I'm sure I'm the last person in the world
to talk about how much they enjoy The Great British Bake-Off (Baking Show here in the States).
I came rather late to the game because I am not a huge fan of cooking shows. Usually I find a cooking show personality and then follow them back to their blog or books, and I've really never been one for competition cooking. But after I had Pasha I found myself in need of something to watch at 3am that was more soothing than plot driven and Bake Off filled the void.
I devoured what was easily available at the time, one season on Netflix and one season that aired on PBS. But then that was it, and we moved, and I put Bake Off out of my mind. And as if the Netflix gods heard my cry as Pasha and I neared the end of our sixth season of SVU (because we still needed television that did not require rapt attention), two more seasons of Bake Off appeared.
Chris will claim that he does not really like the show (because he can't stand Paul Hollywood), but over the weekend he watched several episodes of the second season with me. I'm trying to pace myself through the two "new" seasons because I know it is very likely future seasons will be more like American-style shows, but it is hard to hold myself back. I am suddenly gripped by an intense need to make a trifle, and I realized that my plans to repaint our kitchen is essentially an attempt to turn it into the tent. I am hopelessly addicted.
It seems I have completely abandoned prestige television, at least for now. The only currenet show I am keeping up with is Big Little Lies (OMG, if anyone wants to talk about that one let me know. I have so many feelings). I just don't seem to have the brain space to watch anything that requires I keep information in my brain. But Bake Off is like a comforting loaf of bread, which feels decadent but is surprisingly hearty. And it is seriously making my Monday.