Great British Bake Off Previous Winners

So there I was, tears streaming down my face over a slice of Victoria sponge. My flatmate walked in, sighed, and said, “Again? It’s just cake, mate.” But she didn’t get it. That sponge wasn’t just cake—it was the dream of a home baker who’d just nailed a perfect bake under the GGBO tent.

I’d just watched a rerun of the 2020 finale. Peter Sawkins, a Scottish student, lifted that glass cake stand, and I felt like I’d won something too. That’s the magic of Great British Bake Off winners: they’re not celebrities. They’re your neighbour, your colleague, the person who brings brownies to the office—and then accidentally becomes a national treasure.

The Early Days: When the Tent Was a Novelty

Let’s rewind to 2010. The first winner, Edd Kimber, was a debt collector who made a stunning rose cake. (Side note: he also wrote a cookbook called Patisserie Made Simple—which, let’s be real, is a lie because I’ve tried his recipes and my kitchen looked like a flour bomb went off. But his scones? Incredible.)

Then came Jo Wheatley in 2011. She was a mum from Essex who baked like your nan—if your nan had flawless piping skills. Her lemon meringue pie still haunts my dreams. And in 2012, John Whaite won with a perfectly symmetrical showstopper. He later went on to dance on ice in a sparkly outfit. I’m not kidding. That’s peak Bake Off energy.

The “Paul Hollywood Handshake” Era

By 2013, we knew the rules: soggy bottoms are a crime, and Hollywood Handshakes are the highest honour. Frances Quinn won with her fairy tale cakes—so elaborate they looked like architectural models. She was a children’s clothing designer, and her style was pure whimsy. (I still can’t look at a gingerbread house without thinking, “Frances would’ve added a turret.”)

Then Nancy Birtwhistle in 2014. A retired GP practice manager who schooled everyone on technique. She made a domed mirror glaze that looked like a planet. My takeaway? Never underestimate someone with patience and a good oven thermometer.

The Channel 4 Switch and New Faves

When Bake Off moved to Channel 4 in 2017, everyone panicked. But Sophie Faldo, a former Army officer, stepped up and won with military precision. Her croquembouche was a tower of perfect choux pastry. (Meanwhile, I can’t even get a macaron to not crack without crying.

Then Rahul Mandal in 2018. A nuclear researcher from India who cried happy tears when he won. The internet melted. His rose and pistachio cake was a love letter to his grandmother. And David Atherton in 2019—a global health advisor who made vegan caramilk tart and won. Yes, vegan. In a tent full of butter. Legend.

The Lockdown Bakers and Beyond

2020’s Peter Sawkins was our hero during the weirdest year. He was 20 years old, studying maths, and he beat a room full of amazing bakers with his shortbread dinosaurs. (I’m still mad I didn’t think of that.) His hot cross bun wreath was so good, Paul Hollywood actually smiled. Rare sighting.

In 2021, Giuseppe Dell’Anno—an Italian engineer who never measured anything—won with pure intuition. He baked a salt caramilk loaf that made Prue Leith say, “That’s genius.” (I tried replicating it. My loaf loafed wrong. Very wrong.) And Syabira Yusoff in 2022, a cardiology researcher from Malaysia, brought flavours like pandan and durian to the tent. She was fearless. Her winning coffee and hazelnut cake had a mirror glaze that actually reflected light. Show-off.

What the Winners Really Do Now

Here’s the thing—most winners don’t become global stars. They write cookbooks, run small bakeries, or go back to normal jobs. Nancy still lives in Yorkshire. Rahul runs a microbakery alongside research. And Frances designs cake sculptures for weddings. It’s refreshingly humble.

But every single one shares something: they survived the stress of that tent. The fear of a collapsing cake. The judgment of Paul’s cold blue eyes. And they emerged with a glass cake stand and a place in our hearts.

So next time you watch a rerun, remember: that nervous amateur who just baked a stunning showstopper? They’re you. Just with less flour on their jumper. And way more biscuit sculptures.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a soggy bottom crisis to attend to. Typical.