There was a lot of baking going on when I was growing up.
Back then (in the olden days...) Mom didn't buy a lot of cakes and cookies. She made them. Our lunchboxes held home-baked oat and raisin cookies and brownies, and desserts at home would often feature a fruit pie or cobbler, a pudding or a cake.
Mom was a very good cook and an excellent baker. She enjoyed providing for us in this way because home, family and care were always at the centre of all she did, and coming from the American South, offering fresh, good food was also part of the generous hospitality she extended to anyone who visited our place.
One of Mom and Dad's favourite cakes was the Angel Food cake, a high, fluffy-light white cake baked in a special high ring pan that could then be enhanced with a drizzled frosting or some sliced strawberries.
When we first arrived in New Zealand as immigrants from the USA, nobody had heard of Angel Cake and of course there were no boxes of the Angel Cake mix (from Betty Crocker or Duncan Hines) that Mom coveted. Not to be outdone, Mom asked a family friend over in the US to send a supply of Angel Cake mixes down to us each year.
It was an occasion of great joy when the cake mixes arrived however, the creation of these delightful, sweet fluffies was seriously rationed out, only for special occasions like birthdays or perhaps Christmas. Needless to say, when an Angel Cake cooking in the oven released it's heavenly, sugar-laden scent into the house, we hovered about in anticipation, as did our cat Larrikin (that's a true story), and friends were often invited to partake.
That cake was so high, so soft, so fresh, it required special handling. Mom had to cut it with a serrated bread knife, such was the angelic delicacy of its deliciousness , carefully, slowly, so as to preserve its height, because that was part of the delight.
The cake was so light that it really wasn't one that would fill you up, and second helpings were always allowed.