Thanks everyone- I KNEW I wasn’t imagining things on the Enjabina and Lesassy front. But I’m keeping my mouth shut. We know.
Quarter finals- do we think a clear frontrunner has emerged? No one’s won star baker more than one week in a row. It’s still pretty open, though I think Jane is gathering her strength. Jane and Candice is gonna be like Ian Mckellen and Christopher Lee on a windblasted mountain outcrop.
Thanks for the general hilarity below and again, apologies for problems finding the blog and other technical gremlins. It’s not because I spilled Nutella on my keyboard. Anyone who says that is lying.
Anyway, come say hi on Twitter or Instagram, and sorry I gripped your hand so hard when we thought Selasi was leaving. It was a dark time.
See you next week, everyone! x
Andrew and Mel’s hair the big winners. A lot of good feeling for Tom – he threw himself on the altar. Thanks guy.
Let’s all sneak our own fougasse into the cinema this weekend in homage.
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Quarter finals – Tudor week? Is that like ... an hour-long historical interlude? *Imagines Paul throwing chicken legs over his shoulder like a oxen King Henry*
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Andrew wins!
Oh. Tom. I gave him such a hard time this week. I always get this 8.59 regret.
Sorry Tom. You’re great. But we had to save Selasi. He’s our Private Ryan.
Congratulations Andrew!
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Ferris Bueller didn’t take no day off! Nice one Andrew.
BUT...
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Jane is safe. Selasi did deliver some gargantuan Scoobie snacks, but also joy unto the world which should mitigate things.
Benjamina’s also up for it. Candice has screwed it. It’s Andrew’s time. But they know who’s going already. Oh god.
Good looking honeycomb but a soft top. Overall he’s done enough I think. But never mind that – what’s the Selasi sitch?
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Tom’s avant-garde hipster picnic has a Warholian luridity to it. I know that isn’t a word. Mary’s neologism are infectious/I’m not to good at English. This could be Andrew’s week – they love the Ferris wheel presentation, so that’s a good start.
Candice slightly slipped up. Door’s open- Benjamina has got some great flavours but sloppy presentation. We thinking Andrew, right? He prob deserves it. Let’s see what he’s got after Tom’s hipster conceptual madness.
True, I love a gadget. I’m getting me a pink hand fan. I can’t get over the Selasi fear. What will happen. What will we do?
Or maybe Jane stabbed him with a polonium umbrella. Who knows.
Nice moussiness. That ain’t a word, Mary. Jane has done well again though. Probably not enough? I think Benjamina or Andrew?
Jane calming down a hyperventilating Tom. She’s a good egg.
Oh god, Selasi is worried about the set and appearance of his cakes. Like you I have a gnawing fear he is in real trouble. We have suffered too much. We can’t lose him. Remember his swiss roll roulade though! For pity’s sake remember the swiss roll roulade.
It’s gettin’ hot in here ... which is bad news if you’re attempting to set a variety of complex mousses. There’s a lot of anxiety around. So many levels of impossibility in such an airy little package. Every one of these desserts is aerated with tiny bubbles of stress.
Wow. Andrew has made a Ferris wheel out of engineering and hubris to present his mousse on. I suspect his cakes are star baker (and mint choc) flavoured.
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Is Tom a hipster? Was he criticising or speaking on behalf of? I’m confused.
Andrew’s cooking with a ruler! That’s on the laminated bingo card which I have once again forgotten to post because I am the devil’s own. Down your drink anyway.
“I feel like you’ve been in a chocolate abbatoir,” Mel counsels Jane of her bespattered apron. I haven’t seen shade thrown like that since the savage days of Trinny and Susannah.
Okay we have to come back to Tom’s analysis of hipsters because I can’t begin to get my head around it. What was it?
It’s been quite innuendo-light this week, right? Too much at stake?
We still need to talk about TOM’S LITTLE PINK FAN WHICH HAS THE WORLD’S SMALLEST CRANK. It’s an environmentally-friendly, Guardian-reading, gender fluid hand fan. I could watch him do that for hours. Why does it remind me of a clown car, with the wheels fallen off and them just running around with their feet sticking out the bottom? I LOVE IT.
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Jane has gone gelatine-mad. Oh god what is Tom working up his nerve to. Don’t put fennel in it at the last minute T-bone!
Be funny if in the final Candice just makes a raisin cookie. “Couldn’t be bothered. This is what my three-year-old niece eats, so why not.”
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You’re right Davidargile – Selasi does hold it all back for showstopper. He’s a flair player. He’s like Zola. The footballer not the novelist, although who’s to say.
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Jane’s making fleur de lys like a renaissance artisan, wrapped around a sponge I can’t pronounce. She ain’t going down without a fight.
Tom and Benjamina are both using apple, but Tom assures us they will turn out very different cakes. “Not necessarily to my advantage.” Bloody hell, Tom.
Ah, gelatine. The vegetarian’s covert enemy. A sniper made of pig’s trotters.
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If Selasi goes let’s meet up and burn down parliament. Look at Mary helping him. She loves him too.
Bond villain lairs, full of evil blackberry. I agree, Jane does have a naked ambition. But I think maybe that’s quite good? Subvert the nice old lady stereotype? She’s a killer.
Showstopper – mini mousse cakes
Mini mousse cakes do not sound high end. They sound like something you’d buy in Iceland.
There’s some mousse loose aboot this marquee! A mousse is a definite showstopper in that when I’m served it, I stop everything to demand a more substantial pudding. But my problems are my own. Let’s see what they do with this.
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Yes, I prefer chewy meringue too Katy. I can’t stomach the overly crisp stuff.
Tom is in trouble again, and displeased about it like a querulous Emperor Commodus. No that’s unfair, he’s taking it well. But there does seem to be a certain fatalism about him. Even Selasi is feeling the heat. Everyone is in trouble it seems. “Are we in trouble?” Mel asks Paul. Her hair looks lovely.
Sorry that’s not a related thought. It does though.
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Selasi, Tom, Jane, Benjamina, Candice and ... Andrew! The Milky Bars are on him!
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Judging time! And SOGGY BOTTOM already. Mary decides Selasi’s is “a bit drunk looking”. Takes one to know one, Bezza. Yup, Andrew’s Viennetta does look gorgeous, as manicured as centre court at Wimbledon. My money is on Benjamina. I have to say, this is one of the few Bake Off challenges I wouldn’t jump at eating. It looks a bit ... much, you know what i mean?
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Paul and Mary want to see a perfect daqciose. I just want to know how to spell daqkwarz.
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“It’s like a Viennetta but posher.” Andrew figures it out. The boy is gonna be fine.
Pipe, Selasi! Pipe!
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Tom has turned a sheet of stained glass praline into dust. I hope he knows what he’s doing. I think he probably does. Maybe not.
They all seem to be making different things. Praline, buttercream, meringue, darquoise (?), ganache. In three hours, this feels pretty unfair, no? Is it even possible? What is it?
This is not my forte – does Tom ever say anything positive?
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I have no idea what this marga – margo – miriam margolyes cake would taste like. Has anyone tasted one?
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Mary – minxy, Walthamstow? hmm. She’s a bit like a Rorschach test.
I do like her Aztec-tacular jacket this week though. She might like your gateau, but she Maya-n’t not.
#I’mhereallweektrytheveal #culturallyignorantpuns
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Peter Ustinov, talking about his wife, said a French woman speaking English always sounds contemptuous and derisive, even when saying something nice. It is undeniably one of THE great accents.
It’s one of those history lessons you all love! I will put the kettle on, but I’ll turn the sound up so I can still hear about the pralines.
Glad you’re all with me on the flirt thing.
By the way can we talk about TOM AND HIS LITTLE PINK FAN
She’s deffo gonna win this, Jane. Is anyone else worried about Selasi? I’m NEVER worried about Selasi.
Margarine? Major rain? Come again? It’s apparently a French rectangular gateau. It’s a layer cake. Just call it that, honestly. It’s got layers of meringue and nuts and stuff. “I can’t afford to come last,” worries Selasi, as in the background Jane strolls past grinning and possibly whistling. Someone made marjolaine for breakfast.
Sorry to people finding technical problems on the blog – I am too. HEADS WILL ROLL. (Or possibly eyes when I explain I am afraid of computers.)
WHAT the hell is this technical challenge?
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How about Roulada Colada, Benjamina? At least open this out to consultation. Looks damn fine though.
Millionaire’s Roulade, Tom? That looks more like the cake equivalent of a scam email promising to make you a millionaire (if you just wire over £100 to get the ball rolling). Candice has a messy swirl and fails to hide her crack. Selasi’s piping garners praise! Mel calls Selasi out for serving his on a curved photo frame. Careful Mel, he is the people’s champ! Mary and Paul both love his tube of goo. Good.
Jane looks like she’s made an enormous armoured Colin the Caterpillar, and she’s rolled it the wrong way, the plonker. Paul thinks the alcohol ruins the flavour. “I like the whole combination,” repudiates Mary. “Perhaps it’s the little bit of tipple in there I like.”
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Judging time! In the meantime let’s talk Benjamina & Selasi. Tasting his wooden spoon and declaring it sharp.
I’ve been accused of sexualising an essentially sibling-esque dynamic; because I don’t have any siblings and don’t know what that is. So I throw this out to you guys. Are they fwends or flirt-monsters?
For you, lobster1
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Yeah, I also don’t get the pina colada in cakes thing. Outside of a glass it’s just a night out in the wrong place.
Candice shoehorns in another familial reference. This white choc sponge is for her dad. It’s gonna be second cousins and in-laws by next week, which won’t be as warming.
“It’s week seven of Bake Off and good enough is not good enough,” aphorises Tom. It’s not quite Lao Tzu, but it does have something. He’s a smart cookie.
Jane and Selasi both have the same insider tip on rolling roulade, which I don’t understand even after they’ve both explained it.
Candice’s lipstick is back to corpse bride. I like it. I think this wearing a different colour every week promise is pure nutmeg though. I reckon she’s got three shades like everyone else, and now she’s just recycling.
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Sue asks Paul if his “interesting” means interesting, or “creepy Paul Hollywood villain’s cackle.”
I will marry you, Sue. I know it won’t work out. But think of the buffet.
Yes Anglophilede, I’m here! Don’t hold my Amish ways with a computer against me.
Pina Roulada, surely Benjamina? Come on, this is basic. Oh, Mary Berry’s involuntary wink when she heard the word “rum” was a thing of glory. There are few good winkers left on TV, and she is queen of the castle.
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I’ve done a bingo card. Hold on.
Tom is making a millionaire’s roulade with nutmeg instead of chocolate or something. “I will marry you,” confirms Sue, to which he stares bashfully into a mixing bowl. You need to tone down the sugar with this one, Perkins.
Signature Challenge – roulade
Signature challenge is roulade, which is a posh name for Swiss roll. You can’t pull the sponge over my eyes. Lest we forget, the Swiss role in world politics has been one of circumspect neutrality and that’s nothing to celebrate. What’s that you say? Stay away from politics? Okay then!
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Thanks Ginmember. Mine’s a double.
“I’m a desserts man, through and through,” quoth Andrew, looking and sounding heir apparent to the Milky Bar Kid.
“Being star baker has not been good for me,” rues Tom. Typical. Even when he won it he looked like he’d inherited a suitcase of consumptive badgers. Bloody well cheer up, man! You’re good at cooking! Enjoy life!
Apologies anyone who saw the technical snafu earlier – caused by my having my own meltdown and not being around. Hope it’s not ruined anything! I’m here, in person. Let’s do this!
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Greetings, citizens of Bake Britain and associated territories,
It’s dessert week in the tent, and with only four weeks until the show itself deserts us. Stakes couldn’t be higher. Which doesn’t mean we’ll be deviating from our diet of silly innuendo and food lust. FAR FROM IT.
It’s dessert week. I’m thinking there will be spun sugar work as intricate as scrimshaw, eggs coaxed into states of matter so unusual they could win a Nobel prize, and that someone may get a weird custard on.
Grab a snack, lacquer up those sweet teeth!
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