Lauren Bair“Ready, set, bake!” I’ve been waiting all year for the new season of “The Great British Baking Show” to drop on Netflix. But along with jaw-dropping sugar sculptures, multi-tiered cakes, and savory pies made by regular home bakers, this time audiences get a heaping spoonful of DEI with an emphasis on the G and Q in LGBTQ.
“It’s rather profound, actually,” cookbook author and new judge Nigella Lawson tells contestant Gabe, admiring his cake while clutching her chest. A breakaway candy mirror reveals his self-portrait. “I suppose a lot of us feel we have a person beyond the surface,” she affirms.
Gabe nods, “Yeah, very much so,” wearing a blue sequin headpiece with horns and pointy ears. It’s just one of his drag looks. He throws it off to wolf whistles and woos.
My heart drops like an ice cream cone to the floor. I love this show. Like, love it. Have we met? Because I probably already told you to watch it. Unlike American reality shows where no one’s “here to make friends,” contestants on “The Great British Baking Show” vie for weekly status as Star Baker as well as the ultimate series champion by lovingly supporting each other. It’s shockingly wholesome. The same goes for the stunning creations by amateur bakers who still work jobs, go to school, and raise families while practicing their bakes multiple times per week to prepare for each challenge.
Every baker’s call home brings tears to my eyes as a loved one on the other end of the line chokes up too, confirming, “I always believed in you!” That’s why this season breaks my heart.
The first episode begins by introducing home-baker Shannon, who’s “passing down her love of sweet treats to her sister.” We then meet Tom, an openly gay hairdresser who “learned to bake at the knee of his two grandmothers,” still family-coded. We quickly move on to Gary, a retiree raising chickens with his wife of 30 years.
Then there’s Yannis, the pediatric doctor, Clara with a pet hedgehog named Pecan, and Moyin, the college athlete who lives with his mom. Quirky Danni coins the term “indeed-a-roonie,” Nikki brings the mom vibes, nurse Connie enjoys traveling with her hubby, Molly navigates newlywed life via wheelchair, and law student Mo hits the gym with his best buds.
Lastly, so as not to oversaturate us with moral clarity, the show introduces Gabe. His septum piercing couldn’t have possibly spoiled the revelations that would unfold in 15 seconds.
“Gabe lives with partners Ellis and Tyler,” host and comedian Noel Fielding narrates as home footage features two-thirds of the happy male throuple cradling their pet dachshunds, Dill and Sage, as Gabe toils over the stove. He’s “an artist by day,” Fielding coos as we see Gabe pull a sequin costume through a sewing machine. “By night, Gabe becomes the daddy of Birmingham drag.”
The narration continues as if Fielding were reading “Winnie-the-Pooh” to his own children. Gabe emerges from a red velvet curtain as his drag king persona, Blü Romantic. He looks like the Temu wife of the genie from “Aladdin” — blue from feathered headdress to toe — in a tragically low-riding corset, rhinestone jewelry, velour gloves, heavy lashes, and his natural mustache. Behind him, a marquee blasts “SHOWTIME!” reminding us via neon lights that it’s all about “truth, beauty, freedom, love.”
For a second, I couldn’t remember what show I was watching. I returned to earth when the focus moved back to Gabe’s peanut butter stout cake with peanut brittle and buttercream frosting. Spoiler: Paul Hollywood called it “bland,” telling Gabe, “Your flavor’s just dead.” The ultimate burn for the cake and its flaming baker.
You can hide a myriad of culinary sins with extra Swiss meringue and cherries. But this isn’t one of them. I’m team You Do You In Your Free Time, but I can’t stand by as the best baking-related reality show on TV gets stuck in the rainbow quicksand. It seems that no one cares that kids or grandmas might be watching — or anyone else who doesn’t regularly attend drag brunch or snatch their undies so tight they require a “tuck.”
There have, of course, been openly gay contestants on the show since it launched in 2010. And the multicultural aspect is a given — and usually a delight — as contestants from all over Europe (only U.K. residents can enter the show) lend inspired flavors to traditional English bakes. But no matter what, the spotlight was always on baking. The casual introduction of a drag king living in a threesome as if it was just another day at the office was more shocking than a frozen casserole dish shoved under the broiler.
“The Great British Baking Show” tried to fold this little nugget into the broader story of beloved judge Dame Prue Leith leaving the show this season as Nigella Lawson stepped in to judge alongside Paul Hollywood. As much as I loved Prue’s wisdom, unwitting double entendres, and colorful, funky accessories, Nigella has always fascinated me with her too-much-is-just-enough style of cooking.
She also once pronounced “microwave” as “mee-krow-WAH-vay” on her BBC show “Nigella’s Cook, Eat, Repeat” — a moment that has stuck with me forever. She relishes the gooey mess of life in the kitchen: she takes awkwardly giant bites of cake on camera, and she talks with her mouth full. She’s perfect for the show.
But Nigella also demonstrates how we’ve been conditioned by Netflix and mainstream entertainment to champion the character of the gay friend. Hey, some of my favorite people are gay, but there’s a noticeable tendency on screen to coddle these contestants. Nigella describes Tom and Gabe’s bakes as “fabulous.” And after she advises Tom that his cake is “looking good,” he responds, “as are you.” They share flirty winks. So fun and sass-a-roonie!
I’m annoyed that I’m even thinking about this. The show was unique in offering the culture something real and inspiring, despite the unavoidable framework of winners and losers. We should really be most bummed about the fact that the usual chocolate and ice cream challenges were nixed because of unseasonably hot temps in the tent. Instead of subconsciously imagining what goes on backstage among drag kings (or how exactly one gets a decent night of sleep in a bed with three grown men), we should be curious about what herbs like stinging nettle and sticky willy offer cake batter, and how to work more black treacle into our lives.
The most complicated thing for American viewers of “The Great British Baking Show” should be the fact that we call their “biscuits” cookies and that mincemeat pie is sweet. The end.
It was the unsung hero of the very first challenge this season, but Nigella’s famous chocolate stout cake should have stolen the show in episode one. I’ve baked this showstopper for birthdays and dinner parties, and I can’t wait for a reason to make it again. Unsolicited tips: Add a splash of Kahlúa to the frosting, add a little extra salt to the batter, and chill the unfrosted cake in the fridge overnight for the most densely luxurious bite. “Never cook to impress, but rather to delight,” Nigella says. You can do both with her recipe.
I still plan to watch the entire season of “GBBS” because I love baking. No throuple’s gonna stop me from once again promising myself that I’ll finally make British sausage rolls this year (after 13 seasons of “pastry week” inspiration). But I’m dreading the pride parade that will follow Gabe on the upcoming baking challenge that includes family members. In the trailer, at least one of his boyfriends — maybe his favorite — tags in for culinary role-play.
Even though the series is developing a bit of a “soggy bottom” — which, on the show, describes pastry crust that becomes moisture-logged and unappetizing — I’m crossing my ladyfingers that the kitchen scales level out before the most popular baking show bakes itself to a crisp.
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