Last night saw the culmination of a ten-week saga that’s seen tears, Twitter vitriol and threats of ending co-workers with a dough hook if they drop a spoiler when you’ve missed the latest episode; the Great British Bake Off final.
It’s safe to say that we’ve gone nuts – pistachios, preferably – for Bake Off. Last night’s final was the proof in the pudding (sorry); a record 8.4 million of us tuned in to see Frances Quinn steal the crown. Personally I’ve been a Frances fan from day one; despite being sweeter than a chocolate macaroon, her unyielding focus and constant drive gave me the sense that underneath all the squirrel-themed cakes and shy smiles she was probably capable of whacking someone over the head with a heavy Pyrex to take the top spot. This is something I understand only too well.
My name is Isabel Dixon, and I am a baking addict. It’s a hobby that’s shaped my adolescence, from the misshapen bread rolls of Food Tech days gone by to the gleaming Kenwood mixer bought by my parents for my 21st birthday. Like this year’s contestants, baking to me is a quest for perfection, a demonstration of technique and a chance to show off my creativity. That, and I just bloody love cake.
Back in June, my flatmates – also two of my oldest and best friends – tied the knot and asked me to bake something for the reception. Actually, their exact words were “We’ve got a wedding cake, but something little to have with the coffee – like some fairy cakes or something – that’d be great.” Like Bake Off’s eager contestants however, I’m a firm believer that when it comes to patisserie, the only answer is to go big or go home. Having settled on not one but five recipes, I was ready to rock and roll. The tiny cake stand I’d been offered was totally redundant; if people at weddings like cake, I was going to give them cake.
It all started out brilliantly. I bought the decorations and scrounged some decent kitchen equipment. Sadly, I didn’t have Mel and Sue, but I did have a group of willing friends who came round to taste a ‘test batch’ the week before the wedding (along with a then-romantic interest, who chivalrously pretended not to notice that I had salted caramel in my hair), which is pretty much the same thing. They were more than enthusiastic about my creations, not least because I plied them with wine, which makes everything taste better. I went to bed that night feeling incredibly smug – I mean, replicating the same success on a bigger scale for the wedding itself would be easy. Right?
Well, no. I woke up the next day with a hangover and a sense of impending panic. It suddenly dawned on me that I’d made a commitment to not only create something that added to the atmosphere of the day, but to also not give anyone food poisoning. Bake Off’s final showstopper, which saw the finalists create a three-tied wedding cake, looked like a terrifying challenge, but there was no actual wedding at the end of it. As the week went on, the panic increased. How was I going to track down a mixing bowl big enough to make 90 cupcakes? Why wasn’t my Amazon order of sugar hearts here yet, and when the bloody hell did lemons get so expensive? Suddenly, Eddie Izzard’s jokes about “cake or death” made perfect sense. What had I let myself in for?
To this day, the week preceding the wedding remains a blur of sugar-induced shakes and all-night cupcake production. On Friday at 4pm, less than 24 hours before lift-off, I snapped orders to the assorted helpers attempting to force cupcakes, shortbread and flapjacks into cardboard boxes whilst another housemate took in my frazzled, icing-spattered, sleep-deprived appearance and asked me why I’d turned into a baking Hitler. Ruby may have come under flak on the show for her multiple ‘episodes’ under pressure, but I can’t help but feel that compared to me she actually she held it together pretty well.
A few years ago, shows like X Factor were high entertainment. Now the attraction of high-concept talent shows is sinking faster than a bad souffle, while a celebration of all things cake smashes the ratings. Why? There’s the judges first off – a terrifying panel of mean fashionistas don’t compare to the nailbiting fear of disappointing Mary and Paul. Then there’s the fact that Bake Off’s contestants are all refreshingly normal, whereas shows of the Cowell variety seem intent on dragging us through sob stories which contain every possible version of human misery – although I will admit to choking up in the final when it was revealed that Frances’s mum can’t taste anything – I mean COME ON.
But really, a friend of mine summed it up Bake Off’s success perfectly with a pre-wedding joke about the “agony and ecstasy of baking”. Cynics who dismiss the show as a silly fuss about cake have clearly never baked before. Those of us who have understand the feeling of creating your own Showstopper – whether it’s a three-tier wedding cake or a lumpy apple pie. The panic of a looming deadline, the stress of tracking down ingredients and the crushing disappointment when you can’t separate your sponge from the springform tin is always overshadowed by the glowing feeling of satisfaction when you finally take a bite. Baking, really, is about pride. Understand that, and you probably understand how the finalists felt as they piped the icing onto their final creations.
My Showstopper moment wasn’t the baking, but the wedding itself. Despite the panic of the week before, my cakes safely made their way to the venue and into the stomachs of assorted guests. Plus I got compliments, which was good – it’s always reassuring to know that you’ll be remembered for your culinary prowess and not the fact that you later got drunk and saw the night out doing the lawnmower. Although I was pleased with my culinary exploits, I was even more proud to have been allowed to contribute to an important day that was incredibly memorable, and very, very special.
Would I enter next year’s Bake Off though? Probably not. A Hampshire wedding is one thing, but put me in front of Paul Hollywood and Mary Berry with two hours on the clock and I’d probably crumble. And I don’t mean the apple kind.
Isabel Dixon – you can follow Isabel and her baking exploits on Twitter @isabel_dixon
Pictured: The GBBO finalists, Mel and Sue and Isabel's wedding cakes
