Lately, it seems like the Bake Off franchise has been put to substantial use by Channel 4. Since series 11 ended, we’ve had recaps and festive shows, seemingly by the week. The Great New Year Bake Off (Channel 4), the last of two seasonal specials, brings back Nancy, Rahul, Helena and Henry, all stellar parts of their respective years, to demonstrate that there’s plenty of heat in those ovens yet. This is a Now That’s What I Call Bake Off special, an opportunity to get the band back together once again.
The Bake Off proved – that’s a bread pun, and I believe that having to point it out means it’s a successful one – to be a national tonic as the pandemic months dragged on. Everything that made it so eminently watchable, and everything that has given it this seemingly limitless lifespan, felt utterly right in 2020. It was kind, comforting and funny, and it spoke to our growing national appetite for chasing down flour and eggs, and attempting to whip up a cake or a biscuit, if not quite in the shape of the Louvre, then at least as something vaguely edible. It feels appropriate that it should take us into 2021, too.
Traditionally, this time of the new year sees a mea culpa for December’s excesses while more puritanical sensibilities surface: no booze, healthier eating, perhaps even greater numbers of Veganuary participants. So putting a show like this on, full of drinking gags and delicious-looking, butter-dependent sweet treats, is borderline trolling. I will take it, happily. And one of those bao buns, too, thanks.
Nancy’s return to the tent after her victory six years ago is a triumph. (Whether it is actually a triumph, I don’t know – previews are sent out without the winner of the episode being revealed.) Nancy is one of the few historical contestants with the ability to put Paul Hollywood on the back foot, and she continues to speak with brilliant plainness. She tries to make a bao, or a “bayo”, and ends up with what she describes, quite fairly, as steamed pitta breads. When Noel Fielding says he will make tea and asks how many sugars she wants, she shoots back: “What, in a gin and tonic?” After Prue praises her Caribbean-inspired crumble, she fixes Paul with A Look and harrumphs: “What about you?”
Rahul is at the other end of the Bake Off spectrum: still endlessly apologetic, still fond of a story that goes on and on. Rahul is a nuclear scientist, and – as when doctors go on reality TV shows – you always end up secretly hoping for him to do well, and also, not to have to give up the day job. Rahul’s enthusiasm for absolutely everything is irresistible. “Such a good invention, isn’t it?” he marvels, having learned of the existence of apple corers. After winning his series, you might expect Rahul’s nerves to have faded, but he admits that he is more nervous than ever. And they may tease him for his wordiness, but his story about his 21st birthday, involving giant rats and a roof garden in Calcutta, deserves its own hour-long special.
The 21st-birthday cake is an ingenious idea for a showstopper, because it incorporates the best bits of challenges, combining the varying ages of contestants, and thus different reference points, and personal stories. Henry, dry as ever, says he is treating it as his 21st birthday, as he was in lockdown when the real event happened. Helena, whose regular goth-offs with Fielding reach new heights, makes a cake that is half confectionery, half activity centre. It is celebratory, and it has the familiarity of hanging out with old friends.
Matt Lucas has more than settled in to hosting duties. His arrival seemed to signal a slightly higher level of smut than the Sandi Toksvig era allowed for, though that’s not to say I blame him. This episode reaches a peak of innuendo when Nancy is talking to the cameras outside and it begins to rain. “Don’t get your fluffy wet,” she tells the soundman. Later, the judges are informed that yes, they can eat the balls. Plums, I must inform you, are squeezed. I’m not saying it’s big, I’m not saying it’s clever, but times are tough, and if we need smut to get us through it, then smut will have to do.
These smaller episodes, featuring four bakers, rather than the packed tent that we are used to, are much more about the personalities than they are about the bakes, and that is fine, too. These bakers represent everything that the Bake Off has to offer. It is less instructional – although I did learn that adding cornflour to the stewed fruit in a crumble will help bind it and make it less sloppy, and that ice-cream tends to be over-flavoured because the ice freezes the taste buds – but that means there is more time for stories involving giant rats and a roof garden in Calcutta.
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