The Great British Bake Off has returned, and let's get straight to the cherry on the cake. 

Let's cut to the chase and focus on the luscious bombe that has exploded in the canvas marquee of fondant fancy – readers, let's rise up like sugar-glazed souffles of joy, for Nigella is in the tent.

Only those hiding under a rock bun could be unaware that the domestic goddess is the new Bake Off judge, having signed on to give her views alongside veteran baker and yeast whisperer Paul Hollywood.

When this was announced earlier this year many, including me, wondered if Nigella would prove to be the Bake Off's salvation; the missing link, the only thing that could save this long-running show from almost certain doom. 

Either that or she would hasten its demise, like a flamethrower scorching a wilting meringue.

For even the show's biggest fans must admit that after surviving 17 series, ghastly Sandi Toksvig, Bingate, Custardgate and Matt Lucas capering about in a sombrero amid accusations of cultural stereotyping during the disastrous Mexican Week of 2022, GBBO was becoming as stale as a ten-year-old taco. 

Viewing figures slid from a peak of 14million in 2016 to seven million last year. Who or what could stop the rot?

Sound the crumpet trumpet! Enter Miss Nigella, striding into the tent wearing a superhero jumpsuit and a knowing smirk, ready to turn up the heat and administer a rescue remedy onto these moribund proceedings like it has never seen before.

With her posh girl poise and bluestocking smarts, she quickly established an alarming brand of calm yet quirky authority. 

She used the word 'ferrous' in the first five minutes; campily opined that 'there is something a bit savage about cardamom'; and described a lavishly iced cake as 'very Dutch old master in the colours'. So far, so flighty.

Then she got P. Hollywood in her crosshairs and took aim. 'I know you like neatness,' she briskly told him in an early scene, 'but I like a bit of goo.'

There have been rumours of on-set tensions between this pair of bake stars, but she is not afraid to make fun of him, nor his infamous perma-tan. 

When the two of them were discussing the merits of a contestant's coffee icing, Paul told Nigella that in his professional opinion it had 'a nice bit of colour'.

'Almost as good as yours,' she responded, tartly.

When another contestant baked a sachertorte – a famous chocolate cake from Vienna – Nigella used the word 'schlag' in her description, then turned to Paul in the manner of a school marm addressing the class dunce. 

'Schlag, that is Austrian for whipped cream,' she airily told him. It was absolutely delicious.

Particularly as Hollywood, although clearly fond of his former judging partners Mary Berry and then Prue Leith, often patronised the former and slightly undercut the latter.

It seemed to me that across all series he assumed a leadership and a patriarchal seniority of rank that wasn't always his to take.

Well, those days are over, mister. This time around Hollywood has been put firmly back in his cake box. 

This time around, he wouldn't even dare make jokes about any overt fondness for booze and alcohol in bakes, as he often did with both Mary and Prue. 

This time around, he has met his match. 'I want it to be sumptuous,' breathed Nigella at one point, and he could only meekly nod in agreement.

The 12 contestants taking part this year are the usual carefully selected social and cultural smorgasbord, with a high thread count of MWBs – Minorities Who Bake.

In the mix is a working-class single mum called Shannon, a camp northern hairdresser called Tom, a plucky baker in a wheelchair called Molly, and Gabe the drag king with a nose ring who measures out ingredients 'with my heart'. 

I particularly liked Connie, who put elephants on one of her cakes because she once visited an elephant sanctuary – random! –although she had a bigger message to impart through the medium of butter and sugar.

'My baking is a homage to Caribbean flavours,' she said, chopping up a mango. Presenter Alison Hammond, who is also of Jamaican heritage, was on it like a Scotch bonnet.

'Are you bringing Jamaica into your bake?' she asked, for Alison seems to believe the main role of a television presenter is to repeat what has been said before.

'I am,' said Connie.

'Have you ever been in Jamaica when you can just pick a mango off a tree?' Alison continued.

'I have,' said Connie.

'It is the best thing ever,' gushed Alison.

'It is,' said Connie.

Perhaps this riveting exchange was meant to reveal how far the Bake Off has come since Mexican Week, which is clearly not far at all.

In addition, Alison has a strong Birmingham accent, which added a note of exciting confusion to events. 

'On your marks, get set, bike!' was what I thought she shouted at one point, half-expecting to see everyone ripping off their aprons and cycling out of the tent, never to be seen again.

Yet thanks to Nigella, it was tremendous to be back again in the land of sugar domes – she is not a fan – tuiles, buttercream, Kirsch-soaked cherries and zested lemons.

Much enjoyable chaos ensued in this first episode, where there were cakes that were too warm to ice, two cakes that fell on the floor, one cake baker who had to leave the tent after taking ill and cakes that were making Nigella purr with 'a lot of pleasure'.

She certainly wolfed down her share with enthusiasm. 

Yet, along with the campier contestants, she has a dreadful habit of giving cakes the feminine gender – as in 'she is jaunty' or 'she needs first aid' – which one suspects is going to grate horribly as we progress towards the final.

Meanwhile, I need hardly add that the infamous Bake Off innuendo was back with a – titter – bang. 'A wet batter really needs longer,' said Nigella. 

'The sponge is quite soft because the nut size is huge,' said Paul.

And when an annoying vegan baker called Danni announced she used foraged ingredients for her bakes including a herbaceous plant called Sticky Willy, no one knew what to say – except Alison Hammond. 

'Did you say Sticky Willy?' she boomed.

Later, Danni described the make-up of her fem-cake. 'She's got Sticky Willy inside her,' she said, surely the most outrageous Bake Off innuendo of all time.

Nigella paused, her forkful of willy cake in mid-air, but wisely said nothing.

Ultimately this was a tremendous debut performance from the new mistress of meringue, showing a side of Nigella we have not seen before: quirky, commanding, funny – but also humane.

She spoke of cakes that showed anxiety, announced 'none of us are finished articles,' and enthused about 'brightness' in the buttercream.

'I am full of cake and hope,' she said at the end, like a hostess at a party who made everyone look and feel better about themselves. Even Paul Hollywood.