A Sweet Assignment: Baking Contest Judge

A Tasty Job – Somebody Has to Do It.

Baking Contest Judge Linda. Photo by Cheryl Damon-Greiner.

When I agreed to judge our community festival’s baking contest, I pictured a pleasant afternoon sampling a few cookies and slices of cake. Then 83 entries arrived. Six judges were assigned to six categories, and every cake, pie, cookie, bread, brownie, piece of fudge, whoopie pie, coffeecake, and roll had to be scored on appearance, texture, and flavor.

Each entry was labeled with a number, which kept the bakers’ identities and the judging anonymous and turned out to be especially useful. Some bakers had entered their creations under straightforward names such as “Cake” or “Pie.” Others went for flair: “Dough Me a Flavor,” “Bread Zeppelin,” and “Rolling Scones.” Those names did not sway us before the first taste, but they did give the judges a good chuckle - and offered a few clues about the generations represented in the room.

Depending on the category, each judge faced somewhere between 10 and 18 samples. I drew “Miscellaneous,” so my table held a clipboard, pencil, scorecards, bottles of water, knives, tiny plastic forks, paper plates, paper towels - and 18 different homemade treats. My task was to cut a small portion from each one, taste it, and assign points.

The entries would be sold afterward as a fundraiser, minus the judges’ samples, so every cut required care. The piece had to be small enough not to spoil the item’s resale appearance but large enough to reveal its quality. A neat sliver was better than a chunk, and ideally it included enough of both the middle and the edge to judge the bake fairly.

At the end, the scores were tallied to determine first, second, and third place, plus a runner-up. Any ties required the judge to taste those entries again and adjust the scores. Unfortunately, I had been generous with my points and created four ties. That meant eight more tastes after I had already sampled 18 sweet confections. By then, the bottles of water on my table looked less like refreshments and more like rescue equipment.

Once every category judge had chosen their winners, we gathered for the final round. To name the grand-prize winner of the 2026 Baking Contest, we all had to taste one another’s top selections. It was a difficult responsibility, but community service sometimes demands sacrifice - preferably served on a paper plate with a tiny plastic fork.

The winners received a little loot, but the real prize was bragging rights until next year. As payment for our hour and a half of labor, each judge was allowed to take home one entry. We immediately headed toward categories other than the ones we had just tasted -and, in some cases, re-tasted - looking for something small, plain, and, if possible, not very sweet.

“Caramel Cascade” stayed on the table. I grabbed “Bread Zeppelin,” hoping with all my heart that it was plain old white bread.