Some might say last week marked the end of innocence for Bake Off fans.
Now, in a post-#bingate world, things are a little different. A little darker. A little colder; as though someone left a freezer door open in our hearts. Whichever side you came down on (let’s just say I haven’t defended a wronged lady on telly this vehemently since Free Dierdre Rachid), the real winner last week was injustice itself. Those post-production editors took the milk of human kindness, churned it into ice cream, then threw it in our faces. And boy, it was bitter.
But it’s done now so let’s jolly on anyway, shall we? Look! Pies!
Snark-infested custard
It takes approximately two minutes, 23 seconds of this episode to confirm that we’re not going to get a glorious beardy restitution. Yes, Diana has had to drop out due to illness (or because the Queen’s special swan police came a-knocking), but Iain’s not coming back in her place either so you can all just SHUT YOUR TRAPS ABOUT IT.
The first challenge of the week is a family-sized custard tart (which can include Sylvanian Families if it’s a lonely Friday night during mensies, I checked). It’s a good job we’re virtually unshockable after last week’s bincident, because not only is Norman suddenly SPEAKING FRENCH, he also reveals he has BEEN TO FRANCE. You think you know someone, and then it turns out they’ve been the Marquis de Marquee this whole ruddy time.
His tarte au citron may sound like it’s fresh off the ferry, but it still has Norm’s signature flourish: no signature flourish. 'I’m not stretching myself today because I’m stretching myself tomorrow,' he tells a frowny-faced Paul, which is also what yoga teachers say instead of 'sorry darling, I have a headache.'
Elsewhere in the tent, Martha thinks that the older contestants might have an advantage because they make a lot more pastry. This is nonsense, of course – at 17 I was rolling out three sheets of perfect shortcrust a day, and still had time to crochet my own bookbag.
Kate has upped her game, both with a swirly rhubarb and custard tart and with a plaited up-do that deserves its own Pinterest board. Chetna the Unflappable, who I have decided is absolutely the baker I would most trust to look after my plants or baby, is double-carbing her tart with a twist on kheer, Indian rice pudding. And Richard, in a clear bid to be Tent Hunk after Iain’s departure, has filled his tart with figs (erotic) and is drinking leftover custard from the jug (erotic).
Mary and Paul are suffering no fools this week, of the wobbly dessert kind or otherwise. The first victim of the judging is Norman, who has abandoned his fancy continental ways in favour of dumping half a bag of icing sugar on his tart as ‘decoration’ and calling it a day. If I loved Norman any more, it would physically hurt.
Martha has her first real failure of the competition: a wobbly filling with a wobbly chin to match. Chetna’s flavours let her down and even Richard has a leaky crust, but Berrywood go mad fer Luis’ tropical Manchester tart.
That’s a wrap
'How can we get everyone to pay attention during the boring historical bit?' asked one BBC producer. 'Put a scrotum in it,' replied the other, taking a long and satisfying drag on an e-cigarette. Then they went out for lunch. And thus, we are gifted Mel talking to a man about testicle wedding pie – or as I like to think of it, reassuring proof that Don’t Tell the Bride still has somewhere left to go.
Back in the tent, the technical challenge has been revealed and it is equally weird. Viewers who felt affronted by the obscurity of last year’s îles flottantes might wish to look away now, because we are wrapping pastry round a pear.
While the rough puff is chilling, the contestants are doing the opposite, as everyone tries to fathom what their bakes are supposed to look like. “I’m mummifying a pear,” trills Martha, which is a more educated comparison than mine: bandaging a sweaty foot that’s trodden in a wine puddle.
Her ancient inspiration serves her well too, because Martha comes out top in the judging. Kate, Nancy and Chetna have all prepared good pears, while Richard has copied his melty pastry and dropped to the bottom.
Eyes on the pies
The showstopper challenge is a three-tiered pie. Y’know, a three-tiered pie! What do you mean you’ve never seen one in Greggs?
I’d have chosen the tiers of a clown, or perhaps crocodile tiers, but our bakers know better and there are some dreamy themes going on. Luis is recreating the four seasons in fruit and meat, Martha is paying tribute to the three little pigs and Norman’s is a ‘Pieful Tower’ of haggis, haddock and meringue. Just in case anyone had their doubts about that France story.
'I’m using hot water crust pastry because it’s strong. You can probably build a house out of it to be honest,' says Richard, as half of north London wearily goes back to Yell.com to find a new builder. Meanwhile Nancy’s gone schmancy by hand-raising her pies, and Chetna is making three different pastries to house her aromatic fillings.
READ MORE: The Absolute Filthiest Moments- From Great British Bake Off History In Gif Form
Joke corner! Q: If Richard were a horse, what kind of horse would he be? A: a piebald*.
*Also works for Luis.
After Norman’s serenaded us with a wee spot o’ Rabbie Burns, prompting the biggest collective Scotophile swoon since James McAvoy and Chris Hoy hugged at the Commonwealth Games, it’s time for the pies to come out of the ovens.
For the most part they’re enormous, and enormously impressive – like something from Queen Victoria would have swapped for a new country. But not everyone’s achieved pie-fection… Martha has sprung a leak and is gushing fat all over the worktop. Richard’s are burnt. Luis’ are toppling over.
And Norman… Oh, Norman. Norman’s raspberry and passion fruit pie is weeping, and so are ALL OUR HEARTS. His lavender meringue fails to romance the judges, and his haggis crumbles along with his dreams. I’d pray to Pie Jesu (Jesus of pies), but it’s too late.
Nancy, Chetna and Luis have all done well and Martha’s porky filling has saved her bacon, but it’s Kate that scoops star baker for her regular triumph of a pie pile (and by regular, I mean they had prunes in them).
Already a baker down, Paul and Mary could have spared us an eviction this week. But we know that in a bleak, post-bingate world they’re not afraid to play fast and loose with our emotions, and so, in a move that feels ominously significant just two weeks before the referendum, Normal Norm leaves the tent.
The nation will mourn for you, Norman, but it’s just as well really – they’re doing ‘European cakes’ next week.
Next week: It’s Eurovision but with icing! The ovens go boom bang a bang, Paul and Mary are makin’ their minds up and the tension reaches its (Conchita) wurst.
Follow Lauren on Twitter @laurenbravo
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This article originally appeared on The Debrief.