2014 Episode 5 - Tarts and Pies Week

Last week: #BINCIDENT. Somewhat unfairly Diana became a national villain, after Iain threw his Baked Alaska in the trash in a fit of pique-nique. Never has the social etiquette of limited freezer space during a televised baking contest been so thoroughly dissected by people on the internet. Never!

This week: Tarts and pies week. AKA puns and mmmmms week; we're talking maximum opportunity for smut and cravings.  (Mainly, as there are just so many things that rhyme with 'pie' and because meat and pastry is an ever-winning combo.)

Blazer watch: It's a neon-off, as Mary pits a hot pink biker jacket (tastefully matched to hot pink paisley foulard) against a blazer from Mel which balances the fine line between florescent lime and florescent lemon.  They both look wonderful.

Hair watch: Sue's fringe has got its trademark Elvis swagger, whilst Mel is sporting a bun; admittedly that's the wrong recipe for pie week, but who cares, for it looks magnificent.

Cuffs watch: The Hollywood look and stance in its purest form: baby blue sheeny cuffs against dark blue sheeny shirt, modelled with the trademark pose of hands in pockets with legs dangerously akimbo.  He's back to full strength, people!

Animal watch: horny sheep – as in 'with horns', rather than... well we all remember that confident squirrel.

Watch watch: that's probably enough watches for now.

Mel lets us know that Diana has taken ill and won't be back to the tent. They don't go into any detail, but the reports suggest that Diana had a fall and has lost her sense of taste and smell, which is very, very sad news indeed. The bakers say nice things about Diana (no comments on over-zealous freezer use), then it's swiftly to business...

The Signature bake: Family-sized custard tart.

Mel sets out the ground rules: Please don't throw your tart in the bin.  HahaHA.

Paul says he wants silky custard.  Really, Paul?

Norman is going exotic!!! Well, sort of.  Well, not at all, really.  He's making Tarte au Citron which he “first had in France twenty years ago” so is exotic to him.  Broken record-style, the judges murmur something about simplicity and Norman tells them that he's not stretching himself today, as he's stretching himself tomorrow.  Oh Norman!  I appreciate that might feel like a giant concession to you, but Berrywood will take that as a personal slight. Paul duly reads Norman the lemony riot act: his tart must be “beautifully level, no cracks in sight and just about set”. “Yes” says Norman out loud. “I'll do what the fuck I like, Paul” says his facial expression.

Martha isn't fully hugely confident about her Pistachio, Apricot & Honey Custard Tart. She doesn't enjoy making pastry, because she's young and apparently pastry-making is an old person's game. “Like Nancy”, announces Martha.  I appreciate that at 17 everyone over 25 appears ancient, but still... ouch.

Then again... the camera immediately pans to Nancy, who, true to Martha's ageist prediction, reveals that she "absolutely loves" making pastry, which, in this case will form the base of a Chocolate Crusted Passion Fruit Tart.  

The following conversation then takes place:

Paul: Is that your ring?

Nancy: Yes

Paul: It's very shallow.

Snarffsnarffsnarffadinfinitum.  Smut smut smut smut smut.

No word on Kate's ring, but we do learn that she's making a Rhubarb and Custard Tart with almond pastry. It involves complicated rhubarb swirling mid-bake, which sounds highly impressive.  Kate is typically cool about the whole thing.

Luis is making a Tropical Manchester Tart; the 'tropical' comes from coconut and mango, and the 'Manchester' because it's being made by a Mancunian.  You've got some work to do on your puns, Luis.  And hang on – I thought Luis was Spanish.  Confusing.

Richard is getting figgy with it, making an Fig & Orange Tart (though I also heard something about peppercorns, which sounds highly dubious).  Chetna meanwhile is making a Rice Custard Tart with Mangoes and Raspberries; I'm starting to wonder whether Chetna is sponsored by mangoes, as they make a frequent appearance...

Kate has got an amazing roll mat for her dough, which includes lots of helpful info like conversions and a pie size guide which looks like planets orbits/constellations. I entirely covet it, even though I never make pastry (because I am not an ancient crone, eh Martha?).

Nancy has written her name on her extremely shallow ring. This is not her first rodeo; she saw last year's #custardgate.  There'll be be no Deborah-type stealing her goodies, oh no. 

Luis explains blind bakes. I'm afraid I do not pay attention.

Mel and Nancy then discuss the perennial 'tart v pie' question, which isn't half as tough as 'daddy or chips', as Nancy and Mel happily agree that they're tarts, the pair of them.  They decide their excellent hairdos are definitely "tart hair".  In that case, tart hair for all!

Luis' pastry is OCD neat. Norman's is more... rustic.

Dramatic montage #1: the pouring of the custard into hot pastry crust.  Most of the bakers do this in the oven, but Richard goes for the additional drama of pouring it on the counter, then carrying it down to the oven, the levels lapping precariously close to the edge.  It's watching-behind-fingers-time, but he just about makes it, with just the merest hint of custard dribble.  He celebrates by downing the rest of his custard from the measuring jug.  I'm surprised we don't see more licking of the bowl montages, to be honest – that's basically the best bit of baking.

Dramatic montage #2: Knocking the metal bit off the edge – will the pastry crumble or stick? Martha's having a mare, but Kate comes over and helps her ease her pie out of its casing.  THAT'S the Bake Off we know and love – co-baking and all round love.  None of this ambiguous freezer-space controversy.

To the judgemobile...!  Time for Mary and Paul to 'pie' up the offerings.

Norman's “looks a mess” and is “just baked”, though the “flavour’s fantastic”. Oh Norman.

Nancy's is “very attractive” and “original”.  Indeed Paul is so taken, he gives Nancy a Bezza eye-twinkle: “I like that, Nancy”.  (There was no need to worry about her shallow ring, was there, Paul?)

The judges like the look of Chetna's tart, but the rice is undercooked and for the first time she has “missed the flavours”.

Kate has “lovely pastry and beautiful decoration” but it might be slightly short on the rhubarb flavours.

Richard's has had leakage and “very little orange comes through”. They seem quite happy eating it though.

Martha's “needs glaze or a shine” (HELLOOOO, after that eggwash trauma I'm not surprised she's gone sheen-free).  Paul's “not convinced about the flavour”.

As Martha does her best to keep the tears at bay, Luis is told his pastry “looks perfect” and that it's “very difficult to critique”.

A good one for Luis and Kate, trouble for most of the others...

Foodistory: In the olden days, a successful wedding wasn't one which served up sausage baps at midnight, featured a photobooth with accompanying fancy dress, or ensured that Buffalo Stance was on the disco playlist, but was defined by offering aphrodisiac pies containing lamb's testicles.  After trying the baw pie, Mel is so overtaken with the aphrodisiacness that she tries to marry the food historian, even though he is non-committal at best.

The Technical Challenge: Mini pear pies. 

A poached pair surrounded by spirals of golden pastry, then baked until brown. It's one of Paul's recipes, so you can guarantee it's a total bitch to make.

Martha and Norman demonstrate the two ends of the blind challenge approach; neither has made it before and Martha is highly nervous, whilst Norman thinks it sounds entirely straightforward. Though Mr Cad believes that Norman would feel confidence in the face of having to repair a nuclear reactor about to let rip, so...

The bakers first have to make rough puff pastry, which is the bravest of all the pastries and likes a street fight. Shortcrust is the one with the Napoleon complex. Flaky is the one who cancels last minute. Etc etc.

Luis explains ideal pastry temperatures. I'm afraid I do not pay attention.

Animal shots: A horse!!!

We first get to watch pears poach, whilst the bakers all fret about the length of poaching. It's like taking the oily plunge, only backwards.  It's then time to “mummify the pears” as Martha puts it. At this point the air of deliciousness is limited, as we're talking slimy peeled pears covered in raw dough.  But I suppose there's potential.

Judging by Paul's example pears at the start, they should be completely covered in pastry, but Richard's pies are a little less demure than that and have slowly and saucily shed their pastry coverings – pears out for the lads, eh?  Sadly a pastry bottom isn't quite what was required.

It's the gentle padding sound of lady-moccasins, as the judges return.  You won't be at all surprised to hear that Paul looks delighted that the pear pies aren't all perfect. He particularly enjoys being unimpressed by Richard's “mess”.

Tecchie Rankings: Richard is last, of course (“I think I got a full house of what-can-go-wrong-will”, followed by Luis and Norman (oh Norman).  The girls take the top four spots: Nancy, Kate and Chetna are fourth to second, with Martha coming out on top: “this one shows it can be done” says Mary. From sniffles to smiles – good for you, Martha.

The Show-stopper: A pie with tiers. 

Minimum of three tiers.  Sweet or savoury.  Self-supporting.  Any pastry.  Go!

Paul wants a theme. Luis' theme is 'you think it's fruit, but it's actually meat' which, frankly, is the greatest theme ever, whether it be pie or party or pie party. He's calling it Four Fruity Seasons Tower and my only reticence is that I'd have no idea whether to start with the duck, venison, chicken or pork layer.  LIFE IS SO HARD.

As well as Luis' meat fest, we have Kate making Rhubarb, Prune & Apple Pork Pies and Martha making Three Little Pigs Pies, which is chorizo, pulled pork and traditional pork and apple, so basically I WILL EAT ALL THE PIES.  

(Twas ever thus.)

There's serious competition from Norman though, who is going for a venison, haggis and spinach pie as the meat course/part of his meat, fish and dessert pies. Quite brilliantly, he is calling this creation...

*drum roll* 

Norman's Pieful Tower.  

!!!!!

WORDS CANNOT EXPRESS. 

!!!!! 

Less brilliantly, perhaps, Norman has decided to make a lavender meringue. Eeek. I mean there's the exoticism of za'atar, quinoa or pesto, and then there's something that just sounds not very nice.

Richard reckons he could build a house out of his hot water crust pastry, which will form his Three Course Autumn Pie Feast. The three pies are stake and ale (yum), chicken and mushroom (yuck) and pear and apple (undecided).

Luis explains ideal pastry thickness. I'm afraid I do not pay attention.

Nancy's decided to put her shallow ring aside and go “no tins” on her Trio of Apple Pies, one of which is made of chicken and gammon (which I thought was animal rather than apple, but we have established that my knowledge of foodstuffs is limited).

Chetna's decided to use four different pastry times in her Fusion Tiered Pies which will encase different Indian dishes – I'm sure you will agree this sounds rather excellent.  It's surprising that Curry Pie isn't more of a British staple, really.

Norman is patting down his haggis. “Normski” says Mel, deciding that nicknames and poetry will be this week's medium of flirtation, “would it be appropriate to quote some Burns and address the haggis?”  Norman immediately steps up: “Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face/ Great chieftain o' the pudding-race!” he proclaims “Well are you worthy of ma grace / As lang as ma arm”.   It then appears to go “murmur murmur...” then something unintelligible, before there is a moment of inspiration and the immortal lines “I kan you're awful smelly/ but yall soon be doon ma belly”.  I have since been reliably informed the belly bit is not a Rabbie original, but entirely invented by our Norm.  Well, let me say this: perhaps it's Normski's birthday we should be celebrating, because that line is GENIOUSSE.

Norman then demonstrates his commitment to the competition by saying he really fancies a cup of coffee, but he's going to ignore that craving and crack on.  That's the spirit.

Nancy is accorded the highest of favours as Richard reaches behind his ear and lends her his pencil. He does not quite rest until it is (admittedly swiftly) returned.

There's a great deal of pie management required in the task, as the bakers all have to attend to one pie whilst their other pies are baking; from a viewer's perspective, this essentially means non-stop shots of delicious looking pies going into and out of ovens.  (And some wonder why there are millions of Britons watching a competitive cooking programme...)

Oven glove watch: A lot of the bakers have large woolly-looking oven gloves with actual fingers. None of your folded tea towel and hope you don't catch your wrist crap, oh no.  But don't try this at home with normal looking woolly gloves, kids. This is some exciting high-tech heat-proof technologising going on.

Martha is having a “plumbing issue” - there's a fair stream of liquid pouring out of a small hole in her pie.  Uh oh.  How will Martha fill her pie hole?

Dramatic montage #3: The balancing of pies. Luis has actually brought a spirit-level to ensure perfect horizontalness.  He's mocking himself as he uses it, but uses it nonetheless.  Most of the bakers are using dowling rods and pie stands, all of which have a certain vulnerability to them. Chetna, however, is just simply piling them up, pie on pie.  Good girl.

Richard's worried about the colour of his pies; they are too big to cook without burning, apparently. Luis is also having trouble - despite his spirit-level, he doesn't think his pie tower will stand up.  And lo and behold... pie down pie down!  He manages a swift rectification, just as it's 'pie' time for judging.

Over to la Berry and le Hollywood.

Kate's have a “nice colour and height”, “a good bake” and they like the flavours.

Richard's are “stable” but “a bit burned”. Mary totally negs him that at least he's "consistent", as they're “all overcooked”.  She does concede that means “crisp pastry” though.  The frangipane is not deemed a success, but the stake and ale is “stunning” and “wonderful”.

Cheta is told “the flavour queen's back – a good blend”.

Luis' pies are a success, bar the pastry which is “too thick”. (Never a problem.)

“Brownie points” for Nancy not having used a tin. “The flavours are fantastic, but it's quite dry inside”.

Are we ready for judgement on Norman's Pieful Tower? Paul dubiously pokes at the meringue - he clearly doesn't want to eat it, let alone talk about it.  So Mary starts the mauling, going on about the wobbliness of the pastry and how it's leaking, before Paul takes over, mocking and coughing at the lavender. NOT ON, BERRYWOOD, NOT ON.  Yes, lavender meringue is probably vile, but you were the ones who told Norman he had to get experimental!  You created this monster!

Martha is nervous. Pie one is undercooked.  Pie two is well-baked.  Pie three requires three of them to carry it but, despite its baking issues, is “different” and “fantastic”.

In the Berrywood Bakestage Tent, there's the usual rider of gin-soaked tea and massive bakes, as they discuss who is going this week.  Mary ominously decrees that lavender meringue should be banned.

Ma Baker: Kate finally wins out – she's a quiet contender for the main prize, isn't she?  Though, really it's more or less anyone's game now.  Well, expect for...

Mel and Sue Sandwich: Norman. *waaaaaaaaaah*

Incredibly, it was an attempt at exoticism which took him out. It's nevertheless been Norman's year – from made-up semaphore to made-up poetry, via German chit chat and the glamour of pesto, we all fell in love. Your simple approach will be missed, Norman. Fare thee well. We truly were, better together. 

(Seriously, don't go Scotland! #indyref)

A relieved Martha is taking a Hunger Games approach and tells us “can't believe I survived pastry week”, like there was a serious chance of slaughter.

Kate is chuckling that a Southerner won pie week.

Next time: European cakes, whatever they are.