This past weekend we baked a cake (our first cake ever) in honour of my dearest and oldest friend Bill, who on Friday will be moving across the ocean to live with his true love, David, in England. *Tear.
Bill and I have been a pair since grade three. I can’t think of my childhood without thinking of him first. Coming of age in his parents’ old, broken-down mini van. Driving around aimlessly in our suburban hometown. Hanging out in parking lots and bowling alleys and manicured parks. Just driving for the sake of driving, desperately trying to figure out our place in the world.
Those were good years.
Last week Bill and I were at the Bulk Barn. Hanging on one of the walls was a display rack of some old, retro cake moulds that Bill seemed to find hilarious. I asked him which one was his favourite. To my surprise, he picked out a random pirate ship.
The next day I secretly went back and bought the mould, along with ingredients to make a french vanilla cream cake. I enlisted the support of John and mutual friend Holly, and together we created Bill’s Bon Voyage pirate ship. Despite accidentally dying our teeth and fingers red, the cake-making process went smoothly. And according to Bill and his party guests, the cake tasted delicious.
(Bill, if you’re reading this, I love you. I am going to miss you too much. Bon Voyage, Bestie.)