The Daily Telegraph

How one programme transforme­d British kitchens and TV

From puns to pans, we owe a lot to GBBO, says Eleanor Steafel as the 10th series begins

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Incredible as it might seem, a decade has passed since it first hit our screens. It is now possible to have a sensible conversati­on with someone who can’t remember a time before the Great British Bake Off. In an era when entire series are binged on Netflix, Bake Off has managed to remain appointmen­t-toview television. X Factor is flounderin­g, Big Brother is no more, even Love Island has struggled to maintain its viewer numbers. But this unassuming show about sponge fingers begins its 10th series tonight, and is just as popular as ever.

You could write a thesis about why we love it – and doubtless there are media studies students who have come up with complex theories – but, to my mind, the main reason for Bake Off’s appeal is simply that it is a beacon of kindness and cosiness in a time of shouting and division.

The world might be going to hell in a handbasket, but for an hour every Tuesday night you can watch 13 jolly souls having a minor breakdown because they can’t find the marrons glacés. And while the programme has had its ups and downs – the move from the BBC to Channel 4, with Mary Berry replaced by Prue Leith, and Paul Hollywood staying on – the format has remained reassuring­ly the same.

It might be too far to say that Bake Off changed the face of Britain, but it does feel as though it has given us an awful lot. So as the 10th series begins tonight, we thank a decade’s worth of Bake Off for…

Transformi­ng our kitchens

There was a time when we saved up for a new car, or the holiday of a lifetime. Now, our money goes on the kitchen. Can you really call yourself a baker if you don’t own a pastelcolo­ured Kitchenaid mixer (or at least a Kenwood)? What do you mean, you don’t have a set of copper measuring cups? Then there’s the all-important vintage-look Smeg fridge and the Kilner jars, not to mention THAT oven with the magic sliding door. Incidental­ly, remember the time in series eight when Stacey’s oven door came flying off and she had to hold it on to save her 18th-century Savoy cake? It was the first time in Bake Off history that someone had sworn on camera. This level of high drama is why we watch.

Getting children baking

Unless you were one of those faintly irritating families where the children don’t have screens and spend their spare time frolicking outdoors, the idea of spending afternoons baking together used to be a foreign concept. Bake Off changed that. By the time it moved to Channel 4 in 2017, the show was watched by more young people than any other series on TV, sending kids and teenagers alike into the kitchen demanding ingredient­s and kit. Their inheritanc­e may have gone on recreating the Bake Off tent in your kitchen, but a whole generation can now confidentl­y knock up a Victoria sandwich – something that hadn’t been true for decades PRE-GBBO. And the proof of the pudding is in the eating: this year’s cast is the youngest ever, with the majority in their 20s.

Raising a new breed of TV star

It’s the characters that make the show. Indeed, when the new, youthful line-up was revealed last week, one article opined “Bring back Val!” – the then 66-yearold retired head teacher from series seven who claimed her cakes “sang” to her. There still aren’t many shows that would put an older woman with talent and natural warmth in front of the camera and let her shine, without exploiting her or setting her up to humiliate herself. From Howard “who stole my custard?” Middleton, to mega stars like Nadiya Hussain, the programme attracts wonderful people, many of whom have gone on to have extraordin­ary careers. More please.

Giving us puns

I’m on board with Noel Fielding and Sandi Toksvig as the presenters of Channel 4’s Bake Off, but I do sometimes miss the punning of Mel and Sue on the BBC. I remember one particular occasion during a Tudor-themed week when Sue announced to the frantic bakers halfway through a two-hour challenge: “That’s an Aragon.” Gold.

The original line-up also brought us such linguistic delights as “soggy bottom”. I think we can all agree we have learnt a lot of baking double entendre. Though pity the poor confused American viewers who, when the British version of the show aired across the pond, were left

googling “baps” and “buns”.

Moving with the times

It’s an old-fashioned concept, but it does a good job of keeping up with food fads, without pandering to them. Series one was scones and all-butter pastry, but these days vegan and gluten-free bakes get an airing, reflecting our changing eating habits. Lest we forget, though, vegan week was a bit of a disaster last year, with someone’s show-stopper falling over, while another’s caved in on itself and a third attempt was labelled a “pitiful sight” by the judges.

Cooking up a new era of TV

As always in telly land, once you find a formula that works, the door is open to create as many versions as you can muster. Enter: The Great British Sewing Bee, The Great Pottery Throw Down, The Great Interior Design Challenge – it seems we can’t get enough of watching normal people attempt niche skills on screen. It shouldn’t work, but it does. I’m still waiting for the Great British Whittle Off to be commission­ed.

Making us (over)ambitious

How many people, I wonder, have watched nine series of Bake Off and now think they can make their best friend’s multi-tiered wedding cake for a mere 120 guests? I can recall one year when my sister and I attempted a croquembou­che to disastrous effect after watching choux pastry week. Such is Bake Off’s power that demand for specific ingredient­s used by the contestant­s can soar in a matter of hours. One year, demand for Peruvian goldenberr­ies spiked by 180 per cent overnight, and antigravit­y cake kits are now one of Lakeland’s top-selling accessorie­s.

Introducin­g us to niche historical cakes

There was the rudely named Schichttor­te – a German cake where each layer is cooked under a grill. Then came the sfogliata, Victorian tennis cake, mokatines, Spanische Windtorte, and Kouign-amann. You didn’t know you needed these archaic cakes in your life, but try to tell me at least one of them hasn’t come up in a pub quiz.

Encouragin­g men to bake

From Paul “Silver Fox” Jagger’s lion bread to Selasi Gbormittah’s lemon curd, and Rahul Mandal’s edible rock garden – the show has broken the stigma around men baking. And it’s provided us with the occasional heart-throb, too. Who could forget Dr Tamal Ray from series six? Come to think of it, I wonder if anyone has thought of bringing out a Bake Off Boys calendar? It’d turn good trade at a Women’s Institute Christmas fete.

Bringing back kitsch

Everyone feared it would be tarnished with edginess when it moved to Channel 4, but Bake Off still does a reassuring­ly good line in bunting, gingham and doilies. It isn’t just the decor, it’s the old-fashioned humour (“careful your Croatian buns don’t Split”), the cakes, even the theme tune. Thanks to Bake Off, the cutesy, ridiculous and plain silly are alive and kicking. Long may they last.

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 ??  ?? Recipe for success: presenters Sandi Toksvig and Noel Fielding (standing), and judges Paul Hollywood and Prue Leith, main; above, vegan cake disasters last year; “Bring Back Val” Stones, below; and the ubiquitous mixers, left
Recipe for success: presenters Sandi Toksvig and Noel Fielding (standing), and judges Paul Hollywood and Prue Leith, main; above, vegan cake disasters last year; “Bring Back Val” Stones, below; and the ubiquitous mixers, left
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