I have had some very real woe lately, over things I'm too upset to write about. But would you believe that what has saved me is The Great British Baking Show?
There is nothing spectacular about this show - ten amateur bakers compete for the title of star baker. It's not a new format, it's not winning any Golden Globes. But it has provided what I have been unable to summon for myself this month - an unfailing dose of cheer.
As Scott and I have watched, we've been trying to figure out what the winner gets. Surely, there must be a cash prize! A book deal! A bakery with the winner's name on the door! But this is no American game show.
In this show, the hosts are two goofy women who are allowed to make fools of themselves. There is no behind-the-scenes drama or pitting contestants against one another.
In this show they say things like, "bang on!" and "whack it in the oven for a bit." Cookies are "biscuits," puddings are nothing close to Snack Paks. Each challenge produces amazing little works of art that leave my mouth watering. Did I mention that the judges' are named Mary Berry and Paul Hollywood? Scott refuses to believe it, now matter how many times I Google. The music is spritely and cheerful and almost convinces me to try my hand at a Swedish Princess Cake.
We watched the Season One finale last night, and it was confirmed -- the winner wins a cake stand and a bouquet of flowers. That's it. But Nancy, Luis and Richard will never know how many doses of simple cheer they supplied me, when I truly deeply needed them.