Lessons from the Great British Baking Show

I’ve pretty much given up making New Year’s resolutions. They never pan out long-term, and I usually end up berating myself for failing to reach my annual self-improvement goals. I blame my lack of discipline, my inability to finish things, my laziness, or my lackluster commitment. This year, however, I’m taking a radically different approach.

Since my husband grew up in Britain, and because I spend a lot of time in my kitchen, we’ve enjoyed watching every season of the Great British Baking Show. If you haven’t heard of the show, it’s a baking competition currently on Netflix. The show starts with 12 contestants. Each week the bakers are presented with three timed, judged challenges, the last challenge being the super-duper “showstopper.” Toward the end of the show the judges deliberate. One baker is eliminated, and one baker is crowned “star baker.”

Some of the breads, biscuits, puddings, scones, and cakes created by these bakers are truly amazing structures and works of art. But sometimes, about midway through the challenge, either their delicate, intricate showstopper creations collapse, or their caramels crystalize and burn, or their dough doesn’t rise, or their custards don’t set, or their meringues crack. When these mistakes and mishaps occur, as they often do, my heart aches for each baker who, with only minutes left to spare, tosses their messy bake into the “bin” (British word for garbage can.)

Yet, at this disastrous point in the challenge, a wonderful thing happens. Because it’s imperative in the minds of the bakers to have some kind of finished product, however imperfect, to present to the judges, they carry on. Despite their fear, and despite the uncertainty of being able to complete the bake on time, the baker always starts over.

There are other beautiful lessons to be learned from watching this show. The bakers are all British, yet they represent a wide variety of backgrounds, ethnicities, ages, genders, sizes, colors, and sexual orientations. It’s heartwarming to see how this diverse group of Brits come together to support, encourage, help, and congratulate each other. When time is running short on a particular challenge, if one baker is having trouble or hurrying to finish on time, other bakers will gladly step in with an offer to help the struggling baker put the finishing touches on his or her bake before time runs out. I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed this kind of genuine collaboration among contestants on any other competition show.

But the main lesson I take away from the Great British Baking Show is a simple one: No matter what life throws at you, even when the clock is ticking, just start over. When their bakes go wrong, I’ve watched bakers shed tears, take a time out from their bake, or scream in frustration. But in all 12 seasons I’ve never once seen a baker give up, walk away, and have nothing to show the judges.

We’ve all experienced having to start over in life. It seems unavoidable. You work hard to lose ten pounds, the holidays come, and the scale creeps back up. You’ve landed a great job, but due to company restructuring you’re laid off and are forced to find new employment. Your marriage gets rocky, so you divorce and search for a new partner. You suffer an injury or undergo surgery and then struggle to regain your health. You move to an unfamiliar state or community and have to find new friends.

As a writer, I’m all too familiar with the concept of starting over. I can’t seem to send out the simplest email without rereading my sentences several times over. And I must have self-edited the manuscript of the book I’m about to publish at least a dozen times until I was finally satisfied with it. As a meditator, I’ve come to understand the practice as the most basic process of starting over. I begin by focusing my attention on the breath. When interfering thoughts arise and distract my mind, I let go of those thoughts, then start over and return my attention to the breath. As a mature human being, I’ve had to start over more times in my life than I can count. Recently, the most painful time was starting to walk again as I recovered from hip replacement surgery.

Looking ahead to the New Year, instead of making a “resolution” to lose weight, get in better shape, or (dare I say it?) write my next book, I’ll try to remember the contestants on the Great British Baking Show. I’ll still do my best to reach the above-mentioned goals. But if life gets in the way (as it always does!) and I veer off-track—when I overindulge in rich, calorie-dense food and drink, or let weeks go by without exercising or writing, although I might feel depressed or defeated, shed some tears, take a time out, or unleash a primal scream, I won’t beat myself up with shame, or lapse into negative self-talk. I’ll remember the bakers. When my 2025 recipe fails, I’ll gently toss it (along with my self-contempt) into the bin, grab another mixing bowl, and give myself permission to start over. If I’m lucky, I’ll manage to create a showstopper that doesn’t collapse, wows the judges, and who knows? I might even be crowned star baker!