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!