Will’s butter cream has split! Reb’s caramel is runny! And Janusz has used so much of Poland’s cherry vodka reserves in his sponge there’s bound to be a diplomatic incident. Bake Off is back with its formula unchanged and a new, almost teeth-achingly sweet dozen of culinary klutzes. As fuel bills rocket, war ravages Ukraine and we mourn not just the passing of the second Elizabethan age but the advent of the third one in the form of Liz Truss, this band of bakers is tasked with cheering up broken Britain. Like that’s going to happen.
Episode one is always a perilous business, especially for Paul Hollywood’s waistband. It is cake week and, insanely, the contestants’ second task is to make a red velvet cake with at least eight layers of sponge sandwiched between cream cheese mortar. Hollywood complains that he has to sample 12 of these towers as part of the judging process, even the ones (I’m looking at you, Rebs) so claggy the sponge sticks to the roof of his mouth. I’ve spoken to several cardiac specialists about this (I haven’t really) and they all say the same thing: Bake Off challenges involving multi-tiered cakes should be reserved for the final rounds when there are at most three cakes for Hollywood to sample.
