The sight of a rose-and-pistachio cake with lychee flavouring, strewn with petals, makes Clarissa Tan’s heart lift

I’m not crazy about cookery shows. I suspect they indicate how little we are cooking, rather than how much. We’re fascinated with celebrity chefs because we think they’ve mastered something exotic and foreign to us — no surprise their shows are often slotted next to travel programmes. Looking at Jamie Oliver potter about his kitchen, we smugly feel we’ve given some time to cooking, though in reality we’ve done no such thing. On the whole, I think you are better off making yourself some buttered toast than spending an hour watching Anthony Bourdain experiment with spring rolls in Hanoi.

The Great British Bake Off (BBC2, Tuesdays) is different. Like Masterchef, we follow the series not so much for the culinary expertise — though that is important — but for the human drama. Contestants from all walks of life pit their skills against each other and, through the assiduous whisking of egg-whites or an expert turn of the rolling pin, can change their fates for ever.