Posted by Tampa Tribune, FL on May 02, 2010 at 10:43:57:
In the belly of the Bake-Off
By JEFF HOUCK
jhouck@tampatrib.com
Published: May 2, 2010
ORLANDO » The question knocked me back a bit.
"You know that dessert is going to win the million dollars, right?"
Cathy Barber, features editor for the Dallas Morning News, sounded certain. I and two other judges at the Pillsbury Bake-Off decided the dainty and delicious Mini Ice Cream Cookie Cups were the best dessert in the contest. Barber, another one of the 12 judges, thought they would take the top prize.
"Really?" I could not have been more stunned.
Cathy closed her eyes and nodded.
I thought she was crazy.
The cookie cups, which arrived in the judging room all pretty and delicate from the floor of the bake-off with a fresh raspberry perched on top, were pathetic looking by the time the rest of the judges got around to tasting them hours later. We had rushed them into the freezer after the first round of tasting, but we were too late. I believe I described the resulting plate of goo as "a hot mess." I may have compared it to Lindsay Lohan.
Twenty minutes later, while sequestered in a locked conference room at the Hilton Bonnet Creek resort, I'd be making a case for the Mini Ice Cream Cookie Cups. I'd be citing the cups' many virtues and urging the rest of the judges to change the life of the cook who'd prepared them by voting the dish the contest's 44th champion.
And I'd be opening up the Pillsbury Bake-Off to scorn from food lovers who hated our decision.
I have no idea how I got to be a bake-off judge. Seriously. I worried that if I asked, someone would realize the error and uninvite me.
I wrote about the event four years ago when it was last held in Orlando - Pillsbury holds the mammoth Bake-Off every other year in a different city. But I had no connection to the company.
Early last year, I got an e-mail asking if I'd like to judge. The idea of crawling into the belly of the beast made me giggle not unlike a certain corporate spokesdoughboy.
From the outside, all you see is fanfare as the 100 apron-wearing contestants clap their way into the competition during the grand march and take their stations. Their anxiety and energy are palpable. It's clear that for many, this is the most exciting moment of their lives.
Having said that, there's no way I'd ever enter the PBO as a contestant.
It's one thing to come up with a tasty appetizer or an entree that the family loves. And making desserts is less important to me than eating desserts.
It's quite another to follow rules that require you to use a certain product brand in the ingredients and replicate the dish under a time constraint in the biggest cooking contest in the world.
That takes creativity under pressure that I don't have. Oh, yeah. And the food has to be delicious in order to win. My respect for the 100 finalists who cook at the bake-off without losing their minds is endless.
Whatever you think of giant food corporations and cooking with prepackaged edibles, you have to look at the 61-year tradition of the Pillsbury Bake-Off with more than a little awe.
Putting on the event is an Olympic-sized task to not only weed through thousands of entries, but also to then test the recipes, taste, sample and decide which should reach the finals.
Then there is the logistics. The thought of transporting 100 cooks alone to a location is staggering. Then there are 100 new ovens and stoves to install. Make sure they all work properly. And police everyone to ensure they follow the rules.
Then comes finding a panel of judges to provide an impartial decision.
Which is where I come in.
No talking, please
The first rule of Pillsbury Bake-Off judging? You do not talk about Pillsbury Bake-Off judging.
That's the not-so-subtle message conveyed to each of the 12 judges during a 90-minute orientation before last month's competition.
There are to be no photos in the judging room. (Pillsbury provides a photographer for that.) There are to be no phone calls out. They'd really rather you not bring a phone, but if you have to receive text messages, so be it. No texting back, though.
All trips to the restroom require an escort by a contest official. The judges' handbook gets shredded after the contest is decided. Even casual conversation in the Hilton's elevators is to be avoided, since contestants and their families are staying in the same hotel. The notes I took for this story in the judging room? Accidentally shredded by a very efficient Pillsbury attorney.
The contest this year held four divisions: Breakfast & Brunches, Entertaining Appetizers, Dinner Made Easy and Sweet Treats.
I was assigned Sweet Treats with two other judges, food writer and blogger Carolyn Jung and food industry consultant Jonell Nash. This assignment sounds great, until you hear you'll be eating 27 desserts.
On the day of the bake-off, we were escorted to our sequestered room at 8 a.m. Contestants had the next four hours to make us their dishes. We killed time reading trashy magazines, chit-chatting and wondering what was ahead of us.
The first Sweet Treats, though, didn't start to roll in until about 10:30 a.m. Judges in other categories had already been sampling for about an hour.
It quickly became a sugar tsunami as pies and tarts and cookies of every variety started rolling in. Most were delicious, thank goodness. Some were clearly lost in translation.
For the next three hours, Carolyn, Jonell and I judged each dish on its own without conversing because talking during early stages was prohibited. We examined the recipes and analyzed each on its own merits. Each treat was labeled by name, but its cook was not identified.
Among several strong entries, one stood out: miniature ice cream cups made with Pillsbury cookie dough. Dipped in chocolate, lined with chopped walnuts and flavored with raspberry jam and fresh raspberries, they looked like the kind of dessert you could make as easily for a wedding shower as a child's party. It was 150 calories of fun and style. None of the other dishes used ice cream. It was a gamble that paid off.
Looking at our three judges' score sheets, the cups were each of our favorites.
Then the fun began.
Picking a winner
Winners of each of the categories got $5,000 just for making it to the final four. (Other awards for use of peanut butter and innovation were judged separately.)
Next came the job of selecting the top winner from those four. Sitting around a large round table, one judge from each category took turns making a case for the dish his or her group had selected. Then we'd all sample it.
I became a de facto spokesman for the mini ice cream cups. I talked about their versatility, their fun nature, the way they'd be easy to prepare the night before, how it was something most people would be able to cook.
I made this testimonial all the while sitting in front of the melted horror story. It felt like a wasted argument.
We took a group vote, writing down our favorite dishes anonymously on slips of paper.
I can confess to not voting for the cups the first time out because they were such a mess. And the cups did not win on the first ballot.
Before another round of voting, we again took turns analyzing each dish. I was impressed with how much each judge cared about making the right decision.
On the second vote, the mini cups were a unanimous winner.
Chills ran down my arms. We had just given away $1 million.
In keeping with Pillsbury tradition, the judges toasted the decision with champagne as word was sent to bake-off officials. Given a folder with the recipe book inside, I snuck a look at the winner's name: Sue Compton, a mortgage loan processor from Delanco, N.J.
One more rule: We had to keep the decision quiet for two days until the winner could be announced on "The Oprah Show."
Later that evening at the awards ceremony, I snapped a photo of the soon-to-be-named winner as she passed by. She didn't know who I was, but I knew who she was. "She's got a great week ahead of her," I told a friend.
It wasn't until I got home several days after Compton had been showered with confetti that I heard there was controversy.
Visitors at the bake-off's online comments board complained that the winning recipe did not qualify as "actual cooking."
'What a joke'
One alleged that the recipe was stolen from an 11-year-old boy's submission to a cooking magazine. Another said that positive comments on the message board obviously had been planted by the company.
"What a joke," one wrote. "A million bucks for an overdose of sugar."
Friends on Twitter demanded that I explain myself. Some at the bake-off who had tried dishes other than the ones in my category pinned me down for an interrogation.
At that point, I got a little angry.
Those who weren't in the judging room have no idea how much precision goes into the process. Not all food is equal, and certainly judging a breakfast food against a dessert or an appetizer is a subjective task.
Is a mini ice cream cup the best that America has to offer this year? Yeah. For this contest, I think it is. Especially when the dish so obviously comes from a place of love and fun.
I ate 27 desserts and tasted the best that the bake-off had to offer. If I thought any part of it was either unethical or illogical, I would have walked out. This wasn't scratch cooking, but that's not what the contest called for.
Got a problem with the results?
Go tell it to the doughboy.
MINI ICE CREAM COOKIE CUPS
Prep Time: 20 minutes
Start to Finish: 45 minutes
1 package (16 ounces) Pillsbury Ready to Bake refrigerated sugar cookies (24 cookies)
4 teaspoons sugar
1/3 cup Fisher Chef's Naturals Chopped Walnuts, finely chopped
1/2 cup Hershey's semi-sweet chocolate baking chips
1/4 cup Smucker's Seedless Red Raspberry Jam
1 1/2 cups vanilla bean ice cream, softened
24 fresh raspberries
Heat oven to 350 degrees. Spray 24 mini muffin cups with Crisco Original No-Stick Cooking Spray. Place 1 cookie dough round in each muffin cup. Bake 15 to 20 minutes or until golden brown.
Place 2 teaspoons of the sugar in a small bowl. Dip end of wooden spoon handle in sugar; carefully press into center of each cookie to make 1-inch-wide indentation. Cool completely in pan, about 20 minutes.
Meanwhile, in small bowl, mix walnuts and remaining 2 teaspoons sugar; set aside. In small microwavable bowl, microwave chocolate chips uncovered on high 30 to 60 seconds, stirring after 30 seconds, until smooth.
Run knife around edges of cups to loosen; gently remove from pan. Dip rim of each cup into melted chocolate, then into walnut mixture. Place walnut side up on cookie sheet with sides.
In another small microwavable bowl, microwave jam uncovered on high about 15 seconds until melted. Spoon 1/2 teaspoon jam into each cup. Freeze cups about 5 minutes or until chocolate is set.
Spoon ice cream into cups, using small cookie scoop or measuring tablespoon. Top each cup with fresh raspberry; serve immediately.
Makes 24 tartlets.
Reporter Jeff Houck can be reached at (813) 259-7342
FOLLOW UP POSTS ARE NOT PERMITTED - DO NOT COMPLETE & SUBMIT FORM