We’re four weeks in, one geek lighter and many pounds of buttercream weight heavier as we head into round four of *The Great British Bake Off: Desserts. *
After last year’s custard theft rocked the marquee, we’re primed for scandal in week four. Will there be violence? Bigamy? Will Sue follow a trail of sausages up a tree to discover Mary’s been secretly on Atkins this whole time? Let’s find out.
Inspector Sauce
The week’s first signature bake is basically a Suephemism on a plate: a self-saucing pudding. That is, a pud that produces its own moisture. Turns out this kind of dessert innovation has been around for donkey’s ages, while I’m still waiting like a chump for the advent of the self-ketchuping chip.
'Timing is everything,' says Paul, as the bakers set about melting things. Quick q: when is timing NOT everything? When can I whack a bake in the oven, go for a bath and a nap and watch half a Seinfeld boxset, and it still be ok? No, I’m actually asking.
Martha the Magnificent is in the middle of her AS-levels, and you can tell because she’s putting peanut butter in her chocolate fondant – a gourmet take on everyone’s favourite revision snack: alternating spoonfuls of Sunpat and Nutella from the jar while lying in a heap of colour-coded flashcards with a duvet over your head.
Nancy, who with any more sauce might just break into a thigh-slapping rendition of Oom-Pah-Pah from Oliver, is upping her game with an ambitious pistachio and chocolate creation. Iain’s opting for oozy raspberry, Richard for runny cherry and Kate for the opiate of the Waitrose-shopping masses, salted caramel.
Meanwhile Luis, Chetna and Norman are all going in search of the only intentional soggy bottoms in the competition, with sinking sauce recipes to leave their puddings dry up top but wet down below. And after a valiant session of blue sky-thinking around the question, “how can we make it MORE RUDE?”, Luis has stuck an upright pear in his.
Suephemism alert! 'Massive spotted dick.'
Time for the judging, or as I like to think of it, ‘What’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the giant Liverpudlian.’ Luis’ pud is claggy, Nancy’s is dry, Martha’s is welding Paul’s mouth shut (would that it were, Hollywood), but Richard, Iain, Kate and Diana all come out on top with their trickly middles.
Let’s take a moment to talk about Diana, shall we? She may not have a floral bomber jacket, but she’s fast rivalling Mary as the Surrogate Granny of the Nation. 'Being on Bake Off is the culmination of a lifetime baking,' she says. 'It’ll be the biggest thing I’ve ever done. Apart from giving birth and… all those weird things.' You tell ‘em, Diana! I like those life priorities. 'Forget marriage and grandchildren and all those weird things, Mum and Dad – look, I can make A REALLY GOOD FLAN.'
Tira-hits and tira-misses
Time for the technical challenge, and continuing Norm’s continental food odyssey after last week’s dabble in pesto, we have another Italian treat on the table: Mary’s tiramisu cake. You suspect it might be ‘Italian’ in the way that Costa Coffee and Frankie Dettori are ‘Italian’, but it looks bloody nice nonetheless.
Consisting of four even layers of coffee and booze-soaked sponge, the cake will test the bakers’ skill at precise cutting and assembly – which Mr Brick the Builder was feeling pretty cocky about, until his sheet of sponge came out flat. Cue shot of him literally ripping it up and starting again, which would be wasteful if it didn’t look so satisfying.
Beardy Iain (or to use the correct couple contraction, ‘Beardiain’) has made the same mistake – but he is flashing a little upper arm for his fans today, so we’ll forgive him – and it’s a race against time for the blokes to bake new sponges.
It’s also a hot day, which some of you might remember were a thing back in the earlier half of 2014. As a result there’s slack mascarpone all over the shop, and bad-tempered chocolate twiddles.
Unlike the sloppy puds, Paul and Mary’s verdicts are firm but fair. Norman, Diana, Kate and Iain are all punished for their seeping sponges, while a beaming Martha wins the challenge.
'I’m a home baker, and it’s showing up in certain places,' sighs Diana, as the camera cuts cruelly to a puddle of coffee leakage on the tablecloth and makes it all seem a bit like a Tena Lady advert. It’s ok Diana, we love you! Just blame it on the cat.
Mr Twit’s meltdown
We’re onto the showstopper, which is baked Alaska – a tarted up version of Arctic roll, with undertones of Sarah Palin and overtones of Liberace.
Beardiain is bringing his best Peckham pop-up vibes to the Berkshire tent, by flavouring his sponge with raw chocolate and his ice cream with black sesame. Mary’s face on seeing the murky grey custard is the same one you might imagine she pulled on being told about the existence of the cronut.
Kate’s gone camp, with a glittery meringue for her 'fellow Brightonians' (I’m from Worthing, we’re lucky if we get a Fab lolly without seagull shit on it), while Luis is pulling a double-hander with two mixers on the go at once.
The tent is still boiling hot and the contestants end up doing a sort of baking Bikram, contorting themselves wildly over deep chest freezers and perspiring into their mixtures. Then suddenly: disaster! Intrigue! Sabotage! In a plot twist barely even suggested by the opening montage, Diana has taken out Beardiain’s Alaska and left it on the side, where it has melted into goop.
Iain turns out to be hot-headed in more ways than one (amirite?), throwing a tantrum and promptly sliding the whole thing into the bin. No even the food compost bin, just the bin-bin. Everyone’s left gawping as he storms out of the tent and across the meadow… where we can only imagine he cooled off by jumping angrily into a lake.
I mean, that is ALL I can imagine. I’ll just need a minute.
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Trash talk
Chetna the Unflappable puts Iain to shame, by serving her also-melted mango concoction and having the judges say it was delicious anyway. Richard, Martha, Nancy, Luis and Kate have all triumphed with their blowtorches, and even Diana’s broken meringue swan turns out not to be her swan song.
But Normal Norm has sailed way beyond his comfort zone by crafting what looks like a huge baroque nipple, but it’s still too plain by Berrywood standards. 'You’re playing it so safe that you’re beginning to fail,' scolds Paul, which I worry might tip poor Norman over the edge. Next week he’ll be slipping diamantes into his crumble, and whose fault will it be when you choke?
Meanwhile all Beardiain can present to Paul and Mary is the bin with his Alaska in it, and a whacking great slice of humble pie. Eat it out of the bin, guys! Do a George Costanza! A little bit of garbage juice never hurt anybody!
But of course they don’t, and after a few minutes of moderately convincing fake ‘consideration’, Iain is bagged up and left on the kerb for the rubbish truck. We’ll tiramissyou, Iain! Leave some crumbs in those whiskers for us.
Next week: pie in the sky, tarts with heart and OH what a lovely pear.
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This article originally appeared on The Debrief.