I get a lot of Tweets from fans of 'The Great British Bake Off' asking me questions about different recipes or baking techniques, and I do enjoying getting back to people whenever I can. But as soon as I get home, I always make a point of turning my phone off, as I think it is really important to be able to unwind at the end of the day.
— Paul Hollywood
I have been a baker for more than 30 years now, and in terms of equipment, all I really need is flour. It still amazes me what a versatile commodity it is, as you can do so many different things with it, and I never tire of trying new blends and recipes.
Naples is curiously chaotic and, if I'm honest, a bit dilapidated. It certainly has a 'lived-in' look. It's alive, it's vibrant, it's a little bit dirty, it's busy, and I loved it. I felt like this was how Rome would probably have been 2,000 years ago. There's a real bustle, and it's down and dirty.
In recent years, I've begun the year by driving across France to the Alps, abandoning the January gloom for Alpine winter sun, even if the ski-goggles do give you panda marks when you get a tan. As a child, I was always a bit of a billygoat when I'd go camping with my mates in North Wales, around Snowdonia.
Baking can be done with a few simple ingredients, so it's about simplicity and nostalgia - people are reminded of their childhood.
For me, it is always part of my holiday to go and work my way along the shelf in the local artisan bakery with its breads, savoury tartlets, pastries and cakes. It is soul food: one of those things that tells you about a place and the history of a place and its people.
I do love my full English breakfast, but not every day. What I can't do without first thing in the morning, though, is my Danish pastry or a croissant - anything with a laminated dough, enriched with butter to make it beautifully golden and flaky.
A sponge is quite simple. You weigh ingredients, mix, and put it in the oven. With pastry, you manhandle it, shape it, fold it. You have to be involved with it; there is more jeopardy, more risk. But it's like making a casserole. There's a flurry of activity to begin with; then it's about leaving it to rest.
I am fascinated by Tudor times.
I've been on and off motorbikes most of my life.
Baking is therapy.
I have always said I would love to go to America, and with a name like Hollywood, it's perfect isn't it?
I'm quite shy, really. The figure you see on TV, that's just a persona. I like getting home, putting my feet up, getting into my slippers and dressing gown.
I like to remind the contestants where they are by playing the 'Bake Off' theme tune on my phone as they walk into the tent. They freak out, as it suddenly dawns on them that they're on the show.
You can't beat a good doughnut. It has to be a jam one with light pastry and caster sugar on the outside. If I'm really tired, I have to hunt one down, because it gives me that sugar rush to keep me going.
'The Great British Bake Off' has brought baking to the nation, and we've seen people from all walks of life and backgrounds experience the highs and lows of competition and, more importantly, helping each other.
I get embarrassed on the red carpet at awards ceremonies. The whole celebrity thing is embarrassing.
I love the sensation of being out in the open air, far away from all the distractions of modern life. I will usually disappear for a couple of hours, and that time on my bike is quite sacred, as it's when I do all my serious thinking. Sometimes I will stop off at bikers' cafe and have a bacon sandwich.
I drove from Naples to the Amalfi coast in an Alpha Romeo 1969 Spider, which was lovely. There have been lots of movies made down there, and I felt a bit like James Bond - the driving is quite hairy. The locals have mopeds, but you wouldn't catch me on a bike on those roads. A tank would be safer!
I went to Naples to work with one of the best pizza-makers in the world, and guess how long he bakes his pizzas for? He bakes them for 45 seconds. In and out. And they're incredible. Any more than that, and it's no longer considered a pizza. I've been spouting off to people for years - six minutes in an oven.
New Year's resolutions generally don't work for me. Or I don't work for them. I make them, like everyone else, but I can't think of one I have stuck to for more than 24 hours.
I may demonstrate the various stages of making a loaf on stage, but they don't end up in the final product I lift out of the oven at the end. If it were real food preparation, I'd wear a hair net, a hat, and rubber gloves - not a pretty sight.
Wherever you go in Europe, you'll find each country has particular flavours in their baked goods. It is one of the big differences between Europe and the United States.
Even I don't always come up to my own standards of perfection.
My own preferred fitness regime is to use my bicycle.
I don't know any chef who doesn't like fast food.
One day, I'll disappear and hide in a corner of Britain. I'll own a bakery in a village, live above it, have a big garden because I like mowing. I want to get up when I feel like it, let people queue for my products, and when they're gone, shut the shop and think about tomorrow. Creating magic - that's my dream. And I'll do it.
It's been a huge part of my life in the past few years, and I just couldn't turn my back on all that - the bakers themselves, the bakes, the team that makes it, and of course the tent, the bunting, and who could forget... the squirrels. So I am delighted that I will be continuing as a judge when 'Bake Off' moves to Channel 4.
I have gone through some bad times with my own business. At one point, I was working my socks off, driving, delivering, baking. It was hard, hard work. But I worked through it. Running your own bakery is hard. I never came close to bankruptcy, but I had to cut back on staff.
Civilisation was built around wheat, around people settling down and not being nomadic. Baking is one of the oldest professions.
I've never been on a diet and never will.
Get digital scales because, for baking, balance scales just aren't accurate enough: it's all in the weighing up.
Since I was a kid, baking has been part of my life.
I don't feel 50. I'm still ambitious, and I've only just got my licence to race sports cars. I race for an Aston Martin team called Beechdean, and it's a huge challenge.
When I get home at night, I always have a soak in the tub before changing into my dressing gown and slippers.
Like most of Italy, Neapolitans like their food, and there are restaurants everywhere. But to make like a true Neapolitan, grab a pizza from a street vendor and eat it there and then. We tried a pizza that's folded over four times to make it nice and portable, then you eat it straight out of paper, like fish and chips.
I will never, ever go on a carb-free diet.
There's something clean, simple, and even detoxifying about a loaf that contains nothing more than the best stone-ground, whole-meal flour, salt, yeast and water.
Before I was ever a baker, I was a teacher. Or, at least, that is what I thought I was going to be. After O-levels, I went to art school in Wallasey on the Wirral, and my mate Cavan and I did a teacher training course.
When my career in hotels was taking off in the Nineties, I went to work as a head baker in Cyprus, where I was making Danish pastries every day. I can remember that the head chef was always on my back to put more seasonal fruits in with the creme patissiere. I'd even make them with rhubarb.
I lived in Cyprus for six years where I learnt all about flatbreads.
I sometimes worry that by encouraging so many more people to try their hand at baking through 'The Great British Bake Off,' I'm going to find myself in court one day charged with accelerating the national epidemic of obesity! To which I will plead not guilty. A slice of Victoria sandwich is never going to harm anyone.
I love France. It's got the sun down at the bottom, the Alps for skiing, and all that wine and food.
The real Paul Hollywood is shy.
I get marriage proposals, maybe one a week. Women do flirt, yes. They just want someone from the telly. They come and talk to you, and I guess baking is more attractive, and so they feel they have something in common with me. But I'm just a man from Liverpool. I enjoy what I do, and if that gets people baking, then even better.
I want to pass on my secrets to people who are going to say, 'I have realised that I love baking, and now I'm going to make my bread and sell it at the local farmers' market,' or who might say, 'I am going to use the local Post Office in our village to sell my cakes.' I want to give them that little bit of fire.
Some people seem to think their oven self-cleans, but you need to clean it to stop things getting blocked up so you get a good rotation of air and heat inside. Get a probe to test the oven is reaching what it says it's reaching too.
I can judge a restaurant by its bread: it winds me up that a lot of places buy pre-packed ones in and don't bother putting them in the oven to crisp them up again. And you shouldn't put bread on a side-plate: it needs to be pushed back into the centre of the table.
Dad was a baker, and we lived above the bakery, so I was always popping down to have an apple pie or a doughnut or a custard or gypsy tart: I had a very sweet tooth, and I think that that was what got me into doing what I do now.
It's a great thing because I've said to my lad, 'What do you want to do today - football, shopping, playing a game?' and he says, 'I want to bake with you, Dad.' And he loves it, baking with me.
