The show where popularity and pastries are on the rise

Well that was what Tuesday was like for yours truly after chef Raymond Blanc supposedly twitted who had won The Great British Bake Off a day ahead of the final.

Fortunately, when I sat down at 8 pm to watch the proceedings I was blissfully unaware of the outcome, although resigned to the fact that the winner was not likely to be my preferred contestant. However, the favourite, the ‘Marmite’ baker fans either loved or disliked – for her irritating displays of self-disbelief, false modesty and the tendency to burst into tears – 21-year-old philosophy student Ruby Tandow failed at the final hurdle.

The winner was fashion designer Frances Quinn who also beat psychologist Kimberley Wilson.

Sadly, this delightful gem in a television schedule so banal it beggars belief, is over for another year. No more sweated brows as the bakers dread over-proving dough, having their soggy bottoms exposed to the nation or being crushed by cutting criticism from the judges.

I shall equally miss those lingering camera shots outside the tent to the delightful English countryside as it gradually blooms week after week from spring to summer. As the baking inside become ever more demanding, we see daffodils fade, blossom burst forth and a myriad of trees grow heavy with leaf against a counterpoint of tweeting of the natural kind. Fortunately for the producers of this family-viewing favourite, the brazen squirrel, who so unashamedly flashed his manhood to millions watching, has not been seen since the final of series two.

Just what is it about a cake-baking competition that has had the British nation from the Isle of Mull to Green Island gripped since late August as a baker’s dozen of competitors vie for the coveted crown of Great British Baker?

In case you’ve been on the planet Zog for the past nine weeks, the BAFTA award-winning no less, Great British Bake Off, pits 13 home bakers from all walks of life and across the age spectrum against each other.

Each week they are subjected to three baking tests from bite-size savoury canapés to ‘show-stopper’ cakes of immense proportions and complexity of techniques. The one judged best is named ‘star’ baker while the worst is sent home. This carries on until three remain in the grand final.

It all started very quietly three years ago as a nice unassuming summertime series tucked away on BBC 2 on a Tuesday evening. As with such quirky programmes, it rapidly caught viewers’ attention, reviving the career of baking guru Mary ‘Bezza’ Berry to stellar proportions and making a household name of master baker Paul Hollywood. Spin-offs have been spawned around the world; Berry has unwittingly become a fashion icon – much like the Duchess of Cambridge she only has to wear some stylish item for it to fly off the shelves the following day – while Hollywood has seen his private life make even more headlines than the winning bakers.

As with any such competition the nation divides its loyalties between the contestants and series four split opinion diametrically as never seen before in any of the proceeding bake-offs.

The tent has been packed away, the worktops dismantled and the mixing bowl Ruby made such a fuss about accidently breaking in episode eight has been replaced.

The year-on-year rising ratings of The Great British Bake Off means that when it returns next year it will be screened on BBC 1, rather than the more esoteric BBC 2. Heaven’s know why such a move is required, unless the BBC simply wants to boost the ratings of its flagship channel. Tinkering in any way with the formula – such as dumbing it down or ‘sexing’ it up for a more populists audience – would be a travesty and a big mistake.

Its appeal lies in its simple formula: – even if the bakes require levels of skills and dexterity way beyond the average home cook – a quintessential English park setting and the fact that the presenters and judges aren’t dolled up to the nines, strangely wrinkle-free or squeezed into revealing designer outfits.

Comedy duo Sue Perkins and Mel Giedroyc apply their unique brand of wit to the proceedings while reassuringly having many hairs out of place. They dress ultra casually as if setting out to do the weekly shop or to pick up the kids from school. And, like the contestants and judges, their waistlines clearly expand as the effects of tasting calorie-laden cakes, canapés and rich pastry takes the inevitable toll.

The 13,000 who applied to take part in The Great British Bake Off this year are as far removed from the fame-hungry wannabees of shows like the X-Factor. Big Brother and Britain’s Got Talent as chalk is from cheese.

The majority of those who religeously watch each week, like me, aren’t bakers or ever likely to bake a cake. To us, the programme – like indulging in a bout of nostalgia – is like a giant magic comfort blanket that rolls back the years to childhood when licking the spoon and the mixing bowl and sharing it with the family dog, was a real treat. Much like the extremely difficult choice between a custard horn or an iced bun when the baker’s delivery van called at the farm every Wednesday afternoon.

If only life on the rock were that simple again.