It’s never half-baked to cheer on others in the tent

By Dr. Heather Bozant Witcher
Clarion Herald

I love “The Great British Baking Show” on Netflix.

Last fall, in the midst of pandemic baking, it was something my husband and I looked forward to each week. Not because we had time or the baking skills to attempt some of the bakes, but because of the competitors and overall friendliness inside the big tent.

In how many competitions do you find competitors helping one another? In how many do you get a genuine sense that the individuals become true friends, joined by a common passion? In how many do we perceive an overwhelming sense of wholesomeness – a lack of politics?

Certainly, you can attribute it to British politeness and the general love affair that most Americans have with the British. (How adorable is it when they say “snooker” table for what we call a “pool” table?) And, of course, how much competition can there be when the prize, ultimately, is an engraved cake stand?

But there has to be a reason that more than 12,000 people apply to become one of the 12 contestants. And there has to be a reason that the show has amassed a kind of cult following – here and across the pond.

Part of the allure is the sense of identification. These are home bakers. In the season that’s currently airing, one of the contestants asserts that he’s new to baking as an outcome of the pandemic. Others have been baking since they were children.

The very range of ability and the emphasis on baking as a hobby, as something that brings passion or inspires them and the family and friends surrounding them, affirms that these are everyday people.

And it’s more than just this sense of identification. Especially last year, in the midst of uncertainty, the “Bake Off” tent provided a sense of calm and comfort. When I’ve had a long week – and certainly when I’ve had a miserable week – what do I look for most? Comfort food. Mac and cheese. Roast and mashed potatoes. Lasagna. The “tent” feels the same: With Netflix airing new episodes weekly, there’s that same sense of comfort.

Inside the tent, the chaos of the world surrounding us disappears. There’s only the worry of a “soggy bottom” or receiving a Paul Hollywood handshake. The same is true for viewers at home – when a bake goes horribly wrong, I cringe with the bakers, and I anticipate the critique of the judges.

In many ways, “The Great British Baking Show” feels like nostalgia. Maybe it’s because baking runs in my family, and some of the fondest memories I have of my great-grandmother is of her baking. But I think there’s also the constant reminder of kindness, of generosity and community and of being so passionate about something that that very passion draws you together with others.

Most of the contestants work full-time jobs and have families; baking seems to be what grounds them, what keeps them sane.

And maybe that’s, ultimately, the appeal – the competition embraces a simplistic model of living. Finding something that we’re passionate about, something that truly brings us joy, so that we can share that happiness with those around us.

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