The Not-So-Great-Bake-Along '25 - Week 9

Well, that was a well-received, not-controversial, entirely sane Bake Off semi-final. Just kidding! What an absolute shit show of an episode. 

We had puff pastry in a heat wave, we had yet another showstopper with a nonsensical height distinction, we had advanced pastry-chef techniques in the technical (on this show which, a reminder, is for amateur bakers), and we went into the final act break on a series of close-ups on crying contestants. 

There’s so much to complain about. Paul seemingly gunning for Tom who, while not my favourite, did not deserve to be ripped to shreds for making an incredible solid chocolate beehive just because it wasn’t entirely covered in macarons. The elimination of Toby - which I’ve elected not to have an opinion on, because really any of the three boys could have gone home. Then, there was the absolute hell of the technical challenge - the Framboisier - which I had a normal and sane time attempting to recreate. Really, I did. 

The Rules:

• I have to recreate, to the best of my ability, the Technical Challenge. 
• I will not be looking at any kind of recipe. Each week, I have to do this purely with some context from the show and my own store of baking knowledge. 
• The time limit: The maximum amount of time I’ll be allowing myself is the time given to the bakers. However, as I don’t want to be wasting food and I don’t have a vast team of producers and camera operators to eat my bakes, I will sometimes be scaling my bakes down. When that happens, I’ll be reducing my total time accordingly. 
• The judging: I do not have handy professionals available to judge me. I have, however, considered purchasing some fabric to make my own gingham altar. I will be judging myself, and I’m a raging bitch so I won’t be particularly lenient. My partner will be scoring as well, and probably his office mates if there’s too much cake for us to consume in one sitting. 
• The equipment: I like to think I’ve got the sort of decently-stocked kitchen any skilled home baker would have. If a technical challenge requires specialist equipment I don’t have, I won’t be buying anything for the occasion. I will be MacGyvering it, and adjusting my handicaps accordingly. 

Pâtisserie Week - Framboisier

Obviously, I have never made one of these before, because this is something that requires precision - one of my many weaknesses. Still, with two and a half hours on the clock, I bravely dive in. 

Starting off with the sponge - a genoise. I can’t pronounce it, but magically have the ratios memorised - 4:2:2:1 (Eggs, flour, sugar, butter) - and have some context of how to make it come together from watching the show. I whisk eggs and sugar over a bain-marie, whip them up to the ribbon stage, actually bother to sieve and fold in my flour rather than just dumping, stirring, and hoping for the best. I even do a little clever chef trick, mixing some of the batter into my melted butter and folding that mixture back into the main cake goop, which allows the fat to amalgamate better. Aren’t I clever? 

Feeling very proud of myself for seemingly getting something right, and with twenty minutes gone, I pop the cake into the oven. 

Next up, creme mousseline. I’ve never made this before, but I know my way around a creme patissiere, so I get that part done. In place of blitzing my own pistachios, I’ve whisked in some pistachio cream, because if I try and blend nuts my food processor will give up the ghost for good. 

Forty minutes into the challenge, and my cake is out and chilling, with my custard cooling down. Now comes the bit where I turn that custard into a mousseline, through the judicious application of butter. The contestants knew how much butter to add, but didn’t know they needed to wait for the custard to cool. I’ve got that context, but no idea how much butter is needed. I throw in most of a block, until I’ve got a mixture that looks like it might set. It’s taken a strange hue of green from the pistachios, and I decide not to worry about it. 

Next up, because there are so many damn components in this recipe, I decide to finish up making everything that requires my stand mixer, so I can get the bastard out of the way. I make marzipan - my nemesis - by mixing ground almonds, icing sugar, some of the pistachio cream, and some egg white. I add too much egg white. The mixture is definitely too wet. I decide that’s a problem for future me, and that it will probably be fine after it’s sat in the fridge for a bit. (Spoilers: It was not fine.) There’s an hour and fifteen minutes left. 

I whip some cream, stick it in a piping bag and pop that in the fridge. This passes without incident. 

With an hour to go, and the threat of a sugar dome still lurking, I start on assembly. I do not have the right size cake mold, or acetate. I do not let this stop me, assuming that a slightly-too big cake ring and some baking parchment will be fine. The cake cuts in half without incident. I brush the inside with a mixture of gin and raspberry liqueur, carefully place my neatly-cut raspberries, pipe in the creme mousseline, brush the other cake and pop that on top, and definitely do not knock back the remaining raspberry gin. 

The marzipan is too sticky. I decide it will be fine if I roll it out between two sheets of baking parchment. I do so, take the top sheet off, cut out a circle for the top of the cake, and brush the marzipan with apricot jam so that it’ll stick to the cake. I pop it on top. I try to remove the other sheet of baking parchment. It’s not budging. I decide this will be fine, and stick the whole assemblage in the fridge.

Next up is the fondant flower. I should be clear at this point: I do have professional baking experience. I was a chef, and my last job was at a restaurant/cafe where we made a lot of our own baked goods. I was not, however, a pastry chef, and didn’t have to make things particularly pretty. This is all to justify that I have never made a fondant flower, and almost certainly never will again. 

Still, with a pack of pre-made fondant, I make something vaguely flower-ish. Actually, I was quite proud of it. Sure, the lurid red of the icing makes it look a bit like one of those salami roses on an over-garnished charcuterie board, and yes it’s slightly wonky, but it’s a passable effort. 

With thirty-six minutes to go, I start on the dreaded sugar dome. I do not own a thermometer, which definitely doesn’t help matters. The first attempt fails - the clingfilm won’t bubble up. The second attempt melts right through the clingfilm. The third attempt looks like, maybe, it might decide to be a dome - if it sets. Obviously, there’s a massive cake in the way, so this attempt cannot go in the fridge. I stick it to one side and realise, somehow, those two failed attempts and third soon-to-be-considered failed attempt have taken up twenty odd minutes. I have thirteen left. 

Finally, I have to face the failings of past-me. That marzipan is not coming off the paper. Past me is a dick. I try to scrape it off and spread it across the top of the cake. This does not work, but does ruin any chance of the sides looking neat at the end, thanks to the added pressure on the cake. 

I scrape the goopy marzipan into a bowl. All of the apricot jam comes with it. I frantically add more icing sugar until it’s almost rollable. I try, multiple times, and eventually manage a disc of marzipan that I can drape over the top of the cake. I try. I half-miss the cake. The marzipan is torn. I manage a last ditch patchwork rescue, and accept that I brought this particular failing on myself. I plop the fondant flower on top. 

I check the timer, and realise that all of that nonsense took up my remaining time - I have two minutes left. I demold the cake - as predicted, the sides aren’t looking so neat any more. I check the sugar dome - which obviously hasn’t set, even a little bit. I abandon it. With a minute to go, I heave a sigh of not quite relief, but acceptance. I did something. I am done. 

Two minutes after the timer goes off, I remember the whipped cream in the fridge. It’s not quite in the spirit of the challenge, sure, but I’m not going to not put whipped cream on the cake - I’m not an animal. I manage to pipe the cream on in thirty seconds, so I would have come in under the time limit if I hadn’t forgotten its existence. And I think that’s just fine. 

The Judging

 My partner is quite impressed. ‘The flower looks like a flower’, he tells me. I’ll take it. He gives me a nine for flavour, and a seven for appearance. I’m actually in agreement. The cake is delicious, and it would be a ten if not for the marzipan. (It tastes fine, I just hate marzipan). I’m not taking that many points off for missing the sugar dome - only one person on the show managed it, after all, and it’s not a technique I’d expect a non-professional to be proficient with. I have made a technically perfect genoise sponge and creme mousseline, and I’m actually rather proud of that. 

Which brings me to the eternal question: was this fair? Was it fuck. This is getting to be a common refrain: If everyone gets it wrong, the problem is the challenge, not the bakers. 

Usually, when I’m calling out a challenge for being unfair, it’s down to the timings. That’s definitely a part of it - this is a lot to achieve in two and a half hours, especially considering the intimidating sugar work that cannot be multi-tasked - you need to allow half an hour for that and that alone. 

This is more than just timings though - this is five technically challenging components, all with incredibly vague instructions. Again, these are meant to be amateur bakers. This was a challenge that just set them up to fail. 

And that’s why I started looking at this aspect of Bake Off. This is the show marketed as the ‘nice’ alternative to mean, shouty reality competitions. It’s just not nice anymore. Those close-ups on crying contestants, these absolute disasters - this isn’t a good challenge, and it’s really awful television. 

Next week - the grand final. I’m sure it will be a delight.