Only tiers we want are on Peter’s winning cake
Jeepers, creepers… the Bake Off prize is Peter’s.
Well, it could be come Tuesday, ’cause he’s in the final. Can you believe it… we’ve reached our second final in a fortnight?
First, we were whipped into peaks of ecstasy as Scotland made it through to Euro 2020. When David Marshall saved that penalty, some of us collapsed like dodgy souffles. The stress was so exhausting, we’ve barely noticed the two defeats since.
And here we are again, poised at the edge of greatness, daring to believe. Maybe, just maybe, we can rise to the occasion.
This time the expectation of a nation is carried on the slender shoulders of a 20-year-old finance and accountancy student from Edinburgh.
Not since Shetland doctor-in-training James Morton (remember his Fair Isle tank tops?) took us to the brink of glory in the 2012 series have we teetered so close to proving ourselves bakery sophisticates, connoisseurs of the elegant pud.
Deep fried Mars bars? Pah! They were always an urban myth. We’re the type of country that likes pistachio mousse and mirror glaze and gingerbread haggis filled with cranachan (one of Peter’s more outlandish creations).
I’ve made no secret of the fact that young Master Sawkins has been my GBBO favourite from the start. Host Noel Fielding has nicknamed him the “baby-faced assassin” and he’s definitely deadly with a KitchenAid mixer and a palette knife.
But oh, Prince Pete of the Perfect Patisserie is far too sweet to be an assassin, with his lovely smile of very straight teeth and the bashful blushing he does whenever Fielding cracks a naughty joke about a pastry horn.
Peter speaks like a church minister at a wartime tea dance (have you ever heard another 20-year- old say “righty-ho” or “jeepers creepers”?), he’s thoughtfully become an expert in “gluten free” baking because his brother has an intolerance and – without a trace of macho self-censorship – he admits listening to his cakes to hear them bubble as they bake.
Doesn’t every uni student do that? Imagine the wild and crazy parties at his flat… crowded round the oven, listening to a lemon sponge.
Peter didn’t even put any booze in the semi-final signature bake while the others were ladelling in rum and tequila, flavouring it instead with elderflower and strawberry, which was when I started to wonder myself… is this lad actually Scottish?
But no. Back away from the doubts. Peter’s the real deal – calm, confident, a caring and sensitive yet competitive Scot.
In these troubled times, when everything around can seem very gloomy and there’s little to smile about, he’s a welcome ray of hope, something to cheer our nights and lift our spirits.
Last week, in his shorts and Hawaii shirt, he not only won Star Baker for a second time, he also earned a Hollywood Handshake, a rare acknowledgement from dour judge Paul.
He’s now the bookies’ favourite to win. Of course, Peter himself already knows the result – the series was filmed in summer – but the rest of us have to wait till Tuesday.
And I hope it’s not putting him under too much pressure to know that we could really use the triumph. We’re counting on it.
Half the country is in full lockdown again. We’re banned from going anywhere, seeing anyone, doing anything but watching TV.
Small victories are much appreciated right now. A knockout showstopper from the first Scot – and youngest contestant – to win Bake Off won’t change the world. Neither will Scotland reaching the finals of Euro 2020. But we’ll seize the joy where we can and savour the moment. We have to – ’cause there may just be a couple of defeats around the corner.
So we’re rooting for you, Peter. Dig deep, whisk well, bake beautifully, ice neatly and bring home the prize for all of us. Show us that nice guys do win. We can almost hear the bubbles in your cake… they’re telling us to believe.