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Showing posts with label dinner. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dinner. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Trader Giotto's Organic Riced Cauliflower

When introduced, some products are no-brainers for automatic buzz. If Trader Joe's were to bring out a brand-spankin' new cookie butter innovation, you know the word would spread like, well, butter. And some things like bacon-y popcorn or maple-y water just sound too interesting or intriguing or unique or kinda weird to not want to try.

And then, over by itself, you have itty bitty cauliflower, all riced and diced up.

Make no mistake: for about the past week we've been bombarded by the introduction of Trader Giotto's Organic Riced Cauliflower for about the past week by fans, particularly those interested in super-healthy fare. Take, for instance, my friend Alison who's put in an assist on the blog here before - she and her husband are into the Whole30 scene so she when she first stumbled across it, she was first to let me know. Soon enough, through Facebook, Instagram, LiveJournal, etc, a lot of you have said "hey, try this out!"

So, I have. As revealed on our forthcoming podcast episode, Nathan too, but I beat him to the review. All this sack of apparently Italian inspired micro-diced cauliflower consists of is.....cauliflower and a smidge of salt. Or so the ingredients say, I can't taste any added sodium at all. It's in the frozen section, weighs 12 ounces, and costs $1.99. The recommended prep method is take out of bag, heat in saucepan until warmed and excess water (not a lot to begin with) dissipates, and voila, it's ready in minutes. Unsurprisingly, it tastes just like cauliflower, with a slightly grainy texture (more than anticipated) that I'd say veers more towards brown rice-like than white. I made some up the other night to go along with a shrimp and broccoli stirfry, then had some leftover the next day under some chicken and my favorite barbeque sauce, and both times, with some willingness and a little suspended belief, it tasted fairly remarkably like regular rice. It's not the exactly the same, of course, but it's reasonably close, and probably can be used pretty much any way that regular old rice can.

So....why the big deal?

Two words: Absofreakinglute convenience. I've shied away from a lot of Paleo recipes just because of the sheer amount of time and energy involved. Listen: I work more than full time, and when I get home I have about an hour (ideally) to make dinner, get through dinner with a finicky toddler, and get two kids into bed. I don't have the time or energy to rice a cauliflower through other means I have heard of, like steaming and pushing through a colander (that also sounds like a lot of clean up), or using a high-quality food processor. I've heard that's possible, though Sandy is skeptical - I don't know, I'm just parroting what I've heard. It doesn't matter, we don't have one anyways. So, to have an option like this, just frozen, ready to go, and can easily fit into my diet on a night I should be strict about it, for just $1.99 which is likely cheaper than a head of organic cauliflower (haven't been in the market recently, don't know) - that's a pretty sweet deal. From the sounds of it, a lot of people think very similar thoughts.

I'll take this actually as a ringing endorsement in its own way: Sandy was pretty impartial about it. She's not a huge cauliflower fan, so she was skeptical when first trying it. "It's not rice, and I can tell it's not, but...it's not bad," she said. "I don't mind it that much." That translates to a three in her book. Me? I love it. It's an easy and inexpensive way to sneak more veggies into my family's diet - I can't wait to make some fried rice with it, in fact. Pretty great stuff for the cost and convenience, and for that alone, I'm throwing it some perfection.

Bottom line: Trader Giotto's Organic Riced Cauliflower: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons.

Tuesday, June 9, 2015

Trader Joe's Chicken Balti Pies

So if you've ever seen the movie Gandhi—or if you know your history—you're aware that the British occupation of India wasn't really something to celebrate. But a few good things did come from the collision of these two unique cultures. Now East Indians can enjoy pastimes like cricket and soccer, and Brits have added yummy foods like curry to their menu. These "pies" struck me as being nearly identical to Trader Joe's Steak and Ale Pies, another British-inspired delight. But in this case, there's chicken, carrots, potatoes, and a mildly-spicy curry sauce.

The curry here was tasty, but both Sonia and I felt it to be a tad blasé. We both agree the flavor was good—we just wish there were more of it. And we both could have handled a significantly greater amount of spicy kick. But as Russ notes in a soon-to-be-released podcast episode, the Brits are known for serving bland-ish food. Maybe full blown Indian curry was too much for the English, so they toned it down a bit.

The pie-crust-like breading was excellent. Sonia compared it to a flaky croissant. The carrot and potato chunks were large and plentiful and served a similar function as they might in a traditional pot pie. The chicken was also adequate, moist, and tender.

One pie is extraordinarily filling. And it should be—because each serving has massive amounts of fat and calories, including a full 115% of your US RDA for saturated fat! Sonia was wise enough to eat only two thirds of hers and save the rest for another day. At around $5.99 per box, they're not super cheap, and if you want to cook them properly in the oven, you're looking at the better part of an hour for prep time. So these tasty little pies are a significant investment on your waistline, wallet, and schedule—at least as far as frozen convenience food goes. Am I glad we tried them? Heck yes. Despite craving a tad more heat, I really can't complain about the texture or taste. Four stars from me. 3.5 from Sonia.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Trader Joe's Sushi Sensations

Like those Snickers commercials allude to, when you're hungry, you're not yourself. Case in point: Mid-Sunday evening, the family and I standing in the brand-spankin' new McCandless Crossing Trader Joe's in Pittsburgh's North Hills. Nice store, grand opening weekend, it's kinda busy, we're getting the lay of the land, and all of us are h-u-n-g-r-y. All we want is an easy dinner, but we can't figure out what. M, our increasingly rambunctious two and a half year old, wants "nuggets and mac and cheese." Easy enough for her...but we eat that way too often to have that sound palatable for us. For whatever reason, I have a real hankering for onion rings, but they're nowhere to be found. Sandy's eying up the wraps, as am I, but they're pretty well picked over. We don't feel like pizza. We don't want to put much of any effort besides maybe roasting some veggies into dinner. Nothing frozen catches our eye. And the rumble in our tummies just grows and grows.

And then...

Listen, I have no idea what propelled me to even consider Trader Joe's Sushi Sensations. It's not that I'm against sushi. It's just that I've never heard anything good about Trader Joe's. Google "worst things to buy at Trader Joe's" and their sushi will almost always be mentioned. Years ago, in an article on The Daily Meal, I even said I never, ever wanted to try their sushi. Yet, here it was, in my hand, mulling it over....and even more amazingly, Sandy even said she'd eat some with me if we also got her a buffalo chicken wrap as a back-up. I've never seen her near sushi in the seven-plus years we've known each other. This was going to be an interesting night.

Well...there are some positives. I guess. In true amateur foodie-hack fashion, I'll admit, I'm neither a huge sushi fan nor anything close to an expert. But even I could tell this wasn't exactly top-notch fare. There's four types of sushi laid out for sampling here: Shrimp Nigiri, California, Spicy California, and Tempura Shrimp. There's also some dipping sauces: a slightly spicy "dynamo" (not to be confused with the juice), some sweet, some wasabi, and a packet of soy sauce, as well as a small bucket of crispy Panko bread crumbs. The nigiri were reasonably okay, though nothing special, as well as the shrimp tempura. Some common complaints regarding TJ's sushi is the quality and texture of the rice - there wasn't too much (if any) sliminess present, and the shrimp had a good firm texture and taste. Each paired well with the variety of the sauces (although we skipped both the plain soy and the wasabi) and the breadcrumbs also added a nice, little touch.

If those were the only rolls in there, we would have been reasonably fine with dinner and given a middling to solid score. But...the California rolls. Ugh. This is what California rolls are supposed to look like. These TJ impostors? Not close. Instead, the filling and the insides looked like some sort of cross between seafood salad and cat food - just a mishmash o' mush shoved inside some seaweed and rice. And I mean "mush." I didn't realize that the sticker with the nutrition label and ingredients was missing, and I can't find a picture of one online, but the filling tasted like all sorts of fake seafood-type junk smushed together. If there was a shred of authentic seafood in either one of those rolls, I;d be shocked. The "spicy" and regular had no discernible taste difference either. Sandy took one bite of one of them and nearly spit it right out for the texture being so offsetting. I'll admit that I was able to eat the rest...I must've been really, truly hungry and the sauces and breadcrumbs helped cover a lot.

For a couple deliriously hungry sushi novices like us, the Sushi Sensations platter made a somewhat passable dinner, but barely. This is what you get when you pay $6.49 for a large sushi plate - we should have figured and gone for something else. At least I can say that I've overcome my fears and tried it out, all to say you'll probably want to stay away. This is not going to be purchased again.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Sushi Sensations: 3 out of 10 Golden Spoons


    

Friday, March 6, 2015

Trader Giotto's Kale, Sweet Potato & Butternut Squash Pizza

Ciao, Trader Giotto, it's been a while!

Seriously, it has been. Last time we saw Giotto was nearly nine long months ago. Is it just me, or do the different foreign Trader Joe names seem to falling out of use a little bit more? We rarely see Trader Jose, Trader Ming, Baker Josef or any of them. Anyone remember Thai Joe? We do... barely.

There's also an ampersand. Those also seem to be falling a little bit more to the wayside in favor of "and." Give me silly, stupid character names and rarely used punctuation along with your Hawaiian shirts...oh wait, crap, I can't remember the last time I saw a crew member wear one! What's going on!?!?!

Anyways, here's a throwback name for a decent little pizza: Trader Giotto's Kale, Sweet Potato & Butternut Squash Pizza. You can tack on the "With Parmigiana Reggiano Cheese" portion of the title (or not) at your own discretion. While it's certainly better, this particular pizza won't get me rapping like the last Giotto pie we reviewed. But it'll probably get our repeat business.

There's a lot to like here. Let's start with the crust and go up. Ohhhh...the crust. Crispy, crunchy, cracker-y, light and airy but a firm foundation. I can't recall ever having a crust so crunchy without charring the bottom to a blackened stump. While the crust could use a little more dough and girth, it was still solidly tasty if not a little basic otherwise. As you probably could guess, instead of a red or white sauce base, it's a sweet potato puree for the saucy layer, topped by ample chopped kale and chunky butternut squash. All that seems to work together alright - the squash does seem a little sweet, without a counterbalance, though.

As for the cheese, there's a plus and a minus. The plus - I've had Parmigiano-Reggiano straight from the source on several occasions (courtesy of my wife's coworkers, who have gone to Reggio, Italy on business trips several times). It's been a while, so a direct comparison would be tough to pull off , but neither Sandy nor I would ever confuse it with the stuff from a green shaker. It's definitely not "Parmesan." That's good, but there's not quite enough. There were three or four flakes and shreds, but that was really about it. A little more, please.

Overall, though, it's a good, light pizza. I do mean light. Sandy and I made it for dinner, along side some roasted broccoli, and even though we're both increasingly cognizant of portioning, it just wasn't quite enough. If we were characters on Oregon Trail, this would classified as a "meager" meal - certainly not "bare bones" but far from "filling", and now I'm paranoid one of us will get typhoid and the oxen will run away. Great. At least we had some ice cream sandwiches deep in the depths of the freezer to combat all of those healthy things we just ate.

For $3.99 (I think), it's tough to argue with, but that doesn't mean complete satisfaction. Sandy likes it a little more than me, to the tune of a four. Loves that crust. To me, it lacks just enough in a few key departments that I can't go much higher than a three.   

Bottom line: Trader Giotto's Kale, Sweet Potato & Butternut Squash Pizza: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Thursday, February 26, 2015

Trader Joe's True Thai Pad See Ew

Back in March 2011, we reviewed Trader Joe's relatively unsuccessful, unappetizing Vegetable Pad Thai. Curiously, three months later, we noticed a sudden uptick in clicks on that particular post. We couldn't figure out where they were coming from. Our analytics weren't showing any new traffic sources. But after a bit of searching, we noticed people were Googling "Trader Joe's Vegetable Pad Thai" in huge numbers. So we Googled that phrase ourselves. Apparently the entire New York metro area had been enraptured by a court case involving an opera singer and a prestigious women's health doctor and a violent disagreement over the last box of veggie pad thai at an Upper West Side Trader Joe's. Of course, the biggest mystery in all of this is: of all the delicious TJ's products you might get into a cat fight over, why ever would it be that forgettable pad thai?

But anyway, the point is that the comments section on the aforementioned pad thai review turned into a mini-discussion about this product: Trader Joe's True Thai Pad See Ew. Comments from readers in regards to this product: "truly disgusting," "put the 'Ew' in 'Pad See 'Ew'," "I wouldn't wish this dish on anyone," and "one of the worst things I've ever picked up from TJ's." We've even had negative comments about it on our Facebook page. In fact, I've never heard anything good about it. Which is why we finally had to try it.

Although I don't disagree with the people who find this dish revolting, it's not SO bad, in my opinion, that I ever considered NOT clearing my plate. At no point did I seriously think about taking the unused portion back to TJ's and getting a refund, although, this will never be purchased in our home again, unless TJ's manages to repackage it, rename it, and trick us into thinking it's a new product entirely—which I certainly wouldn't put past them. Sonia described the vegetables as "slimy and chewy." The Chinese broccoli, in particular, was stringy. The noodles were way too soft—almost gelatinous. The tofu didn't blend in with the rest of the product, and the carrots seemed too firm.

In its defense, the product's flavor wasn't a complete failure. The tofu by itself tasted fine. The vegetables were fairly neutral, flavor-wise. The sauce might have been the best part. It was mildly garlicky and salty—but ultimately, it wasn't flavorful enough. It tried valiantly to rescue this doomed dish, but still failed in the end. I doubt even General Tsao's Stir Fry Sauce could have pulled this mess together. And even if the flavor had been pleasant, the troublesome texture of this pad see ew was most definitely its Achilles' heel.

2 stars from me. 1.5 stars from Sonia.

Bottom line: 3.5 out of 10.
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Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Trader Joe's Crispy Green Curry Shrimp Gyoza

You readers are so smart. S-m-r-t. No, seriously. I'm going to pick up just a recent example: The one who pointed out that the "enzymes" in Trader Joe's Super Burrito! probably included L-Cysteine, which is from animal sources and -gulp- can be derived from human hair -ewwww - therefore not making the burrito a vegetarian or vegan product, despite it going out of the way to include vegan mayo. That's an unsettling sentence for me to type. Yuck. Now every time I see the word "enzymes" on an ingredient list I'm going to think of the first half of this Family Guy scene.

Here's a cheerier example: A couple weeks back I reviewed those Thai Shrimp Gyoza, thinking there were some new hot item, and being pretty disappointed in their lack of taste and flair. Another one of you was pretty quick to point out that I probably really had these Trader Joe's Crispy Green Curry Shrimp Gyoza  in mind, and a quick consultation of the "What's New" shelf and display at the store and even quicker comparison of package colors (green vs. yellow) showed that yes, once again, you all are right. Thanks as always!

And these gyoza are absolutely what I wanted when I got those other ones. Like Cher, if I could turn back time...These are the real deal. There's very little to not like about these crispy dumplin's. First, the wrapper. Even though we just baked these (as is even the preferred prep method, you can also microwave, but why?), the wonton wrapper got very crispy despite its thinness, while still holding the innards and stuffing all together with very few leakages. It was rather impressive, actually, and although my waistline likes the fact we didn't deep fry them, well, my tongue would have loved to tried. Must be that palm oil they're pre-cooked in...ohh..I'll let that slide, yet again. I know, I know. 

It's not just the outside that lived up to the "crispy" billing. The insides were too. Oh, no, it wasn't the shrimp - that was yet another example of superior TJ firm, fresh, nongritty, nonsalty, yummy shrimp. Didn't even notice the "shrimp paste" unlike previous times. Nope, it was the veggies in there too, which were predominantly carrots and kale. Those too were fresh and firm, with a little crunch, offering a great mouthfeel-y counterbalance. And then there were all the great flavors that Thai food can offer, especially in curries - the sweet coconut, the bite of some lime, the heat off some spices. They may err slightly on the spicy side, so if you prefer milder, these may be a little strong.

The only real complaint that either Sandy or I had was we would have loved an included packet of dipping sauce. Just a little extra somethin'-somethin' to dunk these gyoza in would have been an absolute killer, and given that my choices on hand were Frank's Red Hot or my new favorite BBQ sauce, I think we might the right decision to forgo any condiments. Something like a currylicious dipping sauce, though? Man, my mouth waters. In our minds, this is a tremendous pick-up for the roughly four bucks for a spicy seafood pick-me-up that approaches restaurant quality for a fraction of the price. Matching fours.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Crispy Green Curry Shrimp Gyoza: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Friday, February 6, 2015

Trader Joe's Thai Shrimp Gyoza

Oh, there's those magical words again: "Thai" and "shrimp." What wonderful, wonderful words, especially when joined together, such as here with Trader Joe's Thai Shrimp Gyoza. Shrimp is almost certainly my favorite seafood, and Thai food...man. When I first discovered Thai food, with the ranges of flavors from complex spice layers to sweet, coconutty curries, I couldn't eat Chinese food for about a year afterwards, because I found it to be so lacking in comparison. And I love Chinese food. Being a fan of Trader Joe's other frozen wontons and similar items, both Sandy and I couldn't wait to try out these gyoza, a new item for us out here in the 'burgh.

Can't lie: They're disappointing. I wish it weren't the case, but we swear to tell the truth here, and truth is this: They don't taste like anything special at all. Well, the shrimp itself is good, in that typically fresh, not salty or gritty way that TJ's shrimp almost always is, but other than that? There's nothing that sets these apart in any discernible way, shape or form. There's no sweet and no heat at all. It's just a straightforward shrimp dumpling, which to my fairly uneducated 'merican palate doesn't register as "Thai" one bit. There's no complexity or subtlety, no nothing, heck, not even a splash of fish sauce - just shrimp filling "flavored" by some pretty run-of-the-mill spices and wrapped in dough. If anything, I tasted a little garlic.

Granted, they're not horrible, either. There's something to be said for greasy comfort food, which the shrimp gyoza definitely had that sense about them. It's just...we expected more. I really can't think of anything terribly interesting to say here, just because these are pretty mundane munchies.

Sandy and I had them for a weekend lunch after M finally passed out for an afternoon nap, and while these may make their way into our cart once more someday, we're not going to go out of our way to ensure that, either. Maybe we're just spoiled by other TJ's shrimp goodies or our own Thai food experiences that when these prawn-esque potstickers offered a pretty mellow, stripped down approach, the two of us just have to be a little bummed. I don't recall the exact price, but I think it was somewhere in the $3.50 to $4 range, so at least it wasn't a huge setback for a little letdown. Sandy's going to call them a 3, which she sees as a perfectly middle score, while I'm going with 2.5 myself. Middlin' score for a meh meal. Sounds just about right to us.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Thai Shrimp Gyoza: 5.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Trader Joe's Fully Cooked Pork Belly

Mmmm.... bacon bacon bacon. Bacon. Bacon!! I've consumed a lot of bacon over the past few months - at least a couple times a week. That's part of the glory of a paleo diet - eat bacon as often as you want! It works, too - I'm down nearly 45 pounds since August, even after pillaging my mom's and mother-in-law's holiday cookie spreads in a couple days of unbridled Christmassy sugar gluttony.

But dare I say it but - bacon gets kinda old after a while. Like, it's still delicious and all, but a good change up is needed. Fortunately my dad cures and smokes his own bacon, and is only too happy to share (Maple bourbon bacon? Yes please!) but when that runs out, well, a little variety would be welcome.

Fortunately, there's an alternative to get my inner Gimli all fired up again - Trader Joe's Fully Cooked Pork Belly. There's a train of thought that fresh pork belly, when prepared properly, is better than any salty, cured bacon. This being my first foray into pork belly world, I'm not ready to stake that claim, but I can see where it comes from.

Pork belly is, of course, the slab of meat from which bacon is made. Our particular cut seemed to be almost more of a pork roast/bacon hybrid, as it was certainly meatier looking than most bacons I've ever had. And by cut, I mean it's a solid piece - despite the thick cut slabs pictured on the completely unnecessary box, it's a solid chunk that you must cut yourself either before or after cooking. Since we wanted it for a potato soup topping, and I wasn't sure what to expect, I sliced up a few pieces then started dicing the remaining bit once my fingers were beginning to get in potential harm's way.

My goodness, the end result was delicious. It took a while over some low heat, but eventually we got crispy, chunky, savory, melty-in-yo'-mouthy baconlicious bites that even our normally meat-averse toddler couldn't help but gobble right on up. The thicker cut chunks that got crispy on the outside but remained tender on the inside - oh man, oh man. I'm not sure if there was just more greasy gristle, or the meatier girth, but whatever it was, this pork belly had it. If you even remotely like bacon, you'll probably love this. Just be careful during cooking - the extra fat makes some extra-aggressive spatter when provoked - wearing one of these Quailman style might not be a bad idea. 

A quick Google search of pork belly recipes seems to imply that cooking and prepping your own from raw to edible takes quite a bit of work and/or time (couple hours, minimum from what I see) so this is definitely a fully cooked convenience pack, perhaps not made for the connoisseurs but instead to introduce the masses. Well, consider me hooked - I think I just might start trying to make my own. In the meantime, if I get a real hankerin', this TJ's version will make a quick sub at a fairly reasonable price of $6.49 for the package. The wife and I agree: deeeeeeeeeeelish. Double fours.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Fully Cooked Pork Belly: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Trader Joe's Uncured Turkey Cranberry Apple Sausage

It's November...you know that what means! Crunchy leaves falling. A cool chill in the air. The end of political attack ads for a couple weeks. And of course....it's almost turkey time!

There's a billboard around town here' in the 'burgh for the local gas station promoting the Pilgrim - a roast turkey sub piled high with cranberries, gravy and trimmings on a "stuffing bread." That sounds as awesome as it sounds gutbursting. There's all sorts of other turkey wraps and sandwiches around, including TJ's somewhat disappointing one from last year.

But a totally tubular Thanksgiving turkey treat, and not in the '80s' sense? For me, unheard of...until now, Trader Joe's Uncured Turkey Cranberry Apple Sausage.

Turkey as an alternate meat can either work pretty well or not so great when trying to emulate other protein products. See: turkey bacon. Pork sausage is usually pretty greasy, so a drier, leaner meat like turkey has to be done well to make an acceptable swap-out in my eyes.

Well, Trader Joe's tried. They really, really tried. But as an old wise little short green man once told me, "Do or do not. There is no try." So, TJ's did not. There's just enough not flavor or execution here. First, they're pretty dry. And then, the turkey itself is fairly bland. "Well, that's why they'd add some cranberry and apple, that oughtta fix that," you're now thinking to yourself. You'd be right except...it doesn't. In one of Sandy's sausages there was a deep, large well of red that I presume was the cranberry. That's the only discernible cranberry any of us had in the whole package of five we cooked up. There were little chunks of what I presume were apple (kinda gray/tan/light colored) but they didn't add much of anything one way or the other. In the end, they just kinda lacked.

To be fair, I suppose if one were to purchase and prepare these not with the though of festive fall flavors but instead a reasonably healthy sausage option, these links wouldn't seem nearly as disappointing. That's a more than valid thought. Sodium's kinda high, but uncured, low fat, heck, not even preservatives - they're practically paleo which works for me.

Sandy made a face when I mentioned I'd be reviewing these. "Ugh, if we never got those again, that'd be more than okay with me - I just didn't really like them," she said. She seemed to verbally waiver between around a two, so that's what we're going with for her, which sounds just 'bout right to me.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Uncured Turkey Cranberry Apple Sausage: 4 out of 10 Golden Spoons    

Thursday, September 25, 2014

Trader Joe's Breaded Chicken Breast Nuggets

It's been an even more interesting than usual past couple of weeks come dinner time in here, at the Western PA homefront of the WGaTJ's crew. In one corner, there's me, trying to stick true as best as possible to that pesky Paleo diet, making only occasional concessions for you, our readers. Great results so far - haven't weighed as little as I do now since the Bush administration, and by that I probably mean not the W one. Still got some work to do, though. In the other is my wife Sandy, nearing 8 months pregnant, after a long day of wrangling other people's kids at her preschool before tackling our own sweet little toddler for a couple hours while trying to make dinner while waiting for me to get home from work. Is she entitled to be hungry for whatever and that just has to be okay with me? No question, absolutely. But do I want to keep watching what I eat to keep on track? No doubt. Add in tiredness from work, lack of willingness from either of us to make two separate dinners, and pressure to maintain the appearance that we know what we're doing and not psychos less we equally confuse and confound our aforementioned two year old and  teenaged foreign exchange student we're hosting, and, well, it's been a delicate dance at times. At least neither of us is losing.

How do Trader Joe's Breaded Chicken Breast Nuggets fit in? Not in my caveman diet - oh, that pesky breadedness with all those yummy, crunchy, metabolism-killin' carbs. But, they're a good example of the compromise we've brokered - I eat Paleo for breakfast and lunch (not too hard during the week) and at dinner, we make reasonably healthy choices (these were a "one of those nights" bagged dinner nights) and I watch my portion sizes. Dropped a couple more pounds this week, so it doesn't seem to hurt too bad.

Besides being a symbol of peace thankfully made of chicken, not doves, these nuggets are pretty darned tasty too. That is, if you can call them nuggets - they're more like huge chunks of white chicken. Seriously, I'd say almost half the mega-nuggies we got were several bites each, and huge. Even better, it was actual chicken too, not the stuff that Snopes swears doesn't compose your McNuggets (jury's out if you ask me). I kinda liked how the bag proudly proclaims that the chicken contains up to 15% of a solution, implying that being 85% problematic is fine. Sorry, lame joke. As a small nod towards my 'lithic-classed leanings, the breading is also gluten free, relying instead on cornmeal and the like. While that still DQs this from any stone-aged supper, the cornmeal does add a pretty nice crunch, and a certain almost homemade flair. None of the seasonings particularly stand out, but instead keep themselves balanced nicely that make this chicken ideal for chunky-dunking into a dip of your choice, such as some barbeque sauce.

Overal, I gotta say, both the wife and I are fairly pleased. There's something a little fishy about them, though, which I can't quite figure out. Somehow, when eating these, I thought I was tasting something a little seafood-y. It's nothing unpleasant - I won't call fowl play on it - but I still couldn't quite shake that thought. Maybe it was the salt (trying to cut down that, too), I don't know.

Regardless, we liked 'em.  The birdy bits were a reasonable price ($5 for the sack) and will probably be a repeat purchase soon. Matching fours.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Breaded Chicken Breast Nuggets: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Friday, August 29, 2014

Trader Joe's Polenta Provencale

One thing I love about Trader Joe's is that they've exposed me to dozens of new dishes that I wouldn't have tried otherwise. Polenta is definitely one of those dishes. To the best of my recollection, I had never even heard of it before this. Sonia, who's even more widely traveled than I am, has not only tried polenta in her native Los Angeles, but also in Italy, where the dish apparently originates from. But despite her adventurous efforts, she's never been able to cultivate a deep appreciation for this corn-based dish.

The presence of corn (and absence of wheat) is great news for all you gluten-free folks. But for people like Sonia, it means an unusual texture that, in her own words, "feels like eating soap." I certainly see where she's coming from with that observation. The texture of the actual polenta balls is a little strange, especially if you're expecting it to feel just like traditional pasta. Now you've got me talking about balls and Russ chuckling about nut butter. I swear, people, this is a family-friendly blog.

Other than its lack of gluten and its vegetarian-ness, this product's other great strength lies in its vegetable medley, which includes peas, spinach, and tomato bits. The cream sauce is moderately spicy and lends a nice mixture of herbs to the dish, but its flavor certainly doesn't overpower that of the vegetables.

Flavor-wise, the polenta adds little. I found it to be very neutral in taste. There's a melodramatic spiel on the back of the bag describing Trader Joe's efforts to "liberate" polenta from its traditional Italian niche. So...if this isn't the way traditional polenta is served, then perhaps this entree would have been more successful as something entirely different? Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed it. But Sonia and I both agree the least appetizing part of this dish is the polenta itself.

Another surprise was the overwhelming soupiness of the product, as pictured above. The photo on the bag depicts a mostly-dry dish served on a plate. I'm not really complaining, but we wound up eating our "polenta stew" from a bowl.

Since it's something unique and new-to-me—and because it tastes good overall, I'm giving this polenta provencale a 3.5. Despite admitting that she really liked the veggies, Sonia can't get past the texture of the polenta balls. She gives it 2.5 stars.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Thursday, August 7, 2014

Trader Joe's Zesty Southwestern Style Stuffed Chicken Breasts

"The pig is an amazing animal. You feed a pig an apple, it makes bacon. The pig is turning an apple - essentially garbage - into bacon! That's magic! Or the most successful recycling program ever!"

That's not the joke about pigs and apples from comedic genius Jim Gaffigan I had in mind while sitting down to write this review; however, Google failed me. He once threw out a line about feeling bad for the pigs at a pig roast, because one minute they're happily eating an apple, next minute they're up on the spit, apple still there. With that second joke in mind, I took one look at Trader Joe's Zesty Southwestern Style Stuffed Chicken Breasts - must've been an interesting though perhaps tragic nacho night at the chicken coop.

There's a lot of good stuff going on here. In the case of our package (which Sandy referred to as a "meat splurge", given the price tag and rarity we buy things like this) there were two pretty good sized chicken chunks, one a little bigger than the other. The two of us and our semi-meat-adverse toddler probably could've split a single breast and been reasonably satiated, but we were both pretty hungry, and our kiddo actually ate her fair share, too, in an upset. Everywhere you look, there's corn tortilla chip shards - literally everywhere, covering the breasts liberally, some stuffed inside, excess ones spilling out of the package everywhere. Mix in some nacho cheddar cheese chunks (which oddly melted inside the chicken but not outside - what kind of sorcery is that?) and peppers (presumably poblano) and a couple oddly placed black olive slices, and it's pretty nacho-licious. I kinda wish the chips got a lot a little more crispy while baking - some did, while others remained a little soggy, perhaps understandably. In all, these plucky pollo fellas made a very hearty, filling dinner almost entirely by themselves.

Still, there's a little something missing. Hmmm...let's start with the ingredients and nutritional info, shall we? I know packaged meat doesn't always carry all that info, but with all the added ingredients, it sure would've been nice. There was no such sticker on our package, not even on the reverse side of the main label (I checked). Not sure if that was a QC misfire or the norm; regardless, I can't provide a snapshot of ingredients and nutrition like we normally do. Also, while I'd call the chicken "flavorful" and "tasty," I would not use "zesty" to describe it. There's no real spice. I've had bell peppers with more wallop than the pale green hombres in here. Prior to sticking in the oven, I *thought* I saw something like a light salsa glaze thru the chippy coating on the chicken, and while the chicken was lightly marinated in something, it wasn't that, nor was it overly apparent or stuck out. As much of a cliche as it is at this point, a little chipotle action, or some included salsa, or a little extra spice akin to previous southwestern-inspired offerings would have been a real bonus.

Not going to quibble too much though. One could reasonably expect to pay at least $11 or $12 at a restaurant for one something similar to one of these breasts and a side or two, so $5.99 a pound strikes me as a decent value. In all likelihood, we'll purchase again but will have to keep in mind adding a little something extra to kick it up a notch. Sandy enjoyed it all, except the peppers - she and cooked veggies have a strained relationship at best, so that's not too surprising nor is it a poor reflection. In her book, these merit a 3.5, while I come in a notch lower.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Zesty Southwestern Style Stuffed Chicken Breasts: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons  

Friday, July 25, 2014

Trader Joe's Lamb Koftas

"Kofta." Now that's a cool word. I've never heard it until stumbling across Trader Joe's Lamb Koftas on my latest trip. Basically, a kofta is a Middle Eastern/Indian/ Mediterranean meatball, with different variations from different regions. Sounds good, and I was interested.  My wife Sandy, though? My goodness. She's not usually not one to get too excited about most meats - she's on record on saying she'd be vegetarian if she only liked vegetables more, and I've seen her be indifferent towards bacon, of all things - but lamb anything she's all over it. "I've just never have had any bad lamb," she explains. Granted, me neither, but most of my exposure to the gastronomics of the wooliest of farm mammals has been limited to gyros at Greek food festivals and an occasional dish here or there from either TJ's or occasionally out. I recall us making lamb roast a year or two ago for Easter, and being relatively unimpressed but not overly dismayed by it. Regardless, since I said before we go in it was her turn to find something tasty for dinner, once these koftas were spotted, there was no question what was going on my dinner plate that night.

Like most of TJ's Indian-inspired dishes, the real highlight to me was the masala sauce. It comes frozen in a side packet that you swish the meatballs around in once they're heated up. It was so good - a little heat, a little creamy, but so much flavor - I think I got a hot dog bun out to grab every last drop I could. If you've had their masala sauce on other dishes before, you know what I'm talking about. It's gooooooooood. I think I could put it on anything.

As for the lamby balls themselves...to me, eh. Without the masala, they tasted like a meatier-but-still-tender sphere of gyro. That's not a bad thing, but it was kind of unexciting in of itself. Heating them was a cinch - a couple minutes on the stove top while steaming in a little water was all they really needed. Other times we've gotten frozen meatballs, I've had to cut them in half mid-cooking so the insides would thaw to a less than rock-solid state without blackening the outside. No such issue here. Neglected to take a picture of the finished product, but each kofta was a couple bites each, with ten in the package (so about 50 cents each), so it seemed like a decent value to me.

Sandy, though? Score this as another big winner for her, enough that she unequivocally gave them a perfect five. For me, I'm not as impressed, but when (not if, "when") these come back to my place for dinner again, I won't be disappointed. Sandy gets some more lamb, I get some more sauce, and we're both pretty darn happy then. Definitely a winner dinner.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Lamb Koftas: 9 out of 10 Golden Spoons.

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Trader Jacques' Shells with Brie and Asparagus

I'm not going to sit here and brag about how open-minded I am about new foods, because I've already done that plenty of times before on this blog. But I feel I must set that precedent before I say something controversial like, "I don't like anything with blue cheese" because otherwise people assume I'm a lame, close-minded 'Murican who only eats hamburgers and freedom fries. Sonia doesn't like blue cheese either. Do you know what the blue stuff is? It's mold. Aside from having a nasty mold allergy, I mean, that's just gross. If we were meant to eat mold, many of us here on the soggy east coast would have a never-ending food supply in our basements and crawl spaces. But no, we do what we can to get rid of that mold. We banish it. We send it back to the dark recesses of whatever sinister realm from whence it came. We don't eat it. But somehow if there's cheese surrounding it, it magically becomes ok. I don't get it.

You know what else I usually don't like? Brie. Now here's where Sonia and I differ. She loves it in all its glorious forms and in almost any context. Most people I know like brie. They gather around the hors d'oeuvres table to sing its praises at fancy shindigs and they stop talking to me when they find out I don't like it that much. Now why, you ask, would I buy a product that so prominently features brie if I'm not an avid fan? Honestly, I was thinking of my wife. On certain uncommon occasions, I am able to remove my head from my posterior and have thoughts that center around someone other than myself. That's what happened here I think. That, and sometimes I like to try things that I didn't like in the past just to see if my taste buds have changed or if my initial assessment may have been inaccurate.

So far, I have only had brie that sat well with my palate once: this TJ's dish. And I think that's because it was melted. I'm not saying I would have minded if it were mozzarella or cheddar or something less exotic, but brie worked here. It was amazingly creamy. And flavor-wise, brie goes really well with asparagus, apparently. And I've always liked asparagus. Who knew they worked well together?

The "conchiglie" pasta was fairly run-of-the-mill shells, but perhaps a bit on the larger side. The texture of the asparagus was excellent. Not stringy at all. Although, I must point out that we cooked this dish on the stove top, not in the microwave as indicated by the heating instructions. Our power was out during one of those freak storms we had last week so we decided to heat up some of the perishables before they got too thawed. I figured out that the ignition doesn't work on our stove top when the power is out, but we still get gas, so I have to turn on the gas and then ignite it with a lighter. I usually draw out a bit too much gas and lose a few eyelashes and a portion of my goatee in the process. But hey, with great risk comes great reward.

Sonia wishes this product came in a larger size. She gives it 4 stars. I liked it, but I'm still not a "brie guy" yet. So 3.5 stars from me.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Thursday, July 3, 2014

Trader Joe's 14 Shrimp Nuggets

Fourteen? That's what you're proud of and will advertise to the point of making it part of your product name? Fourteen? Really? Listen: that doesn't make much sense when it comes to Trader Joe's 14 Shrimp Nuggets. A flip to the backside and a quick glance at the nutritional label easily and readily shows why: a serving size is four nuggets, which is perfectly reasonable, but leaves me with a package of 3.5 servings if my third grade math isn't failing me now. With this, there are several options: a) Make whole box, eat seven nuggets, tell wife it's okay to eat seven nuggets. like I need any more help eating too much anyways. 2) Buy multiple boxes to even out serving sizes. Buying two wouldn't be enough - that leaves seven servings, an odd number (just me and the wife, the kiddo wouldn't touch these). I'd have to go buy four to make it even. It's this kind of serving shenanigans that was behind the whole hot dog/hot dog bun conundrum years back. Not cool. d) Buy one box, make eight, leaving six to split another night to eat alongside extremely mediocre Sam's Club frozen wings. Ladies and gentlemen, we went with option d. Here's an even better option: TJ's, throw two more nuggets in the box. Maybe "16" isn't as cool and trendy as "14" but we're adults here, let's be a little practical, shall we?

As far the shrimpy nuggets themselves: not bad at all. There's a lot of the greasy, fast-food-y type comfort food vibe going on here. Me gusta. As the name somewhat implies, these nuggets aren't a simple matter of breaded, battered shrimp. Instead, each nugget seems comprised of about two shrimp each, and as is most of TJ's shrimp, is reasonably fresh, decently firm, and definitely delicious like any good shrimp should be. And the batter is great: it crisps up nicely and evenly in the oven, and somehow, there's an almost buttermilk-y aspect to it. Not to go all Bubba on you, but TJ's has exceeded in giving us regular battered shrimp, shrimp on a stick, shrimp stirfry, heck, even shrimp in corn dog form before, so now they've mastered the nugget form.

That begs the question: how do they make the nuggets? Three words: Shrimp paste. Uggh. 

By this, I doubt they mean tiny glue sticks. Once I saw those words, it was like reading "Miley twerking" or seeing the new one-legged Speedo (Google image search at your own risk): immediate repulsion, and not something I could unsee or un-experience. I noticed there was a small amount of kinda slimey, kinda mealy, kinda salty, kinda shrimpy filler the first time we had these, but I didn't pay it much mind until I happened to read the description on the back while making the second batch a few nights later. It got cut off in my picture, but it absolutely says "bound together by shrimp paste." Uggh. When eating for the second time, all I could think was shrimppasteshrimppasteshrimppaste. Kinda ruined it for me, much like how a potentially delicious dessert got ruined for Nathan by a similar discovery. We're allowed our silly hang-ups, too.

  Regardless, Sandy seemed to really like them (see: greasy comfort food) and I enjoyed them enough the first time around, I suppose. Going forward I may just try to stick to regular battered shrimp, or whatever concoction TJ's comes up with next, like mini-shrimp enchiladas on a stick or whatever. Just hope it has an even number of servings and doesn't have any shrimp paste (uggh again!) in it.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's 14 Shrimp Nuggets: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons  

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Trader Joe's Vegetable Biryani

Up until Mr. Shelly's recent review of uttapam, it had been quite a while since we checked out any Indian food on this blog. So, to make up for lost time, here's a look at yet another Indian dish: Trader Joe's Vegetable Biryani. We saw it on the frozen section shelf, right next to the uttapam, and it looked too good to pass up. 

I've been to a handful of decent Indian restaurants, but I've never heard of biryani before I saw this dish. Maybe I just wasn't scouring the menu hard enough—I have a bad habit of sticking with my old standby's all the time: chicken tikka masala or some kind of tandoori. Although it often pays to venture outside of your comfort zone, you can never go wrong with the classics. So now my habit is to try the very inexpensive version of each new-to-me Indian dish at Trader Joe's, and then if it really wows me, I might dare order it when I'm out livin' large, spendin' G's at a fine dining establishment.

Note to self: order vegetable biryani next time you eat out at an Indian place.

Because this stuff is pretty awesome. For $2.49, we're looking at a dish that's in the same price range as a typical Lean Cuisine or Healthy Choice meal, with similar fat and caloric content, but with way more uniqueness, flavor, and satisfaction. This meal is super-filling—but not uncomfortably so. It's packed with beans, peas, basmati rice, and meatball-sized vegetable dumplings. The dumplings and rice have the perfect amount of flavorful Indian spices. Nothing's too dry, nothing's too hard. It even has plump raisins to give it a nice sweet zing. The textures and flavors blend together beautifully, and the veggie and bean content is hearty enough to make up for the lack of meat. This entree is vegetarian. Not sure why it's not vegan, but it doesn't have that happy little "V" on it like some other Indian products from Trader Joe's. I'll let you vegan peeps read through the ingredients and tell me why it's just "vegetarian."

This dish is special enough to garner double 4.5's from the Rodgers clan. We're fans. Unless you hate Indian for some strange reason, we can't imagine you won't like this. And for the price, there's not much lost if you don't.

Bottom line: 9 out of 10.

Thursday, June 26, 2014

Trader Joe's Four Uttapam with Coconut Chutney

There's been a lot of back-and-forth out there in the wild webby west the past few weeks about the merits of a gluten-free diet for those who are not diagnosed celiac sufferers. I'm...not going to add much to that discussion, other to say that I know enough good, honest folks who go to great lengths to avoid gluten because of how they believe gluten affects them, so there's probably something to it that science (and the rest of us who don't deal with what those others do) may not fully understand as of yet. Can't find the link, but there was an interesting article in the Wall Street Journal last week that detailed how, in response to increased consumer demand over the past few years, many food manufacturers are now either focused on making gluten-free versions of products, while openly admitting they sacrifice nutritional quality for taste and texture. Yummm those extra calories!

Another tactic, and more pertinent to Trader Joe's Four Uttapam with Coconut Chutney, is many food that never contained gluten to begin with are now slapped with or marketed under being gluten free. For example, read this about Heinz Ketchup. Now, an average consumer may not know what an "uttapam" is (I sure didn't) but once the first two words of the little subheaded description are read ("rice breads")...well, that's a pretty significant hint it's gluten free. Rice is a pretty common substitute grain (with varying results), so unless so gluten would reach its wheaty tentacles in through some ultra-nefarious means, the "gluten free" at the top of the box is really as useful as a "cholesterol free" label on a box of Cheerios.

Enough about all that, let's talk uttapams. They're fun. They're funky. And Trader Joe's may have helped Columbus them, because I've never heard of them or had one, but now I'm kinda intrigued. If made from an authentic Indian recipe, as the box claims, that means the lentil/rice mixture that makes up these pancake-like yum-yums was fermented for a while. That's probably the case, as there's this lingering kinda sour/kinda sweet/kinda sharp/kinda acidic taste to the batter that's the base flavor. Not sure of the best words to adequately describe, but it sure was unexpected upon first bite. Texturally these uttapam seem to be a cross between mashed potatoes and pancakes, while the undersides of these cakes crisp up nicely when made in the frying pan. Can't imagine microwaving them as alternate directions suggest...ugh. The taste of the batter is balanced out nicely by a certain spiciness - it's not spicy in a hot, peppery way, but in a more herbaceous sense from the abundance of onion tidbits and cilantro choppings. And for a little added subtle sweetness, the coconut chutney up top helps bind the whole dish together. There's no taste that's too scarce or too prevalent - it's perfectly harmonious.

And for those out there who may want to try these out but no desire or capacity to have them four at a time - no fear! Not only do the uttapam (uttapams?) come in a resealable plastic baggie, but also the chutney comes frozen in two separate packets. Making two one night and the other two another night, like Sandy and I did, was a cinch, no creative repackaging needed. That's a nice touch.

If memory serves me right, these "Indian pizzas" (as they're sometimes referred to, apparently) were in the neighborhood of $3 for the box, and honestly, if I were to go out to an Indian restaurant, order some uttapam, and get something approximately like these, I'd be pretty happy. Let's be positive and say that means more about the overall quality of this product versus anything else. Both Sandy and I thoroughly enjoyed them and can see them as a great appetizer for any Indian-themed meal. Nicely done.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Four Uttapam with Coconut Chutney: 8.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons   

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Trader Giotto's Rigatoni alla Siciliana

Today's my 35th birthday. There's a famous quote about your parents ruining the first half of your life and your children ruining the second half. That's how I know I'll live beyond age 70. No kids yet, and my parents are still making bold attempts to ruin my life. Don't believe me? Just ask Sonia. She doesn't exaggerate like I've been known to on occasion.

Another reason I know I'll live past 70 is my phone number. You might think it strange, but when I was arbitrarily assigned my current cell phone number some 10 years ago, it struck me that the last four digits of it would be the year of my departure from this earth. 2060. When I was younger, I used to tell people that I was going to die when I was 60. But after I saw my phone number, I realized I had been mistaken. I'm not going to die at the age of 60. I'm going to die in the year 2060

So with that revelation, I began eating somewhat more healthily since I realized I had to account for an extra 21 years or so. That's one of the factors that led me to shop at places like Trader Joe's. Now there are those of you who will pipe up and say "But, but, but...Trader Joe's is just organic junkfood!" Maybe you'd be right. I don't know. But I currently believe it to be slightly healthier than most mainstream grocery stores like Ralph's or Giant. And remember, I'm aiming for 81. Not 91 or 101. I don't need to be that healthy. Pasta with eggplant sauce will suit me just fine over pasta with beef and pork or whatever. Don't get me wrong, I still eat meat. I just mix up my dead animal with eggplant from time to time.

And eggplant's tastyUsually. I'm down with stuff like baba ghanoush and Indian eggplant curry. This product was no exception. And even though the texture of eggplant is always a gamble, in this case it was pretty nice. Not rubbery. Not too chewy. I think our biggest complaint is that this dish was lacking a special zing. It wasn't super bland. You could taste pasta and tomato sauce and eggplant, and it was slightly savory. But with three and a half decades of memories to compete with, this product just ain't gonna stand the test of time. It's certainly not bad. If you're jonesin' for some eggplant, by all means, check it out. But both Sonia and I wanted a little something extra. Some magical spice harvested from the moons of Jupiter that makes eggplant taste like ostrich meat or something like that—that's what we were looking for and it just wasn't there. This dish was super not bad and super not memorable. When I'm 70 and my kids are busy ruining my life, this bag of rigatoni will have been forgotten many decades prior. 3 stars from both of us.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Trader Joe's 12 Mushroom Mochi

Skipping right to the obvious question: no, there's neither 12 types of mushrooms in Trader Joe's 12 Mushroom Mochi, nor are there 12 mushrooms per mochi. Those both would be records. There's just two types of mushrooms involved, with the equivalent of about maybe one to one and a half mushrooms per piece. Are there even 12 kinds of mushrooms that are edible for us homo sapiens? I don't even know.

Nah, if you haven't guessed it by now, the 12 refers to the number of mochi (mochi? mochis? mochies?) in the box. My only previous experience with mochi have been of the ice cream variety, which are honestly a little bit weird to me. That's not meant in a judgmental way. Wiggily, doughy-skinned ice cream is a little bit of an odd concept for the classic suburban-raised American palette, but it doesn't mean I can't enjoy them. Regardless, these mochi were my first foray into non-desserty mochi (I didn't even know such a thing existed), and though I'll admit my hesitancy, there's a good part of me that was fairly intrigued.

Cooking them was a cinch that took just a couple minutes - brown in some oil, dump a little water on and cover. Nothing new if you've heated up frozen potstickers before, of which TJ's has some decent varieties. The dough tastes a lot like those - there to serve the purpose of holding in the filling and not stand out. But here's a difference, probably due to the size and shape: whereas smaller dumplings more or less keep intact, these mochi practically explode and gush all over the place once your teeth pierce the skin. Not sure of the right mouthfeel-related term to describe, but man, the first one was a bit much, but I was used to it by the time I ate my sixth and last one.

As far as taste, I'm not impressed or dismayed. They're very much a meh product, for me at least. The filling tasted a lot like the Trader Ming Stir Fried Vegetable Rolls that were fairly disappointing when we gave them a test drive. The mishmash mushrooms with carrots and onions and whatnot was salty, a little soy-saucey, and honestly not that terrific. Important note: there's oyster sauce in the filling, so despite mostly being a fungi, the mochi couldn't help being a little shellfish. Not vegetarian. Not that they taste all that oystery, just mushroomy and oniony.


Sandy, who thinks all mushrooms are really Goombas out to get her, could not be interested any less in trying these, and well, I was not going to plead a toddler to try them, either, so I made them for dinner on a night they both were out, and I shared them with Jack, the Chinese exchange student and mushroom aficionado who lives with us. "Pretty good," he said. "I thought they'd be sweeter, but they're not bad." Not sure how a sweeter taste would work, but, well, different flavor palettes I guess. He gave them a 3.5. I'd be open to giving them another try, but for now at least, I can't go higher than a 2.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's 12 Mushroom Mochi: 5.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons