and crosses.

 

Foodistory #2: Bath is famous for its Sarah Lund Buns, which are dressed in natty knitwear, and have brilliant and tenuous minds, but can’t help wandering alone and unarmed into dark alleyways where murderers like to hang out.  At least, I *think* that's right - and I'm from the West Country, so I should totally know.

 

Howard is using a spoon to get a peachy cleft and says “I’m going to be close to the wire with my schnecken".  HOWARD IS THE BEST IS THE BEST IS THE BEST.

 

Dramz over at Glenn’s counter, as he can’t get his buns out of the mould, with a minute to go.  Kimberley suggests tipping them upside down, which he does, and they instantly fall apart – the magic he’d promised Mary and Paul suddenly failing him. “Oh that was a crap idea” he whines, like it was part of a masterplan Kimberley had personally devised to cross him, including getting him to bake Kanelbullen in the first place.  Glenn, honey, if Kimberley’s going to target her main competitors, I think it’s Ruby and Christine that she’ll gun for...  It's rough though and Glenn looks sad.  Sue gives him a restorative hug and some cheek kisses, which genuinely seem to help.

 

Until Paul gets to see them, of course.  Speaking of which, it's time...

 

Christine needed a good showstopper and Mary says she’s made “almost a doughnut, only more fun” – more fun than a doughnut!?!  Good work, Christine!  She also gets a “scrummy”, a “delicious” and an “impressed”.

 

Frances’ buns taste good - the surprise in Mary’s voice is palpable - but the hot cross buns are overproved.

 

Howard’s peachy buns look EXACTLY like peaches – it’s extraordinary!  The flavour, however, is not there.  The schnecken are “dry”, so it’s not a great result.

 

Ruby arrives with her usual disclaimer of “oh these are so rubbish and terrible and please don’t eat them” and Mary tells her off: “we’ll make up our own minds”.  Even Mel and Sue agree that she should pipe down til they've tried them.  And, of course, Ruby's buns are deemed “delicious” and “amazing”.

 

Kimberley’s sweet dough needed more rise and Paul isn’t “overwhelmed” by the flavour, though Mary likes the chocolate ones.

 

“Sadly this is something that hasn’t really worked” says Mary of Glenn’s kanelbullens.  Paul then flicks the “plonked on” apricot off of Glenn’s brioches and announces “they look awful”.  The taste is better, but they are deemed “too dry”.  Poor Glenn.  He's only just holding back the tears.

 

Paul refers to Beca’s buns as “these guys” and says he likes the look of them.  Berrywood both like the brioche, but the boozy prunes are too much (!!!!!!).  Beca's also made a “nice iced bun” in spite of a jazzy icing design that Paul doesn't like (it's a zigzag - who'd have thought that would cause such a controversy...)

 

Ominous Animal Shot: a blackbird flying away.  Glenn’s voice breaks and water wells in his eyes – he is convinced he is leaving.  It’s really sad!  :-(

 

Time for Mary and Paul to huddle in their special tent and deliberate fate.

 

Ma baker: Ruby!  Twitter apparently went a bit mental and said it was only because Paul fancies her.  Piffle – she won a blind taste test.  #teamruby

 

Leaving: Nooooooooooooooo! Not Howard. Not his peachy buns. *sobs*.  AND I had Howard in the work ‘bakestake’, so that’s £2 down the drain.  Course, emotionally we're all £2 down.  Fare thee well Howard.  We lurrrrved you.  Glenn can’t believe it – he’s determined to bake on in Howard’s memory.

 

Next time: Pastry Week – and it makes Beca feel “physically sick”.   Yum!

 

 

Mini blog. Week 6 - Sweet dough

Bye bye: Noooooooooooooooooooo! Not Howard. Not his peachy buns. *sobs*  Even Paul grudgingly admitted that he liked Howard - before slating his baking skills.  Too soon, Hollywood, too soon.

 

Ma Baker: Ruby Ruby Ruby. Poor Frances – Mary totally hates her!  She was scathing when her idea was no more complex than putting a tea loaf in a bowl shaped like a teacup.

 

Living up to glorious middle class stereotype: Two words: hemp bread.

 

Baking craving: Am sure everyone had the munchies after Howard's signature bake, whatever Mary claimed not to know about 'special herbs'.

 

Food history: Patagonians improve Welsh bara brrrrrrah by soaking it in rum. Well, duh!

 

Mel'n'Sue pun watch:
Mel: is that going to work?
Glenn: sure!
Mel: Prove it. (Winks to camera)
BOOM!

 

Next week: Pastry week – nuns and tent races, by the looks of it.  And Mel shouts at Ruby: “GET A RUDDY GRIP!”.  Well, quite.

2013 Episode 5 – Biscuit Week

Last week: Howard sobbed and Christine threatened murder as Hot Ali got the Mel-and-Sue sarnie because he hated fruit pies and had never heard of anything remotely connected to baking.  Kimberley was the deserved Star Baker, having made the best pie Paul had eaten in “some time”.  Course, that would have meant more coming from Mary, proportionally speaking.

 

This week: Biscuits and tray-bakes.  And some CRACKing puns for us all to DIGEST.  So (bour)BONne chance, bakers!  We wish you good FORTUNE (cookie).  May your offerings be RICH (tea) and may you all get a slam DUNK.  Let's hope Mary's comments don't (chocolate) CHIP away at your confidence, that you don't have a TIFF(in) with Paul, that you are always JAMMY and DODGE(rs) the bad reviews.  Don't pull up SHORT(bread) and etc etc etc.

 

It's always better when wordplay is forced, no?

 

Bakers on the bridge alert.  Here they come!  It's the halfway point and Beca's mum and husband have supportively told her to “man up”.  Kimberley lies that no-one is acting competitive - least of all herself you understand - and Howard is... oh he's just lovely, isn't he.

 

Mary's in a hot pink suede biker jacket.  Paul's grey cuffs match his, um, his hair.  They match his hair.

 

Signature bake: Favourite tray-bake.  Brownies, blondies, rocky road, millionaire's shortbread, nom, nom, nom, nom.  Biscuit, cake or pastry bases are all fine, but the tray-bake must be baked in one tin and the pieces cut to identical size with the elements all made from scratch.

 

Howard is making a Breakfast Traybake, which is apparently a bit like grapefruit-flavoured flapjack (hmmm - not mmmm).  Howard says he has a rustic approach to baking.  Translation: I care not for precise or neat presentation.

 

Beca has opted for “pimped up” Chocolate, Cherry and Hazelnut Brownies - the pimping seems to come from adding cherry, which is not quite the level of installing a small aquarium between the rear seats of your car.  She wasn't sure whether to make that or Pear and Walnut, so tested the options by literally feeding an army – her husband’s barrack chums.  The army unhelpfully liked both options.

 

We see Frances moulding dough with her fingers and telling us that she is “playing with my food” - my God, even her comments are getting conceptual.  Mel conspiratorially whispers that “Frances has had one of her ideas”, in a voice she probably reserves for when Granny's farted or said something racist and everyone just has to nod and pretend it's fine.  That 'idea' is Millionaire's Banoffee Bonus and - stand by for the concept - the pieces are going to be set up like a game of Jenga. Actually that is goooood. Political. *nods sagely* Course, Mary's unimpressed and just worries about the banana and toffee setting. 

 

It's a Blackberry and Lemon Bakewell Slice from Ruby, who has taken her Grandad Cardi back from UCL's laundry room but hasn't really had much time to practice, again.  She confirms that the exams required to obtain a Philosophy degree from a highly respected, world-class university are way easier than Bake Off.  A comparative piece of cake, you might say.  (Yes, I went there.)

 

Christine is also making a Bakewell, a Mixed Berry and Almond Crumble Traybake, and so is Kimberley who seems to be using plastering tools and tupperware for her Cherry and Almond Bakewell Florentine Slice, which doesn't seem very bake-y.  Kimberley tells us she is using FIVE types of cherry.  (Surely that can’t be right – after cherry and glacé cherry, what’s left?  Tinned cherries? The cherry bits in a cherry yoghurt?)  She lists dried sour cherries, maraschino cherries, normal glacé cherries, black cherries and damsons.  So really, that’s four types of cherry and one fake-type-of-cherry.  A mere four types of cherry then. Yeah, I totes knew there were four different types of cherry.  Totes.

 

We cut to Rob muttering “mascapone, double cream, vanilla bean paste” - YES, I WILL EAT WHATEVER YOU ARE TRAYBAKING, ROB.  Rob is traybaking a Tarte di Santiago, which is a Spanish Frangipane cake, so to tickle the tastebuds he has temptingly named this exotic, foreign dish: 'Rob's Blueberry and Orange Traybake'.  Way to sex it up Rob.  We learn that Rob met Mrs Rob in Spain (sadly no At Home shot for us to rudely, nosily and entirely unnecessarily compare her with Mr Glenn and Mr Kimberley) and is 'confident'.  Oh Rob.  Famous last words.

 

Glenn is making a tray-bake that involves an entire giant saucepan of chocolate.  I don't really need to know any more – yes, please, hand it over.  Apparently, it's Apricot and Pistachio Tiffin, with marshmallows that are supposed to take six hours, but he'll be fashioning them in two.  Paul is concerned that Glenn has too much chocolate (say WAAH?) and warns him not to waste any of his ingredients. Glenn looks shit-scared.

 

Beca speaks for an entire nation as she brandishes a giant ladle covered in cake mix and says “I literally want to shove this spoon in my mouth”.

 

Frances and Mel are peeking into Frances' fridge.  They speak in hushed tones: “Ooooh, she looks good” says Mel, of Frances' tray-bake.  Frances agrees that tray-bakes are, like ships and, erm, women, always feminine.

 

Foodistory: “The Quakers decided to move to more rural areas, like Tottenham” (!!!) and there they apparently invented pink icing on a sponge cake cut into squares: the Tottenham Cake.  For reasons I didn't really listen to, we are treated to excellently atmospheric footage of the 1901 FA cup final, when footballers played in Simon Cowell-waisted trousers and full moustaches; a look that even Beckham might struggle with.  (Oh, what am I saying?  Of course he'd pull it off.  I mean, that face!)

 

Back in the tent, the bakers are popping things in and out of the oven, except for Kimberley who's seemingly done with half an hour to go.  Howard explains that he's going for a play on words and will be presenting his Breakfast Traybake on, get this, a breakfast tray.  Why Howard, with that high-concept concept, Frances must be quaking. (I STILL HEART YOU, HOWARD!)

 

It's maths-time, as the bakers attempt to slice their tray-bakes perfectly equally.  Kimberley asks Howard: “are yours 4cm square?” and Howard's chin drops to the floor: “Gosh Kimberley you've done that by eye!”  He then reveals that his measuring method was *shrugging noise*.

 

What will the judges think of that, I wonder?

 

Well, they think Beca has produced even-sized bakes, but she has an issue with her undercooked middle.  Sue, however, is practically crying with Brownie inspired delight.

 

Mary thinks Christine's flavours are “lovely” and “the textures are nice as well” according to Paul.

 

Paul deliberately goes for a precariously-placed piece of Frances' Jenga biscuit tower, but fails to make it fall (ironic – more on that later, viewers).  Mary admits that her fears about Frances' banana cooking were unjustified and that “this time” Frances has managed both look and bake.

 

Glenn's tiffin is far too thick (oh behave) and the look, according to Paul, is “grotesque” - which is a bit much!  Sue takes umbrage on Glenn's behalf.  Paul does not even begin to care.  But the judges do love the flavours.

 

Mary likes Howard's “strong grapefruit flavour”, but it's too “stodgy” for Paul.

 

Rob's  Tarte di Santiago is “quite raw”.  Mary likes the fruitiness, but “the actual mixture is quite soggy”.

 

Ruby shuffles up, looking suicidal, and offers up an apology, pre-empting any judging by listing the faults she has already perceived, which is apparently EVERYTHING.  Paul confirms Ruby has a soggy bottom, but the flavours are “excellent”.

 

Kimberley gets more typical praise – on both flavour and look: “pretty and well thought-out”.  But she still thinks she could do better.  “The Japanese have a word for it” she says, then suddenly collapses into giggles at the realisation that she's about to demonstrate a serious level of smug pretention, before thinking “oh sod it, I'm going to embrace the pretension - I have a boyfriend called Guiseppe, for fuck's sake”, and telling us “The Japanese call it 'kaizen', which means 'constant and never-ending improvement'.”   (This is sadly not a theory I apply to my blogging style, which is something closer to 'constant and never-ending repetition of “X baked dish X”/terrible baking pun/something bitchy about Paul”.)

 

Berrywood leave the tent, but not after Paul has been roundly mocked by Mel and Sue for his “salsa class” shirt of utmost sheen.

 

The Technical Challenge: Eighteen Tuiles. Half of them shaped in the traditional manner, with pipped chocolate concentric circles, and the other half rolled like cigars and dipped in chocolate. (I have a feeling that poor Ali would have fainted after hearing that impenetrable set of instructions.)  It's basically a very thin biscuit named after a French roof tile.  An hour and a half, go! 

 

Beca's never made tuiles.  Glenn has, but didn't pipe NUTTIN' on to them. Ruby made them (once) and they were “horrible”.  Kimberley made some last week, “so...”, she grins, a little haughtily.

 

(By the way, to date, there have been NO animal shots – just garden views and an 'artistic' portrayal of the top of the marquee.  It saddens me.  When I criticised the sheep clips last week I didn't mean we should eschew (eschEWE! BOOM!) all creature footage altogether.)

 

Mary hasn't provided a piping bag or instructions to make one, which is meanly old skool. Ruby's face is contorted with frustrated irritation and the humiliation that “Grandmothers up and down the country” will be JUDGING HER.   Mind you, even Kimberley admits she never bothered to learn how to DIY a piping bag and is duly dissatisfied with the size of her nozzle.

 

Rob freely admits that he fully intends to cheat and watch how long Beca cooks her tuiles for.  He holds up a timer and smiles in a faintly disturbing way -  he's timed Beca's bake to the second.  It's evil genius!  Well, unless Beca's messed her timings up.  Beca tells us she's messed her timings up.

 

Glenn's tuiles are melding into each other. Mel observes that they are actually having a five-way love affair. “Jesus wept” says Glenn. Well, yes.

 

Time for the HSE to look away, as the bakers pick up oven-hot biscuits with their bare hands and wrap them around rolling pins and wooden spoons whilst wincing in pain. Oh apart from Beca, who has “asbestos fingers”.   And then it's done.  Rob shrugs and laughs, Kimberley looks utterly furious and ready to kill whoever introduced her to tuiles and/or Japanese schools of thought.

 

Mary's quite pleased with the offerings, but Paul gets immediately stuck into testing the snap so he can look happily disappointed when they bend.  Howard places last, a 'shock' seventh for Kimberley, who retains her look of outright fury.  Next is Ruby, despite a good snap, then fifth for Beca, fourth for Rob and Frances comes in third.  It's Glenn who just misses out on the top spot, so Christine wins the challenge.

 

Christine improvises a musical-style song to express her joy, where the lyrics go “I’m feeling ecstaaaaaaaaaatic!  Really really thrrrriiillllllllled” and is accompanied by a head swaying dance.  I’ll be honest - her singing voice is not as good as her tuiles.  Kimberley says, through gritted teeth, that she has learned something about tuiles now.  Sub-text: I WILL NEVER MAKE THEM AGAIN. Alternative sub-text: I WILL MAKE THEM OVER AND OVER UNTIL THEY ARE UTTERLY PERFECT THEN I WILL TRACK MARY DOWN AND MAKE HER ADMIT THEY ARE THE BEST TUILES SHE HAS EVER TASTED.

 

(We are treated to a shot of a wilted daffodil in the sunset.  I feel somehow responsible.)

 

The judges speculate about Star Baker and Baker Danger – Frances is in a good position, as is Christine.  The usual swots, Kimberley and Ruby, have had a rubbish technical.  Rob too is struggling after a very strong start in the early weeks.

 

Show-stopper: A Biscuit Tower.  At least 30cm high, which is about the height of the longer clear plastic rulers that never fitted into your pencil case at school, unless you had one of those mega-sized pencil cases with all the timetables up to 12 printed on the back.

 

It's basically an architectural task, so time for the bakers to show their building skills as well as their cooking.  Ruby has written the recipe on her hand – let’s hope she doesn’t need to be blue-plastered at any point, thus missing a key recipe instruction.

 

Kimberley is risking a tower of crumbly biscuits: a Black and White Viennese Swirl, in the shape of a wedding cake.  She claims that her bottom layers have been fine in practice. Mary and Paul look concerned.  Noted.

 

Howard is pouring the insides of a teabag into a small container.  He’s making a Japanese Pagoda Tea Tower with four different tea-flavoured biscuits.  He says that when he’s made it in the past, people were impressed.  He pauses, and admits that ‘people’ is his parents.

 

Christine is channelling the spirit of Brendan’s Fantasy Gingerbread Birdhouse and is making a Shortbread Bavarian Clocktower, complete with clock.  The retro-revival continues!

 

It’s a Dropped Ice Cream Biscuit Centrepiece from Ruby – with butter-cream providing the foundations/melted ice cream look.  It’s a very cool idea – Frances won't be happy.

 

Glenn is moulding a salami, which turns out to be shortbread dough for his (red) Shortbread and Macaroon Helter-Skelter.  He pronounces it ‘macaRON’, which is probably more authentic, but far less satisfying than macaRRRROOOOOON.  Paul starts to tell him off for making too much macarrrrooooooon/RON mix and Glenn explains that it’s in case he needs to make a second batch if the first fails.  Paul grudgingly accepts that’s not a bad idea.

 

Rob is making a biscuit Dalek and Sue does an EXCELLENT ‘exterrrrminate’ - Rob reacts like she's just said 'MacBeth' and wished him luck instead of broken legs.  Rob’s Dalek design paper is highly professional and appears to feature a computer-generated design.  Meanwhile Beca has ripped something out of an old liner pad and added some biro scribbling to denote her Tiered Macaroon and Sugar Dough Biscuit Centrepiece.  We learn the swirls are the tiered macaroons.

 

Frances’ Biscuit Buttons and Beads will look like a haberdashery box – surely she could have just recycled the Jenga tower?  I mean, that was, already a TOWER.

 

Most bakers are using icing sugar to stick the biscuits together, Rob, however, has found edible glue (edible EWWWW, amiright), which he refers to as “a microwavable malt mix” (this does not help the sound of its appeal).  Elsewhere Beca advises Glenn not to use “dried raspberry powder” as, in her experience, that burns.  She too advises edible glue.  Come on guys, all this talk of edible glue is putting me off your biscuit towers! 

 

Glenn and Beca have devised a handless high five where they point fingers at each other and click.  It’s charming.

 

Sue announces the end is nigh and, mere seconds later (or so the edit would have us believe) DISAHHHHHSTER.  Just as Mel okays the height of Frances’ button biscuit stake, it all goes a bit Pisa, then BOOM! Or maybe CRACK! - it falls to the side.  Poor Frances.  Mel metaphorically and literally helps her keep it together with some comforting words, and then by standing there, holding up the stack.

 

Uh oh.  What will the judges say?

 

Well, to Glenn, they say that his helter-skelter “looks quite impressive” and they love his macaRONS, which Paul calls “exceptional”.

 

Berrywood revert to gender stereotype when assessing Beca's tower; Mary thinks it would be “great for a little girl's party” and Paul notes it's “quite stable”.  He's not into the biscuit, though Beca also has made “exceptional” macaroons.

 

Kimberley's tower has cracks throughout, vindicating Paul, who – would you believe it – is delighted to point it out.  Mary likes the colours; I fear this will not boost Kimberley's self-loathing morale.

 

Howard brings forth his pagoda.  Mary calls it “meticulous” and sounds truly impressed.  Paul too; he calls it “a work of art”.  There is an unnervingly long silence punctuated only by the sound of Paul and Mary crunching.  Then... “I love that.  That's clever” from Paul.  Mary, however, finds the taste boring.  Oh DOES she now?!

 

And to Frances and her collapsed pile.  It's painful.  The judges like the tastes and shapes, but quite simply, the brief has not been fulfilled.   As Paul says “It's like, four hours... and you made a load of biscuits.”

 

Time (TIME!) for Christine to bring up her Bavarian Clocktower (TIME! GEDDIT?) – it looks fresh from the Christmas Market.  Mary loves it and Paul calls it “cute” (in look) and “excellent” (in taste).

 

Dalek alert! Dalek alert! Well, it does look like a Dalek – the turquoise one, from that rubbish new colourful Dalek range.  Mary, not unfairly, calls it “clumsy” and is fairly repulsed by the edible glue: “now that I would not like to come across”. I AM WITH YOU, SISTA.  Paul calls the biscuits “ok”.  The judges accept that it was the right structure for what it was, but the eating bit duly suffered.  Rob takes it impassively.  No hint of a smile and inner samba party from him today.

 

Once again, Ruby believes she's made something rubbish, but Mary says she immediately wants to pick up the upside-down ice-cream and lick it, which sounds positive to me.  There is another crazy long crunch-filled pause, and Ruby's eyes almost pop out of her head in stress (she still looks gorgeous).  Then Mary announces she's made “a lovely textured biscuit which works well with the white chocolate” and Paul says “they tasted lovely, really good”.   Ruby smiles and we note she has perfect teeth.  We should all be filled with crippling envy and hate talented, beautiful, smart Ruby, shouldn't we?  For the record, I really don't.  She's my third favourite after Howard and Christine.

 

The bakers all squash up on their line of stools, primary school class photo-style but without a line of children sitting on the floor crossed-legged (oh PLEASE have them do that next week).  Who's up, who's out?

 

Ma Baker: Mel is happy to announce that she wants to spend a few weeks in a Bavarian Alpine House made by.... Christine, of course!  Christine, like most of the others, looks too shattered to be truly overjoyed, but you can tell that she is singing another made-up song on the inside.

 

Leaving: Rob – our rocket engineer.  He eagerly jumps up for his Mel and Sue sandwich – keen to be the ham to their sliced bread.  Kimberley looks aghast, well, unless it's trapped wind – in her mind, the fact that she had baked something ok, and not entirely winningly perfect, was a definite one-way ticket home.  Sure, she's annoying sometimes, but no-one should be that hard on themselves, Japanese philosophy or no Japanese philosophy... 

 

Rob provides an emotion-free scientific analysis of his time in the tent.
Evidence: he won Star Baker, he won a technical, he not leave in the first round and he also had some FUN.
Conclusion: he is therefore HAPPY.

He leaves us with a little joke: “I'm going to take a few days off from baking. I suspect that's fairly normal.  I'm going to home and boil something. And it won't be suet!”  Oh Rob.

Next time: Sweet Dough – and someone's accidentally baked a bum.

Mini blog. Week 5 - Biscuits

Bye bye: Rob. Exterminated by a turquoise Dalek made of edible glue. Turns out baking is not rocket science, mwahaha. He seemed fine – he was especially keen to get into the Mel and Sue sandwich.

Ma Baker: Christine - with perfect tuiles and an Alpine biscuit construction to rival 2012 Bake Off Brendan's birdhouse. Kimberley has decided to channel self-loathing and Japanese philosophy to get back in the running.

Living up to glorious middle-class stereotype: Kimberley used five different types of cherry in her tray bake. FIVE?!?!

Food history: Tottenham Football Club invented pink biscuits. Or was it the Quakers?

Mel'n'Sue watch: Sue can do a cracking dalek.  Mel failed to comfort Glenn by informing him that his tuiles were having a bunga bunga party in the oven, but she was Frances' hero/mum substitute after her biscuit tower dramatically became a biscuit pile just SECONDS before the whistle. (Or so the editing would have us believe.)

Next week: Sweet dough.  But, more importantly, does Ruby have a new hairstyle?

2013 Episode 4 – Pie Week

Last week: CUSTARDGATE.

 

This week: Pies and tarts.  As Mel and Sue sing, the bakers march in over the mini-bridge and don their aprons.  Ali, inexplicably, is also wearing a beanie hat – perhaps he is having a bad hair day.  It certainly continues his hot-in-knitwear theme. (If it worked for James Shetland...)

 

Signature bake: Double-crusted fruit pie; sweet or shortcrust pastry, filled with fruits of the baker’s choice.

 

Move over Mr Glenn, there’s a new partner in town – Kimberley’s boyfriend Giuseppe, who has disguised himself as an aviator from the 1920s.  Kimberley is making Giuseppe’s favourite - Pecan and Roseberry Caramel Apple Pie.  I wonder what Giuseppe’s Mamma thinks of that.

 

Ali discovers he’s been trying to slip clingfilm in his pie, so has to sneak it out the blender and hope for the best.  He then reveals he’s never made a fruit pie. OH SURPRISE SURPRISE.  We can add that to the list of ‘Baking Staples Ali’s Not Baked’ (see also: bread and trifle).  He’s opted for Apple and Ginger Pie with a Pecan and Walnut Shortcrust Pastry, which does sound completely delicious.  However, it turns out that Ali loathes fruit pie and finds it disgusting.  Paul takes that admission as a personal slight and Sue tells Ali she hopes his Granny Smith doesn’t have a damp bottom - which not I’m sure will help Ali’s tastebuds.  Indeed, Ali decides not to judge his flavours by taste, but by smell.  Which would be fine if it was the Great British Smell Off, AMIRIGHT?  (To highlight just how Not Fine this is, we get a shot of Paul prowling around Ali’s kitchen looking angry and judgy.  We all know what the drill will be come judging.)

 

Christine continues the rank bake chat by saying “when I pulsed my fat into the flour I got great lumps in it”.  She’s going super trad and using a recipe which belonged to her grandmother: Granny Rogers’ Apple, Plum and Cinnamon Country Pie, flavoured with allspice and nutmeg.  OH MY GOD, I WILL EAT ALL THE PIES. ME ME ME.

 

We get a look at Howard’s colleagues plugging their mouths with cake in a rather ungainly manner, whilst Howard stands above them in a super sharp shiny suit, looking uncharacteristically menacing and important.  He’s also making Apple Pie - with Sage Pastry, as well as adding sultanas and pistachios.  I find sultanas to be a food which generally lessens the deliciousness.

 

Another granny apple pie - Beca is making her Mamgu’s Cherry Apple Tart ('Mamgu' being the welsh for 'Gran').  Also it’s not really apple, as ‘Cherry Apple’ is the term Beca’s mamgu used to trick her grandchildren into eating rhubarb.  Paul is concerned about the rhubarb-related moisture, but Beca cheerfully informs Paul that her mamgu didn’t give a crap about having a soggy bottom.  Beca’s also sticking pastry alphabetti spaghetti on the top of her pie.  I have no idea what it says, but it's safe to say it's probably Welsh.

 

Ruby’s Granddad Cardi has been replaced by a Geography Teacher Elbow Pads Jumper.  Ruby's going for Apple and Marzipan Pie with dried sour cherries.  Elsewhere, Frances is (obviously) going conceptual again -  her Peach Pie In The Sky will take the form of a hot air balloon, inspired by James and the Giant Peach, and will include full peaches inside, de-stoned and re-stoned , but with almonds.  Paul claims not to have a clue what Frances is on about (it’s ROALD DAHL, Paul, it’s hardly obscure!), but it’s really just a cue for him and Mary to grumble that Frances can be all style and no substance.

 

Here’s the science bit, concentrate!  Time to head to Rob’s station (where he’s baking an Apple and Pear Pie with Thyme) for his Dry Bottoms Theorum; the key is hot hot heat, apparently.   Other bakers have other tricks: Howard is going for semolina, corn flower and icing sugar to soap up the juices, whilst Frances is using frangipane.  No word on Christine’s soggy bottom guards, as we see her merrily spooning a lumpy fruit juice soup into her pastry – I wonder where that one’s going...

 

No sign of Mr Glenn this week, but Molly the high-fiving dog is around and playing scrabble with Glenn and his friends down the pub.  She suggests “quinoa” in exchange for treats.  Glenn is making an Apple and Maple Syrup Pie, with red pastry maple leaves on top and lots of custard inside.  I believe the Canadian for that is: MMMMM HMMMM.  He’s not left enough time for the actual cooking, so his oven is on 7000 degrees.  Sue gently suggests that the brown bits on his pie might be ‘burning’.

 

Just time for a ‘dramatic’ montage of our bakers watching pastry bake.  THE TENSION.   The challenge ends with a classic Bake Off animal shot: a furious looking ewe about to charge.  But how did they do? We’ll find out in the wink of a pie!  (Did I make that ‘gag’ last year?  Very probably.)

 

Glenn hasn’t cooked his pie for long enough and Paul decides to take out all his schooldays frustrations on Glenn, by bluntly telling teacher off: “you had plenty of time to practise and you knew how long it was going to be - you shouldn’t have picked it”.   Glenn just takes it like a teacher man.

 

Kimberley has produced “one of the nicest pies” Paul has had “for some years”.   She BEAMS.

 

Although Frances’ “art work is stunning”, Paul thinks she’s “miles away from the flavour”.  Mary wanted more peaches.

 

Beca’s pie has “good colour underneath”, but there’s not enough rhubarb.  No word on Mamgu’s soggy bottom.

 

Mary thinks Rob has “a beautifully baked underneath” (!!!) and Paul thinks it’s “a nice pie”.

 

Ruby gets the Mary Berry eye-crinkle of joy: “I like that”.  So does Paul, minus the eye-crinkle.

 

Howard’s pastry is too crumbly and Mary can’t taste the sage.

 

Christine’s pie is dripping with fruit juice to the degree that not only is her bottom is soggy, but her top too.  Didn't see that one coming, oh no.

 

Ali hasn’t cooked his pastry and there’s no ginger in either spoonful one or spoonful two – the smell test has failed, can you believe it?!  Paul takes great delight in telling Ali that, next time, he needs to eat the fruit pie (that he loathes and which repulses him).

 

Animal shot #2: an expressionless duck standing up in water.  (Come on guys – don’t make an angry sheep the highlight!)

 

The Technical Challenge: Twelve custard tarts.  Paul is smiling evilly, as it’s his recipe and it’s clearly a bitch.  He describes the tarts to Mary, using the word “perfect” repeatedly.  We assume he’s therefore baked them himself.

 

Ali loves custard tarts!  But - can you believe it - he’s never made them!  Well, I’m shocked.  The bakers eye each other's tarts up suspiciously, not to sure what to do.  Frances is heating her custard, whilst most others don’t bother.  Howard confesses to Mel that’s he’s been having Bake Off dreams, but Mary and Paul are yet to feature - he doesn’t wish to be drawn as to whether he’d prefer the Hollywood or the Berry to make an appearance, but his giggle says rather more (PAUL!). 

 

Foodistory: I missed this bit as I was melting cheese onto nachos in the microwave.  Seriously.

 

Back in the technical challenge, the bakers are all kneeling desperately by their ovens looking horrified and that’s before they even get to the nightmare that is removing their tarts from the casings.  Someone (Ruby?) had foreseen the problem and put in special tabs to lift them out easily, but everyone else is having to splat out custardy crumbs and hope that the pieces will reform on the cake stand by magic.  Glenn has a mini breakdown by the freezer.  It’s just stress and disaster all round.  You can imagine Paul rubbing in his hands in glee at the smug disappointment he’s about to face.  He does so love to be smugly disappointed.

 

Ninety-six woeful tarts are placed in front of the judges.  Actually, it’s way less than that – as some bakers have only managed to make four or five.  Glenn places last, then Ali, Christine, Ruby, Howard and Kimberley.  Bronze goes to Rob, silver to Beca and gold to Frances, whose tarts weren’t actually so bad.  Turns out heating the custard helps.  I’ll remember that next time I.... oh, as if I’m ever going to make custard tarts.

 

Animal shot #3: Some sheep lying down.  Humph.

 

Show-stopper: A filo pastry pie, like a Greek spanakopita (huh?), a Moroccan pastille (whaa?) or something forged from the depths of each baker’s own brain (okaaaay). 

 

Making filo involves stretching the pastry long and wide – so thin you can read the paper through it.  But first it’s time to knead.  The bakers sweatily knuckle, rub, press, slap, smash and throw their dough - apart from Glenn who presses ‘start’ on his mixer.  Paul tells Mary to have a smackabout with Ruby’s dough – it’s clear she wants to aim it at his head.

 

Christine’s offering is a Roasted Vegetable Filo Pie with Feta Cheese; the illustration makes it look slightly like intestines.  Ruby is making Rose, Almond and Raspberry Filo Pie; the illustration makes it look slightly like sausages.  These could be accurate representations, but I’m thinking that a more likely explanation is that the Bake Off artist is finding filo a challenge.

 

Frances is using a shower cap to do... something.

 

Rob tells us he has joined a local mushroom club and it looks like he has brought the fungi of his foraging labours.  He announces, with the blank expression he has worn throughout the show, that some mushrooms can make a person dissolve.  He’s making Spanakopita with St Georges’ Mushrooms – using shop bought mushrooms.  Booo!  It’s health and safety gone mad!  He’s also calling his pie Pie-thagoras, which I’ll admit is brilliant.  He’s using four rulers sellotaped into a square to ensure the ratios are correct – it looks a bit like a homemade aerial.  Maybe it is.

 

Glenn is also making spanky-cop-tartar out of a giant sheet of filo pastry; the filling will be walnuts, with (the apparently traditional) feta and spinach.  Yes, this sounds GOOD.

 

Frances’ shower cap has been put away and we learn she’s producing a Cherry Tree Baklava Filo Pie.  It will be shaped like a tree, which frankly, is just a long tube of filo on its side, with some branchy bits (branches) and cherries (er, cherries) arranged at the top - hardly the high-end conceptual stuff we’ve come to expect of Frances.  That doesn’t stop Paul and Mary worrying that it will be all mouth and no trousers. “On your head be it!” says Mary.  I love her, but she can be a right cow, eh?!  (You know, I'm suddenly worried I might get taken to the tower for that one.)

It’s a Chicken, Bacon and Butternut Squash Pie from Kimberley; this time the filo part of the illustration is ok, but it also looks like there will be several green leeches slithering in the middle of the pie, which I don’t think is the idea – perhaps our illustrator was a wee bit hungover when he or she got to this project.

Ali and Beca have both sought inspiration from Moroccan cuisine – they love the colours and spices, and Beca was proposed to in Marrakesh.  Ali is making an Orange, Cardamom and Date M’Hanncha (translation: a snake cake).  He needs two metres for his pastry, which he will roll into a long tube, then spiral up.  It sounds INSANE.  Beca is going for a Moroccan Vegetable Filo Feast.  She and Kimberley are both using long thin sticks to roll out their dough.  Kimberley explains that it’s “an oklava” which is “a traditional Turkish rolling pin”.  Beca tells us she’s using a “home-made broomstick”.

 

Glenn has made a pastry tablecloth.  Elsewhere there are turf wars, as Ali starts his two metre odyssey and Kimberley finds herself with a ball of filo dough and nowhere to roll.   She’s allowed into the hallowed judges’ area to get her roll on, using her oklava, no less.

 

Sue bounds about trying to help.  Beca looks horrified at Sue's offer to help her roll and Rob flusters Sue away, politely but firmly; he’s very behind schedule – having lost half an hour ‘cleaning his mushrooms’.  However, Sue is allowed to help Howard with his Fresh Fig and Feta Filo Flan, which he needs to get out of the ring mould.  Mel joins in too and the three of them team up to Free Howard’s Ring.  Each armed with a slice, they carefully lift up his pie and - *bated breath* - place it on the table with no dropping!  PHEW.

 

Time, gentlemen, please.  But who has the bestest pie?

 

Paul and Mary LOVE Kimberley’s bake, which is “absolutely beautiful” and “the whole lot comes together as one big explosion in the mouth, which just tastes and looks fantastic”.

Rob isn’t worried that his spanakopita not cooked (not that you can tell from his entirely expressionless face) – but it turns out that it was underbaked with a soggy bottom.  He whispers “disaster”, which totally counts as an action-packed emotional outburst.

 

Frances gets a told-you-so from the judges – her tree’s not baked and they patronisingly and predictably tell her that style has overpowered substance.  To be frank, I don’t believe them.

 

Christine’s pie broke into pieces in the oven, but she has good “stunning flavours and a good bake”.

 

OK, it’s not the illustrator – Ruby’s pie does look like sausages.  As the judges chomp on her pie, she looks constipated with nerves, but Paul proclaims “that is beautiful”.  In the distance, Kimberley picks up her Turkish rolling pin.

 

Mary isn’t sure that Beca’s got the right mix of veg.  Paul agrees – he thinks it’s like mash potato.  Filo and mash – what’s not to like?

 

Howard gets the Mary Berry ‘I Like That’, though no eye-crinkle.

 

Glenn’s Spanakopita has lovely layers and a crisp bottom.  Paul loves it.  Ali looks on forebodingly.  But Ali’s snake cake is crispy too and “tastes good”, even if it could have done with added pistachios.

 

Tis done.

No animal shots, but a camera pan over the lake, as the judges gather in the back tent to deliberate.  They moot Kimberley and Ruby as the possible star bakers again, whilst it’s Glenn and Ali in the potential firing lane.  Time to find out who’s getting the Mel and Sue sandwich...

Ma baker: Kimberley FINALLY.  I think there would have been some serious oklava-related violence if she hadn’t won it this time.  Truly deserved.

 

Leaving: Ali’s beanie hat.  He’s very sad and doesn’t seem to enjoy the Mel and Sue sarnie much.  But everyone’s really miserable to see him go.  Howard's face crumples like an over-tired toddler and he actually sheds a tear.  Christine tells Ali that if he doesn’t keep in touch, she’ll kill him.  She may have trouble without his address.

Next time: A Giant Dalek Biscuit.  Wonder who’s making that one...

 

2013 Mini blog. Week 4 - Pies

Bye bye:  Oh Ali. Farewell this year's hottie in knitwear. It didn't help that Ali had never made fruit pie. Or bread. Or trifle. It's amazing he got this far really.

Ma Baker: FINALLY Kimberley is crowned!  I think there would have been spatulas at dawn if she hadn't.  She can celebrate with boyfriend Guiseppe, an aviator from the 1920s.

Living up to glorious middle-class stereotype: Christine bakes her granny’s apple pie every week, but Rob foraged his own box of mushrooms.

Food history: I missed this bit as I was melting cheese onto nachos in the microwave.

Mel'n'Sue watch: A three way with Howard who needed help manoeuvring his ring. Operation Remove Filo From Casing was a fortunate success - with Howard's track record, there was no guarantee.

Pun fun: PIE-thagoras. Mel was so impressed.

Next week: Biscuits. CRUNCH TIME. Etc.

2013 Episode 3 – Dessert Week

Last week: Bready byes to horticulturalist Lucy.  Bringing in her own her own yeast (mutated from an apple in her garden) wasn’t enough to sex up Lucy’s loaf and she failed to heed Berrywood’s warnings that taking four hours to plonk six tomatoes on a round bread ball wasn’t going to be enough to Stop the Show. Ruby robbed Kimberley of Star Baker Success by baking about as well, but appearing WAY more stressed.  Rob produced a bread octopus.

This week: Desserts

Signature bake: Trifle; defined layers of sponge, biscuit, fruit, custard, peas, beef, onions, jelly. But really, it’s all about the lady fingers.

After a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it shot of Ali dressed as a poker-playing rapper at home with his entourage, middle-class comfort is restored as we cut back to the tent and see he’s wearing hipster NHS specs and some red James Shetland knitwear.  We also notice that Ali is, errr, rather attractive – something which had entirely passed me by until now.  Having never made bread before Bread Week, Ali, we learn, has no previous trifle experience either, so he’s topping his Coconut, Raspberry and Lemon Meringue Trifle with macaroons, which he apparently has made in the past.  It seems unlikely that will be enough to trick the judges in a TRIFLE challenge, but let’s admire his resolve.  And he’s hot, remember.

Teacher Glenn’s ‘At Home VT’ once again features Mr Glenn and also introduces their adorable doggie, trained to high-five for cake scraps.  Back in the tent, we are not surprised to learn that Glenn is not one for a traditional lady finger.  He’s piping out spirals instead for a Raspberry and Almond Trifle, which he’s pretending he’s not nicked from Mary Berry. 

Deborah Dentist is just eschewing lady fingers altogether, with lemon swiss rolls at the bottom of her Tropical Trifle.  Deborah’s using her own curd, and as I don’t really know what curd is, the notion of using your own curd to do anything repulses me, frankly.  Deborah tells the judges that she’s going to spray Cointreau on to her sponge and pops out a spray can filled with alcohol.  Everyone has a go on the aerosol, directly spraying liquor to throat, communal glue sniffing-style.  (Mel has several sprays.  No sign of Sue, who I’m assuming has already passed out behind Deborah’s kitchen station.) 

In other booze news, Christine is producing a Caribbean Pina Colada Trifle, so yet more excellent eighties throwback action.  Loving your work Christine.

Ruby’s Desert Island Trifle (a tropical concoction of rum, cardamom, bananas, strawbs and mango) will have sponge palm trees stuck against the sides.   Well, that’s the plan - she’s failed to practice on account of having Philosophy degree exams to take.  She hasn’t had time to Fabreeze her granddad cardie either, but – frankly – is too beautiful for it to matter.  Ruby could wear rags and look good.  She could wear bin bags and look good.  She could wear Mary’s neon lime jacket and... actually, no, only Bezza can 'get away' with that one.

There’s a Ginger Zone forming at the back of the tent.  Beca is making an Orange and Ginger Trifle, Kimberley is opting for a Peach, Almond and Ginger Trifle, and Mark is the gingery-est of all, with three types of ginger in his Ginger, Mango and Passion Fruit Trifle.  Beca seems pretty peeved that she’s not alone in picking the VERY COMMON BAKING FLAVOUR that is ginger, but maybe it is an unusual and dangerously exotic choice in the valleys.

Mel tells us that some bakers are opting for jelly, others for jam, which must be particularly confusing for American viewers.  Howard, making a Caramel and Apple trifle, is curling his lip at jelly, whilst Beca is insisting it’s not a real trifle without it.  Beca pulls rank by informing viewers that she was brought up on trifle, because it’s officially eaten at every dinner in West Wales after a roast for mains.  (I totally believe her.)  Howard’s authority is not helped by a shot of him running around a tower block; demonstrating a unique style of movement whilst claiming to be a “keen jogger”. 

We barely have to time to recover from Howard’s exertions before we’re treated to more active footage – this time of Kimberley salsa dancing.  Kimberley demonstrates a salsa step which involves bowing whilst making train wheel motions on each side and pushing the hem of your top down, which is not a move my Zumba teacher has taught me yet.  Back in the kitchen, Kimberley puts all her salsa flirtation into practice and seduces Sue by feeding her honeycomb.

Apart from Glenn, who thinks he’s scrambled his custardy eggs and Mark, who can’t fit square cake into a round bowl (no worries Mark, toddlers have the same trouble), it all seems to be going quite well at this stage.  Which signals certain disaster must be around the corner.  We’re then treated to a sequence in which Mary loudly praises Howard for making his custard from pure egg yolk and no cornflower, with multiple reiterations of “HOWARD’S NOT USING CORNFLOWER” and “HOWARD IS THE BRAVEST ONE HERE”.  

OH THAT’S NOT OMINOUS, AT ALL IS IT? NOT AT ALL. OHHH NO.

Except, of course, it is.  Massively.

Welcome to CUSTARDGATE.

1. Howard innocently wonders where he has left his custard.
2. Deborah Dentist looks like she’s having a breathless panic attack and is hyperventilating.  Her over-plucked eyebrows have disappeared under her sparsely high cut fringe. 
3. Sue asks Deborah if she’s ok.
4. She immediately folds and confesses to custard theft – she picked the wrong bowl from the fridge and used Howard’s custard instead of her own.  She looks MORTIFIED.
5. On hearing Deborah’s confession, Howard chuckles away in the background – last week Sue elbowed his muffin and that was a good omen, so a nicked custard has got to be a GREAT sign.
6. Deborah manages not to cry and spends the rest of the episode looking harassed and rushing around like a headless chicken, desperately getting Howard any ingredients or tools he says he needs to complete his bakes.
7. Howard continues to chuckle in the background, making up mythological utensils for Deborah to bring him, clearly having a whale of a time.

Bring forth the judges!

Ruby’s palm trees have worked and she’s commended for her coconut flavour.  Glenn’s made another giant dessert which makes terrifying suction noises, but there’s praise for his crème pat and the soaking of his sponge.  Kimberley’s trifle has “very good” layers.  The custard layer of Rob’s Rhubarb and Orange Trifle is “rather thick” (which Mary says like it’s a bad thing - WAAH?!) and his rhubarb has been overpowered.  The layers in Mark’s trifle don’t really meld and his custard isn’t great.  Frances, who didn’t really feature til now, has made an Apple and Blackberry Crumble (and gets my first craving points) but the judges think it’s “over-decorated”.  Beca has “lovely” jelly, but “slack” custard.  Paul struggles to diss Ali’s offering (it’s over-filled, tis all) and Christine gets the best praise of all – a simple “superb”.  Deborah was right to steal Howard’s custard, which the judges like very much.  His trifle, however, has layer issues, probably not helped by Deborah’s custard, which was too liquid – Mary told-you-sos her that cornflower is the problem there.

Foodistory: Erm. Trifles used to be posh but now they’re common and Mel eats a jellied calf foot WITHOUT GAGGING.  (Can you tell I basically pay no attention to these bits?)

The Technical Challenge: Iles Flottantes (‘floating islands’). Little tiny poached meringues in a sea of crème anglaise, topped with spun sugar. 

As usual, the instructions are limited and the bakers all have a general mare working out how to, well, do any of it – whether successfully meringuing their eggs, creating a sufficiently stiff meringue, spooning out the right size iles in the right shape - known as “quenelling” (*makes Scrabble note*), poaching the lot in hot milk, using the leftover milk and cream scraps to make crème anglaise (seriously) or trying to successfully spin sugar by flicking it over a wooden spoon.  Surprise, surprise Ali’s never made this dessert before – but he has both SEEN and EATEN it.  Wowsers.

Judging by Mary’s demo, Iles Flottantes should look like mozzarella balls in watery-milk juice with some crispy orange bath plug hair sprinkled over the top – but in a delicious sweet way.  Howard has under-poached and his iles look like cottage cheese balls.  He decides his meringues are insufficiently stiff and will start again.  Elsewhere, Glenn is making spun sugar using the “Wiggling between two dangly things technique” whilst Ali notices that Beca has “quite big ones", innocently ploughing on to then refer to her "big quenelles”.  We all die snarffing.

The blind judging puts Mark last, just below Beca’s big ones.  Deborah is ninth (her sauce was too gluey), behind Frances, who’s behind Howard, who’s behind Kimberley.  At the higher end, Ali is fifth, Christine and Ruby take four and three, with Glenn just sneaking ahead of Rob.  Glenn is chuffed to bits – and so he should be!  Rob does his fleeting micro smile again, so is also clearly delighted and dancing on the inside.  It's ok Rob, you can bust out a celebratory twerk if you want to!

Show-stopper: Twenty-four Petits Fours. Twelve biscuit-base and twelve sponge-based.  All bitesized. Three hours.  Go!

Glenn’s worrying that his tendency to Go Big is going to thwart him.  He’s making Billionaire Bouchées and Orange Financiers, which involves kumquat (meh) and nutty butter (HELLO).

Christine is producing Sachertorte Parcels and something she’s calling “Christine’s Ninety Niners”, which is only thirty away from the rudest bake ever.  She’s also using a pointy wooden cone-making tool her husband made her.  Let’s not dwell.  (But good on ‘em!)

Ruby’s making Lemon Shortbread and White Chocolate Seashells and Blackberry and Chocolate Layer Cakes.  Paul and Mary quiz her on her presentation plans; she’s going to wing it. (Those blighted Philosophy mods!  Do UCL not realise that she has bakes to prep!)

Frances’ ‘Ballet Bites’ Ginger Nutcrackers and Sugar Plum Fairy Cakes are inspired by the Tchaikovsky ballet – she’s going to present them on a cake stand with a vinyl record as the top layer.  NICE.

Howard’s also going concept, with an après-dinner theme: Black Coffee and Cardamom Cake and White Stilton and Pear Biscuits.  DOUBLE NICE.

We cut to Mark pouring the nation’s recommended monthly sugar intake into a bowl whilst whistling.  He’s opted for Rose and Pistachio Macaroons and Chocolate and Raspberry Bites.  Paul quizzes him on his chilling and resting plans – that’s in terms of his bake, not in general.  Mark replies confidently that a half hour rest will be fine.  Paul gives him the stare, so we all know how that’s going to go.

Beca has made extra petits petits fours to go atop her petit fours and shows off PERFECT mini macaroons  (like teeny purple burgers) which will sit on her Limocello and Blueberry Bursts, which will accompany some Millionaire Shortbread.

Over on the other side, karma’s turned up to act like the bitch she is.  Deborah’s Canelé Cherry and Chocolate Cakes aren’t coming out of the mould and her stress levels, already high, are in need of some serious Mel’n’Sue soothing.  Sue saunters over as Deborah begins some Beautiful Mind style murmurings about needing a “narrow cutter”.  “WHAT KIND OF CUTTER?” Sue unhelpfully booms, before accusing of Deborah stealing from Howard again and suggesting Howard set up some barbed wire around his kitchen.  I can imagine Brendan watching at home, thinking ‘I wish I’d had that idea’ and ‘I both loathe and love you Sue’.

Mark is also having a crapper – his bakes have overinflated and instead of macaroons, he’s produced a tray of comedy rubber boobs.  There’s no disguising that, he tells Sue.  She heartily agrees.  Where’s Mel Good Cop!?!?!

Who knows – let’s let the dramatic orchestral music play as we all enjoy a ‘last minute touches’ montage.  Rob finally makes an appearance, brow fuddled with intense concentration, but we’ll have to wait for judging to know what he’s made.  And so....

To the judge-mobile!

Glenn had trouble with his gold leaf, which stuck to his fingers rather than his petits fours.  Paul tells him off for making a petit four which is TOO SMALL. (!!!!!!!)  Mary says “it’s not a brilliant shortbread”, but Paul “loves it”.

Mary thinks Christine's cones look “tempting” and are “scrummy” and sounds of “mmmmm” ring out from everyone, Paul included.

Up comes Mark and Paul is delighted to inform him that he should have rested his macaroons for more than twenty minutes.  Berrywood like the flavour, but think the macaroons “look hideous”.  As for his bites, Paul says he’d have sent them back to the kitchen and asked for the chef – I’m assuming that’s not a good thing.

Ali has just made a shortbread biscuit with decoration on top, thinks Mary.  Paul finds the offering too sweet.

Kimberley is informed by Mary that she’s produced “a very good chocolate cake – not improved by the topping.”  Ooooh, BURN.  (Erm - not literally.)  But she does get flavour praise.

Rob, we discover, has made Almond Friands and Turon Macaroons, which look “remarkably professional”.  Paul adds that they are “delicious” using that husky guttural throat voice he reserves for extra excellent work and seducing younger, glamorous co-workers unaware of his wife.

Howard is worried that the pear circles on top of his cheesy bics look like onion rings, but it’s the limited cheese that Mary’s displeased by.

Again Frances scores well on presentation and this time her flavour also gets complimented!

Ruby looks ever-worried, but Paul says “that’s lovely” and Mary tells her “that’s a bit of all right”, which is my favourite Bezza feedback of all time.  Turns out winging it isn’t the greatest sin known to bakerkind.

Up comes Deborah – who has had, let’s face it, pretty much the worst week to date – theft or no theft.  She looks utterly miserable.  Mary kindly responds with a death glare and Paul calls her offering “a bit of a mess”.  Mary then adds that her scarlet Rose Cookies are “too bright”, which is an AMAZING comment from a woman in a fluorescent jacket (honestly, my Twitter timeline went into meltdown).  To perk Deborah up (by which I mean ‘kick whilst she’s down’) Paul says her cookies are “bone dry”.  They’re slightly nicer about the taste of her chocolates “if you don’t look at them too closely”.

By contrast Beca gets showered with praise for the look of her petit fours and her “weenie macaroons”, which are “technically perfect”.  The judges love the flavours too.  Beca is well chuffed.  Deborah looks on the brink of collapse.

Just some time for Sue and Mel to gather in the judges’ backstage tent area, take a throwaway comment from Mary and turn it into in some grade A gossip about Paul and Bezza getting it ORN, before it’s time for the bakers to squeeze onto a line of stools, shoulders a-barging, and hear their fate.

Ma baker: Christine!  Pina Colada Success.  Mary does lurve the booze.

Mel and Sue sandwich: Mark and Deborah are both leaving this week – it’s no real surprise, and at least it wasn’t down to theft, but rather to cruddy baking.  Am sure that will be a soothing balm of relief.

Pun watch: A classic week for innuendo (“Let’s get those lady fingers soggy”) and the pun of all puns from la Perkins: “SHOULD DEBORAH BE TAKEN INTO CUSTARDY?”  I know I shouldn’t have laughed, but come on!  Even better though was Mary response: “You are a fool” and then a grudging “well done”.

Missed pun-portunity: After the ‘custardy’ thing?  Are you kidding me?!  Nah, they got them all in this week – no question.

Next time: Pie aye. Soggy bottoms ahoy!