When it comes to the judging, Paul Hollywood suggests that Ian hasn't done enough with the time, it seemingly having slipped his mind that - let me repeat this - Ian's MADE A FULLY-FUNCTIONING WELL. FROM CHOCOLATE.
Madrid was littered with rookie mini break errors. We have just booked Rome. Rome will be different. We will ace Rome. And until Rome I will mostly be eating this soup. Because I really want to look slim and chic in Rome and I reckon this is a delicious way to get there.
Innuendo of the week: "It's important that you fill the horn right to the bottom so that you enjoy every mouthful" I can't help but think Mary Berry is just trolling us now.
Serve with a simple tomato sauce made by heating chopped tomatoes with a tbsp of olive oil, a little salt, pepper and a teaspoon of sugar for 20 minutes. Add some dried oregano and you're done. These are delicious with any pasta and of course, rice too...
Whilst no-one has gone quite as outré as Ian with the decorations, everyone's still making the most of the time available to perfect the presentation. Everyone, that is, except Mat, who sits calmly drinking a cup of tea and picking at his leftover ingredients while the others sweat over the intricacies of their showstoppers.
For months now I have been bullied and pressured by my peers into doing something I had no previous interest in doing. Something that would drain my time, leave me confined to the sofa gaping gormlessly into space, something that in all likelihood would give me the munchies. I am talking, of course, about the Great British Bake Off.
Despite being the only person in the tent (and, probably, the country) who knows what mahlepi is, dreamboat Tamal is having a crisis of confidence, and seems to spend half the challenge looking round at everyone else to try and get a better idea of what's going on.
Whenever I even think about afternoon tea, I go quite delirious in the head. All those sumptuous mouth watering gateau's, scones, macaroons and cakes- somebody help me! Somebody also help the stomach that has to digest it all!
Paul Hollywood sets a technical challenge of a dozen gluten-free pitta breads. In fact, it's as if he doesn't realise that a prime-time television show needs a bit more spectacle than some amateur bakers staring at a proving draw before turning out some dull, oval flatbreads.
Needless to say, adapting to a no-wheat diet has been a challenge. So here's a day in the life of me: a newly wheat-intolerant person.
Here's a no-bake chocolate biscuit fridge cake packed with loads of different dried fruit, nuts and biscuits and topped with a layer of chocolate. This is a real treat! Keeps for up to five days in an air tight tin.
Innuendo of the week: "Right, let's get into the bottom!" Judge Paul is VERY keen to taste contestant Paul's cheesecake. I told you there was a bromance.
I love an oven baked quiche as much as the next person but sometimes I have neither the time nor the inclination for making pastry. This recipe is a nifty way to get that quiche flavour; the carby hit usually provided by the pastry, instead offered by the egg soaked bread.
Bread week starts with plenty of shots of our intrepid tensome looking all kinds of worried, and it's no surprise. The prospect of a weekend of yeast-based fun means Paul Hollywood gets the opportunity do what he loves the most: prowl around Britain's most famous tent and judge amateurs while his smug-o-meter goes off the scale.
For the showstopper round, the contestants must bake 36 biscuits and put them in a biscuit box. No, not a biscuit box, but a biscuit box, that is, a box made of biscuit. Oh, and the biscuit box must be made of different biscuit to the biscuits that are inside the biscuit box. Clear as mud.
After nearly 10 months away from our screens, Britain's premier televised baking competition is back, and all the old gang are here. Mel and Sue! Mezza Bezza! Animatronic, dead-eyed dough-bot Paul Hollywood!