Trader José's Chile & Onion Flour Tortillas

Some things in life just aren't fair. For a pretty benign example, imagine being a Pennsylvania resident (which I am) and going to an out-of-state Trader Joe's (which I have, on numerous occasions) and surveying the vast selections of consumable goods that just aren't available in your local store. It's unfair. I mean, I've been to the Woodmere, OH store on multiple occasions, and each time, I enviously eye them up. It's literally a whole section of the store. Why, as a PA resident, can I not buy the same goodies as a native of the good state of Ohio? Is it antiquated state law? Market demands?  Lingering animosity over the Buckeyes-Nittany Lions rivalry? I don't know, but it's not fair. Somebody get the governor on the phone.

Lest you think I'm talking about beer and wine (for those not in the know, PA does have antiquated state laws not allowing for alcohol sales in most retail channels, including grocery stores, so we're living in roughly the year 1792 here), this time I'm not. Though I did get some on my most recent trip, there's nothing I felt too compelled to review yet. The Stockyard Oatmeal Stout's pretty tasty, the Simple Times lager isn't great but is much better than their other cheapo option, and perhaps once we get in our new house Sandy and I will have the occasion to break out the wine.

But I am talking about the Trader Jose Chile & Onion Flour Tortillas. I first spotted these several years ago there and just had to try them, I loved them, an hoped they'd migrate just a little further east and south to my Pittsburgh home store. When they hadn't, I assumed they got discontinued for whatever reason. But no, they're still up at the Woodmere store, just outside Cleveland, along with other tortilla flavors that we in the 'burgh just don't have. We only have the run-of-the-mill flour and corn variety, with the Habenero and Lime  for an exotic option, which gets old after a while.

If these were regularly available to me, these would be my everyday tortilla. And I eat a lot of tortillas. They're just perfect. Take a good flour tortilla and add in onion and some actually legitimate chile spice, and BAM. They taste good plain, pair wonderfully with my fake chorizo/rice/bean delight I regularly make, and even taste alright and hold up okay after zapping a microwave quesadilla. Tell you what, though: fry them up in a little butter for a stove top quesadilla, and they are a-m-a-z-i-n-g. The tortillas crisp up perfectly, absorb in a little butter, and get all nice and flaky while the flavor just pops then. They're spicy enough to keep me intrigued but probably accessible enough to most flavor palettes. I've tried replicating their exact spice level by tossing in some red pepper flakes into the cheesy portion, but it just doesn't work the same.

These are some seriously good hombres, and they need to find a new home: Pittsburgh. Please come. I may be the bigger fan of these tortillas. Sandy kinda shrugged and said "I like 'em. They're good. I like 'em. Quote that." As you wish. I just wish I didn't finally eat the last one of them the other night after savoring them for a while. I'm giving them a perfect five and guessing for Sandy's score...

Bottom line: Trader Jose's Chile & Onion Flour Tortillas: 9 out of 10 Golden Spoons    

Trader Joe's Sweet Corn Tamales

So, a few weeks ago, I started a new job. It's closer to home, it's less stress, and it pays a lot more. Those are all good things. That's not to say that the place isn't a little bit of an unusual environment. Walk inside and probably the first thing you'd notice is the giant indoor walk-thru arboretum, and if you happen to glance off to the side, you can see the little pond with picnic tables around it. That's pretty sweet. And there's a pretty decent little employee cafe inside with made-to-order sandwiches and whatnot. My previous job didn't have any of that, not even the cafe. If you wanted a sandwich, it had to come from a vending machine. And that was at a flagship, otherwise state-of-the-art facility. Oh, and their microwaves sucked. My new job even has the same microwave that I own, and it's a good one. What they lack, though, is almost comical. There's no sink or hot water tap in almost any of the break rooms, making my routine morning French Press o' coffee a tougher task. But get this - they don't even have a freezer where people can store their frozen meals. There's none. There's a fridge, though, which keeps most lunches semi-frozen enough until lunch. You'd figure, if they can stock a pond and have some indoor trees that require upkeep every two weeks, there'd be a freezer somewhere. Maybe that's just me.

I mention all this because no matter where I work, I gotta eat lunch, and for the longest time, Trader Joe's tamales have been a staple of my noontime feasting. They're easy to make, they're inexpensive, and as Nathan pointed out a while ago, they're surprisingly good. In Pittsburgh, at least, the Sweet Corn Tamales are a new option, which I was only too glad to pick up, as the chicken, cheese and beef ones get a little old after a while.

They're...okay. Not great, but not bad, either. I'm not sure if the tamales themselves or my work's lack of freezer-hood are to blame, but they're kinda a weird texture, at least in my experience. It's definitely a different masa than the other types, which I could tell before even tasting due to its lighter color and softer, kinda soggier texture. A lot of folks on our Facebook page said to be sure to place a wet paper towel over them while nuking, lest they get all dried out. I didn't, because it's impossible to get to a sink without going to the bathroom where I work, and yet, after three minutes in the microwave, they're pretty soggy still. I'll be willing to split the blame.

As for taste, the corn masa exterior tastes like good sweet ol' cornbread, which I'm all about. Inside there's a respectable amount of fresh-ish sweet corn and little green chiles. The chiles don't add much (if any) heat, and the manchega cheese (which is fairly mild anyways) isn't all that prevalent, so overall, these tamales just taste like sweet, semi-chunky cornbread. Some slightly spicier chiles, and some queso mas fuerte, and they'd be much better. As is, they'll probably make my semi-regular lunch rotation, but I think that's more a function of TJ's small cheap lunchworthy entrees than anythng else.

Sandy doesn't really like tamales based chiefly on texture. We've been to Mexico and have eaten some fairly authentic ones, and even then, the masa shell makes her gag a little. So, in fairness and to avoid unilateral Golden Spoonage awarding, I asked our Facebook page what they thought about them. Overall, it was a bit of a mixed bag, ranging from amorous declarations ("I totally love these!" says Lindsey; "I eat them all the time and they rock!" says Kristine) to utter contempt ("I love tamales...these disappointed on all fronts" says Karen), with most folks in the middle. The average score that peeps gave them was about a 2.5 to 3, which seems about right. I'm not utterly opposed to them, but I definitely like the chicken and cheese ones much better. So, it's a 2.5 or 3 from me as well.      

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Sweet Corn Tamales: 5.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons
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P.S. - I completely whiffed on snapping a picture of the nutritional info for these. I'll add it the next time I buy'em.

Trader Joe's Mexicaine Quiche

I'm not sure why TJ's decided to spell "Mexican" with a built-in homage to the cocaine cartels in Juarez. Neither Sonia (who is Mexican-American) nor I are familiar with this bizarre spelling. I guess it makes the product fancier. I'm also fond of mispronouncing "quiche" on purpose, like "kwitch-y." So, at our house, this product became "TJ's Mexi-Cocaine Kwitchy" because I'm weird like that. At any rate, we decided to sample this product and review it for you.

We followed the instructions for a conventional oven. Everything came out cooked to perfection except for the egginess in the middle. It was still too wet. The outer-crust was beginning to blacken and char, and yet the middle was a little too raw—but not to the point that we couldn't eat it.

The product has a fair amount of egg-omelette flavor and there's a hint of mild Mexican peppers. The crust was great. It reminded me of a homemade pie crust. But overall, this quiche is on the bland side. Have salt, pepper, and the hot sauce of your choice on stand-by when and if you decide to cook up this dish.

It's in the ballpark of $3. I don't remember the exact price, I can't find our receipt, and anyway, prices may vary from region to region. It strikes me as being pretty small for a $3 quiche. A grown man could easily eat the whole thing and still be a bit hungry...and holy crap! Just as I'm writing this I glanced at the nutrition information. I don't think a full day's worth of saturated fat is something that most of us are looking for in a small treat from Trader Joe's.

Originally, as I ate it, it was just yummy enough to garner 3.5 stars from me. After thinking about its economic value and its fat content, I think I'll downgrade that to an even 3 stars. Sonia gives it 3 as well, adding "That is a little bland for a Mexican dish. It should have more pepper flavor and more kick."

But don't get me wrong, if you're looking for a breakfasty comfort food omelette-thing, I'd still say it's better than most greasy-spoon diner egg-based dishes. This one's definitely not a must-buy...more like a "might-try."

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader José's Chicken in Red Mole

It hasn't been the most fun of weeks here at the Western Pennsylvania wing of the What's Good at Trader Joe's team. Work's been getting crazy for the two of us, and when we're not there we've been dealing with trying to get the home ready for our forthcoming little bundle of joy in, oh, a month and a half or so. Two of the non-negotiable things we've wanted to do was getting our carpets cleaned and installing a new kitchen floor. In perhaps a flash of madness or brilliance, we decided to do both this past weekend. That made for a lot of prep work and clean-up last week. Carpets look great (well, until our dog threw up in the middle of the hallway, at least) and I'm eternally thankful for all the help from both my dad and older brother gave me with the floor. I may owe them a new set of knees each. Laminate's not all that easy when you live in a city that has no such thing as a square room in any of its houses.

Anyways, between being so busy and trying to not buy more food that we'd just have to move somewhere, it had been at least two, maybe three weeks since our last Trader Joe's trip. I'm not even sure what I ate except too much of my emergency stash of Chef Boyardee at work. Blahh. I tell ya what: it felt good to finally go back the other night. Damn good.

I felt even better once we spotted the Trader Jose's Chicken in Red Mole. Apparently it's new, or at least new to us. We're both a big fan of most of the Trader Jose line with just an exception or two, and we've had some pretty good mole in Mexico, so we were both pretty hopeful. This is pretty darn good, if I may say so. For starters, unlike a lot of TJ products, there was plenty of meat. And I mean plenty - it was almost half the package. That's a great start. Plus, the mole...I don't think one could reasonably ask for any better from a frozen grocery store commodity. It coated every single chicken chunk (and mingled down into the rice) with a rich, deep, very smoky flavor. Loved it. You ever look up how to make mole? It's fairly involved, and if I were to attempt it, I would hope it'd turn out nearly as good. It did seem a little drier and perhaps slightly gummier then most mole I remember, but that could've a result of possible inadvertent overcooking in the oven on my part. I was pretty occupied fighting an eventual winning battle as I reassembled our IKEA kitchen shelving (its name? I can't remember if it's Falsapart or Screwmenoscrewyou). The chicken was pretty decent, though, while the rice left a little to be desired. It probably would've been better if it were all meat then have you cook your own rice on the side. I guess the plus side is, since it's microwavable, the fact that it includes rice makes this a full lunch option, but that's be one meal that's too big even for me.

For a $5.99 deal, it's way too big for one person but was pretty amply sized for two, unless you have a way bigger appetite than me, which probably isn't possible. I really don't have all that many complaints about it - maybe that's the recent lack of TJ goodness in my diet talking, but no matter. This will definitely be a repeat purchase for us. Sandy's a fan as well. She didn't give me an exact Golden Spoon rating (too busy with take-home work, which is the absolute worst kind, the poor girl), but I'll assume we're about on the same wavelength and go ahead and assume it'd be a four from her. That's mostly because that's exactly what I'll give it.

Bottom line: Trader Jose's Chicken in Red Mole: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons.

Trader Joe's Chicken Breast in Poblano Sauce

A poblano is a type of pepper. Beyond that, my wife and I aren't sure if the word means anything—and Sonia is fluent in Spanish. If we had to take a guess just based on the sauce on this TJ's dish, we'd probably guess that "poblano" means "bland." If we had to take a guess based on the dish as a whole, we'd probably go with "nasty."

At some point not too long ago, we had a TJ's fan write on our Facebook page that this particular Chicken Poblano item was excellent. Now, mind you, we know that from time to time there are extreme discrepancies between regions when it comes to people's experiences with Trader Joe's products. The Sockeye Salmon comes to mind. Apparently, in most places, the salmon Trader Joe uses in that product is barely fit for consumption by your cat, let alone yourself. But here and there, you'll find a batch fresh enough that it's not only passable, but relatively tasty.

So I'm not going to call that person out there who claims that this Chicken Poblano is delicious a liar. I'm merely going to state matter-of-factly that our experience was something entirely different—and Sonia and I are 100% on the same page about this one. We were both thoroughly disappointed.

The chicken itself was barely enjoyable. It was fatty and gristly. Both Sonia and I got at least one bite that we had to spit into our napkins because of an excess of...??...something unchewable. Overall the chicken lacked flavor, and the bites of tender, juicy white meat were far and few between.

The sauce was even worse. It was virtually flavorless. With so many ingredients, we both hoped that at least one of them would come through to spice up the dish. But nothing. Just a bland mush. We were both independently shocked by the lack of flavor. We both expect more from TJ's.

I never want readers to think we're taking a cheap shot at Trader Joe's. We're fans and always have been. But once in a while, we come across a product that is so sorely disappointing that if it had been our first experience with TJ's, it may have also been our last. This was one of those meals. I'm not saying that someone else couldn't have had a very different experience...because I know at least one person out there is somehow a fan of this product. I'm interested to see what kind of comments we get with this one. Whose dish was the anomaly? The person who loved it? Or Sonia and I?

Sonia gives it 1 star, stating simply, "terrible." That sounds about right to me. We'll never buy it again.

Bottom line: 2 out of 10 stars.

Trader Joe's Mini Chicken Tamalitos

If you've read this blog for any amount of time, you know how I feel about lunch, particularly at work: a necessary evil. I'm just not a fan. Part of it is, if there's any general selection of anything that Trader Joe's fails to impress me with, it's decent lunch options, in at least the price range I'm willing to pay (about $2 for an entree). Yeah, I'm cheap, but got a kid on the way, and my Subaru just crapped out after a rough 18 years of life (I knew I shouldn't have said anything about its cupholders a couple weeks ago), so, I'm justified. At least to myself. Anyways, there are some options, like this, that, and that other thing, but it's the same, week after week after week. I need something new, dangit, and it's an added bonus if it's something that will make my fastfood-baggin' coworkers look at me funny. I cannot tell you how shocked I was to see this package discarded in the trash at work the other day, and not by me, so there's hope for them yet.

I guess that's why I picked up the Mini Chicken Tamalitos last week. They're a little pricier than I would have usually liked at $3.99, but I figured I could make two lunches from them, so it works. I know what you're thinking: "Hmm, frozen microwavable tamales. Yeah right." Well, if the bigger version works according to our resident tamale expert, I had hope for these pequeño pieces, too.

A little water in the bottom of some Tupperware, a damp paper towel over, a little plastic wrap and a couple minutes in the microwave are what you need for these. The result is a steamy hot little tamale to unhusk for your dining pleasure. These work. No, seriously. Take a look at the picture I took of one I intentionally sliced in half: soft warm corn masa wrap, a respectable amount of decent white meat chicken, and lots of glowing red spices that actually have a little kick to them. Si, delicioso. Each tamale is about two or three bites, so four or five of them is plenty for lunch, especially if you have some of your favorite sidekick pretzels. I've had fresh homemade tamales in Mexico, and while these TJ creations certainly can't hold a candle to them, they're respectable enough in their own way for both taste and texture. I really don't have much of an issue with them.

There is, of course, one goofy thing about them. In Spanish, if you put an -ito or -ita on the end of the word, the word then means "little ___." That's why "burrito" means "little donkey" and "Judge Ito" means "little judge." Likewise, "tamalito" equates to "little tamale." Not a problem, except there's also the word "mini" in the product name, which either makes the name redundant ("mini chicken little tamales"), or there's the implication that Trader Joe's has cultivated and harvested an entire race of micro-chickens for the sole purpose of creating these tamales and just maybe these tacos. I wouldn't put it beyond them, but man, that's a lot of unnecessary effort.

Anyways, as with most of my lunch escapades, it's just me grading these. Sandy's a little adverse to most tamales anyways as the texture of the masa dough usually gets to her, so I'm not sure she'd be a willing participant this time around anyways. Anyways, like I said, I really like these, perhaps a little more than I really should. Probably some of it has to do with when a random coworker asked me if you eat the husks, too. My only semi-valid complaint is, although they remain mostly intact, each teeny tamale I scarfed down had some of the stuff stick to the corn husk. Even though I used them for lunch, think of any time or situation where you could use a handful of tasty little tamales, and yeah, they'll work. Other than the sticking issue, I find myself swaying between a four and a four and a half for them, so let's just say a little of Column A and a little of Column B.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Mini Chicken Tamalitos: 8.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader José's Spicy Hot Cocoa

Uhoh. Trader Joe's is at it again with their flavor-mixin' ways. While I'm a fan of most of them, there's been a couple that I've been pretty impartial to downright depressed by. And in this particular case of mixing sweet classic cocoa taste and spicy cayenne pepper, they decided to market under "Trader Jose" just in case it didn't work out right. I'm convinced they do that. Hence, upon a Facebook tipoff from one of our loyal readers (and the fact there was a huge honkin' end cap full of it when we made our weekly trip), when Sandy and I saw the Trader Jose's Spicy Hot Cocoa (put in the "organic" and "fair trade" as you will), we knew it made for a natural investigation, especially as we're both fans and semi-amateur connoisseurs of a good steamy mug of Mexican hot chocolate. For $4.79, it was worth a taste.

And daaaaaaaaang....I'm glad we did. I'm not going to lie, I love it. Upon cracking the foil seal I took a big whiff of the cocoa powder waiting to for hot milk to dissolve its every granule. It smells absolutely delicious, and pretty similar to Nestle's Abuelita, which is the closest approximation we've found stateside to the hot chocolate we've enjoyed in Mexico. Imagine classic cocoa-roma with a healthy dose of cinnamon, and yes, a tinge of cayenne. A few minutes later I got to pour in some hot milk and stir it up and take a sip...it doesn't hit you right at first, as evidenced by Sandy's reaction. "It's not so spicy...oh wait...*cough* it is," she said with a slight pain-free grimace. For some, that first hit might be a little much, but trust me, it gets better as tastebuds adjust. The spicy cocoa has the classic hot chocolate taste of "too rich to be milk chocolate, too sweet to be dark chocolate" with a heavy, heavy dose of cinnamon, like there's a full stick of it right in your cup. I'm almost convinced that's what most of the "spice" comes from, except there's enough cayenne to throw its weight around in there without getting out of whack. This cocoa's absolutely delicious from first sip to last gulp.

There's a few things I could quibble about, I suppose. First, $4.79 strikes me as perhaps a little high for hot cocoa mix, especially given the size and the directions to use a couple tablespoons (which is a wee overboard) for each cup. I would say something more about that, except somebody on our Facebook page said they spent three times as much on a comparable brand that wasn't nearly as good, so maybe it's not a bad deal after all. And secondly, this is dumb, but man, I hate heating milk. Don't get me wrong, milk makes waaay better hot cocoa than water ever will, and I can't imagine this being any good with water, but I actually have to pay attention while heating milk instead of waiting for a whistlin' kettle as I'm blocking all of my mom's Frontierville requests. Also, you can't heat milk as hot so it cools off faster, meaning I had to enjoy this a little quicker than I prefer. Other than that, I literally have no complaints about the cocoa picante. And as always, bonus points for being both organic and fair trade.

Sandy's not a huge fan, which to me is kinda surprising. If one were to make an action figure of her, her accessories would be, in this order: 1. iPhone 2. A book 3. A warm blanket or four and 4. Some type of hot beverage. That's how she survives these winter months, and since she's off coffee and craving sweets (the joys of pregnancy), I though this would be right up her alley. "Meh" is about what she says. "I wouldn't make a point of making it, but if you were making it I wouldn't mind having some." Possible interpretation: Heating milk bothers her way more than it bothers me. No matter, she gave it a three and she's sticking to it. That's way too low in my book. If it were up to solely me, we'd have another pantheon member, or at least the TJ spicy hot chocolate would be knockin' on heaven's door for it. At least I can say I got it as close as I could with a perfect five.

Bottom line: Trader Jose's Spicy Hot Cocoa: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader José's 99% Fat Free Bean & Rice Burrito

Ah, the first few days after New Year's. I really don't know how common it is for folks to make New year's resolutions any more. All I know is, after last New Year's, it was darn near impossible to get into the gym where Sandy and I have been members until sometime in mid-March (while it was no-mans land all around November and December). I guess that goes with the typical "lose weight/get in shape" mindset that strikes each early January. My New Year's resolution this year was to stop putting up with my crummy wisdom teeth and so I got them yanked a day or two ago.* Now that's a fun way to start your year, barely able to eat or talk, and with an ample supply of Vicodin on hand. For some undetermined and probably at least half-inaccurate reason this makes me feel like I'm Gary Busey.

Anyways, back to the "be healthier" idea...yeah, I could go for that, too. I mean, you should see what all I ate over the holidays, mostly homemade (hence the not so many reviews recently). So I'm looking for healthier food options, like low fat, possibly organic stuff that tastes good and at least for work lunches, can be quick to grab in the morning and simple to make at meal time.

I think as much as microwavable burritos can fit into a semi-healthy diet plan, the Trader Jose's 99% Fat Free Bean & Rice Burritos work. They're $2.69 locally a pair and zap within a few minutes in the microwave. Of course you can also bake them for like 25 minutes but I have neither the time nor the oven at work for that. Once made, they're neither utterly terrific nor barf inducing. Inside the flour tortilla it's a warm bean mush with a little rice, the typical Mexican spices, and allegedly some cheese. I wish they had more rice, actually. There's no more than a small spoonful of it per burrito, and there's more than enough room for more rice while keeping the same amount of beany lava. As for the cheese, well, naturally it's the light variety, so it's not as present of a taste as I'd like...okay, I'll admit it, I really didn't detect it other than looking over the ingredient list. All that being said, they're semi-tasty enough, and definitely fairly filling. I'd say these TJ burritos are a couple steps above the drive-thru variety, but probably won't rock your world either. And of course, with all the sodium they don't make an ideal health food, but they're better for you than most drive thru/microwave options available, so I'll cut them some slack.

There's nothing overly wrong with these. It's just that nothing really sets them apart either. I'm not above buying them again, but for about the same price there's much better available at Trader Joe's. Like most of my lunch dish reviews, this is me flying solo on this, as Sandy works at a preschool with an edible lunch provided to her most days. Maybe this is the hunger pangs of not having solid food in a couple days talking, but I'll give these a little higher grade than I might otherwise with some matching 3s. You have no idea how grateful I'd be for some solid chow right now, even if it's a couple burritos that put the "meh" in Mexican.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons
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* Once you use all the gauze the oral surgeon provides, they recommend using tea bags to help stop things up. For this, may I recommend the Cinnamon and Vanilla Black Tea? Makes for a tasty treat, and doesn't quite have the bite of the Candy Cane Green Tea. This is the kinda info you read us for.

Trader Joe's Chile Relleno

Besides really piquing my interest about what went down at the local pseudo-Chotchkie's, Nathan's latest post brought to mind one of the greatest movies ever, Office Space. It's one of the few movies that I can say I've seen probably twenty times, and if I happened to see it on TV, I'd most likely stop whatever I was doing and watch it. That and The Princess Bride. Anyways, I don't want to bore you with the details of my job (which I generally enjoy, possibly more than one reasonably should, considering it's dealing with prescription insurances) but my job does kinda remind me of Office Space sometimes, especially how the main character, Peter, seems to continually repeat a daily work routine. Difference is, I generally like mine. I usually get in at right around the same time, clock in, blow off the first couple minutes BSing with my cubicle neighbors, make my usual pot of coffee while explaining to yet another coworker what a French press is and how it works, review a couple emails (on a good day, 1 out of 10 has lasting relevance for me), BS with the boss about whatever sports event happened the night before, and before I know it, it's about 15 minutes or so later, and it's time to start saving the world, one insurance fustercluck at a time. I like to think I'm good at it, and I like it, so if it's up to me I'll be sticking around for a while.

Short of gutting a fish on a pile of TPS reports or dragging a fax machine out into a field to play whack-a-mole, one way to add a little variety (note: a relative term) is for my lunch. For a while, I was definitely stuck in a rut. First, it was Chef Boyardee. I've eaten more of that for a work lunch than I ever care to admit. Then, for a while, add a bunch of the TJ noodle bowls, but those got old after a while, so those have been relegated to emergency lunch stockpile status for the time being. And I really don't like to go out and buy lunch somewhere, especially in a suburban jumble where the best inexpensive option is the Sheetz down the street (as good as it is, I cannot eat Chick-Fil-A every day...the wallet doesn't allow it). So I've been trying out some different TJ frozen lunches when there's no leftovers to snatch up in my out-the-door whirlwind. There's been some great, some pretty good, and one or two decent ones I've found, with no true clunkers yet (one close call, though).

I think I'll end up putting the Trader Joe's Chile Relleno somewhere in the decent to pretty good category. If you're not familiar with what a chile relleno is, it's a pretty basic Mexican dish comprised of usually a poblano pepper stuffed with some meat and cheese and topped off with salsa and more cheese. Now that sounds like it could be a spicy dish, but this particular incarnation really isn't. Poblanos are pretty mild by nature, and honestly, I've had regular bell peppers with more of a bite than the one that came with my box. I'd also rank the salsa as tasty but pretty tame, and any trace amount of heat gets more than compensated for by the Monterey jack and cheddar cheeses oozing here, there, and everywhere. Alas, there's no meat to be found here, which depending on your point of view can be a plus or minus. Tastewise, it's satisfying enough. Texturewise, well...for being plucked, roasted, stuffed, frozen, boxed, shipped, stocked, bought, then nuked, the poblano holds up pretty well (only semi-squishy), though if you have a knife, you'll want it to slice through the skin. All I had was a fork, and well, that didn't quite cut it. For me, I got a nice little treat when the work microwave (I swear, those things suck! I'd take those out to a field with a baseball bat any day) scorched some cheese mingled with a little salsa on the one edge of the tray, giving me a crispy bonus. I love burned cheese, and my lunch was much better with it. Thanks, work microwave, and thanks Trader Joe's, for making that possible...TJ's, are you trying to make up for something here? Thanks, you shouldn't have.

If you're familiar with my lovely wife's food rules, you'll know why she'll pass it up. Sorry all, we'll get back on board with her usual silliness and rankings very soon. This one's all me. So, it was fairly likable overall, I'd say, and with a couple side items made for a reasonable lunch in the belly-rumble quelling department. I wish it were a little spicier, and wish it had a little chorizo in the stuffing for a little added boost, but until I'm in charge, this is the way the chile relleno's gonna be, I guess. Somewhere around a 3.5 and a 4 seems in order, so let's say one of each.

Now, excuse me, but I believe you have my stapler...

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader José's Chipotle Pepper Hummus and Mini Pitas

"Oh, that Chipotle is so HOT right now!" And I mean that as a double entendre. First of all, it seems to be very "in" right now. What with a restaurant by the same name, products like this tasty salsa at the grocery store, and places like McDonald's dumping chipotle BBQ sauce on wraps and burgers, it seems impossible to escape it these days.

But I assure you, I had never even heard of chipotle peppers until 5 or 10 years ago. It looks like the chipotle pepper is having its day in the sun. And yes, I intend that as a double entendre as well. (Chipotles are often sun-dried or smoke-dried).

Not only are chipotles popular, but they're actually really, really hot. And there's the catch. A real, unadulterated chipotle pepper would burn the average American's tongue right off. They're really spicy. I think it has to do with the fact that a lot of our friends to the south have immigrated to the U.S. and they've brought many of their tasty eating habits with them. "But Señor José, there are still a lot of white people in America! How can they enjoy such a spicy pepper?" Easy. Just use it to flavor a myriad of other products without actually adding any whole peppers. And that's what we have here: another chipotle-flavored product without the full brunt of the spice.

It had just the right amount of kick to keep me interested, but not so much that it burned my mouth. It was a good, creamy hummus with plenty of flavor. The spice-factor was roughly the same caliber as Trader Joe's Spicy Hummus, only this was a different flavor. The only hummus I've had that could beat it hands down in a taste-test would be Sabra. I'm a big fan of their hummus, but TJ's is a not-too-distant second. Sonia agrees.

As for the mini-pitas...well, we've reviewed a few other kinds of Trader Joe's pitas like this and this. And these are, well um, smaller. They maybe seemed just a tad on the dry side, but really—it's quite convenient to have bite-sized pitas. It cuts down on the temptation to double-dip and such. They really need to come up with a good gluten-free pita substitute. If anyone knows of such a thing at Trader Joe's or elsewhere, please leave us a comment below.

Well, let's finalize our score here: Sonia gives four's to both products. I'll see that four on the hummus, but it's a tad too rich for my blood on the pitas. I'll give 'em a respectable 3.5.

Trader José's Chipotle Pepper Hummus. Bottom line: 8 out of 10.
Trader Joe's Mini Pitas. Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Trader José's Pizza al Pollo Asado

So, let's continue the inadvertent Mexican fiesta we have going on here from our last post, shall we?

A few weeks, maybe a month ago, Sandy and I picked up a pair of these Trader Jose's Pizzas Al Pollo Asado with the intention of each of us taking one to work for lunch so we could each give it a try and then write a review. I ate mine a day or two later. Sandy's pizza? It sat...and sat...and sat...and sat in the freezer. For weeks. I've written before about her tendencies to do such things, and like other times before, finally today I snatched it for lunch at work again. Considering the past couple days we've been too busy to shop and I've had a bag of vending machine pretzels for lunch, I think that's okay. I really don't think she can mind it that much...hmm, indeed, right as I was typing this, she walked in from a night out with the girls, saw the empty box on clear display next to me on the couch, and she neglected to say anything about it. I think I'm in the clear.

And, well, I should be, because honestly, while the pizza was okay, I was reminded today that it looks a lot better than it tastes. I mean, look at it, with its big, thick crust loaded with chicken, beans, cheese, and salsa verde. How can it be bad? Those are some of my favorite things.

Problem is, even for a pasty white Pennsylvania Dutch boy like me, I know how good and tasty and vibrant authentic Mexican food can taste from my two trips to the country. This...isn't quite there. First, the corn masa crust. Think of a cross between a corn tortilla and a semi-soggy chunk of cornbread, and that's more or less what it tastes like. In its defense, though, at work we have only microwaves, and I know that's a terrible way to "cook" pretty much anything, but that's what we (and pretty much everyone except home ec teachers) have at work to prepare food. I guess it'd be better from an oven. Still, not that great. The chicken, cheese, and beans? Indistinct, I'd say. I mean, it tastes okay, but it all melds together. At least it's real chicken bits, and a good number of them, too. The tomatillo salsa, however, is pretty good - really good, even, especially because there's a pretty legit kick to it here and there - but there's not nearly enough of it for my taste. I tend to like salsa overkill, though, so it may be sufficient for some folks.

Overall, I think it's on the verge of being better. Some more spices and flavors could really help set it apart. For one thing, I'd think some more lime flavor could go a long way. Trader Jose sneaks some in with some ever-so-delicioso sounding lime juice powder, but I didn't taste it, and found myself wishing I had some fresh-cut wedges to squeeze out over the pie. A little of that, and a little more of whatever Mexican spices make authentic dishes so intoxicatingly good, and definitely some more salsa verde (and chiles in the salsa), and this is much closer to being a pretty respectable quick-bite-for-a-gringo dish. It's shame in a way, too, because it looks so good that it's disappointing to me at least when the flavor just doesn't quite deliver. The pollo pizza also dampened my spirits when I was reading the box at work, and it mentioned how great it'd go with some cold cervezas...I don't think I could get away with that at work, Jose. Don't tempt me.

In trying to be fair, I've found myself wondering about my rating all afternoon. It's frozen from a box, so of course it can't be as good as the real thing, and when you can actually taste the salsa, it's really good. For a $1.99 work lunch, though there's much better options, they're not absolutely horrible. However, in addition to flavor issues, like pretty much any prepared microwavable things, well, assume what you will about the nutritional facts, and you'll be right. I settled on between a 2.5 and 3 for them, so one of each, por favor.

Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons.

Trader Joe's Southwest Chicken Quesadillas

It's not particularly easy to slip a sub-par Mexican dish past us. Sonia's a full-blooded first-generation Mexican-American who's lived in L.A. for pretty much her entire life until very recently. (And there are some pretty good Mexican restaurants in L.A.) Sonia, her mother, and her aunt are all excellent cooks, and although I haven't tried her abuelita's cooking down in Oaxaca, Mexico yet, I am told that it will ruin me for all other Mexican food for the rest of my life.

So, needless to say, it's a totally unfair comparison to put frozen TJ's entrees up against truly authentic, home-cooked Mexican or Tex-Mex style foods. I'll try to keep that in mind while writing this review.

And fortunately, I've never had a really bad quesadilla in my life. I even enjoy the ones from Taco Bell. But again, that's apples and oranges if you're talking about comparing it with something that's home-cooked. But conversely, a freshly prepared, highly-fattening fast food quesadilla is still going to beat a frozen one in a taste test hands down—even one as cheap and ghetto-fabulous as one from Taco Bell.

So the only thing that's left that I can compare these TJ's quesadillas to are the microwave Healthy Choice quesadillas that I've had recently. Honestly, they're pretty similar in overall quality and taste. Sonia and I had a hard time putting our fingers on exactly what was lacking in this product, but we both agreed that something vital was missing. The ingredients didn't seem to mesh together properly. There was a slight lack of flavor, and the tortilla wasn't firm enough.

In its favor, though, the serving size was ample. The chicken wasn't particularly rubbery like we've seen with a few other TJ's frozen foods, and there were no ingredients that got in the way or detracted from the whole taste and texture of the dish. It just simply didn't have enough kick, pizzazz, and flavor to blow us away. Hot sauce and a dollop of sour cream helped it, but couldn't totally redeem it.

But hey, we're picky with our Mexican and Tex-Mex. If you're curious, it's still worth a try. To be fair, we should mention that we made it in the microwave when we could have made it on the stovetop. Leave us a comment and let us know what kind of results you got cooking it on the stove.

We give it three stars a piece.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Breakfast Burritos

If you look back over the last 10 or 12 posts, you might notice a trend: most of my reviews have been fairly negative. Strangely enough, the majority of Russ's posts have been quite the opposite. He's lucked out with a streak of mostly excellent products.

Despite the fact that Russ is the reviewer that actually gave a Trader Joe's product a zero, I'm slowly starting to feel like the group's Simon Cowell. And it certainly didn't help that Russ wrote up our group review of the Wild Blueberry Vanilla Chévre, and my score was by far the lowest out of the four of us. Now, I'm going to be honest: I like to complain, and I'm really good at it. I can almost always find something to complain about. Just ask my wife. (Although, she's a champion griper as well). But gradually, we're learning to be thankful in all circumstances. However, we have complaining down to such an artform, that even with things we're quite thankful for, we can still manage to find some fault to whine about. But seriously, we are grateful as well, that God has been gracious and put up with our terrible attitudes all this time.

Nevertheless, because of my duties as a foodie-hack blogger and grocery-informant, I must unfortunately continue on my sad tirade of moans and groans with this tragically tedious excuse for a breakfast burrito, and hopefully, I'll save a handful of people from being utterly disappointed with their morning meals.

Really, Trader Joe's? Really? C'mon. I'm just going to go ahead and say skip these and stick to whatever kind of breakfast burrito you can buy off the roach coach that pulls up to your office parking lot in the morning. It might not be healthy, but I can virtually guarantee it'll have more flavor. Sonia immediately proclaimed "These taste like cardboard." That says it all. They do. I'm not sure what process can prevent the natural flavors of eggs, potatoes, turkey bacon, and cheese from coming through at all, but TJ's has apparently discovered one. Honestly, to call these "bland" would be a gross understatement. I slathered my burrito with Cholula hot sauce and was able to finish it. Sonia finished hers, too, but only because she really doesn't like to waste food.

In the burrito's defense, the texture wasn't bad. It at least felt like a real breakfast burrito even if it didn't taste like one. You can certainly tell there's a tortilla with some potatoes and eggs and maybe some other stuff just by the feel of it.

Sonia said she can't give them more than half a star. Just because they didn't completely butcher the texture, I'll be kind and give them a 1.5.

Bottom line: 2 out of 10.

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Trader Joe's Fat Free Spicy Black Bean Dip

Before I ever met Sandy, I seriously doubt I ever ate a single black bean in my life. There's not a single childhood dinner I can recall with them included - the only beans I can remember were green, Boston baked, or red kidney when my dad and I made chili. And I think my mom very occasionally made lima beans when my siblings and I were being jerks and deserved to eat something nasty. But black beans? Except black jelly beans (my absolute favorite - there was a candy stand my folks took us to every Easter Saturday that sold a bag of only black ones - I was in heaven), nope. I'm willing to bet my surviving baseball card collection on it. It might be worth a whole $20...thanks early '90s market glut!

But once Sandy and I started spending some QT together, one of the first things I learned was, girl loves her black beans. Loves. That might not be strong enough of a word. Any way she can eat them, she will and be on Cloud 9. Black bean burgers, omelets, quesadillas with corn too, beans and rice with chorizo, bean chips, pizza, brownies...the only thing she won't touch with black beans is my homemade chili. She has no idea what she's missing. I've quickly learned to really enjoy them, too and I'd say they're now considered a definite staple of our diet, and I don't mind that one bit. They're good, wholesome, tasty, and satisfying. Both Sandy and I like hot and spicy fare as well (I can stand hotter and spicier, but she has a pretty boffo palate, especially for a girl), so hot and spicy, black bean based dishes are almost always a hit for us.

Which is exactly why TJ's Fat Free Spicy Black Bean Dip is so incredibly disappointing. If TJ's dips and salsas were Jennifer Lopez, this would be her "Gigli." If it were Sean Connery, this would be George Lazenby. If it were a basketball team, it would definitely be this year's Miami Heat...sans the heat, that is. And what talents Lebron James may or may not have brought.

Hate to do it, but I have to call out the pepper spice-o-meter on the label on this one. It's about 2/3 full, so I was expecting it to be at least somewhat spicy. Well, the dip is 2/3 full...of vinegar. Once again, Trader Joe's, VINEGAR ≠ SPICE. No no no no no no no. I took a bite tonight and immediately made the bitter beer face the instant this assaulted my taste buds. Ugh. It was if someone condensed all the flavor from a bag of salt and vinegar chips, ground it down and dumped it into the one corner I lifted with my tortilla chip. Each successive bite wasn't much better except I was able to brace myself better and not stomp as much. Maybe that's your kind of thing. For me, heck no. To be honest, by now, I so distrust that pepper pictogram and believe it is so full of lies and deceit I expect it to run for office any day now, or at least call me about a credit card offer.

That's all you taste, the vinegar. Nothing else. TJ's might as well have marketed this under dark vinegar hummus-y matter. Sandy, who likes it marginally more than I do, wholeheartedly agrees. "I wish it actually tasted like black beans or was actually spicy," she said. I concur. I look at the ingredients label and wonder where all the other stuff is - Onions? Jalapeños? Bueller? - it's indiscernible in this horrid mix of blahness. I took several tastes of it trying to figure out if there was any other aspect to the flavor but there's absolutely none. It's just nasty, not the nastiest thing I've ever had from Trader Joe's, but not too far off either.

Like I said, though, the love of my life also loves her black beans madly, and like she has to do with me from time to time, I think she affords the black bean dip a certain level of grace. She gave it a two despite her misgivings...then again, she loves salt and vinegar chips, too, but this is a low, low grade for her with anything involving black beans as a primary ingredient. I have to go lower. I originally thought one, to give it some of the doubt, but seriously considered a zero too. I think something has to be truly epically bad to be given a zero, though, and this falls just short of that criterion. Half a star from me. Hate to be harsh, but have to call it as I see it.

Bottom line: 2.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Handcrafted Chicken & Cheese Tamales

Ah, tamales! The favorite dish of traditional Mexican fiestas and celebrations is now available at the local Trader Joe's. In L.A., tamales would show up at Christmas parties, New Year's festivities, weddings, and Bar Mitzvahs. Well, maybe not so much at Bar Mitzvahs, but you get the picture.

I had been under the impression that all tamales had to be freshly made in order to taste good. At all of the gatherings I had eaten them, they were either purchased at a little Mami and Papi's restaurant and taken directly to the party location, or they were handmade on site by family.

Levels of skepticism were through the roof when we spied these Chicken & Cheese Tamales in the frozen section at TJ's. Sonia's had tamales from chain restaurants, sit-down restaurants, and grocery stores, and any hot-blooded Mexicana will tell you that they just don't taste right unless they're fresh and homemade.

We decided to be brave and try Trader Joe's brand. We just reheated the two tamales in the microwave and then unwrapped them from their corn husk shells. After the first bite, I was impressed, but I didn't think there was any way Sonia would be quite as thrilled. On the contrary, she was pleasantly stunned as her tastebuds told her that TJ's had done the nearly impossible once again. Now don't get me wrong, these are by no means better than fresh, homemade tamales, but as Sonia put it, "They're the next best thing."

If you're a first time reader—or someone who just really knows your tamales, you might be thinking "Hmmm...I bet this guy works for Trader Joe's. There's no way an objective reviewer could be so enthusiastic about frozen tamales."

Sometimes I wish Trader Joe's would hire us to do what we do on this site full time...but then, we probably wouldn't have the freedom to rip them apart when they trick us with products like Spiced Cranberry Cider or Turkey Meatloaf Muffins.

No, trust me. We are objective, outside reviewers giving our honest opinions and trying to help out our fellow TJ's shoppers. And really, this is just another reason we love doing this website: Trader Joe's is always surprising us with unique, high-quality food products at a good price. Imagine that...frozen tamales worth eating. Sonia gives them a solid 4 out of 5 stars. I do too.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Corn and Chile Tomato-Less Salsa

One of the best parts of writing for this blog is using it as an occasional forum to poke some light fun at my wife. Food is a pretty easy and tame avenue for me to do so. A few years ago as we were beginning our dating relationship, I remember it taking a lot of effort (and trial and error) on my part to try and learn Sandy's "food rules." Chili? No. Red meat? Except for a burger here and there, nope. Some vegetables are okay, others aren't. We kind of turned it into an ongoing joke where I said I'd need to keep a spreadsheet of what was and wasn't okay, and when. For example, squishy cooked vegetables are flat-out never acceptable. Onions are okay only sometimes, such as onion flavor, but Sandy doesn't like big chunks of them, except for onion rings. I really wanted to learn these rules so I could impress her and make sure when we were going somewhere there would be food choices she would like. I took it quite seriously, to the point where one night early on in our relationship when I was making a homemade dinner and dessert for us, I felt compelled to ask her if she liked from-scratch chocolate chip cookies because I didn't know and didn't want to make them if she didn't. As she can attest to, Sandy certainly loves them (who doesn't?) and probably wonders why I don't make them more often (the answer = like we need more cookies).

By now, I've grown so accustomed to them I rarely have to think about them much. It's kind of like natural knowledge at this point. And to her credit, I think she's opened up to more kinds of foods. But there's still one sure-fire food item that she'll refuse to have nearly any part with: tomatoes. Except for maybe a little ketch-up and just enough sauce to make her pasta noodles semi-red, Sandy wants nothing to do with them. Increasingly, salsa is getting some more leeway for her in this department, even though she's still a little wary of the chunkier varieties and prefers salsa verde, which is made from tomatillos, over the more usual salsa types.

I guess that's why Trader Jose's Corn and Chile Tomato-Less Salsa appeals to her so much. There's the huge upfront plus of no tomatoey guts being spilled for its sake. Plus, it's something different than the usual variety, though I'm not so positive about its authenticity as an actual salsa class instead of being a gringoey gimmick. Correct me if I am wrong. The only other time I've seen or heard anything about corn-based salsa is at Qdoba's or Chipotle's, and though I've never tried it there, that stuff has always appeared to me to be more spiced corn than an actual salsa. That's how the TJ's brand strikes me as well, except to say it's spiced is a little bit of an overstatement. It doesn't have the spicy pepper meter that usually overstates heat level on the jar label, and I'd like to think that was on purpose because, to me, it'd barely register a blip. There's a little heat that emanates from the back of your throat after a corner-of-a-chip-ful or three, but that's about it, and it's more than balanced out by the overall sweetness. Like any good American food product, the two chief ingredients in the salsa are corn and sugar, which makes the salsa seemingly syrupy-sweet. There's not nearly enough jalapeños and spices to combat it with any sort of effectiveness. It's kinda like flinging rubberbands at a tank - not gonna work. One good thing the salsa has going for it is, it's decently fresh tasting as the corn kernels taste like they were just stripped from the cob, and certainly not mushy but good and firm, almost crunchy in a way.

Anyways, Sandy loves it. Last night, as I came downstairs after a post-work/pre-dinner shower, I could hear her rustling our bag of soy and flaxseed chips shut followed shortly by the sound of a jar lid being screwed back on. I got to the kitchen just in time to see her one step away from our fridge, half-gone jar of salsa in hand, with a very guilty look on her face. This is an extremely common scenario in our house, except with the roles reversed. Granted, we poked at it some the night before, but she did some serious work on it while I was washing away the day at work. "It's just so good, I could eat it by the spoonful," she said. "Apparently," I said as I shook my head and tsk-tsked her. I couldn't be too mad not only because I've been the guilty party in this situation way too often and therefore thought grace would be the wisest route to go, but also because honestly I don't like nearly as much as she does. I'm going to have to go low and give it a 1.5. Sorry, while it's a good premise and has potential, it just doesn't have enough spice to hold my interest, and it's way too sugary-sweet for me to even try to pretend it's a mild, enjoyable salsa for me. While she agreed it needed to be spicier, Sandy was so joyful about finding a salsa she liked without tomatoes, she literally broke out into song as she scaled our stairs to turn herself in for the night with a good book. "It has no tomatoes, it has no tomatoes, that makes me happpppyyyyy, it has no tomatoes," she sang to our beloved little fur baby as he no doubt shot back a quizzical look. Sandy toyed with giving it a perfect five before settling on a 4.5, tripling(!!!) my score. Usually we agree more or less on our rankings, so this type of split is definitely unprecedented and hard to repeat. Sandy's probably happy though, because since I don't like it so much, it means more for her.

Enjoy the rest of the jar, dear. All yours.

Bottom line: 6 out 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Mini Chicken Tacos

Mmm ... tacos ...

Really, can anything bad be said about tacos? I'm not really talking about the Taco Bell variety, though occasionally those can work in a pinch (okay, very occasional pinch). A good taco is spicy, flavorful comfort wrapped in crispy, greasy wholesome goodness that'll put a smile on your face and a little indigestion in your gut. Well, maybe not the indigestion part, but if it's there and nothing too fiery, no foul in my book.

Our favorite taco spot in town is a street stand down in Pittsburgh's Strip District in front of Reyna Foods, a great Mexican grocer. We go down every once in a while on a Saturday and grab a pair each for five bucks. There's consistently a line but it's always worth it for the fresh grilled meat piled high with cheese, lettuce, tomatoes (for me), topped off with a squeeze of fresh lime and choice of salsa seated on a fresh homemade corn tortilla. I was thoroughly impressed with myself that I managed to scarf down a set of these on Saturday while speedwalking through a crowd on a busy day without dropping it or indiscriminately smearing it all over my face or shirt. Now those are tacos.

When keeping mind these are the at-home freezer box variety, these are kinda close. It's one of those things you gotta grade on a curve. They're certainly not amazing by any stretch of the imagination, but that doesn't mean they aren't good. Contrary to the picture on the box (those darn misleading "serving suggestion" depictions) they're just little corn tortillas with some chicken bits and spices pocketed in. I guess I can't blame Trader Joe's for not dicing up veggies and shredding cheese small enough to sneak in these guys, because honestly I have no interest either. Aside from maybe a little hot sauce, these will just have to as they are for us. They're taste decent overall, but kinda plain for my taste, and I can't help to think that they could be just a little bit better. They're certainly not nearly as good as making tacos and setting up a toppings bar for yourself, but they're sure quicker and easier. They're also just tasty enough to keep me interested in them and to eat a couple more than the serving size of four. Not that Sandy would let me get away with that.

The fact that they're mini tacos kinda weird me out, though. When eating them I feel like I'm a sort of giant roaming the earth and these tacos are normal-sized for normal-sized people while for me they're two quick little bites, and I must eat enough of them that'd feed a family reunion to satisfy my belly. I feel like I've stolen them from these fine folks. It's the same kinda thing with sliders and even (to a lesser extent) personal pan pizzas. Fun-sized Halloween candy bars get a pass on this because I'm used to those from trick-or-treating and they're ubiquitous enough to make sense to me. Baby burgers and pizzas and tacos just don't. The side of the box of these taco dwarfs say they're "adorable" and that TJ's "guarantee[s] you can't eat just one." Listen, I'm a guy, I don't want to hear I'm eating something that's "adorable" and dang right I'm going to eat more than one. That's the whole point of the microscopic food genre. Eat four regular sized tacos and you're either a college freshman or a glutton. But if they're super-small 1:25 models of the real thing, you can still honestly tell yourself you ate four tacos and not feel any guilt.

I made these for dinner on Monday night along with some tater tots (not these ones but still pretty admirably good) for an easy dinner tonight. Sandy was beat from kicking some serious half marathon butt on Sunday (2 hours 48 minutes! Daaaang) and to a much lesser extent I was tired from a long day of getting her to where she needed to be way too early, cheering her on, then a long day of errands and work on Monday, so a "path of least resistance" dinner sounded right on the money. The tacos 'n tots offered enough of a comfort food quality to our meal that I'll give them a pass despite wishing they were a little tastier and bigger so I wouldn't be so worried about depriving a family of Lilliputians their dinner. Sandy, in her deserved day-after of relaxation and hunger, said she could eat the whole box, she likes them so much. I'm pretty sure that's some exaggeration on her part, but she proved beyond a shadow of doubt to me over the weekend she can do anything she puts her mind to, so I won't say she can't. She settled on giving them a four, only saying she wish Trader Joe's would have added some lime and other flavors. Otherwise, she's pretty darn happy with them. As for me, well, you've heard me ramble enough. I think I can spare a three for them, right in the middle.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Chile Spiced Mango

So, Nathan and I are kinda similar overall. We both love eating Trader Joe's stuff and blogging about it, we both graduated from Penn State at more or less the same time, and the two of us significantly outkicked our coverage with our much better looking wives. My folks when they first saw our write-up from the good folks at The Daily Meal said judging from our pics on there, we could have been twins separated at birth, which if that's the case, there's some dark family secret I don't want to know about. I'm the squintier looking guy.

It seems like, at times, we have similar shopping habits and curiosities nearly simultaneously. For instance, Sandy got one delectable looking Trader Ming treat a month or two ago, and planned to eat it on a certain night so I could review it ... well, that same day Nathan posted his review on the same tasty beef and broccoli treat, so that got nixed. Doh. Last week, I dodged a bullet of sorts when he decided to try out an adventurous chile-mango combo at the same time I did ... he did the frozen version though, and I picked up the dried fruit version. Whew.

Unlike Nathan, though, my awesome Comcast Internet connection has been on the fritz all week until now, not allowing me to write or post any reviews. Thanks for holding down the fort, sir.

Anyways, like Nathan, as a good old Pennsylvania boy, chile and mango is not a combination that I was accustomed to growing up. The craziest we got with flavor combos in my childhood was putting pretzels on our ice cream. I've been to Mexico twice but have somehow avoided the chile and fruit phenomenon down there, so I'll admit this is my first foray into this gustatory realm.

It's not something I'm willing to give up on quite yet, but I don't think the Trader Joe's Chile Spiced Mango dried fruit chunks made the best introduction. The issue is, I think, for a flavor combination to work, there has to be at least two flavors present. With these, literally all you can taste is the chile. It's coated on the mango pieces like sand on some cheap sandpaper. And since it's dried fruit, with juiciness being the essence of mango flavor, well ... the mango flavor is there, barely perceptible. It takes a lot of work to get at it, and with the heat level radiating off the spices, it may not be something you're willing to do. I wish Trader Joe's would halve the spice on these and redistribute it in some of their other goods, and try to figure out a way to let the mangoey goodness shine through. It's just so imbalanced that it doesn't really work.

Sandy and I tried a piece at the same time. She didn't have quite the reaction I expected, but it wasn't exactly positive either. I think she managed to get down her one small piece she took, but that's all she's ever going to have. I can munch on them here and there, but I'm not the biggest fan of them either. It's not that they're too spicy for us (though I think they are the spiciest thing we've ever purchased at TJ's), but the heat drowns out any trace of the mango. Honestly, you could tell me these were chile-laden chunks of tough orange leather, and I would have no basis to not believe you. About the only thing I'm looking forward to in regard to these is bringing them into work, having them on my desk, and daring coworkers to try them. They already think I'm weird enough because of my occasionally shaved head, my expressed love of long bike rides, my French press coffee, and my generally persistent amicable demeanor. Bringing in the remaining bagful of these guys might ratchet me up to a whole 'nother level.

Sandy gives them a 1. I'll be the slightly more gracious one this time and give them a 2. Kinda like my thoughts on chocolate flavored gum and the cupholders in my Subaru - good concept, but in practice, it just doesn't quite work, at least not in this case.

Bottom line: 3 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader José's Hot Chipotle Salsa

Finally, a hot salsa that's actually kinda hot. The little chile-meter on this baby is mostly full. Plus, it tastes like actual chipotle chile peppers. It's not quite as hot as chipotle peppers by themselves—if you've ever had one, you know that they're pretty spicy—but I think it's darn close. However, like all of their other salsas, Sonia thought this one lacked heat, too. I think it's a step in the right direction, though. I'm pretty sure this is the spiciest TJ's salsa we've had so far.

I wasn't aware of this before, but chipotles are actually a dried, smoked variant of the jalapeño. See here. Somehow, they seem much spicier than a regular jalapeño to me. But what do I know? Soy solo un gringo loco.

Most products they slap a "chipotle" label on here don't really taste that much like the real thing. I'm happy with the flavor of this salsa. Authentico. The label claims it has a "slightly smoky taste," and it's not lying.

Fat free. And in theory, it'll raise your metabolism. Burn baby, burn. Try it with the Super Seeded Chips or the Soy and Flaxseed Chips.

Sonia and I each give it a 4. Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Fat Free Chile Mango Fruit Floes

We were in a very mangoey mood on our last Trader Joe's run—as you might have noticed, yesterday's post also involved mango.

And a few months ago, we reviewed the Caribbean Fruit Floes, which nearly reached our highly elite "Pantheon" status. Very tasty. So, let's take a look at these Chile Mango Floes and see how they measure up:

First of all, let's make sure everyone knows exactly what's going on here... This is a popsicle-like dessert that is indeed sweet and fruity, and thanks to our zany friends to the south, it has chile on it. As in chile pepper...as in spicy. I lived in Southern California for about 7 years, and let me tell you, I was quite skeptical about sprinkling chile powder on fruit when I first became aware of the practice. Chile powder and corn on the cob made sense: salty and spicy. That works. But spicy and sweet? Mexicanos like to eat chile with their mangos, watermelons, pineapples, and even oranges. Hmmm... It took some convincing.

I was in Disney's California Adventure when I had my first taste of "mango con chile." I remember right where I was standing. Our friend Carlos bought a plate of it and began sharing it with the group. I loved it. First, you taste the mango, and then as you chew, there's this little burst of spice that kicks in later. It's like the clichéed party in one's mouth that everyone and his brother is invited to.

I later tried a vending machine pop with mango-flavored candy, covered in a thick layer of sawdust-like chile powder. It came from our local laundromat in Hollywood, but it was clearly imported from Mexico. Such candies were childhood favorites of Sonia. It was so-so. It got tastier as it went along. I had to suck about 3/4 of the chile powder off before the mango taste even came through, and by then my tongue was somewhat numb, and it made the experience only moderately enjoyable.

These fruit floes are similar. Except in this case, the chile powder cannot be licked off of the candy. It's thoroughly blended with the frozen mango juice. Remember how Sonia and I are always saying that the salsas aren't spicy enough or that they don't seem as spicy as the little chile pepper spice-o-meter would seem to indicate on the package? Not the case with this product! This is quite possibly the spiciest thing I've ever had from TJ's. I'm tempted to take the remaining popsicles, allow them to melt, and use them as a chip-dip instead. I think they overdid it a little in the spice department here. Sonia does, too, and she grew up on these goofy spice n' fruit combos that seem so alien to me.

On the plus side, one can still taste mango through the oddly cold searing pain. There are also a handful of real mango chunks scattered throughout each popsicle—and they're not chile-ified. Chewing them gives one's tongue a moment to recover.

All in all, they're just kinda weird. And that's coming from two people that like chile and mango. Not terrible, but certainly don't get them if you've never had chile and mango or think that that combination sounds a little funky...But if you're the biggest chile-mango fan ever, then by all means grab a box and tell us what you think...

Sonia gives them a 3. I give them a 3.5. Bottom line 6.5 out of 10.