Looking at me, a lanky, cerebral-seeming fellow, you might suppose I have all my human appetites in check. There walks an anti-hedonist, you might say.

Ha. Fooled you. At my core, where the public’s eye does not shine, lurks a raging dessert-aholic.

When I say raging, I mean step back. If you get between me and a sweet, I’ll run you over.

OK. Not literally true. But I will use sharp elbows.

I am not utterly childish about preferring desserts. I do eat other foods. A modest pasta dish. A seared steak. Both are perfectly fine, but they raise the question: When’s pie time?

Restaurant reviewers waste way too much space writing up main courses. From my perspective, their reviews are so much blah, blah, blah. I cut to the chase. I jump to the final paragraphs devoted to decadence.

Reviewers sometimes pick apart a dessert. The flourless chocolate cake is too gooey, the lemon blossom panna cotta too precious.

These jokers don’t get it. This is dessert we’re talking about. How is gooey a flaw? Who has ever tasted a bad panna cotta?

I realize not everyone thinks this way. Some adults live for meat and potatoes. When they’ve mopped up that last bit of steer juice, they’re done eating.

Don’t they see? The meal has just begun.

When I was dating Cheryl, we matched up well in many areas. Sense of humor. Movie compatibility. Fans of newspapers. But she failed the dessert test.

When she was done with her salad or something equally ridiculous, she zipped her lips. Meal done.

But there’s dessert, I would say. You saved room, didn’t you? I did.

I might as well have been offering her a choice of cigars.

Cheryl would tell me to pick whatever calorie bomb I wanted. She’d have a bite.

At first, I didn’t trust her. “Have a bite” sounded like a ruse. Driven wild by a bite, she’d want it all.

I was wrong. Cheryl would take a nibble, smile approvingly, then put down her fork. Tasting over. It would take a pneumatic drill, not a chocolate torte, for her to again open wide.

What was wrong with this woman? Had she once eaten a scorching chili pepper? Is this what massive taste bud death looks like?

I have come to celebrate this thing that makes Cheryl peculiar. Her indifference to sweets means more for me.

When I choose a meal closer, sorbets don’t count. Neither does cheese. I want a proper dessert, something that will leave me with a chocolate mustache or maybe a dollop of meringue on my nose.

Many people relegate desserts to birthdays and meals in restaurants. Not me. I incorporate them into my daily existence.

Can we have a show of hands — who thinks no dinner is complete without a sugar course?

I see the kids are with me.

Actually, the one kid in our household is not with me. His mother has so warped his mind that he turns up his nose at cakes and pies. Like his mother, he’s a salt eater. He prefers popcorn.

With Cheryl and Jonathan out of the picture, I have to fend for my own desserts. Baking a cake for one doesn’t work. I’ve tried.

Ditto pies. The crust gets soggy long before that last slice is eaten.

For a time, I was big on cookies, especially chocolate chip which, I discovered, can be eaten frozen from the freezer. The last two winters, I’ve made an endless succession of pumpkin/cranberry loaves, always freezing the overage.

Cookies and loaves aren’t so appealing in summer, the fruit-berry season. What to do, what to do?

Two months ago, I hit upon a solution so simple, so brilliant, so ideally suited to the needs of the solitary dessert eater I can’t believe it.

Start with angel food cake, procured commercially. Add a few scoops of vanilla ice cream, also from the supermarket. Top with berries or fruit at the peak of ripeness.

This is such a killer, my knees buckle just talking about it. Eat your heart out, Thomas Keller. To think I thought of it first.

As a side benefit, I’m convinced everything but the ice cream is actually good for you.

On nights when quality seasonal fruit is in short supply, I’ve substituted the humble banana. Surprisingly, it’s just as wonderful.

I’ve now shared with you one of the secrets to living the good life. Buy an angel food cake and ramp up your summer.

Bon appetit.

Kevin can be reached at 256-2217 or Napa Valley Register,  P.O. Box 150, Napa 94559 or kcourtney@napanews.com