The Not-So-Great-Bake-Along Week 6

What fresh hell is this? It’s a pie! You might have noticed this Bake Off write-up is coming out a little late. Don’t worry, unlike last year I did not decide to opt out of pastry week for the sake of my mental health. I’m just dying. (Read: I had a bit of a cold over the last few days and opted to be a little bitch about it.) 

Anyway, pastry week! A delight! By a delight, I mean it’s been almost a week and I barely remember the episode. I do recall being irritated at the showstopper. Not at first - the sculpted tart model walks were a delight. But then, as it went on, the rage began. What was the point of this challenge? Make a nice tart, and then balance some biscuits on top and hope they don’t crumble like my resolve to enjoy this damned show? Why must the showstoppers all come with some specific height demands? Do these showstoppers need to be able to ride rollercoasters? 

Anyway, rant over. I made a pie!

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. 

Pastry Week - Gala Pie

Two challenges face me before I’ve even started the timer. I do not own a pie mould, because I am a normal person, and I do not own a mincer, for similar reasons. Loaf tin and knife work it is! 

I’ve also never made hot water crust pastry before, but I’m not going to let a silly thing like a distinct lack of knowledge get in the way of a challenge that’s entirely based on my own baking knowledge. As I’ve never done one of these pies before, I decided to approach the timing slightly differently. Rather than just allotting myself the time limit the bakers have, I chose to just note down how long everything took, and see if I ended up with an edible pie in a reasonable time fra,e. 

First - the filling. Boiling eggs, at least, I’m fairly confident I can manage. The meat, I’m not so sure about. I start hacking up pork shoulder and bacon, and eventually mix in some sausage meat, some fresh sage (that I grew myself! In my garden!), and whatever other seasonings I have on hand. At the time I was making this, I was definitely already coming down with something, which made every single part of the process a sensory nightmare. I did not enjoy mixing my pork. 

My eggs are boiled. I peel them. I have over-cooked them. This is more sensory hell, and I’m not feeling overly confident in my abilities. I’m twenty minutes in. 

Next, pastry! I melt lard in water, because I think that’s what the bakers did. I rub butter into flour, because that’s what the bakers did. I am guessing on all of these quantities, and I end up with something resembling a dough. It is horrible to work with, and leaves a lardy sheen on my hands. I curse Paul Hollywood’s name a bit, before lining my loaf tin (because I am not acquiring a pie mould for this nonsense) and filling it with meat, eggs and more meat. More pastry on top. I faff about a bit with some freehand pastry leaves, and cut the all-important steam hole. Forty-five or so minutes in, and my pie is in the oven. 

I realise I cannot remember anything about temperatures or cook times from the show. I think about going back to watch it, consider the possibility of sitting through the ads on the channel 4 app, and abandon that plan. I’ll start hot, then turn the oven down a bit, and hope for the best. 

Next, picallili! Fun to say, less fun to make, and very much this week’s ‘give the cameras something to film while stuff bakes’ task. I duly chop a cauliflower, a shallot, and some carrots because I forgot to buy green beans and I think a splash of orange might be nice. I’ve never made piccalilli before, so I’m basing this process on the giardiniera I made a few weeks ago, and brining the vegetables for a bit. If I wasn’t doing a timed challenge, I’d be doing this overnight, but Paul Hollywood wants me to suffer. 

While the veg is having a salty little bath, I start on the piccalilli dressing. I know this is meant to contain scarily yellow mustard powder, and have the requisite Colman’s tin. I’m also assuming it’s basically a vinaigrette, of sorts. I mix the mustard powder with oil and vinegar and a bit of sugar, and throw in a handful of spices that I think might taste nice. There’s celery salt, turmeric, cumin, fennel seeds, some other stuff I randomly grabbed out of the cupboard, a partridge, a pear tree, and a bit of chilli. 

I do tend to season things by vibe, by smell, and by what mood I’m in. It usually works. However, this ability is the first thing to leave me when I’m coming down with something. By this point, I was definitely coming down with something. I taste the mixture at this point, and it’s just not punch enough. I add more mustard powder, and a bit more chilli. 

I remember that the contestants had to add flour, and cook the mixture out a bit, so I add flour. It does not occur to me, at any point, that those flavours are going to develop and get stronger, especially when I cook the flour out. 

I am, at this point, very bored. Around an hour and a half has gone by. I rinse the veg, cook out the piccalilli sauce, and chuck the veg in to soften a bit in the residual heat. Finally, I can taste my glorious creation. 

I have made, if not a mistake, then possibly a little error. I wanted a punchy piccalilli. What I have made is a kick-you-in-the-tits piccalilli. An angry piccalilli. A Get-more-coffee-It’s-horrid-Change-it-Take-me-roughly-from-behind-No-not-like-that-like-this-Trousers off-Tackle out-Walk-the-dog-Where’s-my-presents piccalilli. It’s definitely yellow. It’s possibly nuclear. I am not sure this is how piccalilli is supposed to be. It’s quite tasty though, once you get past the eyeball-melting qualities. 

At this point, two hours have passed. The pie has baked for an hour. It looks cooked. It smells cooked. (Actually, it’s made my entire kitchen smell like Greggs sausage rolls). I risk taking it out. At this point, I decide to use the rest of that 3 hour time limit to let the pie cool, before I attempt to get it out of the tin. 

The next hour passes without incident. I eat dinner. With ten minutes to go, I successfully get the pie on a plate. It holds it’s shape. It is now 8pm. Really, I want the pie to be fully cooled down before I actually have to cut into it (I’m not counting that cooling time as part of the challenge, to be fair). I last an hour, before giving up because I’d really like to sleep. 

The Judging. 

I cut into the pie. One side of the pastry immediately collapses. Liquid spills out of the side.  With some finagling, I manage to cut a slice with a neat little egg cross section. At least the meat is cooked. The pastry, not quite so much. 

My partner gives me an eight for appearance - admittedly basing this on the look of the pie before the structural collapse - and a seven for flavour - the filling is good but I’m marked down for the pastry. He does not appreciate the dangerous piccalilli. 

I’m giving myself a four for appearance, because a side of the pie is very much not attached to the rest of it. I’ll give myself a six for flavour. As my partner so succinctly put it, ‘meat is good’. So, can I make a pork pie? Not really. BUT can I season meat? Apparently so. I’ll take that. And I’ll never make this again. 

Was this a fair challenge? Honestly, yeah. I don’t really have a lot of thoughts on this, for once. It was simple, the contestants had a decent time frame, especially considering they weren’t mincing by hand, and it was definitely doable. I’d just rather not think about it. 

Next week - meringue week! Which looks like it will actually be ‘egg white’ week, but that’s got less of a ring to it. If someone makes a baked alaska in the shape of a bin, I’ll be a very happy person.