Simon Cowell had better pull his trousers up (and Lord knows there isn't much room for that). But, there is a new judge in town...my Gran.
My Gran, whose love of food I've spoken about before on this blog, was invited to judge produce at a show the other week.
With tressle tables of everything from scones to quiches, cakes to chutneys in front of her it was always going to be a tough call for the competitors versus Granny's tastebuds.
For those who have never entered village shows, beforehand you get a schedule which clearly notes the entry requirements. So when presented with a plate of 3 biscuits Gran would neither taste nor judge them as it clearly said in the schedule 4 biscuits to be presented and likewise the person who dared to put butter icing in a sponge cake when only jam was allowed.
Luckily baking appears to be in fine form in the north-east. We can sleep easy knowing the future of drop scones is in safe hands. Gran came away rather impressed.
Gran awarded the best in show to a Bakewell Tart and when the entrants were revealed (of course all judging is blind) it was the same woman Gran had awarded it to the year before (I believe it was her scones that took the honours then) - she must be some sort of baking Saint on earth to have impressed my Gran two years in a row.
I loved village shows as a child and wished we had some around here. I remember a family friend would always clean sweep the produce section of one particular show. Her baking was beyond compare and her talents spread to cheese making too.
In a bid to stop her winning the organisers invited her to be the judge the next year, a very underhand move. She was so incensed she declined the offer and entered three items in each catergory and dually clean sweeped 1st, 2nd and 3rd across the board the next year!
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