Trader Joe's Black Bean Dip

As a parent, one of the rules I have is "don't yuck someone else's yum." It's only polite, and encourages my kids to try new things. And naturally as a corollary, my kids aren't allowed to tell someone else they're not gonna like something, because, again, encouraging boldness and discovery. If you try, you're halfway to triump, and if you sigh, you're halfway to silence. So c'mon c'mon.

Obscure Rustic Overtones anyone? Anyone? One of the best concerts I've ever been to, like 20 years ago....I'm old.

Anyways, naturally, I'm guilty of breaking this rule on occasion, and most recently with my youngest who was making a beeline for Trader Joe's Black Bean Dip.

It was in best of intentions, even though I hadn't tried it yet. Look: jalapenos. Serranos. Even habaneros. This has got to be spicy, and I've seen my kids ingest anything with a hint of spice before...I didn't want to deal with it.

She tried it anyways, and come to find out, not only did she love it, there was nothing for me to worry about.

Listen: this black bean dip isn't spicy. At all. It's calm and surprisingly mild. Even the black beans at like Qdoba are way spicier. No heat, and no real flavor except cool black beans. Beans is all it is, it tastes. Sure, with a little work, there's a little sublety at play here - the smallest touch of heat, a smidge of garlic and whatnot - but no, not spicy. At all. None.

That's my major takeaway. My lovely bride thinks it has more flavor than I - it's possible, I've been scorching myself with the case of TJ's bomba sauce I procured recently - but she has another quibble. It's not really a "dip" per se. We broke so many chips trying to scoop out just a little. The dip is full of entire beans, with some smushed up as a paste-type deal to hold it all together.

More flavor, and perhaps a rebranding to "bean taco filler" or something hopefully more appetizing sounding than that would work. Really I could see this stuff working great as a base for tacos or filling up inside a quesadilla as a protein source. That would better use of its consistancy and allow for flavor optimization, so all problems solved.

In the end, I'm neither yucking nor yumming but more meh-ing. Same with my lovely bride. Double threes.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Black Bean Dip: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's One Potato Two Potato

Nothing like a little comfort food to get you through the coldest parts of winter. Potatoes and cheese? How could Trader Joe's One Potato Two Potato go wrong?

One Potato, Two Potato,

From the Trader Joe's,

Three potato, four potato,

See how that cheese flows.

Five potato, six potato,

It's a hearty dish.

Sev'n potato, eight potato, 

Scrumptious and delish.

As usual, there are heating instructions for the microwave and the conventional oven included on the packaging. I opted for the latter, as I was feeling less lazy than usual—kicking off the new year practicing good habits and all that. The directions simply state: "remove packaging," but don't specify if the tray that contains the dish is "ovenable," a term that Trader Joe's preparation instructions have employed in the past. I made the assumption that it was indeed ovenable, and as evidenced by the fact that the tray did not burst into flames while baking at 350° for nearly an hour, I concluded that I did make the correct choice. Also, had it not been for the tray, the veggies and cheese would have spread out all over the baking sheet and perhaps gotten a little too toasty.

What's working here: lots of big, chunky veggies, tasty and evenly-distributed cheese, a crispy, crusty outer layer, and an overall salty, savory taste, perfect for a winter side dish. The potato chunks and the places where the cheese browned a little around the edges are by far my favorite elements in this side dish.

What's not working here: too many sweet potatoes, which at first I took for carrot chunks. Oddly, they bugged me more than the mushrooms. Even though I've never been a fan of 'shrooms, there simply weren't enough of them to bother me here. Sonia actually wished there were more of them. 

The sweet potato chunks were plentiful and enormous. They should have called this Trader Joe's One Sweet Potato Two Sweet Potato, although I'm not aware of any nursery rhymes that involve counting sweet potatoes. I normally don't mind sweet potatoes at all, particularly if they're well-baked. However, I feel like the ones in this selection had an odd texture—almost spongy—and the chunks were simply too big. There was a lot more sweet potato than regular potato by my reckoning. So...I wouldn't have minded more regular potatoes, peas instead of mushrooms, and thicker, gooier cheese.

Still, despite one or two distinct weaknesses, this potato platter is a winner in my book. The overall effect doesn't suffer much from the overabundance of sweet potato—there are still some tasty bites to be had. $3.99 for four servings. 

Sonia's likes and dislikes were a little different than mine, but we'll still both arrive at the same respectable score for Trader Joe's One Potato Two Potato: 4 out of 5 stars a piece. 

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Peanut and Crispy Noodle Salad Kit

Supposedly the whole point of a salad is to eat something light and healthy, right? Get a nice array of yummy, nutritious veggies in your system, like all those leafy greens your PCP is always telling you about. Salads are great. Salads are fun.

But the whole point of a salad isn't being healthy.

Nah, you're talking to a guy who lives in Pittsburgh, and you see what we do to salads here? That's a tame one.

Right, it's what goes on top that counts. Know anybody that actually really enjoys just eating plain romaine? Nah. I ate raw naked spinach for a while and you should have seen all the looks I got...and to be clear, it was the spinach that was laid bare, not myself. Nobody wants to see that.

Here's a perfect example: Trader Joe's Peanut and Crispy Noodle Salad Kit. Sounds great. Sounds...I don't know, as enticing as a salad can get? TJ's even emphasizes the fix-in's as the selling point in the name, which is a good thing if you look at the components.

I mean, just look. The whole base of the salad is the 100% routine, boring , generic cabbage/romaine/carrot mix that I swear makes up 95% of salads. It's like a stock photo come to life. Booooor-ing. Nothing wrong with it per se, except it is what it is which is all it's ever gonna be. Snooze.

So how can liven it up? Chopped peanuts? Well, okay...except those are kinda boring too. Nothing wrong, but nothing right. It's like a rerun watched too many times.

But then....crispy rice noodles! And peanut and lime dressing! Maybe there will be something worth writing home about here.

First off: the noodles. For some reason I expected chow mein type noodles, which was a completely flawed assumption on many levels. Instead, these are light, airy, tiny, airpopped Styrofoam-ish rice noodles that are remarkably crispy and crunchy for their size. There's not much taste to them by themselves, so naturally they absorb the flavor of whatever they're nearby, which really oughtta be...

The dressing. Almost every salad comes to the dressing. This peanut-lime take is pretty darn tasty. My lovely bride wanted to drench every inch of her salad with it and guzzle the rest from the packet...fortunately I stopped her. We've made similar sauces at home with peanut butter and soy sauce, but there's more here. Some different spices, and the Thai lime leaves are a real nice touch. I'm sold. It's another dressing that needs to be sold by itself, and there needs to be more of it in the salad if only we didn't have to squabble over the last few drips.

Pretty decent salad overall. Sandy and I had it as a lighter dinner the other night and were both pretty happy. It's not a bad deal at $3.99 and if you're looking for a new salad mix in this New Year, it might be tough to top this.

 Bottom line: Trader Joe's Peanut and Crispy Noodle Salad Kit: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons