I wanted to hate Bake Off after Mary... but I have to eat my words
What could you buy with £75 million? a top- of-the-range superyacht, perhaps? a mega-mansion in the chicest part of town?
In Channel 4’s case, however, £75 million – the sum reportedly paid by the broadcaster in its controversial snatch-and-grab of the Great British Bake Off from the BBC last year – seems to have disappeared into thin air.
For the shiny new series of the nation’s favourite baking show, which makes its much-anticipated return next tuesday, is most remarkable for one thing.
Despite having all that cash thrown at it, it hasn’t changed a bit. the tent is the same; the bunting is the same; the challenges are the same; even the pastel-hued mixing bowls are the same.
Sure, the people – with the exception of steely-eyed Paul hollywood – are different, but if you squint a little, they could be the same old familiar faces, making the same innuendo-laden jokes about ‘soggy bottoms’ and ‘firm buns’. Of course, this makes the programme impossible to hate. and I really, really wanted to hate it.
the hallowed gingham tent could surely be no place for a crude comedian like Noel Fielding. Nor could acerbic-tongued Prue Leith ever be a match for dear old Mary.
then there were the rumours of rifts behind the scenes. Noel’s co-presenter Sandi toksvig was said to spend all her time in her dressing room alone, knitting.
Prue and Paul reportedly really disliked each other. Noel pledged not to eat cake in case it made him fat, and Prue came up with a very un-Bake Off catchphrase: ‘It’s not worth the calories.’
a recipe for a successful series this was not, I thought. But, having seen the first episode, I’m going to have to eat my words.
the moment those opening credits roll – and, yes, it’s the same plinkity-plonk theme tune, with the little girl dipping her fingers into the mixing bowl – it’s like being wrapped in a warm, comforting blanket.
the camera pans in on the tent, where Paul and Prue stand with 12 beaming new contestants, and then out to a computergenerated hot air balloon, which Noel and Sandi are desperately trying to land.
FROM the off, the presenters are open about the huge shoes they have to fill. ‘Sue, you did say white tent, didn’t you?’ quips Sandi, apparently speaking to her predecessor on the phone. Later, Noel tells a contestant: ‘I think you’ll stay, you’ll be all right. I don’t know about me, though.’
Sandi – the Danish- British comedian who also presents the TV quiz QI – is almost indistinguishable from Sue Perkins, with her quick-fire humour and deadpan asides to camera. ‘I can actually feel my hips widening as I eat it,’ she says at one point, tucking into a contestant’s cake batter.
Far more has been forecast – and feared – about Noel. he is, as expected, utterly daft, following Sandi around like a hapless puppy in his ridiculous bird-print shirt, threatening to take his trousers off and at one stage putting an entire (inedible) marigold in his mouth. But of all the new faces on the show, he is the biggest surprise.
While Prue and Sandi seem strangely proud of not having watched previous Bake Off series, he’s a genuine fan. Unfortunately, he’s too busy playing the fool to show it – and I fear his dippy comedy act will quickly start to grate.
Paul, as ever, is prickly and tothe-point. But even he seems to have mellowed, dishing out two congratulatory handshakes in the first challenge alone.
his softened edges may be a response to the loss of Mary Berry, whose gentle, grandmotherly ways were at the heart of Bake Off’s seven-series success.
Prue, whose cookery career
spans five decades, may be similar to Mary in years (77 to 82), but in character couldn’t be more different. She is mischievous not meek; constructive rather than kind; in her own words ‘famously blunt’. But, somehow, it works: what Prue lacks in warmth she makes up for in wit, wisdom and some fabulously loud necklaces.
On screen and off, they all appear to have chemistry – though there is so much hand-patting and arm-- stroking in the press Q&a that a cynic might suggest they’ve got something to prove.
as for the bakers, they’re a lively, likeable bunch. Channel 4 seems keen to hammer home how eclectic they are – ‘It’s like my wedding day all over again, except my wife isn’t here,’ says one female contestant in the opening credits – but there’s really no need.
Episode one sees three challenges: a signature fruity cake, chocolate mini rolls and a so-called ‘illusion’ cake, declared by the rather-annoying male voiceover ‘the most complex challenge ever set in the first round of the Bake Off’. It’s impressive stuff – far beyond what any of us humble home-bakers could replicate – but certainly a feast for the eyes.
There’s everything we’ve come to expect from a Bake Off opener: tears, tension, oven-gazing – and not one but eight cakes thrown in the bin. Watch out for Flo, the Liverpudlian grandmother with a penchant for watermelon cocktails; Liam, the student who dares to speak back to Paul; and pretty brunette Sophie, who provokes much hilarity when she moulds a champagne bottle out of fondant icing.
The much-maligned ad breaks are, actually, not too bad. They don’t add to the tension, but they don’t disrupt it, either, falling naturally between the challenges (and, as Prue put it yesterday, much to the distress of Channel 4’s PRs, ‘you don’t have to watch it in real time, do you?’).
So, Bake Off is back – and it’s the same as ever. Minus Mary (sob). Those hoping for a ‘Channel 4 twist’ – something, anything, to show that the broadcaster has put their stamp on the show – will be sorely disappointed. Die-hard fans like me will simply be relieved to see that they’ve left it well alone.