Baking brings you out of your shell...
CLAIRE SPREADBURY catches up with former Great British Bake Off winner John Whaite to talk fear, family and food in epic proportions
I’M NOT sure I’ve ever eaten cake at 9.45am before, but when former Great British Bake Off winner John Whaite passes you a slice of his freshly baked spiced pumpkin and whisky loaf, suggesting you slather it in damson jam, it’s not something you say no to.
It’s been a while since his time on Bake Off – seven years, in fact, and he’s recently written about how the show “derailed him from a steady lifepath”.
He was a 23-year-old law student at the time, who was thrust into reality TV fame, only to watch his appeal shrink year-on-year, as each new batch of baking stars emerged.
He’s since written five cookbooks and set up his own cookery school in a converted barn on the family’s farm in Lancaster, but now aged 30, he still battles with his own demons.
During production of his latest book, A Flash In The Pan, things got so tough that contemplating suicide became an everyday thought.
“I was doing my barrister training in Leeds, so I was getting up at 5am and getting home at 10pm, and for me, that was a really stressful time,” says John.
“I was going through real bouts of depression and it was really hard.”
After developing pneumonia and being forced to drop out of his course, things took a turn for the worse. It was New Year’s Day when he realised life had got a bit much.
“I took a break and headed for Canada,” he writes in his book.
“At times, even the mundanities of everyday life are mountainous and for me, I’m afraid, it was a case of do or die.
“I had to escape my life, take stock and recover.”
He’s had depression for years, he tells me, now looking the picture of health on a blustery autumn day when we meet. “I’ve just come off anti-depressants and I actually feel quite stable,” he says. “I think they’ve knocked things about in my brain and I hope it lasts forever.”
But the depression, he adds, can be all-consuming.
John is serious as he talks. He’s an intelligent, beautiful and kind man who’s dragged himself out of some very dark spaces, getting on with his life as we bake and eat cake.
The depression slowly subsided on the farm he stayed at in Canada and he talks about it being a very purposeful time.
He’s grateful for every day, and for the love and support of his partner Paul (who he might even marry on the farm in Canada), dog Abel and his family. They’re a really important part of his life and he’s close to them.
The barn renovations were done by his brother-in-law, who made the chopping boards too, both his sisters have worked at the cookery school, and his mum pops her head round the door just to check how everyone is.
His sister, Victoria, clears up after the bakers on a cookery course, makes cups of tea and chips in as we chat.
She’s had a tough year too, suffering with premenstrual dysphoric disorder, which led to her going missing and her family using social media to help find her. She’s safe and well now, and enjoying eating her brother’s cake. “We’re all very greedy,” he says. “I learned my love of food from my mum.”
Food is clearly something that ignites his soul. When I ask him if baking is his self-care, he nods approvingly.
“Baking is very meditative. It’s precise – you have to weigh out the ingredients, follow it step by step and focus on everything, so it’s just right. It also brings you out of your shell, because if you’ve made a batch of brownies, you share them and it’s really sociable like that.
“I think we need to focus less on ourselves and be there for other people. Actions speak louder than words. Act on love.
“There’s too much, ‘I love you, darling,’ and it’s all fur coat and no knickers. Actually be there for people,” says John.
And of course, we must all eat cake. He tells me that “calories don’t mean anything, it’s all about quality”, and as I box up 10 cakes and a slab of apple crumble chocolate fudge blondie, that’s just as well.