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Showing posts with label snacks and desserts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label snacks and desserts. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Trader Joe's Veggie Sticks Potato Snacks

When I hear the term "veggie sticks," I think of narrow little slivers of carrots and celery arranged on a circular platter around a pool of creamy ranch dipping sauce. That's not what these are, if you couldn't tell from the pic. These are crunchable doodle-puffs of snack-tastic potato-matter.

From the first bite, they seemed familiar somehow...like a long-lost friend who had just returned from adventures abroad...like a wayward relative that came back to his father's house with a strange foreign accent, a prodigal son of the pantry if you will...there was just a certain 'je ne sais quoi' about them...who are you, veggie sticks? Haven't I met you before? In another life perhaps...on a distant shoreline, did I partake of your salty goodness under a Pacific sunset marked by the sound of crashing waves and the crispy-crunches of your bite-sized bits?

No. No, you are new to me...but you remind me of someone...you remind me of...who is it now? OH! YOU TOTALLY remind me of the unmistakable flavor of McDonald's French fries...with the texture of cheese-puffs. Seriously. McDonald's fries. It's gotta be the sunflower/safflower oil.

When I told Sonia about my McDonald's French fry epiphany, she went "Oh! Really? You think they taste like that?" Then I had her try one again, and told her to think about McDonald's French fries. Then she went, "Eh, I guess I can see what you're talking about..."

So apparently I'm more or less alone in my assessment that they taste just like McDonald's French fries. Mind you, the texture is much different. The texture is that of a generic, yet not necessarily low-quality cheese-puff/cheese-doodle/cheesy-poof thing.

I tried hard to tell if there was a difference among the three varieties; orangish-red, yellowish-white, and green. I thought maybe they were tomato-flavored, potato-flavored, and spinach-flavored, respectively, however, I was unable to discern any variation in taste. Just three different colors of McDonald's fries.

We tried them with a little lemon juice. Good. And they would have been KILLER with some Trader Joe's Jalapeño Pepper Hot Sauce, but alas, we did not have any. I almost tried them with a little packet of McDonald's fancy ketchup, but then I thought that might be a bit weird. I docked a point because we were kind of wanting to dress them up a bit, however, we polished off the bag within 24 hours of getting it back from TJ's. That usually indicates a successful product. Sonia agrees.

Sonia and I both give them a 4. Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Monday, May 16, 2011

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

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

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.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Trader Joe's Apocryphal Pita and Roasted Garlic Hummus

Trader Joe's sure is a little funny sometimes with their marketing and branding, if you haven't noticed.

It goes beyond their creation of different character names depending on the product inspiration and their pretty uneven utilization, which I find endlessly fascinating for whatever reason. Why are only some Chinese products Trader Ming but not others? Is Thai Joe a one-trick pony? Who determines this? And some of the product names...some are pretty long-winded and over the top, no doubt. The illustrations on some packages are kinda weird, too. I think it all adds to the allure of the place and the shopping experience. For me, I find a certain level of entertainment in it all.

I had another reminder of this when Sandy and I started poking around the first aisle of the local shop in search of a good snack to share for the week. TJ's has a great selection of different chips and salsas which we've inventoried and digested a fair amount of, but we found ourselves wanting something kinda different for a change. The bread shelves are the first ones to smack your eyeballs when wandering in where we go, so we figured that'd be a good enough place to look.

Hey, look, we found ourselves some pitas! But not just any pitas. Trader Joe's is only too happy to tell us they're apocryphal, too! Sounds fancy, but what's that mean? I'm usually not too much of one to use a big fancy word when a diminutive one will do, so I have to admit, I had to look it up to remember what it meant. Apparently, it means "of questionable origin." Hmm. Way to go, TJ's, in making us feel confident about this purchase of ours. I don't really expect a bag of pitas I get in the middle of Pittsburgh to be exactly the same as the ones from a Turkish street vendor (in some ways those could be more questionable ...) but at least keep the facade in play, please. I kinda liked the picture of the guy in monkish garb apparently training for some Middle Eastern World's Strongest Man competition, though, and despite the lack of the letter s, there are, in fact, a plural amount present per sellable unit.

They're decent too. Made out of 100% whole wheat so I guess they fit the bill healthwise if your tummy can bear that. A little flaky, a little doughy, sturdy, a little chewy, and definitely pretty tasty, though kinda unremarkable overall. I think that's about the best you can expect from a pita. They're not to be the star, but instead the stage for whatever tasty creation you're prepping to cram on in. So, sensing this was an incomplete tide-me-over tidbit, we peered across the aisle and saw ...

Hummus! I don't think I've ever bought hummus before, though I've been known to eat in mass quantity when I spy it on a snack table somewhere. It is one high quality foodstuff on which to mooch. The Roasted Garlic Hummus resonated with me as not quite being the best I've ever had, but far from the worst (there was this Wal-Mart stuff one time ...). I recall it being smooth and creamy without too much of the graininess some hummus can have (I don't mind that, but I can do without). I guess I was a little disappointed with the overall taste, as it's not as garlicky as I would've hoped. When I want something that predominantly features garlic, I want it to be potent enough to fend off any vampires and bubonic plague viruses lurking anywhere in the tri-state region. The only exception to that is when my grandmother made garlic bread ... she's been known to go just a little overboard. Anyways, I've never roasted a stinking rose bulb on the barby in the back, but if I did, I'd imagine it tasting stronger than this (despite the lid saying mild), and not nearly as sweet. Yes, sweet. Sandy said she thought the sweetness more came from the pita when combined with the hummus, and though that may have accentuated it, I could taste it when I tried some of the hummus by itself. Garlic is supposed to be vigorous enough to render your breath downright offensive for a spell, not leave you pondering its sweetness. Overall, it's agreeable enough, I'd say, but it's not quite what I expected.

Anyways, the pitas and hummus made for some pretty decent, easy snacks for us, and worked quite well for a couple quick-bite-on-the-way-out-the-door scenarios. I think Sandy enjoyed it a little bit more than I did, though, mostly because she seemed to like the hummus a tad or two more than me. That's her, ever the gracious one. I didn't exactly get her rankings for these, and know it's not always the wisest to presume it's okay to speak for one's spouse, but I'll give it a shot and try to represent her opinions and thought process as fairly and accurately as possible. I'll go first and grant a four for the pitas and a 3.5 for the hummus. Pretty fair grade for some pretty fair chow. For Sandy, the pitas aren't bad, pretty yummy, she likes them and the hummus is really yummy, not yucky like it coulda been and about the only way it could be better would be if it were pink and sparkly and came packaged with a free penguin or puppy or a puppy and a penguin and baseball tickets. Or something pretty close to that ... I'm wagering that's a matching four for the pitas and a 4.5 for the hummus.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons for both the Apocryphal Pita and the Roasted Garlic Hummus

Hey .... c'mon now ... don't forget about this!!! Seriously, please.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Trader Joe's Gluten Free Brownie Baking Mix

Over the past 4 months or so, Sonia and I have been slowly trying to phase gluten out of our diets. We noticed that eating normal wheat products makes us feel nasty and bloated. I know from having food allergies as a kid that eating the same things over and over every day can actually cause sensitivity to those foods, and wheat is one of those ubiquitous ingredients that just seems impossible to avoid completely.

We still have some wheat and gluten in our diet as of now, but we've been on a mission to figure out what foods, if any, we can find legitimate gluten-free substitutes for. We both agree that we feel better when we don't eat gluten, so we're hoping to have as little as possible.

Anyway, it's not like we have brownies a lot to begin with, but we thought we'd try a gluten-free dessert. This bag o' brownie seemed like it was worth a shot.

Sonia added an egg, oil, and water, as per the instructions on  the bag. She also got adventurous and threw in some Trader Joe's Sliced Almonds. She wound up baking it for 40 minutes (10 minutes more than the package recommends) and then we sliced it up and ate it with some Trader Joe's Vanilla Ice Cream.

My first impression was that these were the funkiest brownies I had ever eaten. Not too shabby in the flavor department, but the texture was ... hmmm ... just a little abnormal. The words "chewy" and "gummy" came to mind. The almonds added a familiar crunchiness that really helped the overall consistency of the product. I highly recommend adding nuts if you ever try making these.

But still, squeezing the brownies with my fingers, cutting through them with a fork, or biting into them all pointed to the same conclusion: that these brownies wanted to be something other than brownies. I wasn't sure what they wanted to be...little brown sponges? tiny sections of weird skin for monster makeup? big chocolatey marshmallows?

In the end, I decided that they felt like marshmallows. Partly because the other people partaking of them with me at the time agreed with that assessment, and partly because that mode of thinking still allowed me to mentally file these brownies under "appetizing."

Sonia didn't mind the funkiness as much as I did. She certainly noticed it, but it didn't ruin the experience for her. And, as I mentioned before, they came pretty close to nailing the flavor of a good non-gluten-free brownie (or "glutenful" brownie, if you prefer) and Sonia agrees. She gives them a 4. I gotta go a little lower and give them a 3. These brownies are a respectable accomplishment in gluten-free science, but they've got a ways to go before I'd ever recommend them to someone over a normal brownie. Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Trader Joe's Organic Lowfat Yogurt Wildberry Probiotic Smoothie

If you're a fan of Dannon's "Frusion," you'll probably like Trader Joe's Yogurt Smoothies. They taste great, they're very smooth, made with real fruit and yogurt. Unlike Dannon's, these are organic and contain probiotics.

All yogurt has "yogurt cultures," which, I understand, help your digestive system. Their little yogurt civilization travels from its container into your gastrointestinal areas, where they set up shop helping you digest other foods and regulating the flow of foods into the intestines...or something like that.

Probiotics go one step further. They are helpful, microscopic little dudes that usually get added to the already helpful yogurt cultures, and they all work together to achieve gastrointestinal regularity. If the normal yogurt cultures are the army and navy, these little probiotic fellows are the marines. I don't think any microorganisms are sophisticated enough to have an air force yet.

Anyway, I'm not a biologist or a doctor, so please disregard the two previous paragraphs completely. Unless you're a doctor and you would like to correct my silly probiotic analogy, in which case, you may do so in the form of a comment below. I never took many biology or medical classes in school because I was far too squeamish. I would have fainted at the first discussion of blood-borne pathogens or communicable diseases. The hypochondriac in me would have immediately began drawing similarities between said diseases and the symptoms of my last cold, and it would have made me quite miserable and paranoid.

On the downside, Trader Joe's Organic Lowfat Yogurt Wildberry Probiotic Smoothies are not ultra-filling like the cream yogurts and the bottles are incredibly small. I could easily polish off all four drinks in one sitting. They are one or two gulps-worth a piece. Somehow my wife can draw out the consumption of these things for 20 minutes or so, but that's really not saying much. I once saw her - and I am not exaggerating at all - take two entire days to drink a single can of diet soda. She carried it with her sometimes, she'd put it in the fridge, then take it back out...then she'd have it on her desk. I must've asked her if she was done with the can like half a dozen times, and she would say "no." Apparently, she enjoys flat soda as much or more than fresh soda. But anyway, my point is that if you're a really, really slow drinker, you can nurse these probiotic smoothies for a few minutes max. They're very small and not very filling, and they're not dirt-cheap, either. We payed something like $3.79 for the 4-pack.

We also tried the strawberry version. It's good, too, but Sonia and I agree that Wildberry is ever so slightly better, though.

In review, TJ's yogurt smoothies are delicious and good-for-you, but there's not enough in the bottle. Sonia gives them a 4.5. I would have been tempted to give them a 5 if the serving size were bigger. 4 from me. Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Trader Joe's Soy & Flaxseed Tortilla Chips

Yellow corn, soy, and flaxseeds make up these chips. They're a structurally-sound, crunchy breed of chip. They taste a little different than regular yellow corn chips, but the taste is not so foreign that you won't be able to appreciate them on your first try. They're a little bit more massive than regular chips, which makes them highly dippable. And I do tend to either choose flavored chips, or chips that work particularly well with salsa or queso of some kind. These chips fall into the latter category, although if you're one who appreciates tortilla chips by themselves with no fixins or sauces, I'm sure these would be a fine choice for you, as they possess a nice salty, nutty quality you might expect from the 3 aforementioned main ingredients.

The bag boasts that the chips are a good source of protein, omega 3 fatty acids, and fiber. All in all, they're a nice balance of wholesome grains, crunchy snackability, and good-for-you bonuses. Our dip of choice for these chips was Trader Joe's Taco Seasoned Beef, Bean, & Cheese Dip with salsa and sour cream.


The beef wasn't as prominent as I was hoping. While eating the dip, I was really only aware of beans, cheese, and some sour cream. The salsa and beef kind of failed to push through the mishmash of other ingredients. The flavor could have been bolder, especially for a product with "taco seasoned" in its title. It was slightly bland in a way, but certainly not terrible.

This particular chip & dip combo worked pretty well, since lesser chips may well have buckled under the weight of the multi-layer dip. Any flavored chips might have clashed with the taste of the dip...and since the dip was slightly wanting in the flavor department, it's conceivable that a flavored chip would have completely overshadowed the taste of the dip...which in my opinion, completely defeats the purpose of using a dip or salsa in the first place.

In conclusion, Trader Joe's Soy & Flaxseed Tortilla Chips are a lovely, crunchable, multi-grain experience. Sonia gives them a 4. I concur. Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Taco Seasoned Beef, Bean, & Cheese Dip is not the flavor-extravaganza I had hoped for, but its subtle taste and textures are enough to garner modest 3.5's from both Sonia and I. Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Trader Joe's Old-Fashioned Sourdough Hard Pretzels

So, in other posts I've gone on about how much I love pretzels. It's just part of growing up in southeast Pennsylvania, which I think is to pretzels as Alaska is to salmon or the Dominican Republic is to cigars. Sure, other areas produce these goods, and can do so quite admirably, but if you had to pinpoint one area that's known for having the best, you'd know where to say. That's southeast PA. In the area we have Utz, Snyders of Hanover, Snyder's of Berlin, Unique, Martin's ... all of them pretty darn good. Growing up, there used to be the "Charlie Chip" man that would come by and deliver loads of pretzels and chips to my grandmother who lived with my family. I was kinda saddened today when I tried to look them up and found out that they went out of business some years ago.

Anyways, out of all pretzel types, my overall favorite probably has to be sourdough hard pretzels. They're just big, hard, super crunchy, encrusted with mini-rock salt crystals, and make you endlessly thirsty for a tall glass of lemonade or beer of your choice. I was pretty excited when on a recent Trader Joe's trip I saw these, and even a little more when I read on the side that they're "made in Pennsylvania, right in the heart of pretzel country." Boo yeah.

First, a note about the box, and namely its decoration. Most of the pretzels made in PA are done by the Mennonite/Pennsylvanian Dutch crowd, or at least their ancestors, and are based on a tradition of simplicity and humility. You just get a sense of it from their products and packaging. But not these guys. First there's a pair of cherubim doublefisting straight trumpets, and then a couple lions seeming to mount a mega pretzel in the middle coat of arms style. It just seems kinda odd and boastful-esque, I don't know. For whatever reason, the analogy that came to mind was rolling through Amish country windows down, woofers up blaring Ludacris or some Biggie. Just because there isn't a law against it doesn't make it right. I'm probably making more of a deal of this than necessary.

Anyways, the pretzels themselves are pretty decent. They definitely get a lot more right than they don't. They're the right size, with the right knots and exterior cracks and gashes in the dough. At first, to me at least, the crunch wasn't exactly right ... kind of almost like they were "too fresh", because they seemed to pack some level of relatively light crispiness. After a few days, though, they were right on the target. It's not a matter of getting them stale ... I don't know how to explain it right, but after being opened for a couple days that crispiness gave way to a whole 'nother level of crunch right on the money with the best. And make no mistake, these guys are super crunchy. It got to the point where Sandy and I had to eat them at the same time if we were in the same room so our own crunching muffled out each others. I think Sandy yelled at me once or twice to "stop crunching so loud on purpose, you crunchy pretzel mouth man" (or something to that effect) when she was giving her jaw a break from them, not realizing her own munching noises reminded me of a woodchipper (love you, darlin'). That's the beauty of the hearth baking process to just make the biggest, hardest, crunchiest pretzel you'll ever have.

After weighing their taste against other sourdough pretzels I've had, I found these TJ delights a little bit wanting. Sandy thought they could use a little more salt. I disagree - they have about the right amount, and it's the good, big, grainy stuff. The dough with which these were made is just a little plain for my taste. It's all just basically wheat flour, salt and yeast. I'm not aware of any pretzel purity laws, and the recipe for these may well be the "old-fashioned" way of making them. I compared the ingredients to one of my favorites, Utz (whose logo is a very simple cartoon lass, thank you very much) and saw that Utz put in a lot more stuff, like buttermilk solids and butter flavor (and of course, this being America, corn syrup). Hmm. Maybe it's the Utz-style taste to which I've grown too accustomed to enjoy this Trader Joe offering as much as I otherwise should, but I just wish they offered a little more flavor, especially for something purporting to be sourdough. Amanda, one of our Facebook fans, noted that these are pretty great when dipped in some hot and spicy mustard, and I can definitely see some dip helping their cause, though generally I prefer pretzels straight from the source with no pitstops in the middle.

The pretzels are definitely more right than wrong, so I'll give Trader Joe's some credit. Sandy gives them a 3 ("more salt!!!!" is basically what she said), and I'll see that and raise another spoon. At least at our local shop, the sourdough pretzels are in only sporadically, and it'd be nice to have them as a consistent offering, because then I'd be consistently crunching on them.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Monday, March 14, 2011

Baker Josef's Cinnamon Crumb Coffee Cake Mix

I am still in awe of the righteous new labeling system that Russ recently implemented on this site. So, to honor that system, I very thoughtfully considered which category(ies) to put this crumbcake in. Please follow my process of logic:

-Coffee helps one wake up and is thus a morning beverage.
-This cake is to be associated with coffee.
-Therefore, this cake can, at least part of the time, be considered a morning food.

Hence, it is filed under breakfast.

But it is also cake, and cake is very often eaten as dessert, ergo it should also be categorized as dessert, under "snacks and desserts."

And we shall spend the remainder of this blog entry discussing the categorization of the item under its third and final heading of "Not Bad."

Indeed, this is a prime example of a "Not Bad" Trader Joe's product. A week or two ago, we examined TJ's Chocolate Cake and Frosting Mixes, which are, in all respects, Pantheon Level foods. Those products surpassed expectations in every way, and in my life, they shall evermore be the standards by which all chocolate cakes and chocolate icings shall be measured.

This cake, however, can not be placed in such high esteem. It tasted pretty good...but it was sort of...uneven. The ribbon of cinnamoniness was the biggest offender. Instead of coming out like the photo on the box, which depicts a thin layer of soft, cinnamonish goodness evenly spread throughout each piece, there were large clumps of a harder, chewier cinnamon-based substance, unevenly and haphazardly dispersed about the cake. The cinnamon parts tasted overly sugary, and they left a slightly unpleasant aftertaste. The texture of the cake was fine, but any bites that contained this cinnamon ribbon were contaminated with a gritty feeling that cheapened the fluffiness of the main cake material.

Despite my complaints, this product was still among the best coffee cakes I've tried. (Although, truth be told, I haven't eaten many different coffee cakes. The nasty, pre-packaged vending machine variety doesn't count). The cake does go well with coffee, and it's certain to satisfy any sweet-tooth cravings you might encounter during your break.

If you're a huge fan of coffee cake, this is surely worth a try, but if you're just looking for a random cake mix to whip up for dessert or a special occasion, we recommend getting the chocolate cake first.

One last thought: who came up with the idea of crumb cake, anyway? Aren't our lives complicated enough without someone deliberately trying to make food that falls apart when we eat it? Not only do we have to spend time baking, preparing, and serving this stuff, but we have to wash dishes, clear the table, and on top of it all, break out the dust buster now, too. No thanks. One more reason to stick with the chocolate cake.

Sonia gives it 3 out of 5 stars. I'm definitely a bigger fan of sugary breakfast foods than she is. I give it a 3.5 out of 5. Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Trader Joe's Blueberries & Cream and Vanilla & Cream Yogurt Cups

Emphasis on the cream. One small bite of this yogurt's enough to fill the stomach of a grown man. It's like the Elven Lembas Bread of yogurts.

For those of you who didn't catch that reference, please re-watch the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy.

Back to the ultra-creamy yogurt. It's tasty. And...really, really thick. Just imagine a good blueberry or vanilla yogurt. Now imagine it five times thicker and heavier.

That's this yogurt.

I like both flavors equally. And that's a good thing, because they're packaged together. If one were better than the other, there could have been some household conflict about who got to eat the last of the better flavor.

The cups are a little smaller than the average yogurt cup I think. That's fine. After you eat one, it feels like you've eaten two cups of regular yogurt. Overall, me likey.

Sonia gives 4's to both. Me too.

Trader Joe's Blueberries & Cream Yogurt Cups. Bottom line: 8 out of 10.
Trader Joe's Vanilla & Cream Yogurt Cups. Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Friday, March 4, 2011

Trader Joe's Hickory Barbeque Potato Chips

If you like Kettle Chips, you'll probably like these. They're similar in quality, flavor, and texture. Neither brand is a light food option, but both are made with mostly natural ingredients.

The amount of BBQ flavor in these chips is perfect. They definitely have that barbeque kick and tang, but it's not overwhelming, either. It lets the natural potato flavors through, as well.

They're a bit on the greasy side, and there are always little particles of the chips completely coating your fingertips after you've eaten a few handfuls. It looks like you dipped your fingertips in some kind of weird potato batter and then stuck them in a deep-fat fryer. Ouch.

The side of the bag says "Hawaiian style." When I see "Hawaiian style," I usually take that to mean there's some pineapple and/or ham somewhere in the product. Not the case here. Although I suppose they could have snuck a few drops of pineapple juice into the barbeque sauce they used, but I didn't pay close enough attention to the ingredients to notice...

If I had a weird anecdote about potato chips, I'd share it with you right now, but unfortunately for this blog post, my experiences with potato chips have been relatively boring and normal...so there you have it: if you like Kettle Chips, and you like BBQ flavored chips, try these.

Sonia gives them a 4. I do, too. Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Baker Josef's Chocolate Cake and Frosting Mixes

Since Russ mentioned Baker Josef in his last post, I thought now would be a good time to bust out a review of the Chocolate Cake and Frosting Mixes.

Now, let me break something down for you. I can't bake. I just barely got an "S-" in Home Ec in 9th grade. The "S" stands for "satisfactory," but the minus implies it's a little less than satisfactory, and just slightly above a "U" for "un-freaking-acceptable." I think they would have given me the "U" if I hadn't tried so hard. But I really did try, and I still failed miserably. So my teacher, though frustrated, had mercy on me. I remember my whole group was a little...shall we say "unskilled" in the culinary arts. All four of us needed a little extra grace in the kitchen. I remember one of our assignments was to bake rice krispy treats, and we wound up chiseling the blackened finished product out of the pan with a hammer and icepick. I'm not kidding.

So, the natural choice was to let my lovely wife prepare and bake this product. She presented it to me as a sort of late Valentine's Day present. So sweet. We also planned on giving a piece to one of our neighbors...but that didn't happen. We couldn't part with it. So. Freaking. GOOD!

Sonia's an adept baker. She says it was simple. She just added eggs, water, and butter to the cake mix, baked it according to the directions, and then added hot water and butter to the icing mix. Seems straightforward enough to me. But for some reason my IQ drops about 50 points when I'm in the kitchen, so I let her handle the whole thing. I do attempt to cook for my wife sometimes, but I don't want to screw up the dessert stuff. It would just be a big letdown for everyone involved.

I actually prefer white cake or red velvet. Not usually big on chocolate. But I must say...this was probably the best chocolate cake I've ever had. The icing was amazing, too. I wouldn't change a thing. The moistness and texture probably has a lot to do with the way Sonia baked it, but I gotta say, both of these mixes are big winners. Props to Sonia and her good friend Baker Josef.

And again, not sure about the ethnicity or the origin of this Josef fellow. But he seems to know what he's doing.

Double fives on both.

Baker Josef's Chocolate Cake Mix, Bottom line: 10 out of 10.
Baker Josef's Chocolate Frosting Mix: Bottom line: 10 out of 10.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Trader Joe's Gone Bananas!

It's time for a fictitious adjective. Let's go with "Ridiculuscious!"

I almost went with "Stupidelicious," but I already mentioned that one in a previous blog entry...either word accurately describes these amazing chocolate covered frozen banana slices.

How much can you do with chocolate-banana, really? "Aren't they all the same?" you might ask. Well, for starters, there are only 2 ingredients in these little bites: bananas and chocolate. Then, thankfully, they do break down the chocolate into its constituent parts. Pretty straightforward...you got some sugar and milk and cocoa. The only word I wanted more info on was "soy lecithin." According to Wikipedia, lecithin "controls...the flow properties of chocolate." Well, it must have done what it was supposed to do, because this chocolate flowed right down my throat and into my tummy with delicious ease and smoothness.

My wife's score for these was tragically low (only a 4 out of 5) because she's had taste-aversion to chocolate-bananas since the age of 6. Her story takes us back to Los Angeles, California, circa 1985. Her father had bought her a chocolate-banana from a street vendor cart, and the product was apparently a scary, ghetto version of the classic chocolate-banana. Within its dripping, melting, fake-chocolate shell, an old, semi-rotted, ultra-ripe banana waited...lurking...planning to ruin my poor Sonia's opinion of chocolate-bananas forever. Unfortunately, it succeeded. She became deathly ill, vomited multiple times, and vowed to never again eat a chocolate banana.

These Trader Joe's Gone Bananas! chocolate-covered frozen banana bites have begun the healing process in dear, sweet Sonia. The decades-old trauma is slowly being replaced with good chocolate-banana memories.

And that, my friends, is the only reason Sonia gave these a 4 and not a 5.

The bananas are perfect. Not too ripe, not too young. The slices are the perfect size. There's just the right amount of chocolate around each piece. I have no complaints. The last chocolate-banana I had prior to these TJ's bites was from Disneyland, about 6 months ago. The Disney version had fakey-type chocolate, the banana wasn't ripe enough, and it cost something like a hundred dollars.

To summarize, I really, really love chocolate-bananas, and Trader Joe's Gone Bananas! are the best chocolate-bananas I've ever had. Natural-ish chocolate and perfectly ripe bananas, with the innovative concept to serve the banana bites in little slices instead of the whole big banana-on-a-stick deal. Perfect. 5 out of 5 from me. And the only reason Sonia gives them a 4 and not a 5 is because she had this crazy near-death banana tragedy as a little girl...anyway...I can't recommend them enough. 

Bottom line: 9 out of 10.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Trader Joe's Rice & Bean Chips

When talking about finances and stuff while undergoing some premarital counseling with a great couple from our church, Sandy and I realized that we wouldn't exactly be the richest kids on the block. I mean, we wouldn't exactly be just scraping by, but it was fairly apparent that we'd have to clip some coupons and look for some ways to save when we could, especially if we wanted to do some things we said we wanted to. One of the ways we figured we could save was on food costs, and it quickly became a joke between us that we'd have to eat a lot of beans and rice, or mac and cheese, and when we got sick of those we could have rice and beans or cheese and mac instead. It's a good thing we like them, we said.

Well, it's also a good thing we finally discovered the goodness of Trader Joe's. Shopping there saves us easily (at minimum) about $30 a week on average versus the big local chain even when we shopped the specials and stuff. Now, we still eat plenty of beans and rice (and for that matter, rice and beans) just because we really do like them, and we're usually looking for some ways to chomp them down in some different, tasty forms. So when we spotted these on our last go-around, we figured they'd be a likely winner and a worthy purchase.

A likely winner and a worthy purchase indeed.

Unlike a lot of actual rice and bean dishes which can be heavy and filling, these are pretty light, crispy, almost flaky chips. They're made primarily of rice flour which gives them a unique texture and taste - if you've ever had a rice crust pizza, think of that crust and a tortilla chip having a love child, and that's about what they are. TJ's mixes in some corn flour to make them a little more chip like. The package proudly claims that they're made with adzuki beans. I found a website that proclaims them as the "Mercedes of beans" ... that's kind of interesting, because the name conjures up an image to me of an semi-beat up Aerio plastered with bumper stickers, not the Benz I'll be rolling up in after the Lord buys it for me despite me not having any friends who drive Porsches. But they're good. They're the beans commonly used in red bean ice creams if you're familiar with those (I'm not), which I understand are semi-sweet and nutty. I got the sense of nuttiness from them but not really the sweetness, which is probably a good thing. Between the crispiness of the rice texture, the nuttiness of the beans, and the slightly salty spiciness of whatever they put on these guys, they made a great snack.

Which isn't to say they were perfect. One of the things I look for in a chip is how well they work with salsas and dips. These were really made to be eaten on their own. They're about one inch square so they're not conducive to any load bearing of much consequence in the salsa department. That doesn't mean I didn't try, and at least with the salsa we had on hand, the flavor of the chip kinda screwed with the salsa to make it an awkward mishmash of taste jousting on my tongue. Still, they're pretty good and flavorful as is, so no need to dress them up too much.

Sandy broke these out for a girls night she had this past weekend. With the ones I wolfed down before she booted me out down the street to help a friend drink his PBR, I'm surprised they survived until the next dawn, but was definitely glad they did. It's even more surprising given that Sandy voted them a fivespot in our Golden Spoon ranking. I'll chip in with a more modest 3.5 ... they're pretty good, but just not quite pantheon-level great. No shame in that.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Trader Joe-San's Green Beans

There are some things that, when it comes down to it, I really don't quite get. For example:

- Justin Bieber's hair cut
- Why some comment trollers think it's a good use of time to argue about politics on every news article. I don't understand what the Westminster Dog Show has to do with what's going on in the Middle East. At the end of the day, you've accomplished what, exactly?
- The fact that Sandy grew up right outside of Pittsburgh and she doesn't care about the Steelers or Penguins one iota, I grew up just outside of Philadelphia and was raised (and still am) a die-hard Phillies fan, yet we're so excited for the Pirates' home opener we both took the day off from work to go.
- Why every Jack Johnson song sounds the same but is yet so good,
- Any math problem more complicated than "3x + 1 = 7."

And I guess I don't get these Trader Joe-San Green Beans either.

Don't make the mistake of thinking these are some sort of fresh vegetable product. The fact they're in the snack aisle should be a pretty good clue that they aren't. They certainly resemble green beans in appearance (except they're lightly dusted with some indiscernible junk), and they taste a fair amount like a green bean (again, except for whatever they coat these guys with, it's not salt). But the end product just isn't so good. Take a good hearty crunch to taste for yourself.

I'm not too texture-adverse when it comes to most foods, but these kinda weird me out. The only kind of parallel I can think of is, imagine sitting down, getting to ready to eat something that resembles a delectable-looking ribeye, only when you take a bite it tastes like steak but is made of Jello. They're that disorienting for me. Green beans are supposed to be firm yet a little soft, a little juicy, fleshy, and just good. They certainly aren't supposed to mummified, crispy shells of themselves like these are. To get them this way, apparently they get fried up in canola oil ... I don't really get how it works. Some of them seem to be fried up a little differently than others, so when you bite down, they can seem a little sandy or quartzy on the inside, which is not good at all. Others seem to not be fried as much, so the insides seem lighter and crisper, which make them semi-passable. But overall, they're inconsistent and discombobulating to my palate, and really don't seem to be a viable snack option on a regular basis to me.

Sandy doesn't like them all that much either, though the texture thing doesn't seem to bother her as much, which if you know her, that's an amazing statement to make. It's more the taste that gets to her - "I've had better," she said. "I don't know how to say it, except the other ones had more flavor." I'm presuming that means some saltiness to them, which these pretty much lack. I really can't figure out what the semi-greasy semi-dusty coating they put is supposed to add to the flavor. Anyways, Sandy gives them a two, and she has a little more faith in them than I do, because I can't justify giving them more than a one. I'd be surprised if we pick them up again.

Bottom line: 3 out of 10

Monday, February 14, 2011

Trader Joe's Old-Fashioned Donut O's

I don't know if donut holes came in molded plastic containers like this one back in the olden days, but the ingredients list for these little guys is certainly a throwback to the days that pre-date hydrogenated oils, high-fructose corn syrup, and other deadly garbage...there are a few strange chemical type words farther down on the list, but the main ingredients are all simple things I recognize.

In fact, the main sweetening ingredient is grape juice. It's an interesting choice for a pastry, but it works. I was a bit wary at first because of the grape juice, and because the front of the package declares that the batter is made from sour cream. Again, an enigmatic choice for a donut hole ingredient.

When I first looked at these donut o's, all covered in powdered sugar, I thought they resembled Munchkins from Dunkin Donuts. So my habit-driven brain primed my tongue for the sweet, familiar taste of a Munchkin. Initially, I was disappointed.

But after walking away from the donut o's for an hour or two, I realized that what I had tasted was something both classically delicious and brand new. Trader Joe's made no attempt to copy the taste of Dunkin Donuts or Entenmann's or Krispy Kreme. They aimed for sophisticated palates and created something inspired by the bakeries of yore. They made a simple, subtle dessert delicacy, the likes of which I have seldom had the opportunity to enjoy.

I went back for more, and so did Sonia. We polished off the box in a little over a day. If you're wondering, they do NOT taste like sour cream, or grape juice, or any common donut. They have a unique flavor that's difficult to describe, and an incredible texture that would rival many fresh-baked pastries. They're relatively low calorie and low fat.

If you really want a sugary-sweet, lard-laden donut, go to Dunkin. If you want to try something different, definitely check these out. Sonia rates them a 4.5 out of 5. I agree. 

Bottom line: 9 out of 10.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Trader Joe's Organic Lowfat Yogurt

So we tried Trader Joe's Organic Lowfat Vanilla Yogurt the other day. It was very natural tasting. It tasted like it was straight off the farm. And really, we're not used to that taste. We're used to super-processed yogurts with fake ingredients, preservatives, and added colors. The au naturale version tasted a bit funky to be honest with you. We looked at the "use by" date just to make sure. We still had a week or so until it expired.

I think if we were totally accustomed to that completely natural taste, this would have been absolutely amazing yogurt. It's certainly not bad. It just might take some getting used to for those of us who are in the process of trying to break a lifetime of bad eating habits.

Then later we tried the strawberry version of Trader Joe's Organic Lowfat Yogurt. Same thing. Very natural. Not only the taste this time, but the overall look of the yogurt seemed very peculiar to us. It was fruit on the bottom style yogurt. Except now, instead of a vibrant crimson emerging from the bottom of the cup, a dull, sort of muted red-brown color came up. Well, after doing some research, I became increasingly thankful that the color we stirred up from the bottom was not that familiar brilliant red...

Did you know that most leading yogurt brands use an ingredient called "carmine" to color most flavors of their yogurt? Did you further know that carmine is made from bugs? That's right. There are bugs in your yogurt. I'm not a big fan of bugs in general, and I'm really really not a fan of eating them. I know there are FDA regulations that allow for X number of spiders per cereal box and all that, but to intentionally color a product with bugs seems downright disgusting to me. It's enough to keep me from buying all those fancy yogurt flavors now. I think TJ's should change the name of their yogurt line to "Trader Joe's Organic Bug-Free Lowfat Yogurt." Their slogan could be this: The protein comes from the farm fresh milk, not from thousands of little red beetles.

Yogurt was never vegan-friendly, and now we know that it really isn't even a vegetarian food, as tiny red insects count as animals, right? That's enough to make you switch brands. One more reason to get more stuff from TJ's.

So, to summarize, the yogurt is bug-free and natural-tasting, but it's not the flavor-extravaganza we're used to...Sonia gives 3's to both of them. I give them 3.5's.

Trader Joe's Organic Lowfat Yogurt (Vanilla). Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Organic Lowfat Yogurt (Strawberry). Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Trader Joe's Baked Jalapeño Cheese Crunchies

So, this morning, for the first time since getting them from the Pennfield Middle School vending machine in roughly seventh grade, I ate an Andy Capps Hot Fry. One of my coworkers inexplicably bought a bag of them somewhere and was eating them for breakfast. It wasn't even 8 a.m. yet. I saw this, recalled not really liking them that much even in my more pimply faced days, and was just intrigued enough by the sight of my otherwise normal, relatively sane coworker munching down on them. This wasn't the first time I've seen people eating this type of stuff for breakfast. Six or seven summers ago, I came to Pittsburgh to work for the summer at an innercity youth day camp, and there was a sizable contingent of kids who would ignore the breakfast made for them and instead plow through small, quarter-priced bags of Flamin' Hot Cheetos. Anyways, I hate those, and when I crunched down on that Andy Capps Hot Fry, I was pretty glad to have some boss-bought chocolate chip cookies on hand to get that taste out.

And right around then, I remembered why I like TJ's Baked Jalapeño Cheese Crunchies so much.

Don't get me wrong, I love hot, spicy stuff. Ask any survivors of my death chili, they can attest to that. But too often, when attempted to be formulated into crunchy snack form, as in the case of the Capp fries and Flamin' Cheetos, the results are not so good. Instead of actual heat, they're just overly salted with red junk, or even worse, blasted with vinegary crap. I can pass up that stuff any time and not feel anything amiss in my life.

TJ's crunchy guys get the job done, and they do it right. The smallish jalapeño bits add just enough heat to be noticeable without trying to assault the tastebuds. Definitely some bits are more blasted with the green goodies than others, but it's balanced enough. I'd say they'd be agreeable to most palates heatwise, which I think is one of the major strengths of them. It's easy to be too spicy or not spicy enough, and alienate an audience either way. It's much tougher to try and strike the right balance, and Trader Joe does just that in this instance. As far as other flavor goes, it seems they opt to feature the jalapeño more than whatever type of cheese is on there, so if you're expecting a Cheeto clone in this regard, well, you may be disappointed. But in pretty much every other way, they're very Cheeto-like in appearance and crunch, which makes it pretty easy to gobble down more than intended. As a plus, there's no fake orangey dusty residue to scrub off or get all over your paperwork later. They're just a good, honest, crunchy, semi-hot snack.

Both Sandy and I like these quite a bit, and get them fairly often. With them being baked, they are a decent alternative healthwise to chips while still being a little naughty ... so yeah, they're a winner in these parts. Anything that tastes good and can make a claim to be healthyish (or at least "healthier" than an alternative) without sacrificing taste and goodness is something we'll continually deem worthy of our grocery dollars. That's how we roll.

When I asked Sandy for her rating, she simply said "Mmmmmm .... four." That seems a pretty worthy rating. If the cheese flavor was a little stronger, it'd be enough to bump the rating up another notch or two, but they're good enough as is to not quibble too much.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Trader Joe's Peanut Brittle


Dear Trader Joe's Peanut Brittle,

Um, I'm always terribly awkward when it comes to stuff like this. I haven't been trying to avoid you. I know you see me whenever I pass by in the grocery aisle, and probably want to get my attention, but I barely glance over and acknowledge you. I don't find you untasty or undesirable or anything like that - quite the opposite, in fact - but, I guess, because of me and who I am, I just need to move along. It's not you, certainly not you, it's ... just me.

Let me attempt to explain. I remember the first time I saw you, on a wooden shelf brimming of promise of tastiness and extra large peanuts. You simply looked marvelous and I could not resist grabbing a boxful and bringing you home as my wife-allotted "one treat" for the week. But then, once you came home, it was back to another wooden shelf. I let you get lost in a time of homemade cookies and treats and sweets and all sorts of great deliciousness the holiday season brings. I almost forgot about you - I mean, I knew you were there, but there were snickerdoodles and buckeyes and pizzelles and chocolate mint guys and, and .... and all this other stuff. I know you're technically not just a holiday treat, but I regarded you as an afterthought. Please forgive me for that. I mean, I know you're mass-produced for profit, not lovingly, thoughtfully handcrafted like others, but that doesn't mean you can't be amazingly delicious as well.

I remember when I first saw and experienced you for what you truly are. Sandy and I had munched our way through most of our cookies but needed some other treat to crunch on for one of our lazy couch-puppy-Netflix nights. She's the one who said, you know, maybe it's about time we gave you a try. I remember opening the box and foil package inside and then seeing you, beautiful, sweet, thick, nutty, salty, crunchy you, big pieces worthy of several mouthfuls mixed with small delightful bites. I have never seen a peanut brittle that looked like you. And your taste - oh, how it filled me with wonder, with salty-sweet comfort, with the thought of some how, some way, everything was just right with the universe at that moment (inside my mouth, at least). Amazing, like you meant for only me, except by the look in Sandy's eyes I knew she was having the same experience. Here I am, a former journalism major, one who trained and learned how to try and convey thoughts and truths into words on a page, and yet I feel a struggle to even words that sound like what I thought at that moment and time.

I know this sounds over-dramatic, and perhaps a little silly because our time together was so short (was it even ten minutes before Sandy and I ate every bit of you we had?), but I think I love you. No, I do. I do love you. You are perfect, absolutely perfect, and for those brief moments we truly shared, I will treasure forever.

But there's me here too. I know it may be tough for you to understand, being an inanimate food product and all, but I cannot buy you again, at least not on a regular basis. I just don't feel like I can control myself around you. If I buy you again, you'd be gone before I parallel-parked the Subaru outside my front door. There's a reasonable chance you might not make it through the checkout line. Mothers shopping there would have to shield the eyes of their small children from the sight of the wild-eyed, red bearded guy who could not stop from shoving you into my mouth. Sandy would have to decide between grabbing her own boxful or taking me on in a Hunger Games-esque death match for you. And we just can't have that. That, and I'm not sure how well you fit in a healthy balanced diet that I try to delude myself into thinking that I eat.

It's not you. It's me. It's a cliche, I know, but so true. I want you but know I cannot have you.

Please understand if next time I go to Trader Joe's, I don't buy you. I'll try to at least smile and nod in your direction, but even that, I fear, may tempt me beyond my boundaries. Please know what you have meant to me, and know that as long as I walk this earth, I will probably never ever find a peanut brittle as delicious, crunchy, nutty and satisfying as you. Never change.

From my heart,

R
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Seriously, this stuff is the shiznit. Buy at your own risk. Double fives.

Bottom line: 10 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Trader Joe's Organic Apple Sauce

No complaints on this one. I guess if it's really organic, and it's really apples, there's not a whole lot you can do with this product....other than add cinnamon. There's also Trader Joe's Organic Apple Sauce with Cinnamon.

The texture is just a bit chunky...in a good way. It's not like you're getting huge apple pieces in there, but the sauce isn't perfectly smooth, either. It's got some substance.

4 little cups are $1.99. That's a little cheaper than what you'd get in a normal grocery store, and the leading brands aren't organic as far as I know. I like the cinnamon version waaaay better than the plain. Not that the plain is terrible...it's just plain.

Sonia likes the plain better. She likes that it's so stripped down and has nothing added, except for some "organic natural flavor." Hmmm...What exactly does that mean, TJ? It could be bugs for all we know.

Great for a snack. Or to put on your porkchops or whatever.

Sonia gives the Trader Joe's (plain) Organic Apple Sauce a 4.5. I give it a 3.5, for a bottom line of: 8 out of 10.

I give Trader Joe's Organic Apple Sauce with Cinnamon a 4.5. Sonia gives it a 4. Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Mmm. Applicious.