2013 Episode 10 - the Final

Last week: Frrrrrrrrrench week: canapés, brains and opera cake. Deadpan comic genius Becaroon was just pipped at the final hurdle, leaving Ruby, Kimberley and Frances left to battle to victory.

During the week: Twitter decided it HATED Ruby. HATED HER. Even the level-headed feminist icon and general delight that is Raymond Blanc waded in, mouthing off about "female tears" and decreeing that no-one pretty or slim could possibly bake anything remotely edible. (Obviously he decreed all that in a comically French accent accompanied by lots of shrugging and pouting but in 140 characters.)

The Final itself was preceded by an hour long special about the Bake Off Class of 2012 (James Shetland's tanktop! Sarah-Jane's melty wellington! Cathryn's zebra scarf! General Brendan!) What a series that was... I've enjoyed this GBBO greatly, but 2012 was a vintage year indeed.  This, slightly unfortunately, highlighted what a tough act Bake Off 4 had to follow...  Anyway, enough blathering.

Shall we? Let's!

This week: The Final. Who will be the ultimate Ma Baker? ANYTHING COULD HAPPEN in this, erm, pre-recorded final - well, anything that involves Ruby or Kimberley winning. Surely Frances, with the style over substance cloud hanging over her, is a guaranteed bronze medallist? Though I distinctly remember thinking that very thought about winner John last year...

Blazer-watch: Mel and Sue are in red and blue (RHYMING!) and Mel has done her hair in a style best described as 'Heidi post-Alpine leg-over'.  Mary is rocking bedspread palm tree floral and Paul’s shirt is as shined and buffed as ever; I bet he measures his cuff turn-ups to the millimetre.

Signature bake: Savoury picnic pie. Shortcrust pastry, elaborate when you cut into to it, some kind of design inside and presented out of the tin. We're told it's a chance to give our lady-bakers a second go at avoiding soggy bottoms, but mainly it's a chance for the term 'soggy bottoms' to get trotted out again - hooray!

Frances has gone through a brief Mallet's mallet word play game to arrive at her concept: from 'picnic' to 'picnic weather' to 'sunshine' to 'showers' to 'sunshine AND showers' to a rainbow – thus culminating in Frances' Rainbow Picnic Pie, made of rice, two types of trout and five different types of veg, all encased in a pastry basket. She lists about three hundred ingredients and flavours that she's going to pack into her basket, as Mary looks on like she's got a headache from listening to someone giving extended road directions through Spaghetti Junction. Paul is shaking his head and chuckling.  Frances carries on listing food items.

Nosey home life section #1: Frances is the youngest of five and even though her parents are called Deirdre and Kevin, they are zooper posh and zooper well-spoken. Deirdre explains that she has no sense of smell as she was kicked in the face when she was tiny (!!!!!) but we get no further explanation, as Frances has interrupted to sarcastically explain that's her mum’s lack of bouquet is why she's all style.  BUT WHAT ABOUT YOUR MUM'S POOR FACE?!?! 

Ruby is already wary, as she's basically making the same thing as Frances, only vegetarian - which by definition makes it less good. Actually, I take that back, as Ruby's Picnic Basket Pie is filled with halloumi, mozzarella, couscous and sun-dried tomatoes. I believe the technical term is 'mmmmmmm'. Mel asks if the “battle of the baskets” is like turning up at a party in the same dress as someone else. Ruby says it is and likens Frances to a seven foot Brazilian supermodel – in truth, not an image we were expecting.

Nosey home life section #2: Ruby's in her mum and dad's kitchen in Southend-on-Sea, which makes a break from cooking in her student room using a George Foreman grill and a lighter to create her baking marvels (probably). We are then treated to a montage of pics of Ruby as a child: totes adorbs. Her mum outs Ruby as a hard-on-herself perfectionist. We are not surprised.

Kimberley is making green pastry and pink pastry, and is going to fashion piggies from the pink; it's a long way from conflict resolution world peace bread, eh? Mary looks concerned at the synthetic colouring potential, but Kimberley explains it's made from beetroot powder, so all good and middle class then.  She's making a Chicken and Pig Pie, which has chicken mousse and pork paté stuffed around a black pudding. YUM YUM PIG'S BUM, as Len Goodman would say – in this case, possibly literally. Kimberley says she's had “two and a half catastrophes” practising for this challenge, which just makes me wonder what the half was.

Nosey home life section #3: Mini-fro klaxon! Cue gorgeous childhood photos of Kimberley and her sister, Nicolla.  Middle England bristles slightly as Nicolla spells her name with two Ls and says 'we woz' Alesha-style, but fortunately she also describes the familiar childhood game of ‘Pretending To Be A Blue Peter Presenter During The Kitchen Segment’ and the home counties are duly comforted. No kitchen scenes for Kimberley, who's swanning around the South Bank with Giuseppe - sadly Giuseppe's not dressed as an aviator today. Even MORE disappointingly, Giuseppe is pure London and doesn't even have a hint of a Dolmio accent.

Back in the tent, we learn that moisture is the enemy – that's the way to avoid a soggy bottom. Ruby and Frances are therefore pre-baking their insides, whilst Kimberley's going for a pie onesie, and baking all in one - clearly only one of these can be correct.  Kimberley also places what looks like a giant pepperami inside her pie, which... I'll be blunt: it's highly phallic.

Whilst Frances has her back turned, Mel, Sue and Mary (MARY!!!) tuck into Frances' veg stash – stuffing asparagus or beans or whatever those long green things are into their gobs as fast as they can whilst she's busy at the microwave.  They seem to be saying that they don’t think Frances needs the contents of the bowl, but it's hard to tell, as their mouths are so full of food.

Ruby's pie looks perfect. She nearly faints as she assesses the damage and realises THERE ISN'T ANY. Frances' pie isn't bad either, but has a slight haemorrhage (not haemorrhoids, Cathryn Class of 2012), so she and Mel get wafting as an emergency stemming measure. In the battle of the baskets, it's actually Ruby who's produced the Brazilian glamazon basket; Ruby saw Frances’ glazed basket clasp and raised her ‘an actual pastry handle’.  Kimberley meanwhile has leaking and sticking woes.  She takes it with the clinical calm we'd accept, simply whispering “shame”.   It is a shame.

Final judging stint numero uno.

Paul likes Frances' lattice work and Mary admires the bake. Paul upps the tension by asking if it's going to ooze when he cuts it open, and... it doesn't. “Very very neat layers” in fact.  And the filling is even better - “fantastic". Frustratingly, it's about “ten minutes from perfection”. Argh!

No pre-cutting comments from Berrywood about Kimberley's green striped pie – just straight in with the knife. Sadly it doesn't stand up to being moved and the sides start caving in a bit. Paul explains “the moisture has weakened the structure of the pie” and continues “it's almost like a glue, binding my mouth together”, which doesn't sound good, though Kimberley gives it her trademark giggle. Mary likes the seasoning and the mousse, “but it's spoilt by the pastry”.

Mary thinks Ruby's presentation is “very very special” and “the bake is beautiful”. Ruby is gobsmacked to see lovely defined layers in her pie, admitting “they never look like that at home”.  Paul replies “Don't tell me that!” with a twinkle in his Hollywood eye and Twitter goes mental with stupid outraged ragey rage that if Ruby wins it's only because Paul fancies her.  Mary says it's “an excellent example of a vegetarian pie”, which clearly means 'meat is best'.  Paul says it's “sublime” and whispers that it “looks like Frances made it”.  Well that's PROOF, isn't it - making a girl jealous by bigging up her rivals is a well-known flirt tactic.

Kimberley shot: Meditating in a field, reflecting on her soggy bottom and trying to keep it together. Fortunately she vacates the area before Sue sends Paul and Mary to “frolick in the buttercups”, as it's time for...

The Technical Challenge: Pretzels. Six savoury, six sweet. Oh yes – I lurrves me a pretzel. On my year abroad in Cologne, I used to buy them from my local U-Bahn station. Sure, they were full of lovely doughy dough, but really it was the giant grains of salt that made them so good. You can't beat massive chunks of salt on a bread product. Fact.

Mel and Sue describe what they have to do. I predict it will KNOT (yessssss) go well. Even Kimberley’s not made them before. As she kneads her dough, Frances says that Paul always encourages the bakers to use their hands, so this will show more skill. Paul isn’t there, Frances! You can totally get your blender out! He’ll claim to know, but he really won’t! Frances then claims she has unusually strong hands: “I give friends massages and stuff” implying she's possibly a secret baking X-Man. Elsewhere Kimberley is also kneading with purpose – Mel asks her if she’s taking out the morning’s frustrations on some innocent dough. Kimberley goes a bit quiet adolescent and whispers a ‘maybe, yeah’, but quickly bounces back with, yep you've guessed it, a giggle.

Mel is keeping herself amused with a series of accents (Noo Yoik then German), as the bakers spend a good few hours attempting to twist and knot their dough in such an unnecessarily complex way it should be part in the World Rhythmic Gymnastics Championships – my very favourite preposterous Olympic sport. They then have to drop their pretzels in boiling saline solution (confession: I might have misheard the details on that one, but there is definitely 'boiling' and 'solution' involved). Sue tells us “they only need seconds in the solution”, but Ruby has left hers in for a good minute. “Hey, they’ve been in a while” says Sue to Ruby, sub-texting AAARGH SCREAM DEAR GOD HINT HINT TAKE THEM OUT FOR THE LOVE OF PRETZEL GOODNESS.  Frances’ pretzels look a little like a dog turd after it’s eaten... actually, you don’t want to know what it would have eaten to produce that little message.

The judges re-appear, buttercups in their hair.  Paul drones on about shape, colour and texture and Mary mainly gets on with the eating.  Frances’ dog doos come last, Ruby takes silver and Kimberley wins the last technical. Before she can get too excited, Paul says “it’s the closest thing to a pretzel, but don’t clap”. OUCH!

Shot filler: A beautiful timelapse of the sun rising through the trees. It’s not quite a comedy ewe, but I’ll take it.

Show-stopper: A three-tiered wedding cake. Any size, but it must have an “immaculate design” and an “incredible finish”. They have six hours, which may sound like an age, but a cake-maker extraordinaire I trust said on Facebook that making that cake in that time is madness.

Of course, the ultimate wedding cake is one made entirely of cheese. (Tier one: giant brie, tier two: giant Camembert, tier three: decorative goat’s.)

Frances is making a Midsummer Night’s Dream Wedding Cake. The bottom tier is rhubarb and ginger, the middle a lemon Vicky sponge filled with raspberries and cream, and on top is a carrot, apricot and orange cake. The décor is falling confetti. Frances starts listing a billion more ingredients; beetroot hearts, mango and sweet potato, pineapple flowers... Mary takes a deep breath and starts to wonder if she overdid it on the style over substance chastisement, seeing as Frances is now going for EVERY SINGLE FLAVOUR in everything she will ever bake.

Kimberley is using a cake pop tray to make decorative polka dots. I only discovered cake pops this year, and they are truly delicious, even though they are so sugary they make your teeth vibrate. Kimberley's cake is called, and I kid you not in the slightest: Kimberley's Languages of Love Wedding Cake. Amazing. It will be decorated with the word “love” in 28 languages – Kimberly has commissioned her own stamp for the purposes. Kimberley to rule the world, please. Mel reads out the different words in indeterminate languages – it all sounds a bit like Lord Of The Rings-esque chanting. (Somewhere in Morrrrdrrrr, a volcano is awoken and an avalanche about to destroy an hobbit village - that's the essential plot, right? Course the real mystery of the Ring is how such a ridiculous wig didn't dampen Orlando Bloom's beauty.)

Kimberley's raspberry-flavoured cake pops will be hidden inside a chocolate fudge cake on the bottom and the middle layer is an orange and pistachio checker-board sponge (well *someone's* vexed that there was no 'pattern concealed inside a cake' challenge this year).  The top will be a lemon and elderflower cake with poppy seed buttercream. I'll be frank, if I were the bride, I'd not be massively pleased with that top layer, but I'd also have had a LOT of fizz come cake time, so it would probably be ok.

Mel asks Kimberley if she has someone in mind when she bakes her WEDDING cake, you know, someone with whom she might want to plan a WEDDING. Kimberley, you will not be surprised to hear, responds with a tinkly giggle, then says “I haven't got somebody in mind, in particular”, which must be a bit of a shock for Giuseppe. She quickly saves things by saying “The bottom tier is my boyfriend's favourite flavour”. Good thing she included 'tier' in that sentence.

Ruby is doing some speed whisking to make passion fruit curd and lemon curd, which is “an easy way to get flavour into something without having to use loads of buttercream”. Cut to Kimberley heaping ginormous spoonfuls of buttercream into three separate bowls.

Ruby's Raspberry, Lemon and Passion Fruit Wedding Cake is made of Victoria sponge with passion fruit curd on top, the middle will be filled with fresh raspberry and mascarpone cream, and the base layer will be a lemon Victoria sponge filled with lemon curd, all decorated to represent sunset on a warm summer's evening. Sue asks Ruby what kind of wedding cake she would want and Ruby replies with a soundbite designed to send the Daily Mail into apoplectic fury: “quite often, weddings are just an exercise in narcissism. I can't be bothered”. Saying you can't be bothered with something when you are happy to spend six solid hours baking an intricate three-tiered cake is a little unusual perhaps, but I get your drift, Ruby. 

Sue asks Frances how she'll feel if she is announced as the winner. Frances is suddenly VERY silent, but her breathing goes short and rapid fire and there is serious risk of hyperventilation with no trained intensive care consultant/amateur baker on hand to sort it out. Frances then pretends the question wasn't asked and says “I'm going to go in the oven”. NO FRANCES NO! Oh, she doesn't mean literally.

Whoop! It's time for the ex-bakers to grace the Bake Off Final Garden Party with their presences. Hot Ali is serving cake; Engineer Rob has brought his gadget-tastic camera; Glenn is an “excited groupie”. Christine thinks it's too close to call and “I would hate to be judging it myself”, which means “STAND BACK MARY, I WANT IN ON THE DECIDING FUN” - so much for their Surrey Boarding School love-in now Christine's been kicked out. Becaroon then appears looking Glam As Fuck - the power of the kohl pencil and some hair straighteners - and announces she's firmly Team Kimberley. No-one else gets quite the same level of support: Howard (HOWARD!!! HELLO!!!) seems to be Team Frances, as “I love her to bits” and Glenn's cheeky face tells us “I've got a feeling it's going to be Ruby”. All of this is interspersed by shots of a coconut shy, a concept I've never really understood – a game where your reward for winning is a coconut that's been on the floor? No.

Paul bangs on about how amazing Ruby's shonky shed was. Cue another Twitter melt down. Mind you, I love Ruby and all I'll say is this: it must have tasted amazing.

Back in the tent it's tiering time. Sue has fifty panic attacks. She ineffectually hovers near the baker's cakes, Perkins hands ready to catch any tumbling tier, but if any layer did take a knock, she'd not be in a position to do anything more than break the cakey fall and end up with sponge pieces about her person. A bit like when my boyfriend and I were moving house and he was dislodging heavy items from the top of the wardrobe whilst I unhelpfully stood behind him saying things like 'you ok?' and 'have you got it?' as he wrestled alone with a ten tonne suitcase full of my winter shoewear. Good times! Ruby has over tier-ed and layer #2 is too high. She plugs the gap with butter-icing. We used exactly the same tactic to neaten out our skirting boards.

And time, gentlewomen, please. That's it! Baking Romeo Done. The camera pans the cakes and their makers, all pensive. Ruby's cake is a bit pallid and Kimberley's offering is unfortunately a mite underwhelming. Frances' cake looks more the part – even if the confetti has something of the damp autumn leaves on the windscreen about it. It seems a slight damp squib after all the incredible creations we've seen during the series, but it was a tough challenge, looks aren't everything and I'm sure these cakes have 'great personalities'.

Ruby's up first. Paul isn't sure that the colour of her cake works (admittedly anaemic pink and pale Institution Yellow aren't the greatest, perhaps) and Mary wishes she'd incorporated more of the skills she'd learned though the weeks. Berrywood then tuck into the passion fruit layer and Mary proclaims it tastes "absolutely scrumptious”. Not even scrummy – SCRUMPTIOUS! That's like a Hollywood Handshake, surely? “It's the sort of cake that you could serve as the luxury pudding at a wedding” she continues. Paul gets his forensic fork into the raspberry layer – and thinks Ruby has overfbaked it. He thinks she's overbaked her lemon layer too, whilst Mary wanted it to be more “lemony” (la Berry loves her lemons, doesn't she? Lemon and booze. Basically, if Mary's coming over - limoncello gateaux and you're fine). Paul says to Ruby “I know where your skills lie in baking but on this one...” It's meant to be complimentary I think, but I doubt Ruby even hears the rest, as she's very upset and on the brink of tears. It's not surprising – I'd hardly be beaming if someone said accurately negative things about my work, even in the kindest way. TEAM RUBY!

Frances, despite her strangler's masseuse's X-Man's hands, is too weak to carry her cake, so it falls to that bastion of bulging muscle masculinity to move it... Mary Berry. I jest, Paul picks it up and shuffles it across, breathing a leeeetle more heavily than his vanity might like. “You can do it, big boy” says Sue, supportively. It does look lovely, close-up, down to the Aardman-esque bumblebees (what accent would you give a Creature Comfort bumblebee? Old skool south Lahndan would be my preference). Mary thinks it looks “original, so pretty, so effective” but wishes the décor had gone over the whole cake and not just the front – a bit like that temptation just to shave the front of your legs, as you can't see the back yourself (oh, just me?). Frances' carrot top has “all the spices right”, but it's just too sweet for Mary. The lemon sponge is “moist and well-baked” and “very good”. The ginger and rhubarb tier is “a nice ginger cake”, but neither Paul or Mary think the rhubarb actually adds to it. However, Mary goes a bit glazed-eyed at the thought of how surprised and happy the bride would be to see this “lovely centrepiece” at her wedding. Of course she'll be happy - after several months on the Wedding Dress Rivita diet it's 'HELL YEAH CAKE TIME!'

In fact, Kimberley might want to seek solace in the thought that a starved pissed bride, and indeed a starved pissed groom, will be happy just to sugar and carb-load regardless, as Mary basically tells her that the newly married Mrs X would be well upset if she got Kimberley's offering on her wedding day and would probably throw a Bridezilla mega-strop. At least Mary kindly follows that up by saying that she is looking forward to tasting it. Mary says the poppy seed inside “does look tempting” and Paul agrees “it looks good”. He thinks it “tastes good” too. Kimberley's orange and pistachio checker-board layer is deemed to “certainly have worked” and is “well baked, nice and moist”. Paul says he's “beginning to feel that the outside doesn't reflect the inside”. The bottom layer, a choccy fudge cake with raspberry spheres inside, is “on the dry side”, but “the flavours are very good”.

AND THAT IS IT. Tension and waiting ahoy. Sue gives red-eyed Ruby a maternal kiss on the head. There's a brief sojourn to the coconut shy where someone wins a coconut (big deal), before the whooping begins and Frances, Ruby and Kimberley carry their bakes across the lawn, ready to get family hugs and await their fates. The judges gather in the tent and say lovely things about all three bakers, then announced that they both have someone in mind. “Is it me, Mary?” says Sue. “No” is the reply. It's blunt. “Might be Mel though” Mary deadpans. CLASSIC BERRY. What a gal. Sue throws her head into her hands, whilst Mel perks up meerkat style and cocks an eyebrow. Mel and Sue 4EVA! I MISS THEM ALREADY *WAAAAAH*.

It's time. The girls gather in a proper hug to hear the outcome.

And the winner of the 2013 Great British Bake Off is: Frances!!!! She almost collapses into Ruby. It's bloody lovely, as it would have been had ANY of them won – these are excellent women, with excellent talent who have carried themselves excellently throughout. Rrrrrah! Frances is wearing an expression on her face like it's 3am and she's found herself in the Glastonbury after-hours field that is Shangri-la, after a pretty intense festival time of it, unsure quite what's just happened and what is currently going on or where the hell her wetwipes and left welly might be, but certain that it's all still mighty mighty good, whatever it is. “I hoped, you know, I dreamt it, but I don't think I truly believed it”. Congratulations Frances. You can believe it now.

Roll credits, but not before we are treated to the “Since The Great British Bake Off” montage, which is one of my FAVOURITE bits of the whole thing.

“Toby has started a fitness regime and has been running to raise money for cancer charities.” Translation: “I'm too disillusioned to ever bake again.”

“Lucy has started writing articles encouraging people to grow their own baking ingredients.”

Translation: “You wouldn't have dissed my tomato cake if I'd grown it all from scratch including the plate.”

“Mark is enjoying baking for friends and family. They are less critical than Paul and Mary!”

Translation: “Paul and Mary know nothing. NOTHING!”

“Deborah is hoping to get involved in community projects to improve people's confidence in the kitchen.”
Translation: “I am still atoning for Custardgate”.

“Ali is working with university baking societies to encourage Asian and Muslim men to bake.”

Translation: “HOT Ali is working with university baking societies to encourage Asian and Muslim men to bake.”

“Rob has turned his forensic attention to detail to chocolate. He is now engineering elaborate chocolate creations”.

Translation: “I will not rest until I have created a chocolate dalek. An ACTUAL chocolate dalek.”

“Howard has been inundated with requests to make cakes and for Paul, the polar bear. He has not made custard since....”

Translation: “Truth is, I hate jogging.”

“Glenn has to leave longer to walk between classrooms because he is stopped so often by students. He is still making giant cakes.”

Translation: “Mmmmmmm cake.”

“Christine is now hosting a weekly baking spot on her local radio station.”

Translation: “It's just one more amazing part of the exciting, glamorous, sexy life I've led and continue to lead. If electric guitar cakes could talk...”

“Beca is relieved to be baking for her daughter again – who thinks every bake she makes is amazing.”

Translation: “Ain't no party like a Becaroon party”.

“Ruby got a first in her exams.”

Translation: “I winged it a bit, cause I was playing with my cat, but philosophy's just thinking out loud, isn't it.”

“Kimberley is now baking for charity and is trying out new recipes on the other members of her boxing club.”

Translation: “THAT'S RIGHT, BITCHES, SALSA *AND* BOXING”. (Seriously, Kimberley for PM please.)

“Frances is still in a state of shock. She hopes to continue designing recipes with both style and substance.”
“SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!”

Next time: That’s all folks, bar the Masterclasses, which don’t have the requisite level of innuendo and cake trauma for me. For more Bake Off words, please go read Ruby's fantastic Guardian article to all the haterz. I hope it’s clear that, for all the mildly bitchy nonsense I spout, I have nothing but respect for all the amateur bakers who took part and put their head above the parapet because they love making delicious foodstuff, are bloody amazing at doing it and wanted to learn a bit more in the process.  It's televised cake baking, people, there's no need for internet fury! Just let them eat cake.

Take care people and roll on 2014!