2014 Episode 4 - Dessert week

Last week: Jordan’s brioche was too soggy, whilst Luis triumphed after sticking gold leaf to olives.  Paul was at his smuggestly bread-judgingly happiest.

This week: Just desserts - and an Alaskan controversy that makes Sarah Palin look entirely sane.

Blazer watch: I’m fairly sure Mary’s worn that Jackson Pollock Does Floral Upholstery blue jacket before.  She’s also got what appears to be a giant silver ‘M’ on her belt, Batman Style.  (It might be an H, but I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt here.)

The Signature bake: A Self-saucing Pudding. 

So this is a sponge that produces its own juices basically; it sounds disgusting, but HELLO FONDANTS.  All the references to self-saucing are promptly taken by Mel and Sue as an opportunity to go full Kenneth Williams.

So what are they planning, matron?

Martha is making Peanut Butter Chocolate Fondants, which NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM FOR EVER.

Kate is making Chocolate & Salted Caramel Molten Puddings, which NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM FOR EVER.

Iain is making Chocolate, Lime & Raspberry Fondant, which... well, I’m probably full now, so that’s a shame.  He’s planning mint chocolate leaf decor – maybe I can force one or two of those down.

Should Nancy’s plan go perfectly, her Pistachio Puddings with Chocolate Sauce will show green sponge with brown sauce when you cut into it.  She’s managed that once out of ten practice attempts, so the going isn’t great, but Paul’s impressed by the daring.  Me too!

Richard’s also been practicing - on the family again.  They’re now a little over-exposed to his Black Forest Chocolate Fondants, so he chuckles that it might be some time before they’re back on the family favourite roster, but they were popular once, so that’s a good sign.

Richard’s Blue Ear Pencil watch: Firmly in place.  Phew.

Luis tells us how his Pears in Puddings get moist - I wasn’t really paying attention, I’m afraid, as a) I can’t handle the word “moist” and b) I was distracted by the individual foil hats he’s crafted for each pear: “a cross between a wizard and a dunce” observes Sue.  Stupid but magic pears - terrifying.  Luis isn’t a fan of desserts week, as it’s his weakest area of baking.  Come on Luis – I’ve got £2 riding on you!

Chetna’s decided to move away from Indian flavours to something British and traditional: Strawberry, Raspberry & Orange Puddings.  (Once again, I’m afraid that’s all I have to report from Chetna’s station.)

Norman reveals that, after last week’s telling off for being too simple, he has learnt... ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, as he’s going simple AGAIN (*tears hair out*).  I’m sure his Mini Sticky Toffee Puddings will be delicious, but you’ve got to balance style along with your substance.  Paul asks Norman how much sauce he thinks there will be. “About 60 ml” he replies.  Brilliant!  None of your “I don’t know, about this much: *shows indeterminate finger gap*” when you’ve had military training, oh no!

Diana is going for a traditional surprise pudding, though it’s basically no surprise to hear it will be traditional.  She says her Orange & Lemon Curd Pots will be “the biggest thing I’ve ever done, apart from giving birth and all those weird things”.  ?!?!?!?!  What weird things?!!  Come on Diana, you can’t just leave it at that.

Dramatic montage #1: Mixture-spooning and putting-into-oven-ing.

Dramatic montage #2: Beautifying the self-saucers (“ooooh matron”) and hiding away the duds.

Then a quick detour via...

Foodistory: 18,000 Devoners had a giant scrap over the biggest spotted dick Sue has ever seen.

...Before judging!  Will there be sauce?!

Good sauce: Richard – “complicated but exceptionally baked”; Iain – “good consistency and they taste lovely”; Kate - “the sauce is bang on and the sponge is delicious”; and Diana – the “flavour is absolutely gorgeous” and the sauce is “beautiful”.

Naughty sauce: Chetna – “delicious, but definitely needs more sauce”; Martha – “lots of sauce” but “it’s welding my mouth shut”; Luis – “more a poaching” and “very claggy”; Nancy – “exceptional flavour” but “soft middle, not sauce”; Norman – “a proper sauce” but “it doesn’t look very attractive”.

Nancy’s unimpressed with her feedback and points out that puddings get eaten in a few minutes anyway, so WHATEVS BEZZAWOOD.

Animal shot: right on cue, a ewe produces what is clearly a support bleat for Nancy’s resentment.

The Technical Challenge: Mary’s Tiramisu Cake.

It’s a test of precision, with minimal instructions.  Only Martha’s made it before – and it looks corkingly difficult.  The first challenge is making a sponge which is flat but not too flat and which has to be sliced through the middle to make two even flatter sponges.  Richard and Iain don’t get enough rise and decide to bin and re-bake to get the two slices.  (Though why they can’t just bake another flat sponge and add that is beyond me.)  Nancy and Kate decide to just form a patchwork top layer of sponge off-cuts.

The next step is brandy and coffee infusion – the ratios aren’t clear, so Norman’s hoping to have some left over for a wee nip at the end.

Luis has made a highly complex diagram to help him remember to order the layers: sponge, cream, sponge, cream, sponge, cream, etc.  He must have drawn on all his professional experience as a Graphic Designer to handle that one.

Iain’s kneeling at the oven, begging it to cook faster.  His jeans are at the very cusp of acceptability before builder’s bum becomes a very real inevitability.  It’s probably the most risqué fashion statement the Bake Off has ever seen.

Dramatic montage #3: the orchestral strings ring out as the bakers pipe and grate and temper and sift to get the decorative touches.

Sue provides one of the lines of the night: “I can hear the gentle pad of lady moccasins – Berry approaches!”

Tecchie Rankings: Diana is last, then Norman, Kate, Iain, Nancy and Richard at number 4.  The podium goes to Chetna at third, Luis at second, which means the winner is... Martha!  It pays to have made it before.  Good for Martha – she seems a delight, which is no mean feat at 17.

Norman’s optimism abounds.  He didn’t come last, so is basically happy.  I fear a TV loss I’m not ready to take on.

Not an Animal Shot: a single drop of dew on a single leaf of grass.  Well, *someone’s* getting arty.

The Show-stopper: A Baked Alaska. 

That’s sponge, frozen centre and meringue.  Yes, it involves hot ovens and frozen ice cream.  I’ve been witness to it being made and I still don’t understand how it works.  Witchcraft, I reckon.

“What could possibly go wrong?” giggles Luis, inside the tent.

“Many things can go wrong” says a po-faced Paul to an outside camera.

Diana: “Thing is, if you keep it too safe, it doesn’t win any prizes, does it?”

Norman “I want to keep it very simple and very straightforward.”

The editors are having fun, aren’t they?

I fear Diana is right though, Norman, and your Baked Alaska with Strawberry Surprise needs to be very special indeed.  Certainly the illustration promises something different – a cake which looks like a giant bobble hat.  Norman’s delighted with his ice cream – “I could have been born in Italy” he announces.

Martha announces she’s making a Key Lime Pie Baked Alaska and the judges immediately “OOOOOOH” in delighted unison.  “Well done and you’ve won” announces Sue.

Chetna’s Mango, Raspberry & Coconut Baked Alaska is making her reminisce about home and the smell of mangos and summer and the warmth and... it sounds wonderful.  Meanwhile, I’m typing this in full jumper and woolly socks mode, under British summer skies of uniform grey and the feeling that the sun will NEVER RETURN AGAIN.  Mel tries some mango and goes into raptures, promptly encouraging Chetna to get to the freezer, so she can surreptitiously nick some behind her back.  “Saw that!” booms Diana, in her most accusatory WI voice.  Mel remains entirely unashamed.

Iain has opted for black sesame seed ice cream, which he assures us tastes lovely.  It will be a key part of his Chocolate, Black Sesame Seed and Coffee Caramel Baked Alaska.  Paul jokily tells him it looks disgusting.  Mary just gives him The Look, which is about five million times more chilling.  GET SOME BOOZE IN THERE PRONTO IAIN.

Nancy points out what will come to be a KEY PLOT POINT, namely that it’s HAWT in that tent.  Hawt, hawt, hawt.  She’s concerned about the freezer’s capacity to deal with her Summer Pudding Alaska, especially as it’s going to be the size of small pony.

Kate’s hoping for full kitsch, with her Pistachio, Raspberry & Chocolate Baked Alaska.  She says she is taking inspiration from her hometown of Brighton, where rainbow is essentially the national colour.

Richard, in a slight déjà-vu scenario, is making Tiramisu Baked Alaska.  The illustration makes it look like the giant silver wigs the Grease ladies wear in Beauty School Drop Out.  He’s also using ladyfingers, so cue inevitable giggles for the rudest sounding baking ingredient.

Mind you Luis tells us he is making an “almond bottom”, which also has a certain naughtiness to it.  He tells us he loves Bakewell tart, so is planning a Bakewell Alaska.  The illustration looks like a cross between a millipede and one of those dreadlock dogs.  (The illustrator has outdone himself this week – this is *excellent* work.)

Nancy and Diana gather by their freezer and peer in; it’s not going well on the setting front.  BECAUSE IT’S HOT REMEMBER. They give each other a supportive, yet concerned look, and get back to it.  Luis and Norm have a similar conversation; Norm’s ice cream is frozen “but melting very quickly”.  No such luck for Iain: “it’s not frozen” he panics - well, as much as über-calm Iain can express panic.  There’s basically a very, very faint, just about perceptible, quiver in his voice, so I’m fairly sure he’s feeling the stress.

Sue cheers Iain up by eating some of his chocolate then giving him a joyful look clearly inspired by the taste of deliciousness.  She then tells him his beard has grown at least an extra centimetre this week and she hopes he will stay in for a long time, so she can see him reach “full russet Gandalf”.

Diana’s Alaska is all about the meringue, as she’s making a Raspberry Ripple Alaska Swan.  Certainly, creating a long-necked animal from meringue is probably on the more challenging side of the baking oeuvre – take note Norman.  She says the swan is a bit like her: “calm on the top, but paddling like... billy-oh, underneath”.  I’m about 99% sure that she was about to swear like a filthy-mouthed sailor before her decorum training kicked in and threw up “billy-oh”.

Dramatic montage #4: meringue-utan.  Norman announces that he is especially looking forward to seeing Luis’ meringue.  Cue the following shot:

Norman is on formal surveillance duty again.

Probably the finest camera work the BBC has ever seen. (Apart from all the work Mr Cad has done for them OBVZ.)

The ‘Luis double-mixing under Norman’s scrutiny’ shot of joy is swiftly followed by my favourite delivery of the night, as Mel steps with her most authoritative voice and looks directly to camera: “Half an hour left, bakers, half an hour left. That was Melanie Giedroyc reporting for Baked Alaska News.”  It made me proper lolz.

Dramatic montage #5: And this one really is dramz-matic - because it’s so hot, the bakers only have limited time to add the ice-cream to their sponge creations before it all gets too melty.  “Freezer, freezer, freezer” yells Chetna, whilst running and balancing cake on a tray; concisely articulating how they’re all feeling just now.

And then.

Meltgate, or When The Bake Off Went Dark

Right then. I’m just going to lay this out as it appeared, JUDGEMENT FREE (ahem).  And we can then discuss the implications later, if we’re feeling up to it (which frankly...). 

OK, here goes....

1. Nancy and Diana are back at their fridge and have noticed a rogue Alaska.  “Whose is this?” asks one, “Iain’s I think”, replies the other. 

2. Cut to Iain looking stressed and oblivious.

3. Then to Luis manically meringue-ing.

4. Then back to Diana in the middle of her own decor. 

5. “Where’s my ice-cream” says Iain, with a slightly increased quiver-level in his voice. 

6./7. Diana twigs and responds “It’s here, sorry Iain, we...” but the rest is muffled by Iain going “ARGGHHHHHHH!”, his extra giant hair rising an extra centimetre from stress and ear-steam humidity. 

8./9. Diana then appears fairly indignant and says something like “well you’ve got your own freezer, haven’t you?” whilst Iain is simultaneously complaining that “someone took this out the freezer and now it’s all melted”. 

With me so far?  Dramz ahoy.

10. We then cut back to Iain, who has gone back to his station.  He’s looking forlorn and angered and asks “Why would you take ice cream out of a freezer?”.  (I’m fairly sure it’s a rhetorical question.)

11. The ice cream, it’s fair to say, does not look good.  It looks like a film of silver fish skin dunked in a giant bucket of fresh cream.

12. Nancy mouths “oh dear” and moves back to her work. 

That’s right, people, she moves back to her work.  There is no sign of an apology.  I repeat, no sign of an apology.  Hmmmm, think the Great British Public, hmmm...

13. Sue arrives at Iain’s station, to see what can be done. 

14. Iain reckons there’s only any mixture left at all because he put the tin around it. 

15. The proof is then in the pudding (soz), as he lifts the tin and...

16. *DRAMATIC STRING RIFF*

17. ... the whole thing collapses in a big giant melty cream mess.   

Or, as Mr Cad put it “an albino turd”.

18. But Sue’s there! Surely Sue can sort this out!  That’s what she’s there for!

19. Sue takes a deep breath and says “now then, let’s have a think about how we can present that”.  
20. “I’ve got a serving suggestion!” says Iain.

21. Iain picks up the melty mess, moves to the end of his kitchen station, and before Sue can twig or take action...

22. Iain promptly dumps the whole thing in the bin.

23. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

24. ...whilst Sue cries “nooooooooo”.

25. It is too late to save Alaska. “Look at it, I can’t present it!” says Iain to Sue’s unusually flummoxed face.

26. Sue remains silently flummoxed, desperately wondering what to do.

27. But Iain leaves the tent.

28. We cut back to Diana.  She looking shocked like a schoolgirl who’s seen a fellow pupil pull someone’s pigtail for the first time and can’t believe such behaviour is possible.

29.  NOW WHAT?!?!?

30. Dramatic montage #6: more creaming or something.  To be honest, we’re all too shell-shocked to notice the details.

So let’s hit pause and take stock, shall we?  

To me, the editing’s pretty clear – we’re supposed to think that Diana got well peeved that Iain was using her freezer, rather than the one he had been allocated, so took out his ice cream and heartlessly left it on the side to melt.  She then failed to show much - if any - compassion when he discovered it and, in any case, it was far too late by then to have any hope of rectifying the situation.  There was then a marked absence of any footage showing Diana contrite and sorry or fretfully and repeatedly apologising à la Deborah, after Howardcustardgate.

So, at the time, I was fairly sympathetic to Iain and fairly unimpressed with Diana.

But it just didn’t quite compute - I couldn’t work out why Diana had a) taken out Iain's pudding and b) wasn’t shown to be at all sorry about it.  Because, without getting too Poirot about it, it just wasn’t in line with the last few weeks of Diana’s Bake Off portrayal.  I don’t know about you, but I hadn’t really pegged her as a cut-throat turbo competitor, willing to get Terminator-levels of mean, whatever the costs, and content to exhibit blatant sabotage-y (yes, that’s a word) behaviour on national TV.  She seemed sometimes shy and a bit overwhelmed by the whole thing.  And as for cheating – we’re talking here about the kind of person who seemed to embody the very essence of someone brought up on the notion of Fair Play.  She might not be happy about someone using un-allocated/rogue freezer space, but to heartlessly take out someone's pud and leave it to the elements?  She might be no-nonsense, but I can't see her as no-conscience (eyethankyew). 

It’s time, therefore, to look for the story beyond the confines of the programme itself.  Come with me, my friends, as we head towards the internet – we’ll need to tread carefully, because it’s a terrifying jungle ether out there.  Ready?  Let’s go.

Twitter, as it ALWAYS does, didn’t bother with nuance and decided to condemn Diana as nothing short of pure evil.  I think the reference to “Diana Cake Hitler” was *probably* meant in jest, but the person that thought it acceptable to change her Wikipedia reference from “Diana Beard” to “Diana Bitch”... 

?!?

Really?  We went there, did we?  Oh *hilarious*.

And the less said about the front page of The Sun the better.

(Though we will now always have the '#bincident' hashtag - I mean, that is amazing.  Twitter may be full of hateful shitheads, but it can pun like no other.)  

Reading through the stinking haze of the utter shitstorm this has inexplicably churned up and looking at what has been said by Iain, Diana, Paul and Sue (who were, you know, THERE), it seems that Diana *did* take the ice cream out, because there was some confusion about (unexpectedly limited, probably BBC-budget affected) freezer space.  Most reports, and a tweet from Sue, suggest that Iain’s ice cream was out for 40 seconds or so, and are at pains to point out that the problems Iain was having with his ice cream really weren’t down to being out of the freezer for a short while.  Iain’s apparently since disputed that and said it was probably out for longer than the 40 seconds quoted, but he also says still doesn’t hate Diana at all.  He thinks she’s a top lady.

So I’m now riding the backlash to the backlash – and, on balance, I’ve come to see the #dirtydiana editing as quite mean-spirited and unfair in its (at best) ambiguity.   And even worst, I think it's just decidedly un-Bake Off.  The Bake Off is all about being warm and fluffy and supportive and nice, where the most exciting thing is whether someone was right to use eggwash or to leave their dough in the proving drawer for another ten minutes.  Portraying someone as a cutthroat backstabber - even ambiguously - when Iain, the other bakers, and Paul and Sue and the BBC have all said she’s not, is just not very Bake Off. 

And if they were going to go there, as they did, I'd suggest the Bake Off thing to do would have been to offer up a clear and blatant redemption plot line, where Diana and Iain physically or metaphorically hugged it out, with some “sorry sorry sorry”-ing thrown in, to make us all feel cuddly inside.  I know how TV is made – I know we’re manipulated left, right and centre, but I’m entirely willing to buy into some polar bear mating-esque falsification (NOT LITERALLY) for a happy Bake Off ending.  But the programme makers have seemed to be gunning for tabloid controversy, and a convenient grey-haired scapegoat, which is about as un-Bake Off as you can get - and it’s left a bit of a sour taste in my mouth.

SOUR TASTE, HAHAHA!  Well, it can’t be that bad if there’s room for a food pun.

Apparently Diana has now left the competition – nothing to do with the #meltgate, but because she was subsequently ill.  Hopefully she’s feeling ok just now.  Haters gonna hate hate hate, Diana.  It’s probably best to rise (RISE!!!!) above.

Because, freezer or no freezer, Diana didn’t force Iain to throw a mini strop and chuck a perfectly edible melty Alaska in the bin.  Iain did that.  And Iain will have to face the consequences.

And the wrath of Berrywood...

And so... onwards!

(Anyone else utterly exhausted at this point?  Also, well done if you've made it this far!)

Dramatic montage #7: Back to the Alaskas and on to blow torching. Luis has a large yellow one.  Kate and Nancy have little lady-size versions.  BLOW TORCHES, GUYS, SHEESH.  Diana's swan neck threatens to go flaccid. She catches it in the nick of time.

Iain returns looking either defiant or philosophical.  It's hard to tell.  He assures Kate he's fine.

Time to carry precariously balanced, ever-melting Baked Alaskas to the judging altar.

Nancy's Alaska is "pretty" and "professional". Paul says it's "exceptional" given the conditions.

Norman is happy with his Alaska and struggles to think what the judges might find wrong with it. It turns out to be a little lacking in flavour: “it could have done with more strawberries and vanilla". Then just in case it wasn't evident to all, and it IS because it's been hammered home several times over the last few weeks, Paul says it outright: "You're missing the point sometimes. You're playing it so safe you're beginning to fail".  FINAL WARNING NORMAN!  Buck up Mister!

Diana's swan looks like an angry dragon at the head of a Viking longboat.  She's only just managed to get its neck up, despite its previous wobble: "It didn't do that at home, you know. Isn't that a pain in the butt?" - see the stress levels we're talking about here!? Diana said "butt"! It's nonetheless deemed "delicate" and "delicious". Paul then tells Diana off for underselling herself. She's told to hold her head up like a swan.  Diana seems dubious.

Chetna presents a giant rock lump of cream; her Alaska just didn't make it to the freezer before melty melty time.  But he's still smiling and Mary (somewhat pointedly I suppose) praises Chetna's you-screwed-it-up-but-you're-still-positive attitude.  The Alaska is found to be a "gorgeous combination of flavours", so Mary is happy to forget that it looks messy.

Martha's presentation is more successful, and also manages the taste: "Great interpretation of a classic key lime pie".

Blanket praise for Kate, too, including an "mmmm scrumptious".

It's a successful three-in-a-row baking roll, as Richard too gets compliments galore on his (utterly delicious looking) Tiramisu Alaska: "All aspects of that are excellent" says Paul. And he gets the twinkle from Mary: "That's alright for me" she grins.  

Will Luis come a cropper after this Berrywood shower of compliments? Nope. More praise, vicar: "Well designed, well thought through, well done".

And then it's time for Iain to face the music. He trundles up, bin in hand, looking – well, he’s not got the most expressive of faces, and much of it's beard, so it’s hard to tell.  Mary gives him a sympathetic look.  Paul asks him what happened.  Iain says he had some “issues” with his ice cream “and let frustration get the better of me”.  He admits to Paul that the sponge and meringue were fine, and Paul points out they could have judged that.  Iain says he didn’t cope with the situation very well and is sorry about it.  Mary sweetly tells him that everyone makes mistakes and wishes they could forget that one moment.  Iain’s then allowed to go back to his station.  It’s all a bit sad and a shame, really.

Then again, as my friend Katie pointed out “If that Scottish doctor lad had had that happen he’d have carved the sponge into a castle and made an ice cream moat”.  

It’s a good point.  He'd probably have even fashioned a meringue invader's longboat and she-warrior Rapunzel.

The judges sit in their tent and muse over what to do.  They’re not impressed by Norman’s boringness (in cake terms only, his personality is a wonder), but they can’t get on board with Iain’s behaviour, either.  Paul points out that Iain hasn’t been that good a baker in recent weeks, but was finally on his way.  Mary says that they all had problems, but everyone coped, “except for one person”.  She thinks the Bincident was “sort of unacceptable”.

Ma Baker: Richard edges out Kate - it was won the instant he got the Bezza eye twinkle.  Second time for our builder.  But we’re all really focused on who will go...

Mel and Sue Sandwich: “With such a lot of sadness” Sue announces Iain, and rushes in for the hug – it’s almost like Mel and Sue need it more than he does.  

It then becomes apparent they both just want to stroke his beard.  Iain seems ok – he’s going to think about anger management.  Mary half sticks the boot in again, but Paul decides Iain was showing passion.  I’d imagine Paul’s 'passionately' binned an imperfect loaf or two.  Though, what am I saying?  Paul baking an imperfect loaf!  As if!

Next time: Tarts and vicars week!  Bring on the soggy bottoms. Luis has a pie tower Jenga situation, Martha has a plumbing issue, and hopefully there'll be an optimistic word on Diana’s health.

2014 Mini blog. Week 4

Bye bye: Well. WHAT DRAMZ!  A moment of Baked Alaskan cray-cray saw Iain chuck his lovely sponge and lovely meringue and entirely liquid but surely still lovely ice cream into the bin... and himself out of the competition. We’re all losers here: none of us will get to see Iain’s beard go “Russet Gandalf”.

Ma Baker: Richard edged it, in a week where no-one seemed a clear favourite (i.e., there were no Hollywood handshakes).

Living up to gloriously middle-class stereotype: Sue maintained full stiff upper lip as Iain threw his produce away: “Now then, what can we do?” she bravely pondered. NOTHING, SUE, WE CAN DO NOTHING.

WHODUNNIT: Frankly, I thought Diana was to blame for meltgate – she seemed adamant that it was perfectly ok to take out someone’s ice cream out from a NON-ALLOCATED freezer and just leave it to the tropical wilds of the Bake Off tent on a hot British day.  But is that the truth or some naughty editing?  This had better get dissected (like coconut, right?) in forensic detail on An Extra Slice.

Norman’s Conquest: STOP DOING EASY STUFF NORMAN.

Next week: Tarts and Vicars Week. Bring on the pies!

2014 Episode 3 - Bread week

Last week: Richard won the day with a sexy mer-troll biscuit.  Enwezor was Berry publicly admonished for using shop-bought fondant.

Blazer watch: It's British Summer Torrential Rain And Arctic Temperatures Week, so Mel and Sue are wearing polar puffa parkas with fur lined hoods that I crave pretty much more than any cake I've seen to date.  (How to date oneself as a teenager of the nineties, eh?)  Mary's blazer is ombré style; white fading into pastel tie-dye.  Paul has gone for a 'daring' pale lemon shirt and a minimalist one-turn cuff; it's bread week – time to get Holly-serious.

The Signature bake: Twelve rye rolls.

Paul smugs it out with a warning that rye is difficult because... blah blah less gluten blah blah no-one can make bread as well as me blah blah blah haughty look.  Mary says something wise about treacle.

But enough of the experts!  Action (kitchen) stations!  Paul kicks off by interrogating Martha about the shine she's going to get on the top of Date and Walnut Rye Rolls and displays genuine surprise when she says she's going to use egg wash.  He tells her “That's very daring, because...” then remembers that he’s not allowed to help the bakers, even the school age ones, and adds “well, I will explain it later”. Paul’s clearly quite perplexed here, torn between wanting to be impressed that the child Martha can handle eggwash on rye, and wanting to be able to revel in future ITOLDYOUSO smugery when she has a eggwash disaster.

No word on Norman’s eggwash plans.  Instead he’s displaying his well-established attitude towards fancy things by announcing that he is “no Heston Blumenthal”, in a voice that makes it clear that he does not hold the use of liquid nitrogen as a cooking staple in particularly high regard.  His Rye Bread Rolls' flavourings are limited to “a wee bit of treacle”, but - hang on a second - he's also adding sultanas and caraway seeds.  What progress!  Carry on like this and Norman will be throwing some za'atar into the mix come next week.

Luis is making ‘Opposites Attract’ Rolls, surely in tribute to Paula Abdul's exceptional pop work with MC Skat Kat.  (I mock, but it actually won a Grammy – AS IT SHOULD HAVE.)  Anyway, it turns out that Luis’ rolls are in fact called ‘Opposites Attract’ because he's using a light dough and a dark dough.  The light dough will be made of pale fennel and parsnip and the darker dough will be made of coffee, chocolate and carrot because WHAAAT?

Whilst Nancy, Martha and Luis are all slapping around a lovely elastic-y looking dough, Jordan's is a little more lumpy.  He blames the low gluten content.  Mary pointedly asks him if he’s concerned that it’s too dry and Jordan merrily responds that his Rye and Spelt Bread Rolls have been fine at home.  Oh Jordan, at least you’ll always have mindless optimism.

Kate's planning Orange and Cardamom Rye Bread Knots.  Mary's concerned that "little Kate" is at a disadvantage with all the heavy kneading and arm pain.  Kate responds by flashing an impressive Pop-eye bicep bulge.  Perks immediately leans in to cop a feel.

Bap puns so far: a disappointing zero.

Richard tells us his Rye and Cranberry Rolls, filled with treacle coffee and cinnamon, are an American pumpernickel, which confuses Sue, who thought pumpernickel was German (subtext: pumpernickel should, by rights, allow her an opportunity to do a comedy Euro accent).  Richard explains that the Americans have a quick cheat version, which he’s going for, but Paul, ever to type, proclaims that he does not accept the existence of an American pumpernickel - in a similar way to how Richard Osman is only allowed to accept countries which are sovereign states recognised by the United Nations.  

Is it just me, or is there something extremely snarf snarf about the word pumpernickel?  (It’s the ‘pump’, isn’t it?  And the ‘nickel’.)

Diana is adding her cheeses (British, of course) to her dough, which will rise to form Rustic Picnic Rolls.  Mary, always one to aid a fellow Grey Hair Mafiosa, surreptitiously tries to get Diana some hints by ‘innocently’ asking “Paul, tell me, what effect will that have, will it take longer to rise?”.  Paul may sometimes be insufferably superior, but he’s no fool and is having none of it: “I can’t tell you that now, Mary”.  “Oh” says Mary, playing dumb.  Poor Diana, who didn't even ask for any help in the first place, looks even more confused than she did before the whole sorry episode began.

Dramatic montage #1: the bakers are putting things in the proving drawer and sitting around bored, waiting for dough to rise.  It’s not amazing telly, to be honest, though it does pick up when Norman is moved to formally inspect the tent's decorative tea cups.   

Come on Class of 2014 – relax a little!  Cathryn (Class of 2o12) would never have put up with that level of quiet and would have co-opted Sarah Jane into a low-level food fight by now, whilst James Shetland and John homoerotically flicked caraway seeds at each other and...

ANYWAY.

Chetna is actually managing to keep busy, frying onion and pine nuts for her, would you believe it, Onion & Pine Nut Rolls.  She describes the accompanying lentil chutney as both not light and not dense, which it’s clear means, ‘who knows, we’ll just see what happens’.   As she starts to knead, her dough starts shitting pine nuts, as they just aren’t sticking; perhaps her dough is too light and/or too dense.

Nancy says “I’m going to do pear, cider and...” but Mary is already leaning on in there for a good sniff, because, you know, CIDER, so who cares what else is going in.  It’s walnut apparently, to form Cider & Walnut Crusty Rolls.  Paul starts to ask questions about grams and cooking times but Nancy essentially tells him to talk to the hand, as he’ll put her off her game.  Good girl.  Mary chuckles conspiratorially.

Martha, who doesn’t yet have the age and experience of knowing better than to always listen to some men just because they boom a bit, is panicking about her eggwash.  Paul’s put her right off, but eggwash was always the plan – she can’t not stick to her plan, can she?  Can she?!?

Iain is using a sourdough for his Cranberry and Walnut Rye Bread Rolls.  He’s been brewing it for five months in a cupboard.   I wonder if it has a name?  If it's not too cool, maybe it could hang out with Jordan’s sour dough Yorick and they could chat bacteria.

It’s Mel turn to chat up Norman this week; after Sue got a go at semaphore, Mel is using the means of electronic thermometer guns to flirt, as she and Norman take turns measuring each others’ temperature.  Norman coquettishly tells Mel she has raised his temperature by 0.1 degrees.

Martha is in the process of applying eggwash.  I repeat, Martha is in the process of applying eggwash.  She’s going for it, kids!  It’s so tense...

Richard is also adding eggwash, but is less worried about the associated risks.  With all the confidence of man responsible for ensuring buildings stay upright, he says he doesn’t know whether it’s a good idea, but the only way to find out is to do it, then be told off for it, and have Paul explain to him why it was a terrible idea.  It’s a tactic, certainly.

There’s a bit of last minute buns action as everyone chucks their rye rolls into their baskets, before Sue calls time on the “hot baps”.   

The judges sweep in.  I can barely breathe, such is the eggwash-based tension.

(Very, very) good: Kate’s rolls are “really scrumptious and the orange is just perfect”.  Luis receives the Hollywood handshake and is is bowled over. “Pure alchemy” says Paul.

(Really not that) bad: Nancy’s buns are just a few minutes away from being “almost perfection”.  Chetna’s, meanwhile, are “rather flat” but have an “absolutely delicious” flavour”.  Iain has offered up “a nice roll” with a “lovely flavour”.  

(Only a little bit) ugly: Norman’s buns are sadly deemed “a little bit simple”.  Richard’s underbaked his rye, as has Jordan.  The appearance of Diana’s rolls are deemed “not very appealing” - well that’s until Paul decides to pimp Diana’s baps (as it were) by removing her pots and ripping off the edging. 

Time for Eggwashgate - the results.  Drum roll please!  Paul takes a bite... “Because you put the glaze on the top” says Paul, “it falsely accuses the roll of being ready”.  Booooo, it’s eggwashfail!  Though the judges don’t hate the rolls themselves, so it’s not a total disaster.  Or indeed much of a disaster at all. 

Well, that was quite a lot of plot build for some eggwash – though, in all fairness, what is Bake Off if not getting millions of people to worry about the televised implications of coating the top of some flour, yeast and water with an egg by-product?

Foodistory: Sue goes to a “spice dungeon” to make a wig, which is apparently not acrylic hair, but some kind of spicy bread.  The history bit is that Samuel Pepys ate one once.

Animal shot: I see you unspecified wild foul, shaking that ass.

The Technical Challenge:  Four Ciabatta Loaves.

Paul advises the bakers to “be patient”, before leaving the tent looking oh so pleased with himself. 

We learn that ciabattas came about because the Italians were worried about the popularity of French baguettes.  Hahahahahaha!  Don’t get me wrong – I enjoy a ciabatta.  But better than a baquette?  Non monsieur.

The instructions are typically sparse about exactly where to prove the dough and no-one is quite sure what to do.  The bakers adopt a range of techniques – using the proving drawer, not using the proving drawer, using and then not using the proving drawer, not using and then using the proving drawer, and – in Chetna’s case – sticking the dough tub on the floor where the sun is coming through the window.  The British clouds kindly respond by running in and letting rip with torrential rain and reduced temperatures.

Sue throws out some spoilers to the TV viewership: proving drawer = bad.  It will over-activate the dough, like it had had 17 Fantas and several hundred pieces of birthday cake, but is too excited and overtired to get the hell to bed.  

Luis is holding firm and hasn’t used the drawer.  Kate’s teetering.  “Don’t buckle” Luis advises her.   

Dramatic montage #2: a range of attempts at unpeeling super sticky dough from a board.  Chetna’s spraying oil on to her cutter which seems... inadvisable.  But what do I know?

Mel calls “half an hour to go” in fluent Italian and gives the camera a delightfully proud side glance.  She even has the accent on “Bake Off” nailed: “Baaayka-orrfff”.

Dramatic montage #3: oven removal time.  I can almost smell the ciabattas and they smell GOOOOOOD.

Tecchie Rankings: Jordan comes tenth, then Iain, Chetna, Diana, Richard, Nancy, and – this week’s highest climber – Norman, up to fourth.  Martha gets third, Luis comes second, which means Kate wins.  Paul says it was a close call at the top.

The Show-stopper:  A bread centrepiece – a filled loaf.  It’s got to look good, inside and out.

Iain tells us it’s his “last chance to rise to the challenge”; his delivery is a little too deadpan to quite tell if he meant to pun, but let’s give him the benefit of the doubt.  By which I mean, he DID mean to pun and we are all very pleased about it.

Kate is making Prosciutto, Olive & Coriander Bread.  Paul recognises the flavours, as he lived in Greece for six years, where olive and coriander were often added to bread.  Ticket to Greece, please!  Paul’s left and that bread sounds AMAZING.  (Paul, I jest, of course.)

Ticket to Spain too, please!  To try Luis’ Roscón de Reyes, which is an ornately decorated saffron bread.  Did you know Luis was of Spanish heritage?  They’ve only mentioned it several times an episode, so you might have missed it.

Jordan’s bread is the only sweet one - Strawberry Raspberry Cheesecake Brioche.  Oddly, the picture looks a bit too yoghurty for my bread tastes, even though I have no reason to believe Jordan’s putting any actual yoghurt in there.

Diana’s Sharing Savoury Pinwheel will contain parmesan (good), ham (good) and spinach (meh).

Now then, is Norman going to fancy it up?  “It’s a strong white loaf stuffed with chicken and pesto” he puffs.  So no, not really, though I’m sure his Chicken and Roasted Vegetable Picnic Loaf will be lovely.  He is putting sea salt and oregano in too though – easy now, Norman, lest the exotic overwhelms us.

Richard’s also on Team Pesto; his Pesto Pinwheel will contain feta and walnuts.   Richard says he’s made it twenty or thirty times and Martha can scarcely believe that adult life would allow such time as to “practice a bake at least twenty times”.  A life free of homework... Wowsers.  Richard brings her back to earth by explaining that he’s fed his family with it at least twenty times, which is not quite the same.

It seems unlikely that Martha has been able to foist her Stuffed Sunflower Loaf on to her family twenty times, as it contains a French cheese called Époisses in the centre, which is soooo notoriously stinky that it’s been outright banned from French public transport.  (Though I’m willing to bet a fresh Époisses wouldn’t make any difference to the top deck of the 25 bus, which, frankly, is a total retch fest.)  Martha’s also adding apricot and fig chutney to the bread ‘petals’.  Bread, chutney and the most pungent of cheeses?  It sounds blimming amazing.

Iain’s Moroccan Plait with Bessara Dip also sounds mighty delicious.  He says picked up the recipe after travelling around Morocco for a few weeks.  I can so clearly visualise Iain in the desert, dressed in a flowing blue djellaba, learning about the perfect tagine from a Berber.  (His twin would also be there, only in red, and...) 

Moving on...

Chetna is putting mango chutney in her Rolled and Filled Twin Loaf, as well as a whole heap of veg, whilst Nancy is going for a 'Full English' Stromboli, containing the whole fry-up shebang, bar baked beans.  No offence, Cheta, but guess which bread sounds better to me?  Even Mary tells Nancy to get a move on “because we’re hungry”.  I imagine Sue already has her bread knife in hand.

Martha is carefully parcelling up her precious cheese cargo in dough, lest it disastrously leaks and stinkbombs her bread.  There is no mention of eggwash.  Richard meanwhile is being self-proclaimedly (not a word, but whatevs) “OCD” about his measurements, carefully scoring lines with his knife and inspecting each millimetre.  It’s a more reassuring approach from a builder than his previous method of “do it wrong to find out why it was wrong”.

Jordan is twisting his dough, man.  He reassures us that the raspberry gunk squirting out and creating a bloody massacre type-look is a pre-bake state of affairs only, and that, come baking, it is all absorbed.  Hmmmmkay...

Dramatic montage #4: Rock and rolling.  Except Norman, who’s just slapping a big bit of dough on top and unashamedly telling us “if it’s homemade, it should look homemade”.  Yes, but this isn’t home, Norman!  It’s a televised baking competition!  And we can’t lose you just yet!

Iain then performs a true Bake Off rarity: a successful bread-plaiting session.  Bloody hell, Iain.  Things just got very interesting...  (I’m building this up a bit too much, aren’t I?)

Dramatic montage #5: intense oven staring and an opportunity to check out footwear.  Colourful converse remain the Bake Off contestant’s shoe of choice in 2014; Iain has yellow boot ones, whilst Chetna’s are tangerine.  I imagine such exposure will lead to Kate Middleton-levels of sales increases.

Diana admits that she prefers her cheese to break through the sides of her bread at home, though appreciates that’s probably not good “when you’re under scrute”.  69 and she knows how to abbrevs like the kidz.  (Do the kidz still do that?  Did they ever?  I haven’t got a scoob etc.)

Oooooh, Norman’s planning to use “rosemary-infused olive oil”.  He’s living on the edge!  (Or, should I say...on the BREAD-GE.)

Luis is sticking gold leaf to an olive.  That, I was not expecting.

And they're done.  Time for Berrywood to step up...

Richard’s pinwheel is “very neat” and has been baked “very well”.  Richard looks typically surprised/delighted (obviously he still has his lucky pencil behind his ear - I fear a Samson-esque disaster were he to lose it).

Mary wants a risk assessment before they cut into Martha’s fromagefest: “what are we expecting just inside there?” she queries suspiciously.  She’s delighted by the fig/cheese combo though.  Paul is happy too, but thinks Martha “could have neatened up slightly on the legs”.   You mean petals, Paul – though, frankly, it really is more studded octopus than sunflower.

Mary goes a bit schoolmarm on Norman’s ass, telling him they were “looking for something very spectacular” but, looking at his bread, she’s “hoping that there’s more excitement inside”.  Sadly not, for it’s raw.

Chetna’s offering doesn’t excite the judges either.  (Though it looks like a flying saucer to me and it's fair to say that aliens that land in a ship made of bread would be well welcome in my world.)   Chetna’s mixing was a bit off, so it’s a “bit cakey rather than bready”, but does have “wonderful flavours”.

Iain’s bread looks the absolute dog’s (as in their bollocks, which is a good thing, apparently) and makes a truly satisfying crackle as Paul slices in.  Paul deems it “a bit of a success”.  I’ll start with Martha’s and have Iain’s for my main, thanks.

I don’t think I’ll move to Jordan’s brioche for dessert though – as it’s “all sunk together”.  It's true it looks like bread mushed into cheesecake.  (Then again, I don’t see why that should be a foodstuff I should willingly reject...)  The real problem is that it’s “raw dough” and “hasn’t been executed that well”.   Shame.

“As a loaf, it’s there.  As a centrepiece, it ain’t” says Paul of Nancy’s breakfast in bread.  It’s a bit full and Mary wouldn’t have added the tomato.  Quite right too – a fry up is all about the pork based products dipped into the runniest of egg yolks.  However “the flavour’s lovely”.

Paul thinks Diana’s loaf is “bold and beautiful”, though it has a bit of a soggy bottom.

And then to Kate – thus far well up in the running for Star Baker.  Clearly she’s got bread-baking talent and this is just the last hurdle.  Her bread looks goooood and Mary thinks “it’s a very clever presentation”.  Paul was worried about the gap inside.  He cuts in and announces “there is no gap.... but... it’s raw inside”.   SHOCK ALL ROUND.  Poor Kate crumples – it’s heart-breaking, actually.  Even Paul looks gutted.

Suddenly Luis’ bread success doesn’t look so obvious.  If Kate can have a mare, so can anyone.  Mary thinks it has “great presentation” and Paul is satisfied with the gap inside.  He’s not so keen on the saffron flavour of the dough, but Mary’s into it.  I’m smelling a Spanish crowning...

Time to announce the results.  Who’s going to dough?

Ma Baker: And Luis gets it.  The judges were still considering Kate, but raw dough was probably too much to overcome.  Kate looks genuinely happy for Luis though.

Mel and Sue Sandwich:  Ahhh, it’s Jordan’s time.  Alas poor Yorick.  Now then, TIME TO UP YOUR GAME, NORMAN.  It would be too soon to lose you just yet.

Next time: Desserts Week and that one week in the summer when the weather is unbearably hot and the task entirely depends on cool air and fridge setting.  Melty cream dramz ahoyz!