As the nights draw in and the autumn leaves tumble from the trees, the chill of death is in the air. But one ray of sunshine still awaits us. Bake Off is back, bringing with it the best of British summertime in a bunting-lined tent.
To be fully transparent, I am obsessed with baking. My sourdough starter has a name (Kenneth) and every children’s birthday cake I have baked could sit in the Louvre. To further complicate my relationship with the TV series, I spent a year at Prue Leith’s culinary school and failed my final exam because of my inability to make a puff pastry that would rise in 37-degree heat and over-salting a chicken ballotine. So, for me to come to every series and be charmed rather than triggered by the Bake Off challenges is a triumph for both my personal growth (37 degrees! Impossible!) and the show’s enduring appeal.
