great british bake off Archives

Quiz: Which British Bake Off Recipe Should You Make Next?

If you haven’t questioned if you should ditch your day job to become a baker, were you even in quarantine?! Maybe you’re a bread person who sticks to the classic sourdough, or maybe you have a strong sweet tooth and you love all types of cakes with elaborate decoration. Either way, you might’ve reached a plateau on baking inspiration, especially because we’ve been in this panini for over two years. Have no fear! This quiz will use an elaborate assessment of your personality traits to help you determine what bake you should tackle next.

Recipes are included! Bake to your heart’s content, take some aesthetically pleasing pictures of what you made, and tag us on socials when you share your beautiful creation with the world!

The Great Pottery Throw Down Is Better Than Bake Off, There I Said It

Partway through the first season of The Great Pottery Throwdown, some 5 years ago, my wife turned to me and said she liked it even more than The Great British Bake Off. It was the early days of our marriage, and I was faintly aware that long term relationships may entail dealing with fits of irrationality from one’s partner from time to time. After all, this was the heyday of BBC-era Bake Off, fresh from Nadiya’s tear-inducing triumph. It defined the format of reality TV as utopian collectivist fantasy; it seemed impossible it could be usurped by a wide-eyed spin-off about ceramics.

The format of The Great Pottery Throwdown is straightforward and comfortingly familiar – after all it’s made by the same production company that churns out both Bake Off and The Great British Sewing Bee. Each week, potters take on two challenges: a “main make,” following a brief from the judges to design and create decorative and/or functional objects, from tea sets to toilets. As this is typically a multi-day process, proceedings are punctuated with a technical challenge sprung on the contestants. Often this is in the form of the titular “throwdown” that sees them race against the clock to throw a multitude of egg cups or dinner plates or even bricks.

Like its baking brethren, Throwdown’s central drama, such as it exists, comes from the alchemical excitement of shoving something into a very hot oven and not quite knowing what will come out at the end of it. What it lacks in dazzling cakeography, it more than makes up for with sculptural forms ranging from the practical to the fantastical, embellished by glazes and oxides to stunning effect. It is also a far safer prospect to watch while you are hungry.

As my affection for Bake Off has waned since its cross-network hop and lineup changes, I have found myself susceptible to the charms of this plucky upstart. With any successful TV competition, it’s the recurring elements that build a sense of anticipation, and I’ve begun to realise that in pretty much every sense the Throwdown is growing into a superior example of the art form.

Biscuit week begins to look a little limp in comparison to Raku week, where pots are taken straight from the kiln and dunked into piles of combustible material to create unpredictable surface patterns (and flames). The personal shame of a soggy bottom is smallfry next to a cracked fruit bowl that literally comes apart in the judges’ hands.

Speaking of judges, while Mary Berry can obviously never be bettered, there is much to be said for Keith Brymer-Jones, aka “the crying judge,” who cries at least twice every episode while appraising everyone’s efforts, and I’m sure we can all agree that male tears are a far more worthwhile currency than the much devalued Hollywood Handshake. Triggers for crying can be anything: the delicate splatter of glaze across a vase, the weight of a teacup or just because someone tried really, really hard.

Which brings us to the earnestly hard-working stars of the show: the contestants, a term I use loosely. Like all of the handful of competition shows that I enjoy, Throwdown contestants are largely in denial of the competitive element of their TV adventure. While the mental and physical demands of pottery are such that there’s little time to be spared for critiquing a fellow potter’s work, everyone seems finely attuned to the slightest panicky yelp that might afford them the chance to rush across the studio to rescue some sagging terracotta. On a recent episode when a guy was trudging back and forth to the drying room carrying pieces to help a late-running competitor, technician Rose had to gently remind him “you know this is a competition?” Although I suspect that in truth she was reminding us, the viewer, that we’re watching a construct and we should really stop weeping over the simple humanity of people helping each other out.

If I was teetering on the edge of declaring this masterpiece TV, the latest series currently running on Channel 4 in the UK has been nudging me ever closer, thanks to some inspired host and judging changes and a small but noticeable uptick in queerness.

New host Siobhán McSweeney (aka Sister Michael in Derry Girls) brings exactly the sort of schoolmistress-slash-Rosie-the-Riveter energy that I never knew I needed to the show. Her constant deadpanning allows room for the natural innuendo and absurdity of proceedings to breathe. This season sees former kiln boy Rich Miller promoted to judge, with his place taken by trans kiln girl Rose Schmits, a talented artist in her own right.

On the contestant roster we have a couple of gay guys, and the welcome introduction of the show’s first out queer female competitor, Sal (no relation). Her first challenge showcased not only her formidable potting skills but also her obsession with her dog, so she’s definitely one to watch. The diversity is far from perfect; the requirements of pottery as a hobby means amateurs will skew even more middle class than many similar shows, though I’m not sure that’s a valid excuse for the overwhelming whiteness.

What finally swung it for me was at the end of a recent episode when, out of nowhere, Dolly Parton appeared. I had to rewind and watch a few times to check I wasn’t in the middle of a fever dream. Sure enough, in the next episode Dolly appeared via video link with words of encouragement to our contestants as they tackled a challenge to sculpt musical legends, including herself (she did warn they might need a lot of clay for certain parts of her).

Perhaps I needed to be bludgeoned by a pair of Dolly Parton busts to see the truth, but the reality is inescapable: The Great Pottery Throwdown is the heir apparent to the competitive comfort TV throne.

The Great Pottery Throwdown seasons 1-3 are available to stream in the US on HBO Max. Seasons 3 and 4 (currently showing) are available in the UK on Channel 4.

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The Derry Girls on Great British Bake Off Is the Only Good Thing to Happen in 2020

Two of my top ten all-time favorite TV shows are Derry Girls and Great British Bake Off, so when Netflix dropped the holiday crossover special this week — which apparently aired in January in the UK and is why Sandi Toksvig is still bringing her gay joy to the tent — I hit play as fast as my fingers would go. I was not disappointed! In fact, I giggled so much out loud that Stacy was like, “I have never heard you giggle so much out loud in my entire life.” Which may or may not be true; 2020 has been stingy with the laughs. The episode features Saoirse-Monica Jackson (Erin), Nicola Coughlan (wee lesbian Clare), Jamie-Lee O’Donnell (Michelle), Siobhan McSweeney (Sister Michael), and Dylan Llewellyn (James), and they play off each other in real life as well as they do on the series. Siobhan McSweeney even Jim Halpert-ed the camera better than Jim Halpert himself. (Although, I guess in the UK you call it Tim Canterbury-ing the camera?)

“See, in Ireland, we love slime,” Siobhan explains when Paul and Prue say her trifle looks like an aquarium. “It’s traditional that we have slime for the New Year. So, please don’t dis the culture of my people.”

The signature trifle challenge is followed by a technical challenge of salmon and beetroot blinis and a showstopper of 3D cakes based on 3D cake based on their favorite decade. Jamie-Lee O’Donnell trying to coax a fondant Amelia Earhart to life is one of the most hysterical things I have ever witnessed. But listen, don’t just believe me. Twitter, too, has spoken!

https://twitter.com/MargueriteCroft/status/1335450859052797952

the derry girls cast on gbbo was the most fun i've ever had!!!!! i demand that gbbo bring in comedic casts every season now thank you very much!!!

— shelby (@shelbinhas) December 6, 2020

Just finished the Derry Girls holiday episode of GBBO and I don’t think I have ever laughed that much during GBBO before. Delightful!

— Meggan (@meggan) December 6, 2020

https://twitter.com/AWeaverWrites/status/1335024859559161860

I knew the Derry Girls GBBO episode was going to be a delight but it delivers even more than I expected, I love it!

— elena fisher enthusiast (@amonkeysue) December 7, 2020

The Derry Girls episode of GBBO might just be one of the funniest things I’ve seen.

— Aimée (@aimeedelo) December 5, 2020

What was really lovely about the episode is that it was kind of messy and ridiculous, but also — just like real Bake Off — they were all just doing their very best and so nervous about trying to impress Paul and Prue. Do yourself a solid and watch it on Netflix as soon as you can.

The greatest show ever made about friends making it as family in New York City, don’t @ me. You’ll sit down to watch one episode and be so instantly transported back to the ’90s you’ll emerge from a contented haze hours later.

Stream on: Hulu

Derry Girls

Please, I am begging you, just watch this show.

Stream on: Netflix

The New “Great British Bake Off”: Nothing’s Changed, Except Everything That Matters

feature image via The Daily Express

In the immortal words of Ronan Keating, “Life is a rollercoaster, just gotta ride it.” So it is with life, as it is with The Great British Bake Off. When it was announced that the show would be moving channel last year, the UK had a complete meltdown. Apparently the last thing the country had left to live for after Brexit, our collective hysteria at the thought of losing Bake Off made front-page headlines and propelled the show to its highest ratings ever. We’d only just calmed down when the new cast was revealed and everyone lost their shit a second time. Now the new Great British Bake Off is here, a year earlier than most of us were expecting – but is it business as usual, or is it time to start panic buying flour and eggs again?

Channel 4 have spent the last few months insisting nothing would be changing in the same slightly panicked tone my parents did when they separated. Like my parents, they’ve tried to buy their way back into our affections; while I ended up with GameCube, Channel 4 splashed out what looked like an entire series’ budget on a teaser trailer full of unnerving singing cakes. They’ve even gifted the show an awkward hour and fifteen minute long time slot, so the new, slightly startling ad breaks can be stuffed in without cutting any content.

Everything certainly looks the same, from the sweeping shots of the country estate the show has called home since 2014 to the loving sketches of each bake. The contestants themselves are the same cheerfully diverse collection of bakers from around the country (bonus points for one mentioning her wife within the first five minutes). Week one is Cake Week, just as it’s always been, and the signature, technical and showstopper challenges are all present and correct. It’s all so familiar that it’s actually startling when the adverts or new hosts’ voiceover kick in and remind you things have changed.

It should be a relief to see everything just how it was, given the general panic that Channel 4 would mess with the show’s winning formula. But by the end of the last series, I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was starting to get a little stale. The contestants weren’t quite so memorable, the bakes just a little less inventive, the challenges starting to get a bit convoluted – though given that even at the show’s peak we were seeing dairy-free 3D vegetable novelty cakes, the last one is probably unavoidable. I almost wish that Bake Off‘s producers had taken the opportunity to mix things up a little; seven series in, the show is at risk of starting to feel like one of those bands that hasn’t had a hit since the seventies but keeps on touring into complete irrelevance with, like, one of its original members.

Which brings us to the elephant in the room – the loss of Mel, Sue and Mary. I’m not going to mince words: it’s a significant loss. Everyone knew they were always the heart of the show; the head of ITV even joked last year that, without them signed on, Channel 4 had paid £75m for “baking powder and a tent”. Their absence hangs heavy over this first episode, particularly since the show’s reluctance to change anything else results in the new cast trying to fit perfectly into the roles they departed, catchphrases and all.

How do the new lot shape up, though? Prue Leith hasn’t quite worked out where she fits as the new judge; too stern to emulate Mary Berry as the good cop, not mean enough to usurp Paul Hollywood as the bad cop. Hollywood himself seems adrift without the rapport he’d built with Berry over the years. Everyone’s least favourite part of the old show, even his status as the only familiar face is unlikely to win him many new fans. Sandi Toksvig, meanwhile, ably maintains the show’s lesbian quota, and does well enough with the other, less important, parts of the role. Fun fact: did you know that before settling on Toksvig, Channel 4
allegedly offered the role of Sue Perkins’ replacement to Sue Perkins’ actual girlfriend? Toksvig’s experience filling the shoes of a beloved host – having taken over from Stephen Fry on QI last year – serves her well, even if she looks a bit lost at times.

However, everything comes unstuck when it comes to co-host Noel Fielding. Last time I wrote about Bake Off, the comment section was almost entirely filled with people talking about how much they love him, so I apologise to all the Fielding fans out there, but I have no idea why he’s here. Fielding has always been at his best when he’s given the freedom to pull focus and create a surreal world around himself by sheer force of personality, whether that’s at the scale of his pairing with Russell Brand on The Big Fat Quiz of the Year or The Mighty Boosh‘s entire universe. Putting him in a role that mostly requires him to wander around a tent and make pleasantries about squeezing courgettes makes no sense whatsoever. Outside of an opening sketch in a hot air balloon, he’s deprived of his surreal persona, and ends up just a slightly dull 40-something white guy trying to do an impression of Mel and Sue.

Toksvig and Fielding have more or less no chemistry, but I’m hoping things might improve as the weeks go on. After all, even the best presenters can have teething issues on a new show – watching series one of Bake Off now, you’re left wondering why Mel and Sue appear to have taken half a tramadol before filming every episode. I’m not about to call Bake Off‘s death just yet, but there is something I’m worried about. While the new cast may be obvious, there’s been a more subtle change at the heart of Bake Off, one that could be just as fundamental a shift for the show. We were warned about it prior to the show’s return: Noel Fielding wouldn’t be eating the bakes because “no-one likes a tubby gut”. Prue Leith, meanwhile, would be dismissing sub-quality bakes with the new catchphrase “It’s not worth the calories”.

It’s certainly a change from Mary Berry’s cheerful “scrummy”, and it’s not a good one. The Great British Bake Off of old stood as a bastion throughout the ‘wellness’ obsession of the past few years, a place where all that mattered about food was the joy it could bring you. In the words of series four finalist, Ruby Tandoh, “Remember above all that you will be nourished not only by the food you eat, but by the pleasure you take in it.” The bloom may now be coming off the clean eating rose, but our TV schedules and bookshelves are still filled with ‘personalities’ warning us of the dangers of carbs and gluten and sugar. Food is mapped out on a moral compass that must be followed. A lapse in judgement is understandable, but it must be rare and it must be apologised for. Cakes are ‘sinful’, a ‘guilty pleasure’ to be restricted and portioned out only on special occasions. Not so, however, on Bake Off. The calorific content of a bake was always irrelevant – all that mattered was how happy it made you. Mel and Sue’s joy as they pinched forkfuls of the contestants’ bakes was a depressingly rare sight. Where else do you get to see people – women, especially – enjoying ‘unhealthy’ food without any hint of guilt or shame? Now, instead, we get Sandi Toksvig commenting that she “can actually feel [her] hips widening” as she tries a spoonful of melted chocolate.

Reports of Bake Off‘s death might have been greatly exaggerated, but things aren’t looking good. While Leith is a poor replacement for a bona fide national treasure, Fielding and Toksvig may well grow into their partnership; I’m going to give them till Dessert Week before writing them off entirely, at least. Bake Off has more fundamental issues to grapple with, though. Keeping everything they possibly could exactly the same was probably a mistake – it means the changes they have made stick out like a sore thumb, and all of them serve to diminish the show. Worse than that, though, is the series’ new attitude towards the food it should be celebrating. There’s a hint of sourness at Bake Off‘s heart that wasn’t there before; let’s hope it’s not enough to ruin this bake entirely. I’m not sure we’d all cope.

The New “Great British Bake Off” Maintains Pre-Existing Level of Lesbians

Feature image sanditoksvig.com

The UK is in a state of limbo right now. Exactly how fucked are we all going to be once Brexit hits? Is Scotland going to get another independence referendum? Why does everyone keep writing articles about what’s going to happen when the queen dies? Nobody knows the answer to those questions – not even the guy whose entire actual job is to know, in the case of Brexit – but one grave uncertainty that’s been looming over the nation has finally been cleared up. The new line-up for The Great British Bake-Off has been announced. Bake Off is dead, long live Bake Off.

As you’ll already know if you’re reading this, last year saw the BBC lose its rights to the Bake Off and the show snapped up by Channel 4. Beloved purveyors of cake-based double-entendres Mel Giedroyc and Sue Perkins and everyone’s favourite grandma judge Mary Berry chose to leave the show rather than move channels. That left us with ‘peacocking manchild’ Paul Hollywood as the only remaining member of the cast and months of wild speculation as all of Britain’s TV columnists hypothesised over who would join him in the Bake Off tent.

Shockingly, it turns out that Miranda Hart and her mother aren’t actually going to be on hosting duties. Instead, we have a line-up that hits every base from ‘I thought that had already been announced weeks ago?’ to ‘what’. But who the heck are they? Let me introduce you:

Sandi Toksvig

I am incredibly happy to announce that the producers of Bake Off clearly made it a priority to maintain the show’s pre-existing level of lesbians. As we all know, Britain only possesses three lesbians: Sue Perkins, Clare Balding and Sandi Toksvig. Balding was obviously too busy interviewing dogs to answer Channel 4’s calls, and so it fell to Toksvig to step up to the plate. Born in Denmark with a British mum, she went to Cambridge and was part of the legendary Footlights line-up that included Dr House, Nanny McPhee and the disembodied narrator of the Harry Potter audiobooks. Since then, she’s become ubiquitous as a presenter and panelist on the BBC’s comedy output. In 2015, she quit presenting The News Quiz after almost a decade in order to help set up the Women’s Equality Party, a wet blanket of a political party for middle-class women who are annoyed that their daughters aren’t being promoted fast enough. On the other hand, she lives on a houseboat with her wife! Isn’t that adorable? While we’ll all miss Sue Perkins, Toksvig is probably as good a replacement as you’ll get, and this is the first piece of news that hasn’t left me actively dreading the new Bake Off.

Noel Fielding

And then there’s this. What in the fresh hell, Channel 4? Did anyone really predict that Mel Giedroyc’s role on Bake Off would be filled by a nominee for the 2009 Shockwaves NME Hero of the Year Award (he was beaten by Barack Obama, but did take home 2008’s Best Dressed Award)? Honestly, I’ve never been able to get my head around Noel Fielding existing outside of Camden Town in the mid-noughties. By all rights, he should be forever trapped in 2006, partying with the Klaxons on an endless loop until the end of time.

But anyway. Fielding is a surrealist comedian, best known for writing and starring in the TV show The Mighty Boosh, which was a cult hit in the US and entirely defined the teenage years of a generation of weirdos in the UK. This is an incredibly odd choice. I’m half-expecting Fielding to do all his pieces to camera in interpretive dance. Would that be a good thing? I don’t even know anymore.

Prue Leith

Somehow, swapping out Britain’s best-known lesbian for Britain’s second best-known lesbian wasn’t Channel 4’s most obvious choice. To replace Mary Berry, 81 year old Le Cordon Bleu educated food writer, they went for Prue Leith, a 77 year old Le Cordon Bleu educated food writer. She’s best known for founding Leiths Cookery School and was a judge on the Great British Menu from when the show started in 2006 until last year. Thanks to the BBC showing an omnibus every week at peak hangover time, I’ve watched quite a few episodes of the show, but I can’t remember a single thing about her. That’s not a great sign, folks. I asked for further opinions, and the only comment anyone had was that she had ‘quite a harsh voice, like she always sounds like she’s criticising something, even when she’s not?’. Her skill at making puns about pastry therefore remains unknown.

If you’re not British and you’re still confused, don’t worry – none of us have any idea what’s going on here either. Hey, at least that’s in keeping with everything else right now.

Goodbye Forever, Great British Bake Off

Feature image via The Sun

When I am very old, I will gather my great-grandchildren around my cybernetic rocking chair and tell them about the brief, shining time the world came together to watch a lesbian, her BFF, their grandma and the creepy dad that lives next door come together to make double entendres about cake. Yes, I’m talking about the Great British Bake Off. Because 2016 is malicious and sentient and out to destroy everything you’ve ever loved, there was no way a show this pure could make it out alive. Christmas Day and Boxing Day (aka ‘The Day After Christmas Day’, aka ‘Why Do We Call It Boxing Day, Anyway?’) will see a two-part special hit our screens, after which Bake Off will sail off into night, not to be seen again until 2018. And when it returns to us, we’ll go to embrace it, but wait – something doesn’t seem right. Where’s Mel and Sue and Mary? Why are there ad breaks now? What’s this about sponsorship deals?

If you’re a Bake Off fan – or if you’re British, in which case you’re legally obligated to be a Bake Off fan – you’ll already know what’s happened. In a nutshell, the Great British Bake Off is made by an independent production company and, for the last seven years, sold to and aired by the BBC, the UK’s public service broadcaster. After years of the relationship between the two allegedly becoming increasingly fraught, negotiations about the future of the series on the BBC broke down. The production company quadrupled its rate for the show (from £6.25 million a year to £25 million) and, when the BBC were unable to pay, the commercially funded Channel 4 swept in and signed a three year deal to broadcast it. Mel Giedroyc and Sue Perkins quickly announced they’d be leaving in one of the best press releases of all time (I mean, it featured the line “We’ve had the most amazing time on Bake Off, and have loved seeing it rise and rise like a pair of yeasted Latvian baps”), and were soon followed by Mary Berry. Paul Hollywood chose to stay on, and was last heard slightly nervously promising that Bake Off would “stay the same” on the new channel.

I’ll be honest, friends – I don’t believe him. Over the last few years, the Great British Bake Off has secured a unique place in British popular culture. It’s kind of hard to explain how a show about randos competing to make the best shortbread became part of the very fabric of British existence, but you can’t dispute the numbers: its finale in 2014 drew more viewers than the World Cup final, the next year’s finale was the most-watched programme that year and 1 million more people – making up more than half of all TV viewers – tuned in this year. You could argue its popularity is due to people looking for comforting nostalgia in the face of an increasingly desperate and divided political climate. But if that’s the case, how has the British-Bangladeshi hijabi Nadiya Hussain become the most beloved and successful contestant to ever appear on the show? If we love Bake Off because of the contestants’ kindness and humility, why did we whip up the series 5 controversy dubbed ‘bingate’ to the point that contestant Iain Watters had to appear on prestigious current affairs show Newsnight to explain himself? And how is the show universally considered wholesome fun for the entire family when it’s also infamous for its sex jokes and that time it featured a squirrel with gigantic testicles as an establishing shot? The Great British Bake Off is a show of countless, inexplicable contradictions, and messing with the formula in any way is likely to go about as well as messing with the recipe in a technical challenge.

As someone with a great deal of personal insight into the business of television production (I went on a tour of the BBC studios last summer), I’ve peered into my crystal ball and come up with a few likely suggestions as to how Bake Off might look in its new home:

Scenario 1: Queers!

Channel 4 realises what really made the show great – queers. Paul Hollywood is fired and replaced by series four runner-up and bisexual queen of my heart, Ruby Tandoh. Sue Perkins may be gone, but hosting duties are taken over by Heather Peace and Jack Monroe, leading to many musical numbers about affordable baking ingredients. Every week is vegan week. Every other week is gluten-free.

Scenario 2: Literally Just Screaming

By 2018, we’ll be halfway through Donald Trump’s term as president and two years into Brexit. Who knows what we’ll have endured by then? Great British Bake Off may very well return as That Mitchell & Webb Look’s post-apocalyptic game show The Quiz Broadcast, but with more genoise sponge. New hosts, Tank Girl and The Fleeting Collective Memory of Better Times, do their best to replace the much-missed Mel & Sue. There’s drama in episode three, as the contestants are forced to fight off raiders intent on their stockpile of eggs. The rest of the series is just a shot for shot remake of Mad Max: Fury Road.

Scenario 3: Everything is Actually the Same

Series eight of the Great British Bake Off premieres in Autumn 2018. Paul’s right – everything is more or less the same. Twelve bakers walk into the same old tent and complete the same old challenges. It’s impossible to ignore the absence of the show’s former hosts, or the new advert breaks, but everyone gets used to it after a few episodes. Ratings are promising at first, but drop steadily over the next couple of years, and Channel 4 quietly decides not to renew the show when the contract’s up. The BBC launch their rival show with Mel, Sue, and Mary; it’s a modest success, but Bake Off‘s time in the sun has passed, and the world’s moved on to the next big thing. I hope it involves dogs, or something.

Whatever we end up with, we have two precious hours left with Bake Off as we know it. Hold them close to your heart as we venture through this dark winter together, and may your bottoms never be soggy.