In the early days of quarantine, I was so obsessed with Bon Appetit test cooking videos that I began to wonder if this was a diagnosable condition. I was serious. I watch videos over and over every day - usually the same videos, videos I've watched before, as background music to whatever else I'm doing that day.
Overnight, the soothing effect of these videos was lost when kitchens exploded with racially insensitive coverage. For me, its spot has been filled by The Great British Baking Show , the last resort of mild, food-related content that I desperately try to comfort myself with. Like "Test Kitchen," there's a joyful air here, in which the disaster of the entire world is only mentioned in the broadest sense, and the greatest tragedy that could occur is that of an overworked dough that doesn't rise properly.
A lot has been written about the show since it started airing on Netflix (in the UK it's The Great Britain Bake-Off , but in the US the title needed to be changed slightly due to copyright issues), but If you're not familiar, here's the basics: every year, 12 amateur bakers from across the UK are invited into a tent to compete in three weekly challenges around a theme. The weakest member of the herd is eliminated, and then the remaining bakers compete again the next week until only one is crowned champion.
Even though it gets a little cheesy and self-indulgent, it's worth remembering that this show has always been as artificial as the distilled essence of bubblegum.
No bonus. There are no secret tricks to any challenge. No time limit will be strictly adhered to so that the baker can't get something "on the plate", as might happen on an American show, and the heart-pounding music will climax as the countdown approaches zero. Screen. No, in the land of GBBO , the time limit is usually given in the form of a pun by the two presenters, and the strongest adjective I can use for the background score is "bracing."
But in recent years, there have been voices of dissatisfaction among Baking Show fans. They whispered that the show had changed . There have been some tangible changes, of course: the show moved from the BBC to Channel 4, prompting much-loved judge Mary Berry and presenters Mel and Sue to quit. But the more insidious changes are more subtle.
As the show grew in popularity, it was presented with a mythologized self-importance. The show itself now knows that the Paul Hollywood handshake is a big deal, and they'll milk the significance out of it, just like they milk all the cute ways the bakers fan their cakes with their pans for seemingly no reason. The show knows its own memes. The challenge became more Instagram-friendly and less of a "traditional British granny classic". The stakes are higher and more obvious. People scoffed, and it had become a victim of its own popularity. Like your last boyfriend's favorite rock band, this show gets better and more authentic before it becomes cool.
It's a representation of British culture that only exists in the Paddington movies and the "Keep Calm and Carry On" poster industrial complex.
With all due respect, I politely disagree. Even though it gets a little cheesy and self-indulgent, it's worth remembering that this show has always been as artificial as the distilled essence of bubblegum (don't put it in your cake, Paul never liked it! ). It's a representation of British culture that only exists in the Paddington movies and the "Keep Calm and Carry On" poster industrial complex. Intellectually, I know that not every British person bakes lemon cake while drinking tea and politely helping those around them at any given moment, but as an American, for the past four years, I have been Fighting the dark pit I once encountered. Believing that the core dignity of my country might exist, it was fun to pretend that a different world existed on the other side of the Atlantic. A better world.
I would watch old episodes on repeat, playing them on a loop for just a few days, half-listening to Paul's criticisms in his northern accent while folding laundry or doing the dishes. I live alone so quarantine has been long stretches of silence for me and I have Noel Fielding and Sandi Toksvig keeping me company (for the record I miss Mary, Mel and Sue but I don't mind the new guards - Prue's chunky necklace is fun, especially now that Matt Lucas is here and Noel seems to be having a lot of fun). This is no different than turning on the radio for your dog.
It's nice to think that we're all delving into Battenberg cake flavor combinations at the same time.
The show's growing popularity has never bothered me—in fact, it's reduced the number of explanations I used to offer to strangers to justify my obsession. Now, they tend to be obsessed too. This gave The Great British Baking Show a new comforting power, a unifying monocultural effect. We're all quarantined in our homes, but it's nice to think that we're all delving into Battenberg cake flavor combinations at the same time.
I know The Great British Baking Show isn't perfect - it's just a TV show. A better writer than me might be able to draw a clear line between its mythology of jolly old England and the scare campaign that led to Brexit.
But sometimes the cake is just cake. For me, right now, at this moment, I need to stick to a simple show with a simple structure, where no one cries over spilled batter, and where good people can show off something they do just for the love of baking.
In Just Why, Dana Schwartz explores the weird and sublime pop culture moments discussed on the Internet this week.
