Championing the restorative properties of beef tea, and its famous advocate Florence Nightingale, Sally serves a plant-based version of roasted onion consommé, along with onions stuffed with vegan cheese mash and a fermented barley brioche, glazed with yeast extract. Denise warns she’s a Marmite hater, which isn’t a promising start, but she’s soon confessing to being a convert. ‘Beautiful and fragrant,’ is Lorna’s verdict on the broth, and she’s a big fan of the ‘fantastic’ bread too. ‘I feel better already,’ smiles a very satisfied Tom.

Taking a more spiritual approach to wellbeing, Harry dedicates his starter to the writings of fourteenth century mystic, Julian of Norwich. Under the cover of her book, ‘Revelations of Divine Love’ Harry substitutes holy words for hazelnut cream, globe artichoke salad, spelt barley, confited Jerusalem artichoke, puffed and toasted seeds and grains and a smattering of violet mustard. As a reverent hush descends upon the room, Tom decides he feels ‘uncomfortable,’ wanting more ‘joy’ and ‘noise’ from his food. Ed disagrees, admiring ‘how the chef’s been able to transport us,’ and Denise agrees it’s ‘captivating.’

Sally’s seafood tribute to Princess Diana is crowned with a generous spoonful of caviar and a tiara-shaped laverbread cracker. Confited and pan-fried chalk stream trout, leek purée, barbecued baby leeks, pickled cockle popcorn and a seaweed and bacon beurre blanc are royally presented on a red cushion. Lorna sensibly decides to ditch this and place the plate on the table and though Denise perseveres for a while, it’s not the presentation that Tom finds awkward. ‘I am struggling with the link to the brief,’ he admits. Ed is wowed by the ‘absolutely amazing’ sauce, but he agrees with Tom that the dish is ‘fiddly.’ ‘I like fiddly,’ admits Lorna. Just not when it means eating off a cushion.

Considerably less ostentatious in its presentation, Harry’s fish course is an understated celebration of Captain George Manby, the inventor of the first modern fire extinguisher. ‘Oh, that’s cool,’ declares Ed as he squirts the aerated sauce fleurette onto a perfectly neat slice of wild brill Wellington. Sadly, it turns out not to be so perfectly cooked. ‘Just stunning,’ says Tom of the visual impact and flavour combination of layers of fish mousse, leek, spinach and seaweed, but all agree the brill is ‘over.’ ‘Potentially a banquet dish… but right now it’s slightly flawed,’ Tom concludes.

Harry soon gets back on key with a musical main dedicated to the inventor of the Norwich sol-fa scale, Sarah Ann Glover. ‘Do-Re-Mi’ is obviously deer, and Tom immediately decides the impressively carved roast venison rack is ‘visually worthy of a banquet.’ Everyone finds something to love about the accompaniments of caramelised celeriac and peppercorn purée, venison bolognese served in a poached pear, glasses of venison and tea consommé, puff pastry musical notes, and blackberry and truffle jus. ‘I think I’m on my third pint,’ says Tom of the sauce. However, he considers the absence of veg and decides, ‘I think it needs something green with it.’

What about something Lincoln Green? Sally’s main course is also venison, but this time it has a Robin Hood theme, and it proves to be bang on target. ‘Knockout,’ says Lorna of the forest feast of venison crown, venison, port and prune faggots, baked bone marrow topped with a hazelnut and malt crumb, fricassee of wild mushrooms, roasted baby beetroots, braised Swiss chard, venison and bone marrow sauce and elderberry pontack sauce. Lorna concludes, ‘there’s nothing I would complain about here, other than the plate being too small.’

After all that feasting, it's time to scale things down with the pre-desserts. Harry’s is a rhubarb and custard royale with champagne foam and caramelised pistachios, whilst Sally’s is an orange and honey yoghurt mousse with blackcurrant ice cream. Tom wonders if Harry’s is ‘a bit more dessert-y than a pre-dessert’ but all agree it’s their favourite.

On to dessert proper, and Harry’s is a Lord Nelson-themed rum-soaked savarin with golden raisins, crème mousseline and a chocolate sugar tuile. ‘As a seasoned rum drinker, I’d have liked a bit more punch from it,’ admits Denise, though Ed thinks the booze level is ‘perfect.’ The judges challenge each other not to say the word ‘nice’ but all fail. ‘I think it’s above ‘nice’,’ insists Tom defensively.

Ironically for a dish that celebrates industrialisation, Sally’s ‘Spinning Jenny’ involves a lot of handmade work. With both dessert and chef unravelling slightly at the first attempt, Sally now carefully slices individual threads of raspberry leather to wind around her white chocolate cotton reels, filled with Earl Grey and lemon parfait and raspberry and Chambord jam. ‘Please taste as good as it looks,’ Tom beseeches, and fortunately it does. ‘Delicious, skilful and very interesting to eat,’ Lorna concludes.

With full marks from Tom for three of her courses, and the highest score of the series so far, Sally secures her place in finals week. She says she’d like the win the starter or main course, but she baulks at the idea of getting dessert. Over two thousand strands of raspberry leather? Probably best to leave that one out of the GBM record book.