Long after it has conquered everyone else, I’ve become obsessed with The Great British Bake-Off, which is now airing in the U.S. as The Great British Baking Show. (I don’t know why the title was changed; was “bake-off” too confusing a title for American audiences?) I could try and explain why, talk about the fact that it manages to marry what I enjoy about reality contests like Top Chef and Project Runway — neither of which I’ve seen in years, admittedly, and so may be entirely misremembering — with a kindness that’s surprising and pleasant, or that I find Mel and Sue’s hosting to be particularly charming. The truth of the matter is, though, that it makes me want to start baking again.
A couple years ago, I was big into baking, and experimenting with what I baked; a new (and eager) baker, I’d get books from the library and devour them, thinking well, what if I did this…? or maybe if I took this method and matched it with that recipe like an eager scientist. It was fun, and new; I enjoyed doing it a great deal. And then… Well, I’m not sure what happened; I want to be glib and say that 2014 happened, with its bad vibes and oppressive worldview, but I’m not sure that’s true. Somewhere, I started feeling as if I didn’t have time, or I was always too tired, to bake. I just stopped.
Watching The Great British Bake-Off, I feel — inspired isn’t the right word, but I feel excited about the prospect of baking again. This might end up being the year I get fat from baking cookies again. Watch out, world.