2014 Episode 10 - The Final

Last week: Chetna stumbled at the final hurdle and Richard's fifth Star Baker turn guaranteed him a Series Victory. I mean surely. Right?

This week: THE FINAL. Mel and Sue have got into a boat in a swamp to blow the starting whistle. It is unclear a) how they got there and b) whether they can be rescued.

Sue reminds us that thousands applied, but only twelve were selected “to bare their baking souls at the gingham altar”.  Or a binful of Melted Alaska in Iain's case. We’re reminded of some other key dishes along the way: Claire’s Explosive Diarrhoea Cupcakes and Norman’s Lavender Meringue stand out.  (Why Norman WHYYYYY?)

The three finalists big each other up. Richard has his baking stars, Luis is the design don, and Nancy is the one whose bakes the others eat first – now that’s telling... Fairly or unfairly, Richard is being set up as the favourite, Luis as the competitive one and Nancy the underdog.

Bakers ready, kitchen stations ready, HERE. WE. GOOOOO....

Blazer watch: Nothing is going to beat the pink stork bomber, so Mary has decided to recycle an old fave for the Final - fuchsia roses on a white blazer: a Laura Ashley curtain dream.  Paul is just wearing another one of his many, many, MANY shiny grey shirts. 

In the name of science, I’ve done a compare and contrast between weeks 1 and 10, to check Mel and Sue's chub levels, and they might have all been slightly sharper of chin at the start, but in all honesty, given the amount of sugar they’ve mainlined, it’s looking preeeeeetty good.

A note also, on Nancy's eyelashes – I'm guessing the Girls Aloud eyelash range ('the Nadine' brand).

The Signature bake: Two different types of Viennoiserie.

Croissants, pains au chocolat, Danish pastries and the like.

Paul starts banging on about lamination again. I still don’t have a clue what it is.

Nancy is going for Apple and Lemon Kites & Raspberry and Almond Croissants and is going to use something called raspberry powder, which SURELY Mary can't be on board with. Nancy says she only makes croissants at Christmas because “at other times of year, they don't get eaten”. THIS LITERALLY DOES NOT COMPUTE.  WHAAAA?!? Croissants not getting eaten? This is just a straightforward impossibility, from which I will struggle to move on.

Luis is making Apple, Walnut, Raisin & Cheshire Cheese Chaussons and Pain au Chocolat Blanc with Raspberries & Cream Cheese. He gets mocked for his Franglais term “Pain au White Chocolate” - that may be embarrassing but it's also wise, as it means no-one thinks to have a pop at him for essentially sticking a Milky Bar, some fruit and some cheese into an already perfect breakfast pastry.

Richard is also mocked for his French, particularly for his pronunciation of the 'pain au lait' part of his Pear Pain au Chocolat and Pain au Lait bakes (in his defence, that whole thing's a mouthful - wahay pun time). He grins that “I speak French a bit London”. He wanted to make pain au lait as he loved it as a kid. Paul tells him that it's probably too simple and they will need to be “absolute perfection”. OH LET ME GUESS HOW THIS WILL GO.

Nancy wants an extra half-hour of kneading time to compensate for her weedy lady-muscles. Frankly, I would fancy her chances in a punch-up – she's nails, is Nancy. (And has excellent nails to boot.)

Someone FINALLY explains lamination - and it's Luis, so he should TOTES win (and just because I've got him in the sweepstake etc etc). It's all about folding pastry and going “dough, butter, dough, butter”. There you go – clear as a laminated bun.

“Richard thinks he's found a shortcut” announces Mel. Ohhhhhkaaaaaay. First too simple, now too complicated to make in the time... Well, it's becoming wide-open, folks. So much for the five stars – we know the drill and anything can happen now.

Paul explains that Richard's shortcut will make things “too bready”. I'm not sure how this is a bad thing, but it's clear from the Hollywood tone that this is not the done thing.

Nancy is using frozen fruit pellets to fill her viennoiserie, whilst explaining that fruit is too wet for the pastry and, I dunno, something something something. Anyway, cut to Luis using – yes, fruit, whilst the tinkly music of doom plays: “I hope I don't have a disaster” he chuckles. Oh boys, I think we've all underestimated the power of Nancy and her perfect chignon.

Dramatic montage #1: Waiting for the prove, as the rain absolutely pisses it down outside. They're going to have to towel the grass to get it dry for the assembled guest bottoms tomorrow.

Dramatic montage #2: Out of oven and decor time – Luis anxiously bobs up and down with one white oven glove on. He's like the Spanish-Stockportian Michael Jackson.

Signature Berrywood verdict: Luis' pain au white chocolate are both “uniform” and “some are baked more than others” (it's been a long series, Mary, I imagine you're tired). Paul spots a soaking raspberry (Nancy presumably feels smug about her pellets) and doesn't like the cheese in the taste either. At least the others have a “nice bit of flake” and are “a winner”.

Nancy has “nearly got” the prove with her croissant. Although they are “a bit doughy”, “the raspberry is delicious”- pellets for the win! The kites should have been thicker, but “top marks for flavouring”.

Richard's pain au lait had to be “ABSOLUTELY UTTERLY ENTIRELY UNQUESTIONABLY  COMPLETELY TOTALLY PERFECT” remember – and... well they were touching in the oven, so have had to be gently ripped apart. “This is not a batch bake” says Paul, sternly, before going on (and on) about being really quite "upset" about it.  Though it's still got “great bake and texture”. Paul deems the others “a buttery roll” and it's a “shame” there are no textures.  Hmmm.

The Technical Challenge: Twelve mini Victoria sandwiches, twelve mini tartes au citron, twelve scones.

A controversial challenge, as some hated this one - but I thought it was a brilliant plan. Back to basics and back to blind panic, expect for Nancy, of course.  This was tailor-made for Nancy.

At least they have been given instructions, which Richard kindly reads out: “Make twelve Victoria sandwiches, make twelve tartes au citron, make twelve scones”.  Great!

Mary and Paul huddle backstage with their rider of artisanal bread and sherry and enjoy a crony-like bitching session about the prospects. “We're asking for sheer perfection” says Mary “that's all”. Even Paul thinks that's a little bit of a high bar, but when Mary has that look in her eye, you do not argue.

Nancy is just on this Technical Challenge; indeed, to quote Mel, "she's on it, like Jane Austen bonnet". Whilst the boys sound nervous, Nancy has steel in her voice - I strongly suspect this is not her first emergency speed bake rodeo. For starters, she has task prioritisation down-pat; she knows how long to chill pastry for and reveals an anti-curdle trick like it's standard info. As if that weren't enough, the whole thing is clinched by the way she throws away the line "I make all my own jam, anyway". You can tell Richard and Luis sometimes, just sometimes, eat Tesco's own brand raspberry.

Richard announces he is "just bashing his butter." That's BUTTER, everyone.  

It's time to get the Vicky sponges out.  Richard sticks his thermometer into his batch and assesses that they are done.  Nancy just takes hers out the oven after a quick throwaway peek, cause she knows... she just knows...  

On the custard tart front, Luis is having to jigsaw his pastry into the cases and press.  Oh Luis.  That is not "sheer perfection"!

Richard's over-egged his pudding - one egg was for glazing, but he chucked it into the mix.  Gah!  Eggwashgate #2.  He decides to start again.  But TIME, Richard, WHAT ABOUT TIME?!  It's really tense!

Even unflappable Luis is getting unusually flapped. Fortunately Mel arrives to do some well-placed back patting and to point out that he left a piece of rice in one of his pastry cases.

Richard announces he has never made tarte au citron before. !!! Well that's the title gone, then. Sheesh. At least he still has a plan: He's just going to chuck the custard mix into some pastry and hope for the best in the oven.  Grrrrreat.

Dramatic montage #3: Jamming the scones and writing 'citron' on the tarts.  Or "colon" in someone's case.

And they are done.  I fear we are some way from "sheer perfection", especially on the lemon tarts.  Over to Berrywood...

Luis' tarts don't have any piping on them and Nancy and Richard haven't piped the cream into her sponges. Mary frowns and decrees: "when you're trying to impress, you pipe" - another Mary Berry life-lesson there.  One to apply to all walks of life, I'm sure.

Turns out Richard's plan didn't really come off - he has made tarte au scrambled egg.

Tecchie Rankings: Richard comes last, Luis is AMAZED to avoid bottom, Nancy storms it and comes a clear first.  Twas always going to be thus.

Animal shots: Nope. It's bunting in the breeze time.  We can smell the impending tea party.. 

Berrywood dissect the current standings with Mel and Sue. They stress how they "don't look back" and judge the final on the three challenges of the weekend. I know that's the score, but I suspect I'm not alone in thinking that's slightly unfair when there's a series title in play and someone has won Star Baker five times. No?  

The Show-stopper: A pièce montée.

Sue explains this is an enormous and elaborate pastry centrepiece usually consisting of cake, sugar work, choux and petit fours.  I'm hoping that's not choux in the 'cabbages' sense.

Mel's brillz abbrevs-ing skills: "It's got to taste increds".

"I think of the ones I've seen in 18th and 19th century pictures" says Mary. 'Pictures'.  Ok Mary. *winks*

Richard's pièce montée is based on where he's from, which is Mill Hill. There's talk of a hill and a windmill, but technically it should look like a little black blunted-ended tadpole which tangents off the Northern line and leads to a mythical land akin to Narnia (I assume, it's not like anyone's actually been there). 

He's Mill on the Hill will contain (*deep breath*) almond sponge and raspberry jam, ginger sponge and lemon and lime curd, a croque-en-bouche with orange custard drizzled in an elderflower liqueur, white chocolate ganache, an almond brittle wall, iced green grass and meringue mushrooms.  Show... stopped.  Richard's back in the game!

Nosy home life bit: HOORAY!  I've really missed the snoopping into the bakers' private lives.  Richard was a child with glasses and no pencil behind his ear -  how things change. Mrs Richard, a redhead, gets the welling up started by saying how proud she is, before  Richard 'sweetens' the mood even further by telling us he is using lots of ginger.  "I am a ginger-lover.  I did marry one." Romance, ladies and gents.

Nancy has decided to save time by doing an all-in-one-sponge where she is just "chucking it all in" - unfortunately her blender gets over-excited and chucks it all out.

Nancy is "sticking with the French theme" and making a Red Windmill - she RESOLUTELY refuses to call the Moulin Rouge, lest Paul get one over on her pronunciation skills, no doubt.  She's using red-dyed caramel on the sails and is going for "burlesque and sinister".  Sue thinks she "can-can" do it. 

Nosy home life bit: Nancy is an late over-achiever; she did a degree in her forties and took a dog to Crufts (like, as part of the competition, not just for a walk).  We see some adorable Hull children - I'm assuming they are two of her eight grandchildren.

Luis is making a tribute to his hometown of Poynton, called Village in Chocolate, which is essentially made of, yes, chocolate. I lose count of all the variations, but I am willing to try them all. 

Nosy home life bit: Luis plays in a ukulele band and as a younger man, he had a full head of black hair which gave him the MOST SPANISH FACE YOU HAVE EVER SEEN!  The power of follicles, eh? Senora Luis is also a bit teary.  Bless.

Dramatic montage #4: Choux-poo-pi-dou.  Luis strides purposefully across the room, before delicately piping out a load of balls.  (Choux balls.)

Richard and Luis discuss how they are in a "constant silent panic".  Nancy doesn't even bob her chignon.

The tea party picnic is kicking off and the weather is fortuitously glorious - OF COURSE IT IS.  God would NEVER let it rain on Bake Off final day.  Martha's brought some 17 year old mates, who are trying not to look crazy-excited.  Chetna's old enough not to give a shit who sees her excitement: "who's it gonna beeeeeeeeeeeeeee?" she squeals.  Iain tells us that "the people who got the final deserved it", before pointedly death-staring at Diana (I made that last bit up).  He's backing Luis.  Enwezor is for Richard.  Diana is supporting Nancy in the name of "woman-power" (oooh, perhaps #bincident was a guerilla act against patriarchal oppression rather than a panicked confused freezer mix-up?!).  As for Norman, he tells us he is willing to put a one pound each way bet on Nancy.

(On which note, hoorayyyyyyy!!!! A Norman sighting!  He's even the best when it comes to picking your favourites.)

Back in the kitchen we learn that Mr Nancy has made his wife another gadget.  It's not as sex-toy-esque as the last one, even though the instruction was "I want to able to mould my brandysnap around something".

Mel and Sue are sneaking around eating all the leftovers they can find, knowing it's the last chance for another year.  GO ON GELS.  Speed eat for your lives!

Dramatic montage #5: Assembling the structures.  No crashes so far...

Uh-oh, Nancy's lost a sail!  It's ok, she'll sort it - no sinister French windmill's going to defeat Nancy.

And that's it!  "Your Bake Off 2014 is over".  Eeeeek!

They all look amazing.  Fact.

Show-stopping Berrywood verdict: Richard's windmill is "bright and fun".  The flavour of the bottom layer is "fantastic" and the upper layer "nicely contrasts" it.  Mary checks the choux: "that's a first-class choux", she decides.

Nancy's apron has bloodstains on it, from the red caramel, which makes me realise how few blue plasters we've seen this series.  She's told she should be "proud" of how her windmill looks - and so she should, the SAILS ONLY TURN!  There's a comment that her biccies "could have been neater", but the shortbread is "first-rate".  "The flavours are good" says Paul, then he adds "beautiful", even though her profiteroles could have been bigger.

Luis colliery decor "doesn't half draw your eye to it" and both judges LOVE the design. He's also got his mint/peppermint ratios right, but one of the chocolate sponge layers is just a little bit dry.  "The hazelnut works" though and he has made a "beautiful chocolate biscuit". 

Oh my God - I CANNOT call it.  

They return to the outstretched arms and greedy little mouths of their loving friends and family. And then it's time...

The winner of the Great British Bake Off 2014 is... Nancy!  

I have to be honest, although my wallet was rooting for Luis, just before they announced the winner, I whispered "Richard" to my boyfriend - suggesting my heart lay with the blue pencil.  However, Nancy was an excellent dame, and backchat to Paul Hollywood should never go unrewarded.  Nancy plants her tongue firmly in her cheek and explains that she hadn't really forgotten the Male Judge's name, but was actually in love with him.  Our winner, ladies and gentleman - worthy indeed.

Since the Great British Bake Off:

Claire has baked, Enwezor has done an endurance race and Jordan has worn jumpers. Iain hasn't chucked any cakes in the bin (probably) and Nancy has gone freezer to freezer on a sabotage mission in the name of women-power (again, probably).  

!!!!! NORMAN IS WRITING HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY, DEAR GOD LET HBO HAVE THE IMMEDIATE RIGHTS.  !!!!!

Mind you, he's only reached five, so we may have some time before it's there.  

Kate has been practicing patience, Martha passed all her exams and Chetna's going to launch a pop-up kitchen thing.  Finally, Richard has retired the pencil, but not the baking, Luis continues to wear an excellent selection of bright t-shirts, and Nancy is still perfectly coiffed. 

Wasn't it wonderful. *sigh* How we'll miss such heart-warming and genuinely nice people humbly achieving such incredible feats. It just makes for a better world somehow... God bless the BBC for such TV loveliness every Wednesday at 9pm.  
Next week: The Apprentice.

2014 Mini blog. The final!

And the winner is:  Nancy!  Victory for backchat, excellent chignon work and, ultimately, fine, fine baking.

Ooooh controversial? Perhaps I was the one person in Britain hoping for a Luis victory (though possibly mainly as I had him in the sweepstake).  I loved Nancy, but, in the end, my heart was with Richard - five Star Baker prizes, then to be pipped at the post by 'the female finalist'... Gah!!!  His ruddy-cheeked smile was still in place though.  And he can finally take off his ear pencil.

Best technical instructions of the series: "Make twelve lemon tarts". "Write 'colon' on them".

Norman's conquest: The montage at the end is one of my favourite Bake Off traditions, I think - especially as we learnt that "Norman has been writing his autobiography and has reached the age of five." If his whole life story is not immediately dramatised by HBO THERE WILL BE TROUBLE.

Big thanks especially: To my team at work for cake and sweepstake bantz.

BIG BLOG TO FOLLOW...

Next week: The Apprentice.

2014 Episode 9 - Patisserie Week - Semi finals

Last week: Richard’s advances in dough won him star baker (again), though I think Luis’ garish food colouring overload éclairs were well robbed - though possibly, mainly, as I've got Luis in the sweepstake.  The child Martha left and it was really sad.

This week: Ah oui, patisserie, where the challenges are all about beautifully decorated, elaborate teeny cakes that take painstaking hours and perfect eyesight to craft and are then wolfed down in greedy, greedy seconds.  And, of course, it's the semi-final, which is always an emotional week, as one baker has to fall so close to the final hurdle.  Poor Welsh Beca, Class of 2013 - that was particularly hard.  Though it was awesome when she turned up at the finalists' tea party with all the other Class of 2013 bakers and looked RIDICULOUSLY glam, like she was facing an ex for the first time since the break-up.

It takes Mel and Sue less than three minutes to honk up the Frrrrrrench accents to talk about patisserie. We wouldn’t have it any other way.

There’s a rundown of the final four’s prospects: Luis is the designer, Chetna is flavours lady, Nancy is the experienced old skool baker, and Richard’s the regular star baker.

Blazer watch: Mary’s in fuchsia and Mel’s in a mulberry evening jacket, but sartorially it’s all about Chetna’s tangerine Converse matched with a denim skirt - she looks dead cool.

The Signature bake: Baklava

In the space of a few minutes we hear at least a multitude of different ways of pronouncing 'baklava' through an array of varied stresses and vowel sounds, which make the macaron/macaroon debate positively demure.  We get something between BAKlava and baklaVA from Mel and Sue, whilst Richard is pronouncing it bakLARva, which is how I say it (go #teambakLAva!), and Paul uses the same stress, but is all northern about the A sound.  IT’S A MINEFIELD.

However you say it, know this - it is DELICIOUS.  Traditionally, it’s filo, chopped nuts and honey. Although no-one with any sense or time makes their own filo, the bakers are having to make their own.  They all admit that they wouldn’t ever bother, though they do have the decency to look embarrassed about it to Mary.

As they do have to home-bake the filo, Chetna’s taking the opportunity to add cocoa to her dough for her Chocolate Orange Baklava and Masala Chai Baklava. Paul doom and glooms that it’s hard to see when chocolate filo is cooked and when Chetna replies that she goes “by eye”, Paul warns that “sometimes your eyes can kid you”.  Mary promptly tells Chetna to ignore him - they’re never happier than when they’re in ‘smug headmaster and strict but fair school marm’-mode, are they?   The instant they're gone, Chetna starts whispering a self-doubt mantra to herself - noooooo! Hold firm, Chetna.  Channel Nancy and ignore the Male Judge.

Luis has decided to make Indian Rose Baklava and Halwa Baklava Rolls. (Rose - pffff.)  They look amazing from the illustration, like delicate little flowers - the kind of thing you might get in a Chinese restaurant, but instead of being made of raw carrot, they are made of delicious sweetness. (They also involve barberry, which doesn't seem very Bake Off, but I suppose it’s not so chavvy now that Emma Watson’s involved in the marketing, wahey!).  In typical Luis-style, there's an organisational masterclass ahead, as he has laid out his dough in perfectly divided cling-filmed containers.  Mary tells him, with some gusto, to “get pulling”.  Sue explains this is Mary’s motto, I'm presuming from that time in Ibiza.

Sue tells us Nancy isn’t one for tradition, which doesn’t quite fit with her characterisation so far, other than her disregard for the tradition of calling the judges by their given names. She’s baking Coffee & Chocolate Baklava and Breakfast Baklava, which will involve home-made muesli and apple syrup. (Mr Cad was well unimpressed with this notion and started making dry boke facial expressions.  Personally I'm all for cereal in cake form.)  Nancy admits that she didn’t really know what baklava was – she’s in store for a treat, then.  I mean, outside of the context of having to bake it competitively and under limited time constaints.

We’re getting Rose & Pistachio Baklava and Walnut and Almond Baklava from Richard. Paul seems to taking a particular interest in the baklava shape (hmmmm, this sounds like an unspoken rule to me).  Richard’s going to make a long tube, which basically looks like a snake made of Labrador wrinkles - truth is, that’s not a terrible thing in baklava terms.

(All this talk of baklava and I was THIS CLOSE on my Thursday lunchbreak to popping to Hiba to get a fix.  I’d love to see the Thursday profit figures on items featured on the Bake Off.  They must be sky high... Hint hint, Vix, my financial journo friend.)

Dramatic montage #1: filo stretching and cutting.  You start with a small pile of dough and spend boring boring moments rolling it until just before it's so thin it's about to tear, but with no safeguards against what happens if you miss the moment and get ripped sheets.  It's a basically like attempting to recreate Cassandra off Dr Who’s face with a rolling pin.  Indeed, Sue wants to use Nancy’s filo as a natural botox.

Nancy has made a small wrinkled phallus. Sue doesn’t think it will make it past the relevant regulatory requirements.  Speaking from a position of relative regulatory expertise in relation to broadcast media, she is right to express concern.

On the final approach, there's lots of oven staring - Nancy is convinced her honey has curdled, whilst Richard is wondering about the correct baklava colour. He reckons Paul has established a secret Dulux style colour chart for the perfect shade - I'm sure he's right, but Richard is typically relaxed about the outcome, pointing out that he'll learn what was right when Paul tells him. Right on cue, Paul stalks up behind him and peers into his oven, wordlessly.

Signature Berrywood verdict: Nancy's baklava is pale, but Mary rates the crispiness sound as the knife cuts into her muesli baklava.   Paul adds that it “tastes good” and admires the texture.  The coffee ones are “a bit soggy”, but “the flavours are good”. Nancy has “got what baklava is” and “has been very original”.

Paul isn't convinced that Luis' baklava cups (which look INCREDIBLE by the way) are really baklava. Channelling Nancy's stand-up-to-Paul spirit, Luis says he researched baklava and had seen little cases made of filo. Mary's not convinced either, but “it's meticulously done”. Sadly, it's “bone dry”. The other lot have great flavours, but “the pastry is just wrong”.  (GAH! I can't lose my sweepstake person so close to the end!)

Richard's proximity to Green Lanes (or thereabouts) has clearly held him in good stead - the compliments flow, and that's just the first batch.  His baklava look lovely, “slice well”, have a “traditional” flavour, Mary especially enjoys the “big nuts” within (oi oi), are “bang on” and “a winner”.  Blimey.  The second batch are unfortunately “underbaked”, but still have “excellent flavour”.

To me, Chetna's baklava have something of the pork product about them – one lot look like pork pies, the other like glazed sausages.  (Not that that's necessarily a bad thing...)  Mary thinks they look “heavy” and bemoans the lack of layers and syrup ooze, but Paul mentions the “good colour”. The chocolate ones “taste delicious”, but again no layers. And clearly, no layers = bad.

Animal shot: Bee truffling a flower.

Post-challenge, Nancy admits she doesn't like baklava.  What the WHAT?!?!?

Animal shot: That white horse again.  This time it's snorting.

The Technical Challenge: Schichttorte

“But they might make a good one” says Sue. It was inevitable.

It's Paul's recipe for a grilled German cake.  Each shit torte (let's get that over with, eh? Not that it's not hilarious - I mean 'shit torte') has twenty layers, light, dark, light, dark, made of simple batter, grilled one by one over an hour.  AN HOUR.  The key to the challenge is 'watching the grill' and 'not losing the will'; it's basically a concentration challenge for those who favour focused over chuck-it-all-in-slap-dash, so Richard and his pencil and Luis and his organisational baking in-tray should have the edge.  (Mind you, it's not one for those who are dodgy of knee, eh? Sadly, the BBC budget doesn't seem to stretch to face-height ovens on this occasion.)

Interestingly when Mary tries Paul's shit torte, whilst she's full of admiration for the technical achievement, she emits zero “MMMM DELICIOUS” sounds. There doesn't seem to be any cream filling, which tends to be key to pleasing Mary, well, if there's no booze to take the edge off.

Chetna's freting and trying to peer at what's going on elsewhere. “She's a bit competitive, is our Chetna” giggles Luis. “WHAT?” replies Chetna – the twinkle in her eye suggests she agrees though.

It's a mere fifty grams of batter per layer, so the bakers are having spreading issues in their tins, as it has go soooo thin. Richard's wondering whether to add more mix instead, but Mel advises he “spread it out with the old spatch” - no-one abbreviates like la Giedroyc, do they?  She just fantas, isn't she? (See, I can't do it.)

Dramatic montage #2: Luis and Chetna bend up and down in perfect unison.  They're having to judge the cooking timings by eye, squatting up and down to check whether each layer is now sufficiently dark, or light, to take out in time.  IT'S OK, THEY ONLY HAVE TO DO THIS TWENTY TIMES.

Sue does her best Gestapo to announce halfway.

Foodistory: Mel goes to a small German town to pour batter on a spit, helped by a German man standing right behind her, which she notes “is very much in the style of Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore”.  A cake on a spit... Hmmmmm. I think I'd prefer a whole sheep, please.

Dramatic montage #3: Counting layers. Luis has written it down and knows he's on number 17. Richard has lost count.  Chetna only made it to 18 and has decided to stop, lest she doesn't get her glaze on in time.

It's judging time. Paul, in his absolute element of jobsworthness, meticulously counts the layers in each schichttorte. Mel and Sue do whatever the opposite is of cheerleading is from the gingham sidelines - booing and groaning that he's actually bothering.  Both Luis and Richard have hit twenty layers, but Paul is delighted to see Nancy and Chetna only made it to 18 and 17 respectively.

Tecchie Rankings: Chetna’s last, then Nancy, then Richard, with a Luis victory!  (Hooray!  I'm back in the sweepstake game!!!!)  “Pretty faultless” says Paul - more impressed than grudgingly.

Richard is happy to “take second and never cook that again”.

The Show-stopper: Entremet

I'M SO FANCY. YOU ALREADY KNOW-OH.

But in case you didn't know, entremets are those super high-end pretentiously elegant little cakes that you see in the windows of Parisian bakeries. Paul says he's seen “pastry chefs crumble at making these things” yet NO-ONE RAISES AN EYEBROW AT SUCH AN IMMENSE USE OF THE CRUMBLE PUN.  Clearly there's no time for fun, when you have horribly complex mini-patisserie to construct.

Even the names are an elaborate mouthful - I refer you to Luis' Chocolate Mousse & Cherry Entremets and Pomegranate, Fig & Pistachio Sponge. Luis' sponges somehow involve pomegranate molasses, which sound more like a swamp monster than a posh foodstuff.

I'd half hoped Nancy would make Salt Of The Earth Entremet and A Spade's A Spade Entremet, but, probably more wisely, she has opted for Raspberry Nonnettes & Lime and Passion Fruit Entremets.  In the fancy ingredients stakes, Nancy takes Luis 'pomegranate molasses' and raises him 'verbena jelly'. (Somewhere over the border, Norman's head explodes.)  Paul says he is "surprised" to hear that Nancy is covering up the colourful content of her entremets with a chocolate coating which will hide the inside - obviously, when by 'surprised', he means 'trying to shit Nancy up in true Paul Hollywood tradition'.  Mind you, even Mary seems up for exposed layer action.  Uh oh...

Indeed, when Richard, off the back of a Mary interrogation, reveals that there will be open layers in one set of his entremet, Mary literally purrs with delight.  And just to show that he can do covered stuff too, Richard's other lot of entremet will feature dots in the sponge.  Yes, people, Richard is making DOTTY SPONGE.  Forget your molasses and your verbana, cause Richard is ALL OVER THIS.  I'm not sure which of his Hazelnut Mocha Entremets & Pink Grapefruit Entremets are open layered and which are spotty, but it all bodes well, even if he is using grapefruit, the most 'refreshing' of all the breakfast fruits.

Chetna lists the thousands of ingredients which will go to create her six-layered Chocolate, Orange & Nut Entremets and Cappuccino Entremets. She does her best to describe how it's going to work and look, but the judges get openly bored and tell her they'll just see at the end.

Dramatic montage #4: Well, not so much a description of a dramatic montage as a description of the whole entremet process: you know when you have a million things to do and so you start them all and then you have all these spinning plates and nothing actually gets done because you keep getting distracted by having to keep that other plate spinning, then that other one, then arghhhhhhh etc etc etc? Well that, only in the context of competitive baking where you do have to finish and it has to be perfect.  Fun times!

Luis seems to have made lime green rice-cakes. Nancy sneers that he's assembling and she's nowhere near that.

Dramatic montage #5: Popping jellies and mousses out of moulds. Luis has pulled a blinder. Chetna needs more fridge time. (Thank gawd Diana's not around to cause freezer havoc.) Mel mews some reassuring words, then makes a 'holy crap not a chance that'll set' face the instant Chetna's back is turned.

Nancy pipes up “oh dear, dear, dear”, which is worrying, but it's only as her chocolate has gone all over the work surface under her entremet. No need to worry about mess, Nancy! It's the fancy we care about just now. Mind you, there does seem to be limited chocolate on the sides of her offerings, so... Hmmm... 

It's the end of the challenge and Nancy mimes a throat cut sign.  I don't *think* it's a threat, but more an assessment of her changes.

Animal shot: I couldn't quite see, but, based on the bleating, I truly hope it was a geep.

Show-stopping Berrywood verdict: Firstly, it has to be publicly stated: their bakes all look fabulous.  Just brilliant.

“The finish is very good, I can't wait to get inside” says Mary, of Richard's entremets. The dots are extraordinary - yes, it's the exact skintone sported by Mr Blobby, but dotty sponge is still really swish. The chocolate layered entremet are deemed “delicious... That is extremely good”. The grapefruit is less successful, but it's marginal: “what a professional selection you've done for us”.

Mary thinks Nancy's nonettes are “interesting”, but Paul snarks on the chocolate “not going to the bottom”. They slice away and there's a square of jelly inside: “that looks stunning when you cut in” says Mary. Even the Male Judge admits he quite likes that. "You've done well". The other batch taste great, but “fall below your standard” on the presentation.

The look of Luis' entremet is “really sensational” and “elegant”. Paul thinks the “pomegranate jelly is delicious”, but saves his real praise for the chocolate and cherry: *serious face*, *pause*, then “that's a very very good entremet”.

Mary thinks Chetna's cappuccino entremets “look bulbous”, but she says they are “the most delicious cappuccino” (did Chetna secretly Irish them up?).  Paul admits “they've got a kick” and - of course - “fantastic flavour”. The others are less flavoursome and Mary and Paul find the layers a bit blended.

In their pimp lounge, Berrywood essentially announce that the men are safe, whilst the women are in danger.

Ma Baker: There was much wrangling, but it's Richard that gets it – FOR THE FIFTH TIME. He has to win this now, surely. (Imagine the riots if he doesn't! It will make the bincident look like a drop in the ocean!)  Mind you, I'm still holding out some hope that Luis produces something so mind-blowingly incredible that my sweepstake chances turn to real monetary pounds.

Mel and Sue Sandwich: Chetna. Awww. It's not even that she had a bad one particularly, just that the others pipped her on the day. I thought Chetna was a bit dull at first, so I'm glad we got to see a cheeky, competitive side to her. 

Luis sheds a bit of a tear that he's made it, as he thinks of his family. Awww Luis - I don't know if you'd be my favourite if I didn't have money on it, but you're aces. But so is Richard. And Nancy. Good old Bake Off – only heroes here. It's just so satisfyingly comforting.

Next time: THE FINAL. The usual Bake Off tea party - with extra Norman, and an Iain/Nancy freezer-door-closing hug, I hope...

2014 Mini blog. Semi final (week 9)

Bye bye: Lovely Chetna and her amazing orange converse - but it was soooo close. You should've used your trusty mango, Chets.

Ma Baker: Richard makes it five. He has GOT to win this now, surely.

Paul's Theatre of Cruelty: Counting the number of layers in the technical challenge.  What a schichtorte.

“BAKlava” or “baklava”:  It's the new macaron/macaroon.

Next week: The final, and if Richard doesn’t win, UK-wide riots which would make the #bincident look tame.