As summer dinner parties go, it was darned near ideal.
A dozen of us were gathered around a big backyard table, enjoying a menu dictated by the host's New Orleans roots: bite-size crawfish tarts, a robust shrimp gumbo, hearty jambalaya and a red beans and rice combination that transported my taste buds directly to humid, languid Louisiana.
All impressive, and delicious. But what sticks in my mind, all these weeks later, was dessert. It was a snowy-white angel food cake, a reflection of the hostess' small-town Minnesota background.
She'd gleaned the recipe from years of watching her grandmother and father, both professional bakers, at work. She served it with a rhubarb compote, made from stalks harvested from her garden.
One bite in, and a forgotten obsession had been renewed. My mind started plotting. I'd have to dig out the long-neglected tube pan from the basement, add a few dozen eggs to my grocery cart and start baking.
I quickly discovered that others shared my affection for the cotton candy of cakes.
Michelle Gayer, for starters. When she was growing up in Iowa, the baker/owner of the Salty Tart in Minneapolis asked her mother, Janice, to bake an angel food cake for her birthday.
"Every single year," said Gayer with a laugh. "Because it was so fancy, you know what I mean?"