The Great British Baking Show
Mexican Week Season 13 Episode 4 Editor’s Rating «Previous Next» « Previous Episode Next Episode The Great British Baking Show
Mexican Week Season 13 Episode 4 Editor’s Rating «Previous Next» « Previous Episode Next EpisodeI have long said that the country of Mexico should sue the United Kingdom at the Hague for the crime that is Mexican food on this here island (and the little bit of Ireland that colonialism won’t let go of). Remember the whole “You can’t put peas in guacamole” dustup on the internet a few years back? That didn’t happen in Britain because they put peas in everything. You can buy pea-flavored Kit Kats over here. (Okay, not really, though I shouldn’t give them any ideas.) There is actually a chain of Mexican — or should I say “Mexican-inspired” — restaurants here called Wahaca. That these people have to spell Oaxaca phonetically so they can to wrap their little tongues around it says it all.
Speaking of tongues, the way they pronounce some of the things the bakers have to make this week is just staggering. Paul Hollywood says “taco” with a curl to the a that sounds nothing like the “tah-co” you’d hear in America. He also says “pico de callow” as if the condiment doesn’t yet have enough experience. Compost Carole couldn’t even say the name of her own dish, calling it Pan Denise, as if it’s something Charlie Sheen’s ex-wife and former Real Housewife of Beverly Hills would cook in. Syabira pronounces both of the l’s in tortilla, but I am going to give her a pass because English is her second language and it’s not as if she was surrounded by great examples of pronunciation on this set.
Mexican week, as is often the case when they do these country-themed weeks, is a bit of a bust. It’s hard enough making amazing feats of pastry when the bakers know what they’re getting into; when they have to adapt to recipes that may be entirely unfamiliar to them, it gets even harder.
The whole signature challenge is pretty much dead in the dough. The bakers are tasked with making a dozen pan dulce, or sweet breads, not to be confused with sweetbreads, which are the organs of lambs or cows that people are somehow compelled to eat. Most of them choose to make conchas, the round, sweet rolls with a cracked top that you have definitely had if you’ve ever experienced a Mexican hotel-breakfast buffet. Many of them look delicious, especially Syabira’s corn-flavored treats that actually look like little corn cobs. But the judges keep telling everyone their dough didn’t rise enough and is underproved. Yeah, they’re underproved because you set a time restriction that was too tight. Paul Hollywood is walking around the tent going, “Underproved … Underproved… Underproved” as if he’s Robbie the Baking Robot and as if he had nothing to do with it. If you gave everyone 15 more minutes to let their dough rise, then you all could have enjoyed a bit of success and some delicious Mexican pastries.
The only person who really succeeds is sweet Scot James, who makes borrachitos, or “little drunkards,” which sort of look like a rum baba and are soaked in alcohol but have some frosting on the top and coconut on the bottom. Everyone else is failure after failure. Janusz: too bland. My lover Sandro (now with 100 percent more shaved eyebrow): not enough height. Rebs: dense AF. James: as much flavor as a Big Mac wrapper. Dawn: spilling out of themselves like Gerard Butler in a kid-size T-shirt. Abdul: so gross even Prue is like, “This is nasty. You have to try.” Maxy: Well, she’s okay. Dawn: could have been a Simpsons character ’cause they are Mr. Burned.
It’s a lot of F-minuses, but I have to give an even worse grade to the producers for the technical challenge. Everyone has to make steak tacos, including the tortillas. The problem with this is it is not a baking challenge; it is a cooking challenge. The vague recipe tells them, “Make refried beans.” That is just bullshit. These challenges are supposed to be a test of the bakers’ fundamentals and instincts. If it said, “Make a rough-puff pastry” or “Make a shortbread biscuit,” that is something every baker of this caliber should have mastered. But refried beans? What baker knows how to make that? What baker knows how to marinate steak? This is not Top Chef; this is Bake Off / Baking Show / Please Don’t Sue Us. If you aren’t using the oven even once, then it should be struck from the books.
I realize this might all sound like I hate these people and I hate this show; I promise you I do not. I love them all so much that I don’t want to see them treated unfairly. And I love the show so much that I hate when it makes silly reaches like this, thinking viewers need ingenuity when we just want the calm Xanax rush of watching people make amazing things they love.
I especially feel bad for Compost Carole. We see her trying to make guacamole (again, no recipe, as if it’s a buttercream frosting) and she’s peeling the avocado like a potato. Do they not have avocados where she’s a checkout person? Later, when pressing her tortillas, she has no idea how thin to make them and says she doesn’t know what a tortilla looks like. Seriously? Hasn’t one ever come down the checkout lane? She works in a supermercado!
When they get the results, Maxy comes out on top, followed by Syabira and Sandro. Compost Carole, James, and Rebs are at the bottom. And they’re at the bottom the whole episode, really. The editors even mention how much James and Rebs are struggling in order to telegraph what we know is soon to come: a double elimination.
The showstopper is to make a trés leches cake, and we learn something I never knew before: The three milks are condensed milk, evaporated milk, and double cream. Here I always thought it was cow, soy, and almond. And I’ve been to Mexico. Everyone has to make a four-layer cake with vibrant decorations and Mexican flavors soaked in a sweet liquid to make the sponge moist. The problem is that if it gets too wet, it will fall apart like Lea Michele when she finally found out she was cast in Funny Girl. But if there’s not enough, it will be too dry. But then isn’t that a problem with all cakes?
You can tell right away who is going to be in trouble. Rebs is making a tiramisu cake she says is a wedding cake so that it can be the “marriage of Italian and Mexican flavors.” That is the biggest cop-out I’ve ever heard, and I was alive when Bill Clinton said he didn’t inhale. (Look it up, kids!) James makes the cardinal sin of planning too much. He has his trés leches cake, and on top of it there is a fraisier cake, and there is a collar around the side and some cookies on top. I’m surprised he didn’t try to turn the whole thing into a sombrero-shaped chip ’n’ dip. Carole says she’s making an angel sponge, but when she pours her liquid onto it, she says angel sponge isn’t very absorbent. Um, then why did you choose it? That’s the whole point! Syabira, my poor sweet little angel, starts crying because her sweet-corn flavored cake, with actual creamed corn and kernels in it, won’t absorb anything. Thank you, Abdul, for being the audience stand-in and telling her it is going to be amazing no matter what.
It winds up being perhaps the best-looking of all the cakes with frosting flowers on top that look right out of a Mexican bakery window. But the judges aren’t impressed. Paul and Prue are surprised when it, you know, actually tastes like corn. Duh, guys! That’s the idea. It wasn’t for them. Fair enough.
James’s cake is also a disaster. You’ve heard of a hat on top of a hat. Well, James’s was a hat on top of a hat on top of opera gloves on top of visible garters on top of spats on top of another hat. And none of it is good. I love Kevin’s idea of making a four-layered Aztec (or, as Paul pointed out, Mayan) temple, but the milk is running out of it, and it’s lumpy. (I feel the way about the word lumpy that most people feel about the word moist.) Compost Carole’s is not at all the disaster it seemed it would be. It actually looks tasty with a nice squiggly chocolate collar around it complemented by bright-orange-and-green frosting. She might save herself yet.
Janusz’s cake looks amazing, and he says it is inspired by the fruits of Mexico. (I was similarly inspired the last time I was at a gay bar in Puerto Vallarta.) It looks like an actual dragon fruit with white frosting, little black dots of decoration, and a hot-pink effect lounging down the sides. Although a bit dry, it tastes just as nice as it looks in the judges’ estimation. Abdul gives us a nice effect with the Day of the Dead cake, which is honestly Noel baiting. Who is he? Charlie Puth? The judges are suitably impressed.
But not as impressed as I am by my lover Sandro’s cake, which has splatters of bright color all over it and a giant mustache in the middle. Is he just pandering to me now? Is he Charlie Puth 2: Back 2 the Closet? Prue says the two different types of sponge are “something of a little triumph,” the kind of faint praise that might be the biggest compliment you’ll ever get in Britain. The only bigger compliment goes to Dawn for her almost-minimalist all-white vanilla trés leches. As Prue is eating it, she says it’s heaven, and Paul is chewing and staring at her across the table with a smile like he’s Adam Levine and she’s a yoga instructor’s DMs.
Maxy’s cake looks wonderful, with abstract flowers all over the outside and some balloons to make it fun, but they agree it is too dry. Finally, we get Rebs with her leaning cake that is leaking all over the table. As they eat it, Paul is coughing because there is too much chile, and Prue — the sottiest Brit ever to stumble out of Soho — says there is too much booze.
Of course it has to be Rebs and James to go home — though, honestly, I probably would have kept James for another week over Compost Carole because of his performance throughout the rest of the series. The star baker is Maxy, which means that in four weeks we’ve had only two star bakers. It seems as though it’s a battle for the third slot in the finale along with Maxy and Janusz. Who do we think can take it? I would put equal money on my love Sandro and my sweet, sweet songbird Syabira, but let’s wait and see how everyone does next week, shall we? Thankfully, we will be out of Mexico and hopefully back on more familiar ground without peas in our guac.
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