In Which We Bake

My Bubs and I have become addicted to a little thing called season 10 of “The Great British Baking Show.”
Seen it? It’s a TV delight during which two hosts and two judges entertain and bulldoze through dozen or so British bakers who are appealing, funny, sweet, and addictive. I’ve become fanatical about each and every one of the contestants and I never want any of them to be voted out of the tent under which they bake because they’re all wonderful. And each week, when one must say so long, I weep internally and lust for the next installment so that I may root for victors and cry for the valiant fallen.
It’s high drama each Friday evening on the prairie for the Bubs and I.
I also wish for Smell-o-Vision — was it  The Jetsons  who had that? — or Taste-o-Matics because I want to try all of the bakers’ efforts. All of them. Sure, I can pull recipes from the internet but that is  not the same thing, I assure you. I have black hands when it comes to kitchen activities like using pans or pre-heating things.
But the bakers make me want to try!
Thus was Family Bake Night born, from British bakers and their enthusiasm for all things sugar infused and chocolate covered.
Each weekend, the Bubs, the Sire, and I hunker around an internet-printed recipe and make that thing.  We started with cinnamon rolls from Cook’s Illustrated. (I love cinnamon rolls, the gooshy, overly cinnamon’y, dripping-under-icing kind.
Cook’s Illustrated did not offer that particular brand of roll.
Thus, week 2 came along and boom, a second recipe offering gooey goodness was followed to a T — to a T, people! —  and alas, I messed that up, too..
No matter! A third week came along and because of persistence and the need to utilize an overwhelmingly large bag of flour, the third batch of rolls evolved atop the middle of my very own kitchen island and booyah, it was a WINNER!
Cinnamon rolls conquered, we moved on to meringue cookies — because the Great British baking people made us believe we could do it — and doggone it, we did it.
What’s next? Who knows. We haven’t followed the show’s pattern, we haven’t followed along and made the incredibly hard things they are attempting during their quest for baking fame and hopefully a cash prize — because it’s me and I know my limitations — but we ARE baking, and we ARE succeeding in gaining at least three pounds each weekend.
IT’S A WIN!
Plus, baking is cheaper than wrenching, following the mandates of our previous fascination, “Fastest Car,” in which car enthusiasts spend small fortunes in turning slo-mo vehicles into racing machines that blow asphalt away from turf.
I think I’m dangerous in a household kitchen. I’d be dead in minutes if I attempted to go into the garage and “better” the Ram 1500. I might make a fortune, though, on the YoutTube, following along with the shortest mechanical/maintenance/instant-car-death that would ensue. Bubs would have an inheritance from residuals; maybe I should consider the idea further.
Anyway, I’m hanging with the bakers and praying there is a way each of them get their own program so prairie dwelling stalkers — admirers! — may follow their journeys.

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