More than just another episode of The Great British Bake Off (BBC1), this is THE END. Actually, there are a couple of Christmas specials, but after that only a terrifying void of uncertainty. I’ll be honest, I haven’t always understood quite what all the fuss was about. A good formula, sure, well executed and cast (I’m mainly talking about the contestants). National treasure, though? Really?
But then, since Brexit, I’ve begun to better understand the point of GBBO: that it takes in and appeals to both ye olde village green fete and modern Britain. Perhaps it’s the bridge – the only one – between the 52% and the 48%? Or the buttercream and jam binding two halves of a victoria sandw… shut up: there’s nothing more annoying than the need literally everyone writing about Bake Off feels to liberally dust their copy with baking metaphors. Back to the bridge then, which is being knocked down and built elsewhere, out of who knows what. And it is worrying and sad.
So, ready steady bake (what is normally annoying is now making me well up … well, almost). A filled crown first, inspired not by dentistry (Mel Giedroyc’s punnery is contagious), but by Her Majesty on the year of her 90th birthday, and made of meringue.
Who’s getting the Bake Off crown though: Andrew, Jane or Candice? As Jane says: “You can’t out-Candice Candice.” Candice’s creation is extraordinary: four tiers, two kinds of meringue (one white, one gold), glittered pistachios, mango curd, gold-dusted physalis – a Cape gooseberry, apparently, not a down-there disease. It’s rewarded with Paul’s ultimate accolade. “Hollywood handshake!” says Mel, whipping up her own big dollop of double entendre … I think. It does sound very rude, like something that squirrel back in series two – the one flashing his own crown jewels, remember? – might be expecting. “[In squirrel voice] Oi, any chance of a Hollywood handshake?” I miss the squirrel, what happened to him? Sadly replaced by a cock pheasant and three black sheep.
Jane gets a Hollywood handshake too, for her patriotic coronet. Paul’s being very generous with them. The tart. Only Andrew misses out. “To be out of the handshake club was a little demoralising,” he tells Mel.
But then the boy from County Down makes up for it in the technical challenge with a victorious Victoria sandwich. Ahhh, that’s fitting isn’t it – not Andrew’s winning the round but the fact that Mary’s signing off with a traditional English classic. Equal parts flour, butter, sugar, eggs and tears today.
Andrew’s is perfect, evenly baked, golden, with good jam and a lovely smooth butter cream. No handshake, but it means the trophy’s still up for grabs going into the final round.
It is the biggest showstopper ever: a royal picnic hamper (no place for republicanism in a Great British Bake Off final), 49 things to do in five hours. “Batch-baking and then some,” says Paul, which sounds like match-making and then some with a cold. As they do their sausage rolls and custard tarts and chocolate cakes, we drop in on their families for sentimental reasons. “She’ll always be a winner in my eyes, she’s my daughter,” says Candice’s dad. “I love him to bits, he’ll hate me saying that,” says Andrew’s mum. “I know everybody thinks it but I think I’ve got the best mum,” says Jane’s daughter.
Has she, though? Time’s up and Jane’s cake is collarless, like a stray dog. Her scones are bland, the pastry on her sausage rolls is raw. Andrew’s pastry, too, also underdone, but at least the show gets its final soggy bottoms (there’s poignancy even in that).
Only Candice keeps it together: firm, and crisp and perfect. And the winner! It’s hard to argue with that, a worthy one, not just in the eyes of her father, Paul and Mary, but the eyes of the Great British public, too – even if everything’s a little bleary now through the tears.
Over to you then, Channel 4. It’s going to be tough one, taking over a show with so many viewers (maybe 15 million for the final), and so much love. There’s not much up from there, and an awful lot of down. What are they going to do, add sharks? They’ve got Paul – the rat – who else, though? Unless ... Yes! I bet they have, I bet they’ve signed the rude squirrel with the big balls, too. Perhaps it won’t be so bad after all.
