At the end of the seventh season of The Great British Bake Off, it wasn’t just the scones and quiches of losing finalists Jane and Andrew which were hastily thrown into the trash. The grand finale might have reached a record average audience of 14 million, but many more pounds was the cost of all the baking equipment tossed away thanks to the progamme’s move to Channel 4.
Sure, there is supposed to be a Christmas special, but amid all the squirted cream of filled meringues and Victoria sandwiches, this felt like the end. As Candice wept and pouted, her once vivid lipstick seemed to become smudged, lingering only as the bitter and crusty remnants of memory, because the time for baking is up.
Since Bake Off debuted on the BBC back in 2010, sales of bakeware have soared. Whether muffin tins, measuring cups, or piping nozzles, a whole assortment of baking implements have become commonplace in every home. And for every fougasse or Dampfnudel, which could be baked in customary trays or pans, there was something like the Savarin, requiring its own special mould.
Many homeowners undertook complete kitchen refurbishments, in order to find the space in their cupboards for all this new stuff. But moments after the last episode had finished, instead of taking to Twitter to splat batter over the result, amateur bakers the nation over instead tore up the shop.
They stormed into their kitchens and pulled out their traybakes, their traditional enamels, and their oven gloves, and shoved the lot into oversized bin liners, waiting in agitation for the weekly collection to come. Violent shouts were heard across streets from within otherwise respectable households, as people bellowed ‘Away with you, Swiss roll!’, and ‘I don’t need this damn ramekin no more!’.
Stammering and sputtering, one man decried his ‘B … b … b … bloody Bakewell tart!’. Another stated sadly, ‘I’m done with you, mousse’. And several young women threw out fresh fondant fancies, which only weeks earlier they had learned to lovingly ice. After all this stress, we need our feet up and the kettle, with nary a piece of parchment nor egg timer in sight. But what are we to serve with our tea without scones?
