I’ve recently become obsessed with The Great British Baking Show (yes, I was very late getting the memo). It’s a ridiculously charming show that somehow manages to be twee as hell without being annoying. The competition takes place in a tent in a bucolic field replete with flowers and sheep and such,
and the inside of the tent is a good representation of how the show unapologetically embraces a folksy, old-fashioned, kitschy vibe that comes across as completely sincere without being cloying.
It helps that the contestants are reasonably diverse, uniformly pleasant, and sweetly supportive of one another, and the show offers a fair amount of technical information about baking to offset the fluffy atmosphere.
The two hosts are eccentric and fun, bringing a bit of subversive humor to the table,
Paul the mean(ish) male judge is fine, and of course Mary Berry is a treasure. Here she is learning about hemp.
The food generally looks delicious, but I’m not that into desserts and such, so I prefer when the contestants’ efforts veer towards the ridiculous.
I have no idea how actual British people feel about the show, but this American thinks it’s delightful; it’s the Britishest thing to ever British, and I love it so much.