2014 Episode 8 - Advanced Dough Week - Quarter finals

Last week: Fryer timer woes and bye bye to Kate. An eclair stair of yeah for Richard. But mostly Mary Berry wore a brilliant pink bomber jacket with a stork on it.

This week: The somewhat repulsive sounding 'advanced dough'. Mel and Sue make jokes about a bread with a PhD - though Mel seems to have slight doubts about the comedic impact. Sue does a velociraptor impression. (As it's not one of those super mean unrealistic interviews on The Apprentice with Evil Claude or that other one with the nearly-mullet, this is entirely fine.)

Blazer watch: Mundane after last week. Mary's got a fancy floral top on, but if it's not satin salmon zip up with a bird emblazoned on the front, what is the point?

The Signature bake: Sweet fruit loaf.

It has to be enriched dough and freeform, but can be any flavour or fruit, and no tins. (In my mind "no tins!" was instructed in the EXACT voice Edna Mode uses to decree "no capes!".)

Martha tells us that it takes three and a half hours to make enriched dough, but they only have two and a half hours. Hmmm. That would seem to be a problem.

Luis is making what looks like a giant bread broccoli, which he's calling Black Forest Cherry Tree. It will have choc chips and cherry inside, as well as a sugar cube infused with brandy; it's the quarter finals, so now's the time to unashamedly appeal to Mary by upping the alcohol content.  Though he's also got a green glacé cherry, which Mary will probably be less keen on.

Martha too is sneaking the booze in (mind you, that's par for the course for a 17 year old); she's brought in her aunt's home-made cassis to throw into her Spiced Plum Iced Bread Swirl. 

Chetna's Date and Walnut Swirl Bread is inspired by a Croatian bread she is finding unpronounceable. She attempts “peh-teet-za” and “po-eh-teet-za”, but doesn’t look convinced. Mel clarifies that it’s definitely not a pizza though, which is slightly disappointing. Sue, taking on the voiceover then confidently pronounces it “pov-e-tizta” with a V sound. How interesting that Sue should know exactly how to say it - it's almost like the elders of the Bake Off tent are entirely familiar with the poviticia concept. HMMM.   Mary frowns as she asks Chetna, with apparent confusion: “do you tear or slice it?” The Berry confusion is confusing - generally if she hasn’t heard of something, she’s all excitable and bright-eyed; confusion is reserved for when she sees a technique she knows will lead to inevitable fuckupery. DOUBLE HMMM. 

Less confusingly for Mary, there's yet more booze being implemented, as Nancy is sticking Marsala wine in her Lincolnshire Plum Braid, which she points out sounds like 'bread' AND will be plaited, DO YOU GET IT? (We get it.)

Bread puns are par for the course, of course, BUT THEN Nancy drops an ABSOLUTE CLANGER: “I’m going to finish the prove in the microwave.” !!!!!!!!!!  The judges go into silent shock (where's Dani Intensive Care when you need her) and even Mel looks a little scowly as she asks “Have you tried this before?”.  Nancy says she has, as Paul continues to look on with ABSOLUTE DAGGERS (though he's possibly still smarting from MaleJudge-gate). Nancy, Nancy, Nancy, this has 'shop bought fondant icing written all over it!  I fear the worst!

As Mary and Paul murmur about the dangers of microwaving, Mel picks up one of Nancy's bottles and surreptitiously sprays an unidentified orange liquid into her mouth. So much for the attempt to sneak a shot of booze in, as she immediately starts gagging - “I thought it was the Marsala!” she rues. "No!" says Nancy, "That's my oil!"

Dramatic what-will-happen-in-the-microwave interlude #1: It's time for Nancy to attempt her microwave prove. Luis comes over, as he’s “never seen” microwaving before. Nancy says she was told it was dangerous. “Not for our Nance!” they giggle.  At the back of the exam hall, invigilator Paul whispers to Mary that microwaving “destroys the protein structure and can destabilise the dough”. Clearly this is madness Nancy! Ominously, Nancy then drops a random lemon on the floor. “Bloody hell, Nancy!” whispers Luis, nervous as hell.  There's a tense wait and finally the microwave pings (which is a good a time as any to share the AMAZING fact that the Welsh for ‘microwave’ is ‘popty ping’). Nancy opens to door to reveal... A massively risen dough. PHEW!

Richard is make a type of Chelsea Bun he’s calling a Fruit Swedish Tea Ring. Paul sees that Richard has covered his bench in flour and asks the (let’s face it) rhetorical question “do you not think that’s excessive?” - frankly, if there hadn’t been much flour, he would have asked why Richard thought it appropriate to use so little. Richard thinks he had a very wet dough, so it’s necessary. Paul then makes Richard show him his dough and there’s a sharp intake of breath. Paul informs him there was too much carbon dioxide in there and promptly leaves. Nothing like installing confidence in the bakers, eh Paul?

Sue has come over to chat to Luis, which prompts his memory that he’s forgotten to add not only the fruit, but also the chocolate to his dough. Eeeek! It's unusual for Senor Luis to make a mistake. Sue then kindly likens his cherry brandy sugarlump to a polio vaccination - though to be fair, I still dream about the deliciousness of Calpol. Paracetamol tablets don’t have anything like the same tasty effect.

Dramatic what-will-happen-in-the-microwave  #2: Nervously Nancy goes in for her second prove. Mel comes along - they can’t get enough of this microwave action! (I suppose it counts as extreme baking by the tent’s standards.)  Nancy in no way theatrically ups the ante by telling Mel that this could be her “death knell”. Microwave on and popty ping!  The door opens... no black smoke, no fire, no flat plait, indeed a slightly over the top RESULT! “It’s twice the size!” according to Mel. But what will Paul have to say...

Any other mortal would find themselves a bit overwhelmed by the enormity of their microwaved dough, especially as Sue helpfully likens it to a Labrador and Richard asks if it will cook at that size. Nancy just shrugs. Hahaha – I’ve always liked her, but I’m really starting to love Nancy.

Luis sticks a thermometer into his giant broccoli-shaped bread, which looks like a dozen boobs with bejewelled nipples from a certain angle. “That’s done” he says, confidently. Paul lurks in the background looking extra shady and extra judgy. Hollywood just LOVES the superiority of being a master-baker during advanced dough week, doesn’t he?

Chetna’s rocking her orange converse again. They are super aces. (Mango-coloured, someone on Twitter pointed out.)

As the last five minutes are announced Paul takes the opportunity to stalk through the tent putting the heebie jeebies into everyone by poking their loaves and looking unimpressed. Martha disinfects where Paul touched her bread by adding extra apricot glaze. Richard tells Paul “it’s too late now, innit”. Nancy openly stares Paul down and laughs in his face. I LOVE HER.

Mary was probably busy backstage lining her stomach for the booze to come.

Signature bake judging: Martha’s loaf has a “very attractive colour” and “springs back” as they cut through it. Mary thinks it has a “very nice flavour”, but she would have “liked to see some pieces of plum in it”.

The judges like the look of Chetna's “original” loaf and are pleased to see excellent swirls inside. Paul thinks there's “too much cinnamon”, though Mary's fine with that.

Luis' loaf “looks spectacular”. Paul likes the flavour, but “the sugar, I'm not sure about”. Mary, however, “isn't arguing with the [brandy-laden] sugar” and “will have another mouthful please”.

Nancy's microwaved loaf is “either underproved or the protein has been damaged”. Paul pokes around at the inside with a dubious look on his face and Nancy cries “but it's not awful, is it?”. “I've not said anything yet!” snarks Paul. Mary stands in the background chewing away, then announces “I think it tastes absolutely scrumptious”.

Mary thinks Richard's loaf is “sitting flat”, but Paul says he's “nailed that one” with “a nice blend of flavours”.

No obvious disasters there then. It's close stuff!

Mel introduces the technical challenge and asks for “happy faces”. Luis stays resolutely “in concentration mode”.

The Technical Challenge: A povitica.

Sound familiar?! WELL YES – to Cheta, who has JUST made one. No wonder Sue knew how to pronounce it. As we've already learned, it's basically brioche with self-saucing Nutella on the inside. Sue stresses that it was “pure chance” that Chetna had opted for that bake this morning. Chetna's having hysterics of relief in the background. Richard decides to “learn by watching”, which he clarifies is “not cheating”.

You apparently have to roll out a massively large very very thin piece of dough, spread cocoa butter and walnuts over it, roll the whole thing up in a giant tube, then snake it around a bread tin and prove/cook. Sounds simple, frankly.

Technical dilemma ahoy! How long to bake and how long to prove? Shall we ask Chetna? Chetna whispers that the key is a long bake, so proving time can be reduced. She must be well subtle, as no-one else has noticed that she's got her bun in the oven; they are all still proving.

Martha, showing more regard for cleanliness than ecology, says that she uses cling film over all her surfaces, so as not to piss her parents off by causing excess mess. She really is lovely, isn't she? It turns out that it's very handy for spreading the filling on the dough too, sort of peeling stickyback plastic style. The others look like they're basically trying to smooth out lumpy, not particularly well digested, dog shits.  Nancy hits upon using an icing bag and piping it out. Richard promptly “learns by watching”.

Luis isn't sure that he was right to leave his nuts so chunky. Mel reassures him that she "looooves chunky nuts". Meanwhile Sue is basically helping Richard give a handjob to a giant length of dough. Total filth? Yes. So business as usual then.

The bakers wrapping their dough into their tins is very sausage-esque. Nancy's well unimpressed: “It's a funny looking thing”. Martha decides her sausage wasn't long enough, so takes it out to squeeze a few more centimetres. That's valuable cooking time wasted...

Animal shot #1: A white stead.

There's an beaten eggwhite mystery – it's listed on the recipe, but no-one, bar Chetna, knows where it's supposed to go. Mel suggests to Luis that it could be to create giant hair, as that's what she used it for in the eighties. It seems unlikely that Luis can relate to that. Least not with his current hair styling.

Nancy decides it's for royal icing and gets about making some. Richard who has been copying, I mean watching and learning from Nancy this whole time, decides that he's not going to watch and learn at this point, as he just doesn't think that's what the egg is for. It's possible Nancy was just shitting him and seeing how far he'd copy - she's totally got it in her.

Animal shot #2: That white stead again, eating. (It's a new animal - you gotta get your money's worth.)

Luis worried as his loaf isn't cooked inside. Richard tries to reassure him and asks him if he's sure. “Did you stab it with your stabber?” All the technical terms, him.

Dramatic montage #1: Desperate last minute hand fanning, before icing. Everyone's drawn icing lines on top of their poviticia, apart from Luis the Graphic Designer who's gone for an neatly drawn intricate swirl design. It's supposed to be a blind challenge, mate! You might as well have written 'BY LUIS' on the top.

Tecchie Rankings: Not a great crop. Martha's is entirely raw inside, so she's last, then Richard in fourth, Nancy in third and Luis in second, which is actually a RESULT by these standards. Chetna's is the only one that's cooked, so she wins. It probably helped to have already baked it mere hours before.

Nancy admits that if she'd come last she wouldn't have owned up to her bake.  The awesome continues.

Animal shot #3: A GUINEA FOWL! New animals coming thick and fast this episode. Very exciting. (NB: Guinea fowls are the ones that look like over-inflated posh spherical pigeons with a turkey face.)

The Show-stopper: Two different types of doughnuts.

Eighteen of each lot, which comes to a combined total of 180 tent doughnuts. I'm sure Sue will happily eat any leftovers.

Paul reckons he's made 40,000 doughnuts in his life. Sure there has to be more to life than making 40,000 doughnuts?

Luis is making Cocktail Doughnuts inspired by – yes, durrr, by cocktails. But which ones? A Long Comfortable Screw On The Beach? No, perhaps more wisely, he's gone for Mudslife and Raspberry Mojitos doughnuts. Mary's eyes widen with alcohol-inspired joy - to be fair, they sound awesome. He also believes that at least one of the doughnuts should have jam in, which is entirely correct, as well as the punchline to a joke about reggae.

No third povitica for Chetna and – somewhat unbelievably – no mango either. She's baking Chocolate Mousse Filled Doughnuts and Braided Doughnuts, the latter being inspired by a South African recipe.

Martha, who is feeling the pressure, has opted for Glazed Lemon & Poppy Seed Doughnuts and Chocolate & Passion Fruit Doughnuts. Berrywood arrive to find her laminating. Oh not this again. I see no evidence of plastic coverings here, people!

Richard's doughnuts have a fairground theme: Rhubarb & Custard Doughnuts and Toffee Apple Doughnuts. The rhubarb ones are heart-shaped, which is different. Mary's not convinced that will work though. After the success of his eclair stair, Richard has brought more home-created presentation material – this time converted wooden crates which he has “jjjujjed” (sp.?)

Nancy's Doughnut Family Tree is intended to offer up child and adult doughnut options. The kiddy ones are chocolate and the adult ones are limoncello. She's decorating the kid ones with faces and is contemplating going for “grey, spiky hair and piercing blue eyes”. Paul looks on with a poker face - which will prove to be a helpful template. All this Paul backchat – Nancy you are living on the edge! I'm not sure the Male Judge is going to enjoy this...

The bakers demonstrate the satisfaction of manhandling a big fat newly nicely risen dough. It's like a giant food pillow. Mmmm.

Luis has brought a tray of eighteen cocktail glasses to display his wares - and the cool ones, like burlesque dancers perform in, only not giant.  Mel is delighted by the "pizzazz" of it all.

Richard has made "hundreds" of practice doughnuts, which have been gifted to grateful colleagues. "Doughnuts are FOR builders" he tells Mel. New York cops might disagree, but never mind.

Sue has observed that Luis is making food weaponry in the form of raspberry darts. Sue says she'd love to step on the oche with them. Pimp my darts. She's on to a winner.

Disaster! Martha has overproved her doughnuts! That's potentially make or break at this point in the game. "They're awful" she exclaims. "They're sad little pancakes." Poor M. That's not ideal for a doughnut task... Mel suggests she puffs them up by overcompensating with her curd injections.

Dramatic montage #2: IT'S TIME TO TAKE THE OILY PLUNGE!  Although Chetna's using a frying pan.  She claims it's the only way she knows, but I wonder if she's just concerned about the timer issues Kate had.

It's then filling injection time. It always pleases me that they syringe it in. Luis has a four points approach, Nancy's going for 10ml, Richard for 25. He says he even has numbers on the side of his syringe. Chetna shrugs and says she's just doing it "kinda by eye".

Luis is sticking large straws in his doughnuts which he had intended to fill with Baileys. You drink your Baileys shot, then have a doughnut. He's now hesitating as he knows the judges "don't like gimmicks". COME ON LUIS! Firstly, Baileys in doughnuts sounds like the greatest idea EVER. Secondly, Mary might not be pro-gimmick, but there's NO WAY she'll be anti-BOOZE GIMMICK! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Etc.

Nancy genuinely has given her doughnuts grey hair and blue eyes. Sue can't resist using them to do an impression of Nice Paul and Normal Paul. Any excuse to mock Hollywood and go Scouse.

Sue calls time. Richard celebrates by putting an entire doughnut in his gob.

Animal shot #4: They are coming thick and fast today! Hello, duck in a swamp. (Or perhaps a tall hedgerow.)

Show-stopper judging: Richard's rhubarb and custard's are praised for colour and lightness. Mary is happy to see the heart-shapes have held. (Despite Richard's reassurance on the matter, she CLEARLY didn't think that was going to work.) As for the flavour: “that's cracking”. The toffee ones are also a success “professional” and yummy.

Nancy's limoncello ones are slightly over-fryed, but Mary likes the moisture of the cream. “Fun for the children” says Mary of the other ones. Paul's concerned they are irregular in colour. “They look fine to me” says Nancy. “Would you say if they didn't?” asks Paul. “Of course” lies Nancy. Paul decides from the look of them that he has a “strong suspicion” that they are overdone. He pops one in his mouth and LO AND BEHOLD, “they're overdone”. He likes the flavours though.

Paul sums Martha's problem in one sentence: “Great tasting doughnuts, but the look and prove are all wrong”.

“Very, very fatty” says Mary of Chetna's first batch, and Paul agrees, though “the flavours are lovely”. She's managed good chocolate work too, though the mousse isn't sufficiently mousse-like. If it's a delicious chocolate gloop, frankly who cares?

Luis' raspberries are “a little bit uneven”, but they are “glazed nicely”. Mary likes the mint and raspberry. Paul tries one and clearly thinks it's just on the right side of the good/bad line, so tries another on the off chance it's a one-off and he has something to criticise. “I think you're alright actually” he concedes. “Cocktail madam” asks Mel, offering Mary the Bailey's straw. Mary sucks and HER FACE LIGHTS UP. "Oh ho HO!" says Mary. “There we go” mutters Paul. “I mean why are we bothering with the doughnuts?” she asks, entirely serious and immediately takes a second swig. Paul, somewhat more professionally, moves on to flavour critique. They're over-filled with coffee mixture and the “dough is quite soggy”, though he loved the raspberry ones.  Mary doesn't care and says “well I like that one” pointing at the Bailey's. “Of course you do, Mary!” dispairs Paul. Mary responds by taking her third Bailey's doughnut. And her fourth.

The judges are happy with Luis and Richard's offerings. It will be a power struggle between Mary's pref of Luis and Paul's of Richard. At the other end of the scale, Martha looks to be in most trouble.

Ma Baker: Paul gets his way – and it's fourth time for Richard. Unprecedented! All power to the pencil.

Mel and Sue Sandwich: Bye bye Little Martha. Sniff sniff.  (I'm fine, honest, just got something in my eye.) Mary tells us it's not the last we've seen of Martha. It's slightly ominous.

Next time: Patisserie.  Finickity posh cake stress.  More accents, no doubt.  Hon hee hon.

2014 Mini blog. Quarter final (week 8)

Bye bye: Lovely Martha. (I'm fine, honest, just got something in my eye.)  Mary tells us it's not the last we've seen of Martha. It's slightly ominous.

Ma Baker: Richard, for an unprecedented fourth time. Surely that's now akin to handing him the trophy/inevitable book deal prize?

Openly going against gloriously middle class stereotype: A MICROWAVE?!! IN THE BAKE OFF TENT?!!

Bake craving: Povitica - a sweetbread which essentially comes pre-injected with Nutella. That could replace the bag of broken Twirl pieces as my emergency 4pm snack of choice.

The New Norman: Nancy continues to stand up to The Male Judge, without caring about the consequences.  She may be risking the title, but she's earning the respect of millions.

Next week: Patisserie, including (most excitingly) the deliciousness that is baklava.

2014 Episode 7 - Pastries Week

Last week: Foreign cakes and Eurovij accents and Berrywood tiffs and NO-ONE LEAVES!

This week: Soggy bottoms: the return. We might have done pies, but apparently there are still pastry types we've yet to see baked.  A well-known scandinavian kind, for a start, prompting Mel to attempt a joke about crossing flour, butter, crime scenes and woolly jumpers, which culminates in the inevitable punchline “Danish pastries”. Macabre cracker joke writers take note. 

Blazer watch: THIS IS NOT A DRILL - it's bomber time! After weeks of garish yet traditional, Mary BRINGS IT and whips out this season's Colourful Bomber Jacket. It's shiny, it's zipped, it's fifty shades of salmon pink and it features a stork. A STORK!  Obviously, it's completely amazing.  Sadly, however, it's too late for us mere mortals to get our Mary on and model storks on the high streets of Britain - M&S have already sold out.

After that, everyone's else's outfits choices are nothing short of mundane and I don't propose to dwell on them; even Luis' Week 7 t-shirt choice (lively turquoise) seems pedestrian.

The Signature bake: Twelve savoury pastry parcels.

For example: Cornish pasties, samosas, empanadas... so all good stuff, frankly.

Out in the gardens, Paul puffs out his chest self-importantly and makes the main rule very clear: “IT MUST BE DONE IN THE TIME!”. He adds emphasising finger movements to hammer it home.  Of course, this is all aimed at the viewers – presumably the bakers themselves just have to guess the Golden Rule.

Cheta feels in comfortable 'flavour territory', which, along with mangoes, has become her trademark brand - hopefully, one week, Sue will approach her station and sing “What's your flava, tell me what's your flava, oooh” and Cheta will reply "slicker than your average" and they'll launch into a Craig David megamix.  (Jeez - MOVING ON.)  Chetna's Crispy Lentil Kachori are deep fried lentil carom seed pastries, which sounds great, apart from the lentils.

Kate's going for Spinach and Paneer Spicy Samosa.   She's using about a billion spices. Paul thinks there might be a flava ("oooh") overload. Kate coquettishly replies “we'll see”. Kate! You KNOW the game! It's a game called 'Paul Will Always Be Right'.

Luis says he was brought up on deep-fried food, but to make his Childhood Empanadas he's had to “reverse-engineer” the recipe, using his memory of the taste he remembers as a kid.  (That's like a reverse-Proustian Madeleine, for the pretentious amongst you.)  Luis is putting beef, chorizo, carrot, potato and celery into his pastry and I say ¡Si Señor! - they sound amazing.  INEXPLICABLY, Paul is worried about them being too big.

Paul then goes over to Nancy and asks her to explain “to the male judge” what's she up to. Nancy is remorselessly unflappable and simply, well, explains that she's making Spicy Duck Pasties with oriental veggies, which sounds rather irresistible.  Slightly less temptingly, the talk then turns to leakage; Nancy explains that she “did experience leakage”, but is using "a teaspoon of ground rice to soak it up".  Mary is well impressed and can't stop going on about it.

Martha, slightly missing the point of a baking competition, has gone for Mini Beef Wellingtons because they are “different”, so cannot be directly compared to the others' wares. Erm, I'm not sure that logic is entirely tight, Martha – Berrywood are still gonna judge, judge, judge, you know.  Having said that, the last memorable beef welly in the tent was Sarah-Jane's utter disaster, so provided the pastry stays on and the beef gets cooked, you'll be fiiiiine.

There's a cooking dilemma on the cards: do you cook your meat before or after the pastry bakes? Would you believe it, some DO, and some DON'T. OH. THE. DRAMA.  Richard, for example, isn't pre-cooking. Or maybe he is...  Basically, I can't remember as I forgot everything I'd heard once he announced he was making Minted Lamb Pasties, filled with sweet potato - namely, the second greatest pasty type known to the West Cornish Pasty Co stall at London Bridge station and mankind. (The best one is the seasonal Haggis Pasty – OCH AYE.)

Some bakers are crimping their pasties shut, some are twisting - Luis is doing both.  Chetna is sort of just crumpling them into a ball with her palm.

Kate lost precious time as she decided to re-do her pastry.  She's also worried that her deep fat fryer isn't hot enough - and it transpires it had turned itself off as it was on a secret timer.  Poor Kate!  That's an argh-mare.

Nancy's also up against it. She leans back and despairingly yells “come on PASTIEEEEEES” in her most Northern voice, commanding them to cook faster.  It's probably more effective than staring at an oven on all fours and pleading.

Dramatic montage #1 is sound-tracked by Martha telling Cheta she can hear the dramatic tinkly music, before humming it aloud.  Meta.  (Though it's not entirely recognisable.)

Sue calls time on the parcels. The bakers lay out their offerings. Chetna promptly demonstrates a new random noise, telling Martha her pasties look so “eeoorrrrh”. It's apparently a good thing.

Richard has achieved “good uniformity” and “consistency” and “a nice dark colour”.  The pastry flakes beautifully and the crunch that it makes when Mary bites down suggests it's the most delicious pastry the sound effects team has EVER known. He could have “packed it out more”, but the meat is "beautifully done".  Clearly Mel agrees, for she takes a pasty and puts it in her jacket pocket for later.

Martha's wellies are “tempting” and “a lovely golden brown”, though there has been some leaking. Paul thinks the flavours are good and Mary admires the seasoning, which she thinks is “just right”. Clearly Mel agrees, for she takes a pasty and puts it in her jacket pocket for later.

Paul finds Luis' empanadas a little too pale and big (crazy fool). Mary openly disagrees, telling Luis “that's about the size I like for my lunch” (the bomber jacket has convenient give too). Paul fears the bake is mildly underdone, but Mary thinks “it's very, very tasty indeed”. Clearly Mel agrees, for she takes an empanada and puts it in her jacket pocket for later.

Nancy reckons her wares needed another five minutes, but Mary says she's still very keen to try them.  Berrywood agree that there isn't enough filling, but Paul still likes the look of them. Clearly Mel agrees, for she takes a pasty and puts it in her jacket pocket for later.

Kate explains her fryer woes. Mary thinks there's “very good crimping”, but her samosa are still pale. Paul thinks the “filling's interesting”, but “doesn't particularly like the pastry”. Mary appreciates that Kate reduced the spiciness for her and seems happy with the flavour. Clearly Mel agrees, for she takes a samosa and puts it in her jacket pocket for later.

Finally, Chetna's kachori, which have “great” colour and filling, and a filling-to-pastry ratio which Mary rates (more filling than pastry, apparently - personally, I'm not convinced, as you can never have too much pastry).  Paul loves the flavour and is “staggered” by the blend and volume spice Chetna has pulled off (flava, oooh). Clearly Mel agrees, for she takes an kachori and stuffs it in her mouth, as she's run out of pocket space.

Foodistory: In eighteen hundred and mumble mumble, Cornish miners went to Mexico and introduced the Cornish pasty to the Mexicans. As the Mexicans weren't insane, they were delighted to adopt such a wondrous foodstuff, which they called “el paste” (i.e. 'pasty' in a Mexican accent).

The Technical Challenge: Kouign-amann.

A traditional Breton pastry, which absolutely no-one has heard of, and no-one can pronounce with any confidence, bar Mel, of course.  What is it? If only there were an online tool which could provide such information... To Wikipedia my friends! “Kouign-amann is a round crusty cake, made with bread dough containing layers of butter and sugar folded in. The resulting cake is slowly baked until the butter puffs up the dough and the sugar caramelises.” I think we can all get on board with that, right?

Paul stresses that it is vitally important to add the sugar “after three turns”, which means nothing to me, unless he's on about a turn in the 'Jane-Austen-let's-walk-around-the-garden-arm-in-arm-and-try-surreptitious-flirting' sense of the word. Which I doubt.

He then bangs on about something else, like the importance of putting it into the oven at the right time or summat. Mary looks well bored. “Hm” she replies.

Has Paul left the bakers any instructions about how long to prove their dough? OF COURSE NOT.  The others are getting on with things whilst Chetna's holding firm. (Not one to start a blinking competition with then, I note.) She reckons they have aaages, so isn't sure why the others have all started folding their dough.  This will go one two ways, Chetna...

Luis reads out the instructions on 'turning' (which is basically folding) and they are ambiguous at best. Luis decides they mean you should add sugar three times, during each foldy bit. But it could also be taken to mean that you should only add the sugar once, at some point during one of the three folds - not that it's clear which turn, mind. Luis, we know, is going for a three-way, whilst Nancy's adding it once, in the middle. Richard and Martha have added the sugar last. Sue whispers to Mel that they've done it right.

Nancy then totally fucks Mel up by holding up the bowl of white stuff she's spooning into her mix and saying “oh, wouldn't it be awful if this were salt”. You can see Mel's blood pressure soar, as Nancy dips a finger in to her bowl and says “no it's not”. Well, it's not salt then, but might be cocaine for all we know.

After such a shock, Mel decides to sit down for a cuppa with her old mucker Sue and Sue explains why the sugar has to go in last, which mainly involves Sue stroking Mel's face. “Don't do that to my face” says Mel, by which she means “we may have been best friends for twenty years and I love you dearly but don't you dare upset my amazing hair today”.

Dramatic montage #2: Everyone's boring on about proving things in the fridge.

Dramatic montage #3: Everyone's waiting on things that are proving in the fridge and experiencing thumb twiddling boredom. Richard is pacing around, unused to the sitting life. (Careful Richard, you might disrupt your pencil!)  Luis is quite happy on his stool. I'm with you, Luis.

Mel and Sue are still having their cuppa and discussing the origins of kouign-amann, which Mel says is from “the country” of “Breton”, until Sue points out that “Breton” is not a country.  They decide it's a province. (Boringly, I'm fairly sure this isn't quite right from a grammatical perspective, at least, but it's Mel and Sue, so ultimately no wrong can be done.) Mel then starts telling Sue about Breton lace hat flaps worn for dancing. Sue feigns important hosting business elsewhere.

That important business turns out to be chatting to Martha, who's sitting around waiting and cheekily suggesting that “three and a half hours for a bake with six ingredients” is overkill. 

Having said that, everyone's taking delicious looking bready bakes out of their ovens, with not a clue whether they should look as they do.  They are all still a teeny little bit too bored to be entirely stressed - except for Kate, who's living the bake like it's her last moment on earth, as per usual.

Berrywood arrive to sneer and stuff their gobs, and start going on about laminating, which makes no sense to me at all, unless I missed the bit where Sue explains how you have to feed your dough through some plastic.  

(Laminating once led to one of my favourite ever games of Shag, Marry, Kill, where the three options were photocopying, shredding and laminating. -You kill photocopying OBVZ, but it's a tougher call between the other two office tasks; in the end, the cathartic and destructive nature of shredding makes it a better shag, leaving the slow-burn but highly satisfying and super neat outcome of laminating the one to wed.)

Tecchie Rankings: Chetna is last, then Luis (unusually low), with Kate fourth. Martha (third), Nancy (second) and Richard (first) take the top three slots and Richard's grin returns to maximum grinnery.  "They were very, very good" says Paul. “Close to mine”, he cannot resist adding. (I'm leaving that one comment free, but be certain that I am raising an eyebrow.)

The bakers have a bit of a to-camera post-mortum outside. Richard is joyful, Luis is philosophical and Chetna says you win some you lose some. She also clearly doesn't have time for this, good-naturedly getting up from her bench before she's even finished her sentence.  I'm quite enjoying sparky Chetna.

The judges think Luis and Kate are in the highway to the dangerzone – but even Chetna is at risk.  Daan daan daaaaan!

Animal shots: They must have eaten all the sheep at this point, as the best they can do is an insect on some grass. But Sue does have a lion on her t-shirt.

The Show-stopper: Twenty-four eclairs. 

Two different flavours, twelve of each. Choux base and cream, then anything goes.

WOULD YOU BELIEVE IT, CHETA IS USING MANGO! Well, that's a turn-up for the books, isn't it? Though, talking of books, at least she's got her cook book USP sorted: Three Hundred Ways To Cook A Mango by Cheta off Bake Off. Not that her Chocolate & Mango and Lemon Meringue Eclairs don't sound lovely. They sound mangoificent. (Still working on that one.)

Kate is making Neapolitan and Lemon Meringue Eclairs. The Neapolitan are chocolate choux with a strawberry mousse inside, and the lemon ones involve basil choux pastry - errrr, sweetness and basil?  Not convinced.  Somewhere in the Highlands Norman is looking on in wonderous disbelief.

Nancy is making a savoury lot and a sweet lot: Smoked Salmon & Horseradish and Raspberry Ripple Eclairs. Mary is pleased to hear there's going to be a salty option; I mean, judging is all well and good, but it's only practical to think of how that fits in with one's dietary preferences for the day. Nancy's brought her own horseradish from the garden, which the judges will lurrrve, but then undoes all that good homegrown work, by saying that she had tried making savoury and sweet choux pastries, but couldn't tell the difference, so was just going for the same batch this time. Mary has a slight cat's bum about it, but she likes Nancy, so it's probably ok.

Richard is using blueberry and lavender in one lot of eclairs, whilst the others will be raspberry and rose flavoured. Lavender. Ugh. And, rose - even worse! (Why always the insistence on using rose? It's not like it's a REAL flavour.)  At least Richard has the honesty to admit that his show stopper could taste like soap if he gets the amounts wrong.   Mind you, in a sense, who cares, as the really exciting news is that Richard is using a chicken coop staircase to present his bakes, a Stair of Eclairs, as he's calling it.

Martha reveals that for her AS Levels, she did a dissertation on profiteroles, which are essentially the same thing as eclairs bar the shape. I fear this will be like when the masses find out that someone on Strictly went to stage school and turn to the Digital Spy forums to spew bile and pickforks of hate. Martha's using her chou-perior knowledge (eyethankyew) to make Rhubarb & Custard and Maple Syrup & Bacon Eclairs. Bacon on an eclair? Sounds like a waste of good bacon. Especially as it turns out she's adding nougar on there.  So No Thanks, to quote 55% of Scotland. 

The bakers pipe out their eclairs. To be blunt, there's something of the animal turd about them at this point. It is impressive to see them come out of the oven though, large and puffy and highly edible.

Luis' Stars and Stripes Eclairs will contain blueberry cheescake (MMMMM) and peanut better and jello (also mmmm, but not quite capital letters level). They will be bright blue and bright red – it remains to be seem whether Mary will furiously interrogate him about food colouring.

Nancy announces she is “traditional with a contemporary twist”. Kate pisses herself laughing, but wholeheartedly agrees.  Nancy is then sets out about inject the filling with a giant eclair needle, which is highly exciting!  I did not know that, unless it happens every year they make eclairs and I had entirely forgotten, which seems likely.  Elsewhere, Martha hasn't got thick enough cream and fears oozing.

Dramatic montage #4: Steady-handed cream application and Martha panicking about being so behind. Richard chivalrously arrives to help a panicked Martha break her nougat – not a euphemism. What a lovely man.

Kate announces “I'm so a goner”.  Eyes on Kate and Martha's critiques then.  I guess we shall see...

Mary deems Nancy's presentation “simply beautiful”. Paul thinks her savoury ones are “light, delicate and crispy”, though Mary wants more seasoning. The sweet ones have a slight soggy bottom and are a “bit sickly” - but clearly not too much.  Paul tells her “you're just that (teeny finger gap) from perfection”.

Richard has decorated his pink and purple eclairs with hashtags; Paul thinks they're not quite sheeny enough, whilst Mary admires the uniformity of size.  Both sets get good flavour reports.

Luis' eclairs look INCREDIBLE; brightly coloured and funky and awesome. Mary says they look like “a party”. The red ones are "different" - in an obviously good way - and Luis is told “you've really cracked it” on the blue.  “You've nailed it on all counts” adds Paul.

Mary says “I wouldn't know there was basil there” of Kate's eclairs. “It comes late” promises Kate, which sounds dubious: mmmm, a delicious sweet eclair with basil aftertaste. Paul is smug: he got the basil and liked it, so Mary tries a second and, again, deems it basil-free. Uh oh – don't have another row, guys!  However, basil or no basil, “the chocolate ones are a mess” and “the shard hasn't worked”.

Chetna has produced “a lovely display” of thirteen eclairs - she's not penalised for it, fortunately.  It's a praise diatribe instead: “The flavour inside the lemon meringue eclairs is fantastic”, the chocolate and mango combo is “unusual” and “indulgent” and the overall effect is “well thought out and executed”.

Martha is just happy she's served something up. “I don't think they look good at all” admits Paul, though the rhubarb and custard flavours are enjoyed. As for the bacon... “it doesn't go”.  I'm floored *rolls eyes*.

Tense times in the Berrywood backstage pimp lounge.  Richard and Nancy both had a strong week and they think Luis and Chetna have done enough to stay safe, but Martha has fallen into a risky position and Kate too is in danger.  (Mary takes that opportunity to have another pop at the lack of basil, which she still hasn't got.)  Paul makes the point that everyone's so good at this point and that one mistake can therefore make all the difference.  Mary and Paul both think they know who's going home though...

Oh!  Sue's just got the basil!

Ma Baker: Richard. For the THIRD time! Worth building the eclairway to heaven, as one Twitterer called it.

Mel and Sue Sandwich: Kate! Oh she's so sad. She lives it so deeply, but is “overwhelmingly pleased” to have done Bake Off.  Good luck lovely Kate, though you're in the Green and liberal utopia that is Brighton, so you should be ok.

Next time: Quarter finals. Fruity signatures, massaging an extended pastry length and taking the oily plunge with show-stopping doughnuts.

Oh!  I just got the basil!

2014 Episode 6 - European Cakes Week

Last week: Pork pie domination.  And a moment of silence, please, as we tip our hats to the glory of Norman and his lavender meringue.

This week: European cakes and Mel and Sue's full range of Slovscandiwegian accents.  We're immediately greeted by a Eurovision pastiche in which Sue plays 'Crajjy Dutch Jury Representative' giving everyone “twelve pointshh” and Mel plays 'Glamorous Presenter of Indeterminate Nationality Who Cannot Hear Very Well' .

(Inevitable Eurovision aside: You may be forgiven for thinking it's Mel's first foray into the role of Eurovij Euro-cougar, but you would be WRONG, because a few years back she was in a Eurovision-inspired show called Eurobeat (with Les Dennis of all people, I know, I know).  It was a total Westend flop, but it was bloody fabulous and the world is a sadder place without it.  I saw it, loved it and thought it deserved to run forever; then again, my love of Eurovision is probably “above average”, so I accept that might be a minority view.)

Blazer watch: Mary's bang on trend in navy and white polka dots – would we expect anything less?   I don't usually do a boob-watch, but I have to say Sue’s got quite a push-up bra on.  Seriously, where did they come from?!  The power of horizontal stripes...

The Signature bake: “A cake inspired by the great cakes of Europe”.

Mel lists some European countries and Sue specifies that baking powder is out and yeast is in.  That's pretty much it... Letsch do diss!

Luis is making an Apple and Cinnamon Kugelhopf with Honeyed Apples, which Wikipedia spells Gugelhupf, so I don't know WHAT to think, other than 'YUMelhopf/hupf'.  He's got a special mould which will make the whole thing look a bit like a bee hive and is adding Calvados (for Mary, let’s face it).

Chetna has chosen to bake an Orange Savarin with Cinnamon Cream – you will not be surprised to hear that I have no idea what the heck a ‘savarin’ might be, other than I now know it can be orange.  (Honestly, I struggle enough with terms like 'sponge' and 'crust' without having to deal with all these foreign baking words.)  I catch that the orange comes from the involvement of orange syrup, but can't tell from the illustration whether that's a pool of syrup encased in sponge or just the flavouring.  I think it's a fairly safe bet to go to go for the latter, but I'm not 'Pub Quiz Sure', and continentals can be a crazy bunch.  

Mel is worried Chetna's mould looks like a piles cushion.  She appears to be alone.

I learn that Luis' thingy-hopf was Austrian, whereas Richard's thingy-hupf is German, and THAT'S the one they call a gugelhupf – a Fruity Gugelhupf with an Orange Glaze in this case.  Ahhhhhhhhhh.  Zee Austrians say Kugelhopf, zee Germans say Gugelhupf, but let’s not call the whole thing oupf, eh?  (Is this a good time to mention that I've got a degree in Modern Languages from Oxford University?  Clearly I missed the tutorial on regional Germanic cake expressions...)

Nancy's European cake is actually Caribbean, which sounds a bit off-topic, but she could totally get round that by pointing out that Guadeloupe and Martinique are legit part of the EU.  It's another savarin (still no idea) – a Rum Punch Savarin with Coconut Cream and Tropical Fruits to be exact – which she's going to decorate with a cocktail umbrella, Club Tropicana Drinks Are Free-style.  If her plan is to have Mary mistake it for Sex On The Beach and be overly pleased at the impending booze levels, then maybe she'll get away with it.  Paul comes over to chat bananas and gives a Nancy a stark banana warning, leading Mel to ask “do you feel the danger of the banana?”.  Nancy says she does, but will not let it get to her.  Bravo Nancy!

Martha tells Paul she is going to first prove her Dark Chocolate and Almond Liqueur Savarin dough, then add four tablespoons of butter.  This literally (not literally) BLOWS HIS MIND.  Martha toughs it out, but once he’s gone, she admits to Kate that she doesn't really know what a savarin is.  Kate responds by telling Martha not to worry, as her bake, a babka, isn't really European, as it’s Israeli - though she does make the point that it is in Eurovision and they agree that “that counts”.  

(It's actually in Eurovision because it's a member of the European Broadcasting Union rather because of any form of strict UN-sanctioned definition based on geo-political criteria, and that actually means that... hello?  Helloooo?  FINE, I'LL GO BACK TO TALKING ABOUT CAKES THEN.  SHEESH.)

In fact, Kate's Pecan, Chocolate and Sour Cherry Yeast Cake, inspired by the time she spent in Israel as a teenager, isn't even that Israeli, as she admits that she didn't really like Israeli cakes, so has adapted the bake.  Hmmmm – so Kate’s making a 'not-really-in-Europe and not-even-really-from-Israel’ cake.  Do we think Mary will be happy about such risky rule bending?  (No, we do not.)

Mel does a 'sexy German' accent to announce “one hour left” and Chetna responds with a totally unprompted bizarre 'oorrreuuhhh' sound, which is the most interesting thing she's done since she arrived.  It is presented without fanfare or comment, but I urge you to check it out, then use it in day to day life.  Ooorrreuuhhh.

Dramatic montage #1: Has the dough risen enough to leave the proving drawer and hit the oven?  NO-ONE KNOWS. There follow some shots of dubious dough-sniffing, as the bakers anguish over that call.

Sue then does a TERRIBLE Dutch accent – she clearly wanted to make a spliff joke, but panicked halfway through and only dared go as far as making a reference to ‘mellow’.

Nancy lists the ingredients she's using.  I only catch “100ml of rum”, but what else matters anyway?  She’s not impressed by her cake, which is “a bit sad” and thinks she’d be doing everyone a favour by dropping it on the floor.  (Just out of shot, Sue, still fresh from her powerlessness in the face of bingate, no doubt starts legging it over to catch any cake fall.)  Fortunately Nancy isn’t being serious and, experienced baker that she is, totally cheers up her cake with a syrup of some kind and by stuffing fruit in the middle – she seems to have wrangled her dangerous banana.

Mel suggests that Richard “Check his Hopf” and says “oooh, he’s risen”, appreciatively.  At first, I thought she’d said “Check the Hoff... oooh, he’s risen” which would have been a WHOLE other show.

We then get a time warning from Mel in a Lithuanian accent (apparently), before she moves to a different accent, which I'm informed by the subtitles is “Scandinavian”.   Then just when I was getting quite impressed by the subtitlers’ ear for comedy Euro accents, they call Sue’s attempt at Russian, ‘Dutch’, which is a bit ouch.

Hopf to it judges!  So what do Berrywood think?

Luis’ offering looks AMAZING and gets compliments on both presentation and texture.

Slight disagreement from Mary and Paul (uh-oh!) on Kate’s cake.  Mary likes the flavours, but Paul thinks they’re “wrong” and that the bubka is “quite dry inside”.

Chetna’s cake is deemed to have too much liquid in, but it’s moist and the flavour and texture are “very, very good”.

Mary is disappointed that Richard’s top has crystallised and doesn’t like the texture either.  She’s into the flavour, at least.  Paul doesn’t think it has enough variation in it.

Nancy’s savarin really does looks like a 1980s beach shack cocktail; it's a look Mary doesn’t favour.  She’s over-proved it too.  Nancy pleads ignorance, though I reckon she knew and is toughing it out with faux-naivety. She achieves “fantastic flavour” though. 

Turns out that it didn’t matter that Martha had no idea how to make a savarin – she’s managed one so “beautiful” that even Paul likes the booze element.

Foodistory: To the Danish Embassy my friends, where there’s sadly no sign of Brigitte the PMILF from Borgen or an array of Sarah Lund jumpers.  We learn instead that Danish revolutionaries in the 19th(?) century used secret Resistance style meetings to get incredibly competitive about baking, which has turned into a rather impressive tradition where Danes gather to eat an entire table of cakes in fours hours.  No-one is allowed to leave until it’s all eaten.  It sounds AWFUL.

The Technical Challenge: Prinsesstårta, which, would you believe, is the Swedish for Princess Cake.

Tarty princessing is achieved by making three layers of Genoese sponge, adding another layer of crème pat and jam, and putting that under whipped cream and green marzipan to form a domed top. As if a giant green cake wasn't odd enough, a little rose is then “plonked on the top”. 

Wikipedia informs me that the original recipe first appeared in the 1930s "Prinsessornas Kokbok", which I’m telling you because: well ‘KOKBOK’.  I’m amazed Sue didn’t proclaim that info to the tent – it’s not like her to miss a blatant penis joke.

None of the bakers have any idea what the hell is going on.  Paul calls Mary "cruel" and they promptly sit in the backstage area cackling and eating the most giant piece of (Princess) cake known to Bake Off history – even Glenn would shudder at that the size of that one.

Dramatic montage #2: Frenzied whipping from Luis and Kate with wooden spoons.  Chetna breezes past with the electric whisk.

Nancy whispers that she doesn’t usually make marzipan and gets it shop bought – shhhhhh, they'll take you to the tower for that one on Bake Off, my dear! Don’t forget Enwezor’s fate!  Nancy’s used to green marzipan though – she made a football cake for her grandson, who was delighted, even though Nancy was repulsed by the thought of eating something green. She's therefore wary of adding too much food colouring now.

Once again the bakers have to split their cakes – this time into three.  Chetna’s cake is waaaay too thin.  Martha measures hers at 5cm and is forced to divide 5 by 3 in her head, deciding on “one and a bit” as the helpful measurement.

Dramatic montage #3: layering cream and jam, and general stress and confusion about the fact that the recipe is SO DAMNED COMPLEX and they are ALL behind.  They sort of lost me a bit here, to be honest.  I was too impatient for massive green cake.

Though my interest did pick up when Nancy asked Sue: “what did the male judge say?”, clearly drawing a complete blank on Paul’s name.  Even though Sue then reminded her that "his name is Paul", Nancy blithely, and brilliantly, carried on “yes, what did the male judge say?”, clearly not giving a crapola that she'd forgotten it - I mean so what if Paul Hollywood is a ledge amongst bakers, there's only so much headspace for random blokes' names when you're Princess cake-ing. Sue collapses in a heap of giggles – she’s probably still laughing now.

Mel meanwhile mops Richard’s brow with a red cloth.  She does not disturb the blue pencil.

The bakers line up their P-tortes. 

Tecchie Rankings: Kate is last and winces. Richard is second-bottom, with Martha in fourth. Luis then Chetna take the bottom two tiers of the podium with Nancy on top. Basically, her green food colouring-phobia meant that her cake was a rather pukey shade of browny/olive, but she did have the best dome action and her princess was "perfect", if not quite brightly coloured enough. A perfectly anaemic Prinsesstarta.

In their special area lurve tent, the judges trail who's looking safe and who's in danger. Richard and Kate are in the relegation zone... It's tense stuff. I don't want anyone to leave!

The Show-stopper: Dobos torte.

Which is a Hungarian sponge, layered with cream and caramel.  For the Bake Off version, Sue explains that the judges require two tiers and "an emphasis on sugar work and all things caramel".  Sue then goes several minutes without breathing as she lists all the scrumptious things you can make with sugar and caramel.  Her eyes start to glaze and her voice gets increasingly robotic, but she’s caught in a caramel-frenzied trap and can’t stop until she has listed all the caramel by-products known to man and womankind. Fortunately Mel intervenes before Sue’s caramel love overcomes her need for oxygen.

Paul and Mary make VERY CLEAR that the bakers should be using their five hours to go caramel-crazy and create some stunning wow-factor caramel structures.  We're expecting caramel dilapidated sheds as an absolute minimum.  Ideally an ornamental caramel bird table and caramel love birds.

Luis is going architectural, with The Cage on Rocky Hill, a two-tiered cake shaped like his wife’s favourite local sight, a tower.  It will be formed of hazelnut, vanilla, salted caramel and coffee buttercream, so HELLO - that is certainly a combo I mightily approve of.  Luis describes his caramel work to Berrywood, which involves him making the sides of the tower and a flag out of caramel.  Mary’s her eyes widen in impressed disbelief

However, it’s Richard, who gets Mary’s mouth to drop, as he’s planning ten layers in his two-tiered Sugar Forest Dobos Torte, which will have raspberry, apricot and white chocolate in it.  His sugar work will be a nest and some trees, which is a very clever way of allowing deliberate messiness.

Martha isn’t sure whether her bake has two or three tiers, as she’s planning on cutting into one layer, to hide a chessboard pattern inside.  Yowsers, guys!  You are going for it!  Her Chess-Themed Chocolate and Salted Caramel Dobos Torte will be full of ganache and the layers will be made of salted caramel Swiss meringue buttercream.  Food hubba hubba.  Paul looks like he’s lost in an utterly filthy dream world at the very thought.

Chetna’s using a classic Vicky sponge as the basis for her Almond Liquer Dobos Torte with Chocolate Caramel Buttercream.  How many sponges is she planning? 14.  FOURTEEN!!!!?!  She explains how she’s going to use grapes to shape her caramel.  Sue and the judges each respond by openly stealing Chetna's grapes.

Luis has organised his cooling sponge layers in an in-tray he’s borrowed from the office.  He admits to Mel that he loves organisation.  (You keep at it, Luis!  My sweepstake investment is feeling very safe just now.)  Richard’s also behaving to type, spreading his mix on to a circular surface with a trowel.  At least I’m fairly sure it was a trowel. That's a legitimate bake tool, right?

Nancy is also on to a winner, with a Chocolate and Caramel Dobos Torte.  Ultimately, it's an objective truth that chocolate is always best.

Kate’s going three tier, as she thinks “two tiers look like hats” which confuses me, to be honest, though I'm not au fait with Brighton's current hat styles.  Her three tiers look like a terrifying medieval instrument of torture, as there are lots of pointy sharp caramel sticks poking out in a rather aggressive way, but at least her Trio of Dobos Tortes aren't hat-like.  Unless you’re at Ascot where... well look at this lot.

At this point I really fancied a cup of tea, but they'd already done the Food History bit and, in spite of my better judgement, I actually watched the lot because it was about A TABLE OF CAKES.  A lesson learned...

Dramatic montage #4: Layering up.  Luis no doubt has a chart to help with cream, sponge, cream, sponge etc.

Mel and Sue have stopped doing accents, which is a shame.  I was hoping for Frrrrrench and Oirish, at the very least, as well as roping Luis in to do Spanish.  (Did you know Luis was Spanish?)

There are a fair number of sugar and caramel disasters, as the bakers need to time things exactly to get the right consistency, and, well, that’s hard.  Nancy declares “me pulled nuts are rubbish”.  Oh Nancy!  No need to be so hard on yourself.  Mind you, Kate’s also having nut woes, “I haven’t done enough of my nuts”, she worries, before being forced to add “curly ones that have died in the heat”.  And I thought Pie Week was rude-puntastic.

Dramatic montage #5: Painstaking caramel decor.  Luis’ flag is rather good and Chetna seems to have created a small caramel Dalek with her grapes.  Meanwhile, Nancy’s layers look a bit like a ham and mustard sandwich – which isn’t a criticism, as that’s one classic and delicious sarnie.

“No more tiers” cries Sue – for it is judging time.

Nancy is invited to present to “Mary and the male judge” – Paul’s having a right old chuckle about that (on the outside, anyway).  She has “beautiful edges” and Mary likes the “rich taste”.  Paul’s delighted with Nancy’s nuts.  “Very well made and very well executed.”

Richard’s cakes “look sad” and are “a little dry”, but he has incorporated a lot of caramel in there. 

Visually, Mary thinks Luis’ offering is “a monumental effort" - it’s what she calls a Showstopper.  However, it’s “far too sweet” and he “missed it slightly on the flavour”.

Kate’s dobos is lacking in spikes, which means it’s severely lacking in caramel – I suspect time was an issue.  She has “two winners with the top layers”, but the bottom one is less successful. 

Chetna’s dalek, however, is caramel overload.  Paul is impressed with the definition and flavours.  Mary’s happy that the Victoria sponge thing worked out.

Martha’s chess board “looks a bit uneven”, but has a “great flavour”.  It reminds Paul of an opera cake and there’s “nothing wrong with an opera cake”.  However, Mary sticks her oar in a bit, dissing the caramel chess pieces “it doesn’t demonstrate much skill, as you used a shop bought mould”.  Probably she thinks Martha needs to find a husband who is skilled in woodwork.

Deliberations in the Berrywood tent boudoir are fraught.  They’re stuck between kicking out Kate or Richard.  Richard did a lot of sugar work and followed the brief.  Kate’s cakes were lovely, but she only showed one caramel skill.

Last minute animal shot: Sue tells us it’s NEVER been so close and a cow gently moos in supportive acknowledgment.

Ma Baker: Chetna!  What a sweetheart she is.  She looks humble and delighted.

Mel and Sue Sandwich: NO-ONE!  IT WAS TOO CLOSE! The hugs are particularly reserved for Kate and Richard, bursting with relief that they both get to stay.  

Paul and Mary explain that it was neck and neck and they had a total tiff, disagreeing about who should go.  (Clearly Paul was Team Kate and Mary was Team Rules Iz Rules). 

Yes, it was highly convenient that there was always going to be a week without a loser, after Diana left of her own accord, but this is a lovely happy ending – and what is Bake Off about, if not overly dramatic fluffy conclusions? 

Next time: Complex pastries (artistic and tortured, no doubt) and someone is definitely leaving.  Definitely maybe, anyway.