The Great British Baking Show Recap: The Cookie Crumbles
It’s always baffling when bakers rely on techniques they can’t conquer.
Yes, this is supposed to be a “back to basics” season for the artist formerly known as the Great British Something or Other, but I’m afraid it has gone Hollywood … Paul Hollywood. Last week, the opening sketch was The Breadfather, a parody starring Paul with the shortest of cameos by Prue. This week, Noel and Allison did a bit with just Paul. Last I checked, there were two hosts of this show, and they should be equal, but here’s Noel referring to Paul Hollywood as a “baking god” and not even complimenting Prue’s statement necklace.
Then we had the return of the Hollywood handshake this week. Ugh, I hate it so much, and I have written about it at length. My problem boils down to the fact that there is basically just one judge on the show, and it’s Paul, and no one cares what Prue thinks because the show keeps rewarding his behavior of what is essentially an invasive species. (If you think about it, all men are an invasive species.)
The first of the handshakes comes during the signature challenge when all contestants have to make biscuits either sandwiching or covered in marshmallows. Ew. I will eat just about any kind of candy, sweet, or baked good, but it’s a hard pass on marshmallow and all of its attendant demon brood: S’mores, Peeps, Rice Crispy Treats.
Part of getting back to basics seems to be giving the bakers a reasonable amount of time to make their desserts because we’re seeing very few absolute disasters this season. Sure, some have been sloppier than others, but not once has someone desperately raced to beat the clock with all the other bakers huddled around them like a group of ants trying to drag a dead colleague back to the anthill.
The kind of bakers I worry about the most are ones like Dana, who made a Speculoos-flavored biscuit. (They’re basically like those Biscoff cookies you sometimes get on American Airlines.) They have a fluted mold, and she says getting them out of there is hard. Alright, we already know the result; at least a few will be totally cracked and terrible. When we get to the end of the challenge, voila! There they are. Now, I don’t have to be qualified to bake all of these things, just sit at home and bitch about them, but if you can’t take them out of the mold perfectly every single time, either find a solution or pick another damn mold!
The same thing happens with Keith in the showstopper. He’s making a can of Pringles out of two pieces of gingerbread, and so he lays the dough on top of a can so that it will make two half circles. The problem, he tells us, is it usually falls off and then forms a big ball of dough at the bottom of the can. Then, he cooks it, and, voila, like magic, his prophecy comes true. Keith, just find another way! I know you can. Why do bakers always rely on techniques they can’t conquer?
Keith struggled in the signature, too, making PB&J marshmallow biscuits. (Fun Fact: English people don’t eat PB&Js. Weirdos.) Everything about it was sloppy, and when he finally served it up to the judges, they looked like a dozen hockey pucks left outside of a college bar and then puked on by every psychology major that left the building. In the little vignette about Keith’s life in (Old) Hampshire, it says that he just shows up at his neighbors’ houses with his bakes and asks their opinions. For this, they call him Needy Ned. I wish my neighbor would just come around with a zucchini loaf or something. Either they really hate this guy, or his food is terrible.
Prue said they were delicious, though. Danas are also a mess, and so were Abbi’s, which were inspired by the spices of Tunisia, where she lived as a child.
Dan’s peanut butter, chocolate, and banana wagon wheels looked amazing until he painted the wheel on top. As I watched Dan paint them on, I knew it was a mistake, and then I looked up at his bare forearm to the bulging bicep sticking out of his maroon T-shirt. Wait, is Dan hot? Yes, Dan is very hot. He’s giving full-on smiling P.E. teacher vibes, and it just makes me want to drop and give him 20.
Everyone else seemed to do well. Cristy’s pink domes with tiny roses on the top are the most delicate and prettiest (also rose flavored), Rowan has gorgeous swirly domes with violets on top (also violet flavored), and Josh plated up swirly domes with cherries on top (also cherry flavored, I’m sensing a theme).
The best, however, was Tasha, who made a gorgeous and sophisticated (per Prue) treat that tastes like the malted milk drink Milos, which she had after school growing up in Australia. I love that only half of them were coated in chocolate, and they looked like little cakes but were actually biscuits. This is when Paul Hollywood pulls out that collection of five sausage rolls he calls a hand and gives Tasha a shake.
For the signature, everyone has to bake a Custard Cream, which you can buy in any single Tesco Express and Sainsbury Local in all of Britain. It’s like a plain biscuit with vanilla filling. The closest American equivalent is the Vienna Finger. Since everyone knows what it is and how it should look and taste (aside from my favorite personality Saku), it’s an easy technical. The hardest part for most people was figuring out how to work the stamp to get the cookie’s design on the top.
The biggest problem was that Cristy took Rowan’s dough out of the shared freezer and rolled it out for him. He ended up in the middle of the pack, so there wasn’t really any drama. Couldn’t they have fought? That’s what the Real Housewives would have done. Can’t we get Lisa Vanderpump on this show? She’s British.
At the bottom of the pack are messy Keith, Saku, and Cristy the Dough Thief. At the top are Rowan, Daddy Dan, and Abbi, whose Custard Creams Prue said were even better than those you buy in the shop. I wish someone would tell me the same thing about the boxer briefs I keep trying to sell on Etsy.
As all the bakers shuffle into the tent for the showstopper challenge, they are all wearing coats, like full-on puffers, trenches, and parkas. This might not seem strange until you remember that this show is filmed from April to June. That tells you a little about the (lack of) summer in England every year. You need a Canada Goose just to get from the manor house to the tent ten yards away in the middle of fucking July.
Anyway, the showstopper is to make a biscuit-based illusion of the bakers’ favorite meals. Food that looks like other food? What is this? Is It Cake? We get a shocking number of charcuterie boards (or, as I like to call them, charcoochie boards), with Matty, Cristy, and Rowan all finding ways to make meat, cheese, and, I guess, boards out of different kinds of biscuits. Also, both Nicki and my lover Dan decide to make meat pies. If it were up to me, I would have just made a gigantic cookie in the shape of a needle and written “Ozempic” on it in icing. I’m crazy like that.
Abbi decides to make a dim sum brunch and says that dim sum is her favorite thing to cook. Why not go on the Great British Chinese Food Making Show? I love that Saku tried to use more savory flavors while making up a Sri Lankan breakfast that looked authentic and delicious. Keith is making what he calls his “meal deal,” which is a ham sandwich, a tube of Pringles, and an ice cream cone, which is what he usually has for lunch.
A number of bakers did really well at this challenge. Matty’s cheese looks so real, and the judges say it is also delicious even though it’s not cheese. Tasha made a Japanese katsu, including a bowl and a cup to go with it. They were just gaga over her flavors and design and coupled with a handshake, she took Star Baker.
However, it was Josh who stopped the show and got Paul’s second handshake, this time in the showstopper. The only time I can remember this happening was with Rahul, which might explain why Noel says he has a tattoo of him on his bum. Josh made a hamburger and fries, and it looked semi-realistic, but, more importantly, it looked like a hamburger made out of cookies, which is what makes you want to dig in. He also didn’t use shortbread, gingerbread (or its unknown Polish variety), or other sturdy biscuits you need to make shapes. He made his hamburger patties out of florentines, a sort of chocolate-covered cookie that is mainly dried fruit.
As they are examining Josh’s impossible burger, the cruelest thing I’ve ever seen on GBBO/S happens. Keith had made tomatoes for his lunch earlier, but it was just a round red cookie with 12 yellow dots on it as seeds. When it is Josh’s turn, Prue pulls out his tomato, which is ingenious, and he sprinkles some sugar into very thin dough to create a sort of see-through effect. It cuts from that right to Keith’s pained face, as if showing him what he should have been doing instead. It’s a sick burn, at least for this show. Naturally, Keith is sent home to do what he does best: annoy his neighbors with subpar bakes. They are not surprised he left so soon; no one is. Except maybe for Prue because it’s not like her input on the show even matters anymore.