As I have been known to confess on these very pages, when it comes to sweets, I am an unabashed purveyor of the pedestrian. Most people who have been to a Ralph’s Supermarket have probably noticed the bakery section with its apple turnovers, banana muffins, red-velvet cupcakes, entire cakes and even half cakes—presumably to add variety for the discriminating tastes waiting at home. Whatever glutenous confection you have a hankering for you can pretty much find in this section of the store, right in front of you, the minute you walk in. Since I am stuck with the kind of willpower that needs constant reviving and have been unable to resist many of these offerings in the past, I try to enter the store at the other end, where the fruit is colorfully, bountifully ensconced. But to no avail.
Unfortunately, one item in that dreaded bakery always summons me: chocolate donuts. Clamshells with a twelve-count sit stacked on the bakery tables, neat rows of the taunting chocolate visible through the plastic. Only $4.99 for the Ralph’s Club member. How can one resist? Don’t they contain all the food groups, milk, eggs, flour, and cocoa (yes, I count cocoa as a food group)?
One of these perfectly round donuts and a glass of milk means instant transport to childhood. The chocolate coating cracks a bit as your teeth sink into it, and the edges of the fresh golden cake beneath break away first. Then you’re left with a thick knot of cake and chocolate at the center, one perfect bite.
I was a lucky little girl. My neighborhood friends were envious when my mom invited me to be in the kitchen with her. It was during our kitchen sessions together that she taught me the tricks of the home-cook's trade. By the time I was 12 years old, I knew how to make macaroni and cheese from scratch. I realized later in life that not only was I creating one of my favorite meals, I was practicing the art of French cooking. 
One of my favorite memories growing up was going to the Dodger games. For most people, they looked forward to a Dodger dog, a bag of peanuts (from the 
I’m a firm believer in the adage that a tiny plot can feed a whole
lot! Granddaddy’s tomatoes keep rolling in and BLT’s, pies, sauce, and
simply sliced dishes of tomatoes are abounding on our tables.
I dream about this kind of soup. It's completely decadent. It's probably one of the biggest comfort foods out there. Which is perfect for this time of year in Oregon. It's cold, rainy, snowy, sleety and it's so dark outside by 2 in the afternoon. The gray landscape just begs for dishes like this Triple Threat Loaded Baked Potato Soup.