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.