Trader Joe's Vegetable Pastry Puffs

For a moment, Sonia and I were thinking that this product came without the funky red tapenade-esque substance you see on top of the pastries, since the packaging plainly states "serving suggestion." The last time we encountered that little trick, there was no sauce included. But these puffs did indeed come crowned with what is apparently "herbes de provence."

Ours didn't puff up quite as much as the ones on the cover art, and they came out significantly more greasy than what we were expecting, but they were still moderately enjoyable nonetheless. The breading was soft and moist, and the topping was like a thick pasta sauce flavored with sun-dried tomatoes and herbs—French herbs, apparently. The squares were quite small, but there's a 5 x 5 grid in the pack, for a total of 25 of them.

Three and a half stars from Sonia. Three from me. $3.99 for the box, imported from France. It's a lackluster appetizer, presentation-wise, but if you've a hankering for some soft dough topped with tangy tomato sauce, this'll hit the spot. Sonia made a video sharing her opinion of the product, and it features the nutrition info and shots of the appetizer itself, as well:

Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Mini Brie en Croute

A couple posts ago, we discussed my unsophisticatedness. I'm just not into truffles. Despite my late mother's claims that I'm descended from British nobility, I've never had a taste for "fancy" things. I'm just as happy dining with paper plates and plastic cups as I am using fine china. In fact, I'd prefer the paper and plastic since no care need be taken in handling them. 

Or take caviar, as another example. I'm intrepid enough to have tried it multiple times, but I've never particularly liked it. I wish I liked it, because people who like it are "fancy." I've had it as an hors d'oeuvre with crackers, and I've had it on sushi. As much as I love classic sushi rolls, and even sashimi, I could never fully appreciate caviar. I've got more bourgeois in my marrow than blue blood, it would seem.

And I've given my spiel about brie on this blog before, too. I know, I know. Who doesn't like brie? Well, in general, I don't. But in the case of the Shells with Brie, I found it tolerable, since the brie was merely accompanying a number of other ingredients. So how will this appetizer fare? Let's take a look...

After heating the brie en croute, most of the pieces leaked out a bit of cheese and fused to one another on the baking sheet. No biggie. We salvaged about half of them fully intact, and the others...well, they wouldn't be fit to serve at a fancy shindig, but for Sonia and I just munching on them here and there throughout the day, they were just fine. 

I'm not sure what it is about brie that turns me off normally. I like most common cheeses just fine. I think brie is just a bit more "earthy" than other cheeses, and perhaps a little more intense. And in this case, the breading helped offset the natural flavor of the brie somewhat, which I was thankful for. The breading was soft and flaky, buttery, and pretty darn tasty. There were only certain bites here and there that tasted overly brie-ish. If you paid attention in science class, you'll know that heat can change the chemical properties of a substance, therefore changing the flavor of a toasted or baked food, to a degree. And that is to say, I think I like toasted brie a little better than raw brie.

Sonia thoroughly enjoyed both the puff pastry and the cheese. She liked that the pastry part was "light and airy," and she's always been a fan of brie. Her first instinct was to slather the apps with jelly. She grabbed some Welch's grape from the fridge and went at it. My initial reaction was to grimace at such a combo, but I must admit, it's not that bad. We both think it would go much better with a strawberry or raspberry flavored jelly or sauce, though. It might sound kinda random, but I'd also like to try them with that lingonberry jam from Ikea. At this point I should point out that the cup of sauce on the cover art is merely a "serving suggestion," and that this product does NOT come with a dipping sauce.

$4.99 for 10 pieces. Sonia's score probably would have been higher if it were slightly more affordable—four stars as it stands. I'll throw out three and a half. Not bad considering I don't like brie.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Stroopwafel

"There's only two things I hate in this world. People who are intolerant of other people's cultures...and the Dutch."

A little Austin Powers humor there for you. But you gotta admit. The Dutch make a mean cookie. I mean waffle. I mean...stroopwafel. Stroop! There it is!

These things are like the sexy illegitimate love-children of a naughty sugar cookie and a super sultry, syrupy waffle. They're pretty sweet. I mean that both literally, and as in, like, "Sweet, dude!" They taste like buttery, bready sugar cookie waffle things. And the texture...the texture is even harder to describe. The packaging says "crunchy on the outside, chewy on the inside." That's not inaccurate at all. But...they're so much more surprisingly awesome than that sounds. I feel like I've had "crunchy on the outside, chewy on the inside" before, but I wanna say this is just a whole new mouthfeel here with these stroopwafels. Also, there's a quaint, collectible tin.

It was once suggested that we here at What's Good at Trader Joe's? are nothing but "Belgian World Domination Puppets" due to our love of speculoos cookie butter in all its majestic forms. Well, watch out, Belgium, you've got some competition. Your friendly Netherlandish neighbors are revving up their TJ's game. I'll be first in line for Stroopwafel Butter.

Watch Sonia's video for pics of the product, nutrition info, and a cool trick where you place a stroopwafel on top of a coffee cup and it gets all warm and gooey. It's like the Dutch version of a Tim Tam Slam.

Four stars from Sonia. Four and a half from me.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Crème Brûlée Tarte

I'm not sure if there are just fewer Christmas items this year, or if they were just sold out of most of them at our local Trader Joe's, but this is about the most Christmassy thing we could find on our last TJ's run. I mean, there's nothing unChristmassy about creme brulee, but there are also no conventions I'm aware of that would insist that it be consumed this time of year in particular. Nevertheless, this is the post we leave you with on this 22nd of December, and it's likely the last post you'll see until after Christmas Day.

So. Hmmm. I followed the directions to the letter. And I'm not sure if my broiler just never got hot enough, but I don't think the sugar ever melted the way it was supposed to. I let the oven preheat for significantly longer than the estimated 5 minutes, just to make sure it was broiling, and I left the product in for at least 2 minutes. I did take it out shortly thereafter for fear I'd burn the entire thing. After reviewing another creme brulee product a few years back, a reader commented in regards to the sugar topping: "You need a blow torch." 

At first—foodie-hack that I am—I thought he was joking, but then I realized that there is such a thing as a culinary blow torch. Well, I didn't own one then and I certainly don't own one now, so...I considered improvising and holding a can of Sonia's hairspray or Lysol up to a lighter and seeing if that would do the trick, but then my better judgment got the best of me, and I decided it wasn't worth risking the clean and fresh fragrance of disinfectant or the alluring odor of a women's aerosol hair product ruining the flavor of this tarte altogether. Caramelized sugar tastes just fine whether it's completely melted or not.

So after allowing the product to cool for 3 minutes, I prepared to slice it. Wait a minute. Since when do you slice creme brulee? Since it became a "tarte" apparently. This is more like a pie with creme brulee-flavored filling than actual creme brulee. Not bad, just different. It actually has a crust. It's a thin crust, but it's unmistakably crusty and bready.

The filling is thick, rich, and somewhat custard-like, similar to real creme brulee, but something about the flavor just fell flat in my opinion. I feel like the topping was nice and sweet, but the flavor of the filling was perhaps a bit too "eggy" for me, if that makes sense, and it lacked a bit of that sweet creamy vibe in certain other creme brulee selections that I've tried. It's nothing to complain about, but in the end, nothing to write home about either.

Sonia had similar sentiments about this dessert overall, though her opinion of the filling was slightly more positive than mine. She'll give this product three and a half Christmas stars. I'll go with three.

Happy holidays!

Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Mini Cannoli

I know at least two members of the WG@TJ's team have been to Italy. The closest I've ever been to Italy would have to be Little Italy in New York City—I mean, physically, the closest I've ever been would be Spain or France—but if you're talking authentic Italian pizza, pasta, and desserts, NYC would be it for me.

While there, I picked up a cannoli from a little pastry shop. It was surprisingly inexpensive and deee-licious. Since then, I've had a few other cannolis from Italian restaurants and delis, but they all pale in comparison to that amazing Little Italy cannoli so far. So how does Trader Joe's offering size up?

It's pretty darn good. The shell isn't bad at all, but it's hard-pressed to compete with a just-baked one, fresh off the cooling rack from a professional pastry chef. Trader Joe's offering comes frozen, and you simply thaw for a while at room temperature or in the fridge. Considering its recent frozen-ness, it's honestly quite amazing.

And the filling is even better. Buffalo milk ricotta. Yep. It's just a little more tangy than other cannoli fillings I've tried, and I love it that way. It's still sweet and blends nicely with the dark chocolate, but there's just a little something in this version that gives it an extra zip—I assume we can attribute that to the use of buffalo milk instead of just plain old cow juice...? It's like a very high-quality cream cheese almost. Whatever it is, I like it. I should also note that regular cow's milk does appear lower down on the ingredients list, so if you have some kind of cow's milk allergy, you still may need to be wary here.

The bready part of these pastries is soft and crumbly, and the filling is super creamy in texture. The dark chocolate adds even more complexity and a slight rigidity to the shell, and there's just the right amount of it.

I'm certainly no cannoli expert, but these are at least the second-best cannolis I've ever had. Four bucks for six cannolis—er, cannoli? Is the plural still just "cannoli" with no "s" as the packaging would imply? Any Italian-speakers up in this piece?

These treats are indeed "miniature." A single mini cannoli isn't really a full dessert just by itself unless you have that...that thing where you don't keep eating until you're bursting at the seams each meal. Oh yeah, I think it's called "self-control" or something like that. You'll either need to combine these with other mini desserts to create your own sampler platter or just eat three at a time like the nutrition info suggests. Who am I to argue with Trader Joe? Three cannoli it is...but only because he twisted my arm.

Double fours here.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Pain au Lait

It's not unusual for me to devour the majority of a delicious Trader Joe's product before Sonia even realizes it's in the house. But it's very unusual for the reverse to happen.

Yet happen it did with this pain au lait. 

As my wife will attest, those French sure know their breads: baguettes, brioche, croissants, and of course, French toast—which might not actually be French—but we give them the credit anyway because it sounds lame to call it "eggy bread."

Add pain au lait to that list of delicious French breads. And in this case, the "pain" is indeed a product of France, imported across the pond for our enjoyment. Thanks, Trader Jacques—er, Trader Joe.

They're chock full o' milk, sugar, butter, and eggs. That's why they're so delicious. And fattening. They taste slightly sweeter than traditional breads, but not to the extreme that they're doughnut-esque or exclusively dessert-ish. Despite their sweetness and butteriness, they're surprisingly soft, airy, and addictive.

They remind me of one of the complimentary breads they serve at a particular chain restaurant, but I can't remember for certain which one: was it Outback? Cheesecake Factory? I haven't been to any of those places lately so I can't put my finger on it—but it was a bread so tasty, that I'd deliberately eat my fill so that when my meal came, I'd take a few bites and then pack the rest up to take home, thus stretching one meal into at least two. It definitely wasn't authentic pain au lait, but it was reminiscent of this offering in terms of sweetness and softness.

Serving sizes here are relatively small, in case you're worried about portion control. Each piece is perfect for dunking in coffee, or your hot beverage of choice. They went great with the hot chocolate we looked at recently. They're simply awesome with some butter and jelly, or even just butter. And honestly, both Sonia and I were fine just snagging these little guys out of the bag and eating them by themselves like cookies.

Three dollars for eight rolls. This could be a repeat buy. Sonia says she could eat the whole bag in one sitting. She'll throw out her first perfect five star score in a long time. I genuinely liked them too, but perhaps I'm not quite as enthused because I'm waiting for a bread that's optimized for dunking in energy drinks. Just kidding. That would be gross.

...or would it?

But for all you coffee connoisseurs out there, meet your new best breakfast friend. Four stars from me.

Bottom line: 9 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Chocolate Filled Crêpes

Long before we met each other, Sonia and I both had opportunities to travel to Paris, independently of one another. We each did the Eiffel Tower, Louvre, Notre Dame, Champs Elysee touristy thing and had a lovely time in the City of Light. Someday, we hope to return as a couple, but for now, it's fun recounting the few days we had there and comparing our experiences.

We both found Parisians to be kind and helpful, despite the many stories we'd both heard about how rude they were to American tourists. We both ate at a French McDonald's—because, you know, it doesn't get more authentic than French fries in France, complete with mayonnaise and very vinegary ketchup. And, of course, we both ate chocolate crêpes from street vendors, because they're everywhere, inexpensive, and scrump-dilly-icious.

These Trader Joe's crêpes aren't too far off from the authentic street cart crêpes we both had all those years ago, but there are a few distinct differences. First, the flour portion of the pastries is a little too thick here. When heated according to the instructions, the bread winds up just slightly stretchy and almost chewy—not to the point where it's unpleasant, but we both remembered a thinner, crispier crust on our crêpes. 

Straying from the printed directions, Sonia proceeded to heat one of the crêpes on the stove top in a little butter. The texture became significantly more crispy, and the flavor a little more indulgent. We preferred them that way, although heated in the oven, as per the instructions on the box, wasn't bad by any means. I even ate one straight out of the box after thawing for an hour or two. Honestly, taste-wise, there wasn't a whole lot of difference from the ones we heated in the oven. 

The shape of the crêpes is a little strange to us. The crêpes we'd always had before—not just in Paris, but most of the offerings we've tried stateside—were like thin pancakes folded over in a semicircle. These are more like little rolls, folded over multiple times. It's nothing to complain about—just a difference we noticed.

The filling here is a nice thin Nutella-esque chocolate creme—not too sweet and not too bitter, either. Just about perfect.

With a price point of $2.69 for seven crêpes, this is one of the more accessible international snacks from Trader Joe's. Four stars from me. Sonia was going to go with three and a half until she tried her own stove top butter-fried heating method. After trying them that way, she's ready to give a solid four.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Giotto's Misto Alla Griglia

A couple things about this product mystify me. The first is the defrosting instructions. They say to defrost from frozen at room temperature for two hours, and then to serve. I'm not sure if we just keep our home a little on the chilly side, but after two hours, these vegetables were still very much on the cold side of room temperature. Even at the two and a half hour mark, they still wanted to crunch a little from the ice crystals left within them. 

Another thing I don't get is that they recommend serving these at room temperature in the first place, rather than hot. After having tried them both ways, I still greatly prefer them heated—while Sonia preferred them as the instructions specified.

Sonia thought maybe that heating them in the microwave would be detrimental to their texture—that they might get more leathery or chewy in the microwave. And while I wasn't a fan of this product's texture in either case, I must admit the veggies, most notably the eggplant and zucchini, were slightly less chewy when not heated in the microwave. But something about eating them hot, particularly when served with pasta, made them just barely palatable. My gag reflex wanted to kick in when attempting to consume them lukewarm or cold.

The best thing about this product was the marinade of vinegar, oil, and spice, which gave the mixture a nice savory flavor and enhanced the natural flavors of the grilled vegetables. When eaten with pasta, the herby tang of the misto alla griglia spread out beyond the vegetables and served as a nice subtle dressing for our linguini noodles as well. No other sauce was needed—although we did throw in a bit of the 21 Seasoning Salute.

But still, I preferred each bite to contain very small bites of the veggies and plenty of pasta, because otherwise I found the texture unbearable.

There's always the possibility that we got a bad bag and that your eggplant and zucchini will simply melt in your mouth. We've already seen eggplant from Trader Joe's go both ways. Click here for a big eggplant win, or here for a big eggplant fail. At $3.99 for the bag, Sonia thinks it might be just as cost effective to buy and grill your own vegetables. Of course, it would be a bit more work, but grilling your own eggplant, zucchini, and peppers might be more fun than thawing this nonsense for a full day in your fridge or half a day on your counter and still not knowing if it's the right temperature. I'm pretty sure this won't be a repeat buy for us.

Three stars from Sonia. Two and a half from me.

Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Cannelés De Bordeaux

Let's take a coffee break, shall we?

No, not more coffee, as inviting as that sounds. If you haven't been paying attention to the blog recently, it's been all on up on coffee products. I'd mention them, but there's too many....just take a look over on the right sidebar under posts from this month going back.

I mean, an actual break from anything coffee related. It's a good thing, and we're all gonna need it. More on that...later.

Although, let's be honest, taking a look at the picture on the box of Trader Joe's Cannelés De Bordeaux, that'd go well with a cup of coffee, right? Imagine that served alongside a steamy cafe au lait or cappucino or whatever at some sidewalk café. Looks fancy. Has a fancy name. Has gots to be fancy, right?

Ehhhhhhhhhhh.

So boxed fourpack come with the little French delights already fully baked, just frozen. To prepare, either thaw for 20 minutes (who's got time for that?) or nuke in the microwave for 20 seconds. We went the nuclear option. Twenty seconds didn't seem enough, the pastries were still cool to the touch. So another 20 seconds, and then, you know, 20 more just for the heck of it. Even after all that, the cannelés were still cool and clammy to the touch. Oh well. Time for a bite...

"Carmelized on the outside" is one way of putting it. Hard and dense with a suggestion of crispy carmelization is another. It was definitely tougher and chewier than anticipated. And the insides weren't much better. Sandy and I have a disagreement over what the word "custardy" should imply. She thinks it ought to mean creamy, like custard cream/creme. I stick more to the true meaning of custard, meaning a dish with eggs, milk, flavoring and sugar, baked until set, so cakelike except spongey. But we both agreed that the innards didn't match our hopes. Cool, dense, but fairly pleasantly (if unevenly) vanilla-esque. Think more my interpretation of custardy for sure.

Sandy disliked hers to a great degree. She plots and plans her treats all day long, and had sacrificed some ice cream so she could eat one cannelé in all of its 120-calorie glory. Very pouty afterwards. She gave it a two. I'll go a little higher, but not much.....but I'll be willing to be wrong here. If you like them, and have a recommended suggestion on how to optimize the thawout process to ensure its utmost tastiness, I'm all ears. We have two cannelés left, and I (at least) will try your recommended method and report back. Until then, as is (and keep in mind this is following the box's suggestion for preparation, so don't hate on me too much) it's just a middlin' 2.5.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Cannelés De Bordeaux: 4.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's English Butter Fudge

Ah, there's nothing more American than the Superbowl. And there's nothing like a classic American snack such as English Butter Fudge to pop in your mouth while watching the big game. Amirite?

Had we consumed the entire box of candy during the course of the game, we wouldn't have slept Sunday night, nursing massive sugar buzzes, and we'd have necessarily sought out urgent dental care Monday morning.

Fortunately, we stopped after just two pieces each. 

It's not that the candy tastes bad. Not at all. It just sits a little heavy in the stomach, what with the two main ingredients being "sugar" and "salted butter." It's like the British equivalent of maple candy, except instead of maple syrup there's salty, sugary butter. The overall effect is pretty smooth, but there's just the slightest hint of grittiness from the granules of salt and sugar. 

Sonia says they're similar in texture to De La Rosa Mazapan, and she's not wrong. Taste-wise, they're similar to the marzipan/mazapan too, although there's nothing peanutty about this Anglo-confection. And in case you were wondering, yes, this product is actually imported from Merry Olde England.

You can really taste butter here. And if you like butter, that's a good thing. Butterrific. 

Brits apparently really like butter. And I like Brits. So polite, those English folk. By now I'm sure my artistic rendering of Butterfudgehenge has caught your eye. That's for you, Great Britain. Hope you guys get that NFL team soon. Then maybe I'll cross the Atlantic to see my Redskins lose to your Monarchs or whatever they'll be called some day.

Sonia gives this candy four stars. I'll go with three and a half.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Trader Jacques' Vanilla Eclairs with Chocolate Fondant

Why is it that eclairs seem so haughty? Just the name itself rings out with an air of froideur. It's almost as if eclairs are making some kind of assertion that they're the aristocracy of the dessert world. 

E-clair. What's an electronic Clair anyway?

Perhaps it's because we're grumpy that life is beating us up right now: flat tires, broken windshields, collapsed awnings, and lots more issues I'm not even going to touch on this food blog, but neither Sonia nor I were blown away by this dessert.

And we know eclairs. We've had restaurant eclairs, casino eclairs, dollar store eclairs, and even other Trader Joe's eclairs. This selection isn't the worst of the worst by any means, but...well, I think we've been spoiled by those bargain basement eclairs from Dollar Tree. I'm not kidding. Do you know the ones I'm talking about? Dolce Tuscano Mini Custard Filled Iced Eclairs. Six for a buck. Sonia says they're hands down better than this TJ's offering.

I don't know if I'd go that far, but I will admit the Dolce Tuscano brand gives these guys a run for their money. And to be fair, value-wise, TJ's offering is only $2.99 for four servings, and there's at least twice as much eclairage in the box since Jacques' pastries are full-size—but it still doesn't beat sixteen and a half cents per surprisingly-edible mini eclair from the freezer section at Dollar Tree.

These eclairs just didn't stand out. Not one element of them was rave-worthy. I felt the bread was stale. Sonia said it tasted freezer-burnt. The custard wasn't particularly decadent or smooth or creamy. And the "fondant" seemed like run-of-the-mill chocolate icing to me. We tried one at the short end of the suggested thawing interval and then another at the long end, and both results were the same: an edible, but not particularly memorable or outstanding eclair.

We finished the box but probably won't be purchasing these again. Three stars from me. Two and a half from Sonia.

Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Mini Greek Spirals with Leeks and Feta Cheese

Many of you have probably heard of the Norway Spiral. In the minds of the very sober and scientific-minded, it was obviously an interdimensional portal of some kind, ushering otherworldly beings onto our planet to initiate the apocalypse. That point isn't really up for debate. The apocalypse is just a bit behind schedule due to some unforeseen political circumstances and a few mathematical errors and omissions in the Mayan calendar. 

Then several years later, we learned of a Greek Spiral, whose purpose was quite obviously to usher five different cheeses into our reality, and to disappoint Russ and Sandy, thus temporarily distracting them from their true purpose and role in saving humanity from the aforementioned apocalypse.

Similarly, Sonia and I have recently been made aware of a swarm of smaller Greek spirals featuring only two cheeses, but containing leeks as well. These leaky leek spirals leaked Greek grease cheekily onto streaky sheets in our oven, but the final product was not particularly greasy in my opinion—at least not when compared to other similar Greek phyllo dough-based products.

The true purpose of this miniature Greek spiral swarm has not yet been uncovered as of the date of this food review's publication. 

It may have something to do with the leek's "unique combination of flavonoids and sulfur-containing nutrients" healing this food reviewer from his current ailment, which may, in turn, be fueling some more-imaginitive-than-usual musings about this fairly run-of-the-mill Trader Joe's pastry.

The dough is somewhat flaky and soft. The filling isn't particularly cheesy, but there's a mild feta-esque flavor present. And the onion-ish hints of the leek are most definitely in there, too. It's not an overbearing flavor—it's subtle, like all the truly great powers in the universe tend to be.

Three and a half interdimensional portals out of five from me. Three and a half from Sonia.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Stacked Eggplant Parmesan

If someone asks you if you've tried "Trader Joe's Eggplant Parm," you've got to ask them if they mean this Stacked Eggplant Parmesan or, you know, that other abomination. Because in my opinion, this stuff is in every way superior to that Trader Giotto's eggplant dish that comes in a tray. The nutrition info for both products is comparable, although the serving size for the Stacked is somewhat smaller than the other dish. The only good thing about Trader Giotto's Eggplant Parm is that our review of it sparked a dialogue about this delicious offering. I'm super glad we tried it.

Far from being chewy like the previously-reviewed parm, the stacked variety, if anything, is too supple and soft. I understand some people prefer their eggplant on the crispy side. If you're in that boat, then I guess you might have a legitimate complaint about this particular product. I felt like it flaunted a nice "melt-in-your-mouth" quality, but Sonia thought it fell apart a little too easily. That's not to say she didn't enjoy it. She loved the flavor. And what's not to love? It's a collection of every stereotypical tasty ingredient commonly found in Italian food all mixed in and "stacked" on amazing eggplant. Especially impressive was the ricotta cheese. Tomato, bell pepper, and bread crumbs help round out the taste and texture.

We ate ours with pasta, and it worked really well. I'd be perfectly happy eating this dish all by itself, or you could slap a slab of this in between some quality Italian bread and make a sandwich of sorts. I'm not known for my culinary creativity, but I'm sure some of you guys have come up with some interesting ways to eat this entree. 

Apparently there's a third TJ's brand eggplant parm product that has somehow eluded us up to this point: Trader Giotto's Eggplant Parmesan Towers. Let us know if any of you have tried that one and we'll add it to our shopping list. Sonia and I haven't been on a proper TJ's run in a hot minute—we actually had these stacked eggplant parms a while back—but now we know there's a Pokéstop right next to the local TJ's, we have another good reason to go!

Four stars a piece.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Giotto's Trofie Colore

With five different colors represented, this imported Italian spiral pasta looks super exotic and exciting. Unfortunately, it doesn't taste that way.

Like Russ's toddler being disappointed that the black bean rotini noodles weren't chocolate, I was similarly saddened that these weren't, like, the same five flavors as Life Savers. I mean, the red, orange, yellow, green, and ivory are pretty much exactly the same colors you get in both cases. That's tantamount to false advertising in my book. I was hoping to pair some sweet, fruity noodles with pineapple salsa or something.

I'm actually just kidding about thinking they would be fruit-flavored, although I was hoping they'd have a flavor as flashy as their look. But alas, they're just normal noodles. If anything, they're even more bland than other plain pastas. If you're going to check these out, they're going to depend entirely on the sauce you choose to serve them with.

Since they're actually a type of macaroni noodle, we decided to go with something cheesy and Italian: Trader Giotto's Three Cheese Pomodoro Pasta Sauce, which, much to my surprise, has already been reviewed on this blog. And as that four-year-old review suggests, the sauce is really darn good, and was a much bigger hit than the pasta itself, which will certainly fade out of memory quickly, despite its attractive packaging and colorful presentation.

To be fair, though, there are a few other saving graces in regards to this product. The texture was nice. Cooking them according to the instructions yielded a nice soft batch of semi-tender, twisty, fine-grain pasta. It was filling enough, and for under two bucks, you can hardly complain about the value. I'll offer three stars here. Sonia will go with two and a half.

Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Gyro Slices

Yes, they exist.

No, I'm not talking about cell phone batteries that don't die every five minutes, pens that don't stop writing with only half the ink used, or a Justin Bieber song that doesn't suck. It's a not that good of a world out there. But at least we do have Chuck Norris-approved roundhouse kicking jeans. Listen, with those hidden gussets not binding your legs, you got some full leg-swinging freedom there, partner.

Nope, I am talking about Trader Joe's Gyro Slices. They do exist. I know, because I just had them for dinner. But if you're searching the shelves for them, good luck...much like their distantly related riced cauliflower cousin, you're much more likely to spot that Bieber character in your local TJ's than this particular meat package. It's that popular with demand that far underestimated that warehouses are out, so get yourself on the waitlist, and if you see any, stock up and sell on eBay.

Are the gyros worth the hype, though? Ehhhh...debatable. Don't get me wrong - I enjoy gyros at local Greek food festivals just as much as anyone reasonably can, so I was pretty hyped up as well. But the TJ gyro slices just aren't quite as good as those - close, but not quite.

The reason? Possibly ignorance, probably perception bias. But I've always thought that the meat in gyros at the food festivals was lamb, or at least mostly lamb. Now, there's lamb in these guys too...listed as the last ingredient before the "Contains 2% or less of the following" part of the credits. So, there just might be as little as 3% lamb we're talking about here...probably more than that, but undoubtedly more beef than lamb. As a result, I swear these taste more beefy than other gyro meat, which kinda comes off as vaguely Steak-Umm-esque, but how accurate that is debatable at best.

That sounded like an insult. I didn't mean it that way. In every other regard these seem spot on, with the breadcrumbs adding the right mealy-meaty feel, and spiced appropriately with the pepper and garlic and whatnot. And I'd be danged if altogether both Sandy and I didn't enjoy a good made-at-home gyro that we'd be more than eager to do again, all for the fraction of the price of gyros out. It helped that when all the sandwich components were together, the perceived beefiness became a lot less noticeable.

For the requisite "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" reference, I won't vouch these are entirely authentic, but will say spraying Windex at them will certainly not make an improvement. If you see 'em, snag 'em. Double fours.

Trader Joe's Seafood Paella

Sonia has a few quirky allergies that come and go mysteriously. One is to mushrooms. Although, that particular sensitivity didn't apply when it came to the Portobello Mushroom Fries. Another one of her fun "come and go" allergies involves certain kinds of shellfish. Maybe. We've figured out she's okay with crab and lobster. But she usually plays it safe with things like clams, oysters, and scallops...except when my dad orders the fried oysters and she takes a couple bites. Maybe she's grown out of the allergy and maybe she's not as sensitive when the food is prepared a certain way. Who knows? But it took some convincing to get her to try this paella. She finally agreed, but only on the condition that I take all the mussels out of her portion.

That was just fine by me, because I really liked these mussels. They came out nice and soft, but not too chewy. The "calamares" were by far the chewiest ingredient in our bag. I've had squid before that was not this chewy, but really, it wasn't horrendous—just a tad more rubbery than I would have preferred. The rest of the textures were wonderful and blended together seamlessly.

South Jersey is full of fresh seafood, but I haven't seen many places around here that offer any kind of paella. In fact, the only other time in my life that I've had proper paella was in Spain. There was a quaint sidewalk cafe in Madrid where I tried this "national dish" of España. It was a while back, but honestly, I remember not being impressed. It was much soupier than Trader Joe's offering, the vegetables were stringy, and I felt it lacked flavor. They might have given me a bad batch on purpose, though. They didn't seem fond of non-Spanish speakers there. <Sigh.> Six and a half years into a marriage to someone whose first language is Spanish, and I'm still trying to learn it.

But back to the paella. It's good. It's complex, flavorful, and not-at-all-fishy. Seafoody? Yes. Fishy? No. I'm not sure how authentic it is, but I certainly prefer it to the only other paella I've ever had. Ironically, this selection is a "product of France," not Spain, according to the bag. Eh, close enough, I guess. Four stars from me. Three and a half from my better half.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Irish Bangers

Despite my red hair, I'm not really all that Irish. A little, sure...but about as Irish as I get is drink some Murphy's and quote some Boondock Saints every once in a while. Or listen to some U2. I'm not the one who did a really good leprechaun imitation on the latest podcast episode anyway.

So, I'm not really sure how "bangers" is appropriate Irish verbiage meaning a sausage. And I'm not about to find out - after all, I'm typing this on my break at my work computer, and need to ensure I keep all Web searches HR friendly.

Regardless, there's that big Irish holiday coming up where we all decide to get our green on, and so apt enough, Trader Joe's Irish Bangers are back on the shelves for this season. They're really only around this time of year as an alternative to corned beef for Irish meat intake.

And it's too bad....because I really like these sausages. Pardon me, but these bangers are bangin'. Made simply from ground pork and spices and packed not too tightly, they're a perfectly delectable somewhat seasonal treat. Bangers and mash? Yes please! And that's exactly what we did last week one night for dinner, with enough left over for lunch the next day for me - happy Russ.

They're not exactly perfect, though. The pork flavor itself is fairly light, but at least in our last package, there was this - how I do say it - almost a sweetness to it not explained by the ingredient list. Red wine vinegar comes to mind for some reason, but that's not quite it. I don't think other times we've had the bangers I've noticed that, but I could be wrong. A little less of that, and a slight bit more pepper would have been great.  Also, probably just like ones your Irish nana used to homemake, there were a couple small hard pebbles of gristle in one or two of mine. I can accept or homemade, but for commercially produced...c'mon.

Our local TJ's was sampling the bangers over the weekend with some pickled sauerkraut and dijon mustard, though and man - that was a tasty combo. The pork was a perfect base and held its own in that triad of strong, hearty flavors.

 A pack of six runs only a few bucks and is well worth for firing up on the grill or broiling in the oven. My kiddos loved them and gobbled down without complaint, as did the wife and I. Get them while you can, and bonus points for no artificial green food coloring.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Irish Bangers: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons.

Trader Joe's Tomato Tiropita Triangles

Rather than give you a spiel about what tiropita is and fake like I know what I'm talking about (as I've done many times in the past), I'll just link to Wikipedia for you here. But I will go ahead and simply mention that just as spanakopita means "spinach pie," tiropita or tyropita means "cheese pie." How creative.

When you first bite into these pastries, you'll notice the buttery, flaky crust, but the filling really zings the tongue with a super Greek-ish cheese flavor. At first, I thought it was all feta, but the first cheese mentioned in the ingredients is "mizithra." It's made with cow, sheep, and goat's milk so that none of the farm animals feel left out. What? No pig's milk?

The taste of the tangy cheeses overpowers most of the tomato flavor, IMHO. But if you pay attention, there's definitely a touch of sun-dried tomato up in the mix. They go together pretty well. I was thinking they should have called these "Mizithra Tiropita Triangles," because the cheese flavor is so dominant, but then again, mizithra is a type of cheese and tiropita means "cheese pie," so it would not only be redundant, but you'd lose that nice alliteration in the title of the product. And technically, since these are three-dimensional objects, shouldn't they be called "prisms" or "polyhedrons"? I guess not, since the sides of the prisms aren't perfect planes. So basically, just forget about this whole paragraph.

Sonia? She liked these even more than I did, and she also made the initial assumption that the primary cheese flavor was feta. She claims she could taste olives. And there are definitely some olives and olive oil in there, but my taste buds weren't keen enough to pick them out without looking at the ingredients...or, you know, the front of the packaging where it explicitly states there are Kalamata olives in the product. She also enjoyed the flaky crust but thought it was a bit too oily. In all honesty, that might have been my fault since I used a little oil in the pan when I baked them. I was a bad boy and did not follow the instructions exactly.

But they still came out good enough for Sonia to give them a four. I'll say...three and a half.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.