Trader Joe's Portobello Mushroom Fries

There are occasions when I feel like I should role play on this blog—times when I can't fully appreciate a product, regardless of its popularity or nutritional value or uniqueness, yet I feel like scoring it based solely on my own personal hang-ups would be doing it a grand injustice. Sometimes I want to write a review from someone else's perspective. This is one of those times. 

I think I've mentioned it on the blog once or twice before, but I have very strange reactions when eating mushrooms (and not just the "magic" kind—in fact, I've never had those...to the best of my knowledge, anyway). After consuming a food-grade mushroom, my stomach instantly feels like it's on fire, and my heart beats harder and faster than usual. Coincidentally, Sonia has similar reactions to certain varieties of mushrooms, particularly button mushrooms. But apparently, portobello does not produce any reaction for Sonia—which is good for the sake of this review, and good for Sonia, because unlike me, she really enjoys the taste of most mushrooms, despite her unusual response to certain species. And both of us do, on occasion, simply bite the bullet and eat mushrooms—even the kinds that we're sensitive to, and we just suck it up and deal with the palpitations. Such was the case for me in this instance. All that to say, I feel like shafting this product just because I can't fully enjoy it would be doing a disservice to the vast majority of our readers.

I was already starting to notice a buzz about these portobello mushroom fries on Facebook and Twitter, when I received a fascinating email from a reader who pointed out that there are some things that truly make this product unique and progressive in the world of packaged, frozen foods. These mushrooms are harvested, battered, cooked, and frozen over the course of just a few hours—not the usual formula for pre-packaged, fried foods. In that reader's own words, these mushroom fries "could be the start of a trend to reverse our walk toward the edge of the industrial food cliff." He thinks success with these mushroom fries will bring "hope that more (foods) will be brought to us in this most life-sustaining manner." Thanks for your unique insight, James, and thanks for the heads up on this product. Click here to check out more of James's thoughts on this product and others.

When we removed the fries from the oven, some of them were quite crispy, and some not so much. The crispier fries were much better than the others, both in texture, and in my opinion, in taste as well. So I'd say err on the side of "burned" unless you like your mushroom fries juicy and moist, but like most anything you heat in the oven, there's a magic sweet spot in between "soggy" and "burned to a crisp." I think we had ours in for the full 15 minutes but maybe wouldn't have minded another minute or two in the heat.

I did appreciate their taste—at least more than most mushroom products I've tried. They have that subtle, earthy, almost nutty flavor that good quality mushrooms tend to flaunt. The batter was nice, too, though Sonia wishes there were more of it. It's a thin layer of wheat batter with a hint of garlic and pepper—so thin, in fact, that in many spots, it doesn't completely coat the mushroom. But I guess that's helpful if you're trying to keep your carb intake to a minimum. We served them with Trader Joe's Sriracha Ranch and also tried them with marinara sauce. We both agree the Sriracha Ranch worked best, although the hot sriracha flavor dominated the subtle taste of the mushroom fries.

Sonia gives this a four. Despite my aversion to mushrooms, if I were to score it, I'd probably give it a 3 or 3.5 or so for virtue of it being the best mushroom product I've ever tried. But instead, I'll score this product according to the chorus of fans it's already gathered on social media, Sonia's co-workers, and people like readers James and Janice, and I'll go with a 4.5 on their behalf.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Indian Fare Jaipur Vegetables

Here's an item that's been in our cupboard for months and months and we might have forgotten about it, but last time we were at TJ's, they were handing it out at the sample counter. We liked it, so Sonia and I reminded ourselves to heat up the package we already had at home. And boy am I glad we did.

It's really tasty. It reminds me of the filling in the Balti Pies we looked at not too long ago, though not quite as fattening and calorific. Obviously, there's no crust or chicken here, either. The curry is nearly identical to the Balti curry, though maybe a tad bit spicier. There are big chunks of peas, carrots, potatoes, and tomatoes. Plus, there's paneer cheese and cashews—two ingredients TJ's is no stranger to. They all blend together nicely flavor-wise, but I'd definitely say the taste of the curry is the dominant flavor here. And that's just fine with me, because it tastes great.

All of the other ingredients create a nice hearty texture. It's not just a homogeneous mush. There's plenty of each constituent part to keep it interesting. I wasn't particularly thrilled with the cashews, since they were slightly soggy. If they had found some magical way to keep them crunchy, then this already delicious product would have been even better. I suppose they could have separated the cashews into a separate pouch that you could open and pour into the mixture at the end, but that's just me being uber-picky.

And that brings me to my next point: the preparation of this product is insanely easy. You either drop the bag into some boiling water on your stove top for five minutes, or you snip the bag and nuke the contents for a minute or two. I heated mine in the microwave and poured it over rice, and bang! Instant meal. I don't recall exactly what the price is on this one since it's been so long since we purchased it, but if it's anything like the other Indian Fare products, it's probably in the ballpark of $2, which is a really good deal for what you're getting. No complaints here.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Reduced Guilt Chicken Salad

When I'm eating a piece of meat, be it chicken, steak, or what have you, I never want to see actual fat. I hate it. I've always been repulsed by the sight of real animal fat. I'll cut it off, I'll feed it to the dogs, or I'll just leave the fatty portions on my plate. Likewise, I've never liked things coated with grease or lard. If there's excess mayo on a sandwich, I'll scrape most of it off. I'm the weirdo that uses two or three napkins to sop grease from the top of a piece of pizza. Other people see me doing it and they say, "Why are you doing that? The grease is where all the flavor comes from!" Maybe so. But I prefer it without the excess grease.

However, all that being said, I must point out that when fat is seamlessly blended into a product, be it a doughnut, milkshake, cookie, or delicious chicken salad, I eat it up like it's going out of style. And not only that, but I'm usually actually turned off by lower-fat, lighter options of the same products. This chicken salad is no exception.

It's not really terrible, though. In fact, Sonia loved it. But I'm going to immediately compare it to the two best chicken salads I've ever had, Wine Country and Curried White Chicken Deli Salad, and find it wanting. The only ingredients that are comparable between this and the wine country salad are the white meat chicken pieces and the celery bits. I'm not sure how, but I feel like even the celery flavor is more enjoyable in the wine country option. The carrot bits in this dish add some pleasant crunchiness—but very little in terms of flavor. I must admit, though, that the chicken in this reduced guilt salad was good white meat, and it was relatively moist and had a nice texture. 

Furthermore, in this product's defense, the difference in fat content is astounding. We're looking at 2.5 grams of fat per 99 gram serving here, whereas the wine country salad has 11 grams per 113 gram serving. That's something like 1/4 the amount of fat, plus there's less than half the calories. This isn't one of those situations where TJ's cleverly changed the container size and serving size by a third and then boasted "33% less fat!" There's a marked difference here. The problem is you can taste it.

Or rather, that you can't taste it. I think it's bland. A bit of mustard certainly does this product a service. The chicken is okay as I mentioned before, but in the end, I think I'd rather just buy my own lean chicken breast, some lettuce, and some Miracle Whip and make my own low-fat chicken sandwich—and at $4.49 for a small tub of this stuff, you could probably assemble those three ingredients for less money.

Sonia gives this product four stars and says that it's a great, healthy alternative if you don't want all the fat and calories in the wine country chicken salad (which she insists on calling "Sonoma Country Chicken Salad." She's so cute). I think it's worthy of three stars—not exactly a treat, but it's amazing they cut such a drastic amount of fat and calories and still yielded something that's even edible.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.