Bees, Lemon Curd, and Kindness

It’s the last place you’d expect to find tranquility, but there it is.  A close-up of a bee zigzagging out of a foxglove bloom.  A mother duck, quickly joined by her four offspring.  A stalk of chicory, swaying lazily in the wind.  A perfect Pavlova.

It might seem like one of these things is not like the others, and yet The Great British Baking Show  makes it work rather effortlessly.  Shot on an enormous estate where a four-pole circus tent hardly makes a dent on the grounds, the running water and unmowed lawns provide the perfect natural background for the human efforts going on inside the tent.  There, a dozen of Britain’s best amateur bakers are selected to test their mettle against three weekly challenges that range from the never before heard of to the easy that are deceptively difficult.  One baker is eliminated at the end of each episode, until the remaining three participate in the tenth episode, where a champion is declared for that year.

If you’re thinking “British cooking shows- Gordon Ramsay- lots of tension- who needs that?”, you have all the more reason to tune in to be surprised, gently corrected, and inspired.  I’ve seen most of the episodes offered on Netflix, and I keep watching them to witness, again and again, an incredible level of humanity:

The incredible sense of community  It’s an overworked word, but if the dictionary has a video next to the definition of the word community, it’s likely from GBBS.  There may be only one winner, but the verbal support and humor they share as they dash around madly to make bavarois against the clock gives you the impression they get there’s something more important here than a trophy.  One episode features a baker getting help from three of their competitors to complete a recipe on time, and on the rare occasion when baking judge Paul Hollywood extends his hand to a baker for a job well done (known as the “Hollywood Handshake”), all the other bakers applaud in support. 

The tone in the tent  Two hours to make baklava from scratch (dough included) would lead the average person to tear their hair out, scream in dismay, or not even bother starting.  But remember—this is the nation who went to work in London every day while Hitler was bombing the city.  Five hours to make a chandelier out of baked goods is a walk in the park compared to The Blitz, and the bakers keep that in mind as they go about their work with a civility that would make Roy Kent sit up and pay attention.

The judging is generally more like nurturing  Even amateur bakers know when they haven’t produced their best focaccia, or when the decorations on their patisserie isn’t up to snuff.  Hollywood and fellow judge Dame Prue Leith generally keep this in mind, saving their strongest criticisms for the less obvious issues of structure and taste—and even then, a concern is followed by a compliment.  This leaves bakers knowing what could have been better, without them feeling like it’s time to put their measuring spoons on eBay.

All of this makes The Great British Baking Show a fantastic way to decompress, dream, and understand how much better our world would be if everyone had the sensibilities of the judges and the contestants.  Amateur bakers put on an apron because they love the craft.  If they can keep perspective over the work that is their passion, imagine what would happen if everyone took the same approach with everything they did.  That’s worth tuning in for.

July Rain

The gray sky growls with teasing
“It’s coming. It’s coming.  It’s coming.”
But then it’s a gust of wind or two
And a distant sky drum suggests the storm has passed
While twenty-five minutes
Produces nothing.

But then it’s three slaps of water
Like buckets emptied after a car wash
And you have four steps before the deluge.
Water rushing over itself
Like a prize was at stake
Reuniting to rush
Down driveways
On streets
And into sewers
Amoebas the size of rivers
Landing where they will
Us hoping it’s where they should.

And then a half hour comes
To find the pavement perfectly dry
As if nothing has ever happened.
Tell that to the lawn.

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