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.

Trader Joe's Double Roasted Salsa

The beautiful adobe hacienda on the bottle of this salsa is apparently located in Monrovia, CA, and is home to a Mexican-American family that toils day and night, roasting fresh green peppers over an open fire, then peeling them, and then roasting them again for this fine semi-spicy salsa. It's a shame we never went to visit it while we still lived in Cali.

I really like the packaging for some Trader Joe's products. This is definitely one of them. The picture on the label makes me want to fly down and visit my wife's family in Oaxaca, Mexico immediately. I don't know if it looks anything like the picture on the bottle, but I imagine that it does. I have been brushing up on my español lately. I even know how to type "ñ" now on a US keyboard. That little thingy on top isn't a "squiggle," I've learned, but rather it is a "tilde," as in Tilda Swinton. And I'm hoping, since this blog shows up fairly well on Google searches, that certain unsuspecting individuals who are searching for info on how to type that "ñ" will wind up stumbling upon our page, falling in love with our unique style of epic first-person narrative food reviews, and becoming big fans of our blog. So for those good people, I throw the following bone: simply hold down "alt" and then type "164" on your number pad. Voila: ñ.

Another aspect of TJ's packaging that I'm a fan of is their special spice-o-meter in the shape of a little chili pepper that appears on most of thier salsas and hot sauces, despite it's occasional inaccuracy. This will be the third product we've reviewed that has such a spice-o-meter, following in the footsteps of the jalapeño hot sauce and the chunky salsa. This one falls in between the first two, and appears to be approximately 2/3 red. Sonia and I think that's an overestimation of this salsa's spiciness. I'd put it somewhere between 1/3 and 1/2.

There is significant cider vinegar taste in the sauce. I thought I detected a pickle type flavor, but there are no pickles or cucumbers in the ingredients. It does also taste like roasted peppers, however, my taste buds are not sophisticated enough to distinguish between single roasted peppers and double roasted ones. There's a bit of a limey tang as well.

The ingredients are all remarkably simple and natural, without any bizarre-o chemicals or preservatives. There are vegetable bits present, but not chunks. It's good for chip-dipping, and it would probably be good for topping off enchiladas or tacos, too.

All in all, a decent salsa. I could stand it with less pickliness, and I prefer big chunks of tomato and pepper. Sonia's assessment was basically the same as mine. We both give it 3.5's, placing it solidly within the "not bad" category.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader José's Mildly Spiced Vegetable Burritos

Two or three times each winter, I make up a huge pot of chili. It's something I take pretty seriously, actually. I spend a decent chunk of time shopping for and chopping up a bunch of vegetables, browning up the meat, digging thru the spice shelf to toss whatever looks good in there, and drinking beer while doing so. Sometimes I'll skip the meat, pile in some extra beans and onions and peppers and make a mean vegetarian batch that even Chuck Norris would approve of. I don't make wimpy stuff. That's a good, fun evening that's tough to beat and usually reserve for when the Mrs. is out of town or having a girl's night. After I prep everything I let it simmer in the crockpot for a minimum of 24 hours just to let all the flavors seep in, cook up and mingle all together. It just doesn't taste the same if it doesn't - I don't know how to quantify it exactly, but the flavor just seems fuller, maybe a little smokier somehow, and just more complete. A good crockpotful lasts me at least two weeks of work lunches (my coworkers are ever so pleased) and the occasional bachelor dinner. Homemade chili is by far my favorite thing to cook, and one of my favorite things to eat ever. Sandy won't come near touching the stuff, which doesn't bother me any - more for me.

Why do I mention this?

The stuff inside these burritos is nearly as good as my homemade vegetarian chili.

Oh, it's different, for sure. It doesn't have all the chunks, certainly not all the hot peppers, and not all the random spices. But it what it does have is fantastic. These guys are loaded with black and kidney beans, potatoes, some peppers and corn which makes 'em pretty hearty. The base sauce is, as the label suggests, mildly spiced with some garlic, onion, and a hint of jalapeno and chilepepper, but certainly had more heat than anticipated. I will admit when I saw the words "mildly spiced" I presumed these would be tame enough for a baby kitten to munch on. Not so much. Granted, as someone who loves the hot stuff, I would have preferred more heat, but these weren't too sissy, and I probably could have just as easily added some hot sauce to tinker the taste a little closer to my preference. Hmm, maybe some of this?

But what I really liked was the essence of the flavor. Somehow, the burrito filling captured the smoky full-flavoredness my chili seems to develop with a daylong sentence in the crockpot. It's as if Trader Jose burgled his way into my house and took a sample one night while I was dozing away, ran off to some top secret bunker and extracted whatever it is that makes my chili so good and injected it right into these.

I will mention one thing I didn't like as much: the tortilla. Not that it was bad, per se. Apparently, they're made from both wheat and rice flour, which taste pretty good, but makes one Kate Moss-thin wrapper. My burritos were bursting less than halfway thru the nuke cycle in the microwaves, and when trying to eat them, all the goodness was oozing and poking out. By some grace of God I was able to keep my shirt clean and scrub the collateral damage out of my beard. Burritos with all this good saucy tasty filling need a tortilla that can withstand all the magma-esque qualities of the insides, and, sadly, these failed, though not quite to a catastrophic level.

But overall, these are pretty great. And I didn't realize this until I was reading the package wrapper while they were in the microwave, not only are these vegetarian but also organic. The ingredient list makes a point to list each thing as being organic, and if you squint enough you might be able to discern the organic stamp of approval on the front sticker. I sat at my lunch table with a vegetarian coworker and chatted about this fact. She said most grocery stores she's gone to, a couple organic vegetarian burritos like these run at least six or seven bucks for the pair. These were between $2.49 and $2.99, so apparently, a pretty decent value, and fairly healthy. I'll get these again for sure.

Sandy's not interested ever in my homemade chili, and by tangential extension* not so interested in these (too bad), so she sat this ranking out. I'm not accustomed to the burden of such responsibility. I'm deciding between a four and a four and a half, based primarily on the tortilla shortcomings, so, uh ... yeah, one of each sounds right enough.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

*Speaking of tangential extensions, if Chuck Norris liked my homemade veggie chili, he'd like these by the powers of the transitive property. So there's one celebrity endorsement. For a more direct one, these are Rachel Ray's favorite frozen veggie burritos. So, by logical extension, you better like these too or you'll be roundhouse-kicked to death or drowned in EVOO. Consider yourself warned.

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

Trader Joe's Jalapeño Pepper Hot Sauce

In our household, Tapatío has always been the prevailing hot sauce. I like Cholula and Texas Pete just as well, but I think my Hispanic wife really likes the Mexican man in the big sombrero on the Tapatío brand's bottle. He's a handsome little devil, isn't he?

Now, we have a new challenger. Trader Joe's Jalapeño Pepper Hot Sauce steps into the ring. Let's check him out.

Yet again, we gotta call TJ's out on the inconsistency of the brand name. This is a Mexican-inspired food product, so it should be from Trader José. If a dude named Joe offers me a jalapeño hot sauce and a different dude named José offers me another hot sauce, you can bet your burro's bottom I'm gonna pick the one José recommends.

And secondly, aren't jalapeños usually green? Then why are they red on the bottle? Maybe there are red jalapeños. The ones at Subway are always green and the ones on my nachos are always green. If there are red ones, I've never seen them.

But anyway. This sauce packs a potent punch. There's a little chili pepper meter on the side of the bottle, and it's like 7/8 red. That means it's 7/8 hot. The other 1/8 must be vinegar. Which is its only weakness.

It's got true jalapeño pepper flavor and it is most definitely spicy. It's not deathly spicy, though. It won't kill you. Even if you're a white person.

But if you totally don't like spiciness, then this isn't for you...not for the faint of heart, indeed. I can handle moderate quantities of it. I've become a little immune to hot stuff, but I definitely have my breaking point. And I've got some advice for you singles out there: if you're going to marry into a Mexican family, LIKE SPICY FOOD.

We've noticed that in PA there is a much lower tolerance to spice than in CA. All the German and English heritage around here has propagated a love of bland-ish foods. Bratwurst, sauerkraut, and beer is probably the boldest meal the Quakers and the Pennsylvania Dutch can handle. Although...I don't think either one of those groups drinks beer at all...hmmm...So there's that, then.

Getting back to the topic, this hot sauce is tasty and spicy and it pretty much does what it's supposed to do. Not sure if we've seen him upset our reigning champ, Tapatío, quite yet. But he's a contender, that's for sure.

Use it to give your nachos some extra kick. Or your burrito...or your...whatever. You get the idea. Sonia gives it 4 out of 5 Stars. Same here. Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Seasoned Beef Sirloin Carne Asada

When Sonia made tacos last night, she chopped up little pieces of peppers to add to our carne asada. Don't let the package deceive you: there's nothing but meat in this $7 bag o' beef.

Overall, our taco dinner wasn't bad. But we dressed it up with tortillas, salsa, the aforementioned peppers, and some refried pinto beans, and we still found it slightly wanting.

The quality of the meat simply doesn't warrant its price tag. If you're going to buy carne asada, TJ's might not be the first place to do it. Again, it's not terrible, but for $7, I want something I can create a ficticious adjective for and put a few exclamations after ("Tastetastic!!!" or "Stupidelicious!!!"). "Not terrible" just isn't good enough. The texture of the meat wasn't really an issue for either of us, it was more its lack of flavor. Maybe the guy on the assembly line that was supposed to add the seasoning to the "seasoned beef" called in sick the day they packaged our bag. The poor cow that gave its life for last night's taco dinner died in vain. Rest in peace, Bessy.

To be fair, we should mention that the 12 oz. bag did provide well more than enough food for the two of us. There are still leftovers in the fridge.

The tortillas that served as the soft taco shells were decent. Trader Jose's Reduced Carb Whole Wheat Flour Tortillas are light and healthy, but again, I would complain that they're not super-flavorful. Some whole wheat products can really add a grainy, almost nutty taste. These didn't add or detract much in the flavor department, but their texture is near-perfect, they're a nice size for filling with taco ingredients, and they don't fall apart as you eat them.

The refried pinto beans are good. Sonia says a lot of other brands of refried beans have a bunch of preservatives and additives, but Trader Jose's Low Fat Vegetarian Refried Pinto Beans are all natural. (Please note: your meal no longer qualifies as vegetarian if you eat this with carne asada.) I like the taste. Just as good as anything else I've tried in the refried bean department.

And finally, we'd like to take a look at the sauce we used: Trader Jose's Habanero and Lime Salsa. The package says "Medium Hot" but Sonia and I both say it's mild. It's a tad vinegar-y for our taste, but it's got that dash of lime "sabor," and it's something different than the run-of-the-mill tomato-based salsa. It's got bits of vegetable matter, but it can't really be considered chunky.

So, let's review: First we looked at Trader Joe's Seasoned Beef Sirloin Carne Asada: Sonia gives it 3.5 Stars and I give it 3, for a bottom line of 6.5 out of 10.

Then, we talked about the Trader Jose's Reduced Carb Whole Wheat Flour Tortillas. They get a 4 from Sonia and a 3.5 from me, yielding a bottom line of 7.5 out of 10.

Next up: Trader Jose's Low Fat Vegetarian Refried Pinto Beans. 4 from Sonia, 4.5 from me. Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

And finally, Trader Jose's Habanero and Lime Salsa. Sonia gives it a 3, and so do I. Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Enchilada Sauce

Okay, for at least one post, I'm done with super-long fancy named products. I needed something quiet, unassuming, and ego-less (it's tiring to type them out, making sure words are in the right order and whatnot), and Trader Joe's Enchilada Sauce is about the simplest, most humbly named product I could scrum up. They didn't even go for the Trader Jose name to market it under, but TJ"s did opt for ALL CAPS in its labeling design. Gotta do something, I guess.

Anyways, enchilada sauce. Mmm. It's no secret that Sandy and I love Mexican food, or at the very least bastardized Americanized versions of Mexican fare. We've been to the country twice, and while eating some terrific authentic cuisine in remote mountain villages and small mom-and-pop storefront shops in Mexico City (i.e., when we didn't go to Pizza Hut and Starbucks), we've also had some, well ... not to sound ungracious, but sometimes tortillas with rice were the most viable option. That's kind of like going to Italy and eating plain spaghetti noodles, or Ben and Jerry's and getting a vanilla in a dish, no cone. In a lot of ways, you're missing out on something potentially life-alteringly good, but there's just something to be said for the safe option if the other choices are unfamiliar. (Editor's note: This is a horrible analogy. Everything Ben and Jerry's makes is wonderful, and if you go to Italy and eat plain pasta, I will smack you. Just pretend being presented with a bowl of very fresh-smelling cow tripe and a platter of tortillas and rice. Yeah, thought so). That's why we like our Americanized Mexican-style food - it's Mexican enough to delude us into thinking it actually is, while still being tailored much closer to our tastes and preferences.

TJ's Enchilada Sauce is kind of like that. Don't get me wrong, it's good stuff. It's thick, a little goopy, I'd almost say creamy except it isn't, but it invokes creaminess in some way I can't quite explain. The reddish-orange fiery color gives off some visual cues that this might be some pretty spicy stuff. Strangely, no artificial colors are listed in its ingredients. Well, it has a good kick, and like any good meal-time edible accessory, it does its job - namely, it adds to and accentuates flavor without much, if any, subtraction. I used to love overly spicy sauces and spices until I realized how much of the time their heat masked the inherent good taste of the food I used them on. This sauce doesn't - it's not until you've had the first bite or two that you begin to experience the smoky, slightly heated sensation it gives in the back of your throat, but that's where it stays, leaving your tongue and taste buds free to sink into the actual dish. That's the cumin and cayenne doing what they ought - to be present, but not to interfere. We (well, okay, Sandy) made some pretty basic enchiladas with tortillas, black beans, soy chorizo, Mexican shredded cheese and the sauce to share with my brother and his girlfriend for lunch on Sunday, and it was fantastic. The leftover enchiladas were nearly as good reheated for my lunch today. Again, stupid work microwave.

But how good is the sauce really? How authentic, or at least how inspired? I didn't even consider that question until I asked Sandy for her Golden Spoon ranking. I was all ready to give it a four, maybe more (yes, sometimes I weight my grade based on Sandy's), and in a very wise moment, she said, "Well, it's good, but we have nothing to compare it to. I don't think we've ever had actual enchiladas before." I did a mental inventory, and she's probably right ... no, not probably, she is. I married myself one smart cookie. I probably don't know what enchilada sauce is supposed to taste like, and without reference it's somewhat tough to put it into proper perspective.

Of course, will that being the case for us, it's probably the case for a lot of Trader Joe consumers, and I'd imagine many if not most similarly palate-experienced Americans would overall be fairly satisfied with the enchilada sauce. The heat might be a little much for some sissies and little girls ... go eat your tortillas and rice then. Sandy and I definitely enjoy it - we actually had it for the first time about a month ago, and in anticipation of our Sunday lunch, we got two bottles to make sure we'd have some on hand for our next Tex Mex culinary romp. Some benefit of the doubt is involved, but Sandy gave it a three and a half. All things considered, that's a pretty fair grade, and since she blinded me with science in giving her assessment, I feel compelled to concur. As I said, una chica inteligente.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Really Expensive Authentic Handcrafted Chicken Burritos

Work lunches have always been a little tricky for me. I don't want to go out and spend $5 or $10 every day on lunch. We also rarely have leftovers to pack, and I don't plan ahead to pack a meal at night, nor do I ever wake up with enough time to make a sandwich or anything in the morning. So generally this leaves me with options that are quick to grab as I run out the door, and that are easily prepared at the typical work lunch room (sink, fridge/freezer and microwave bank), and ideally cheap. By default, most weeks this has meant stocking up on Chef Boyardee goods with the pull-tab can lids ... mmm, tasty. Not. Coworkers openly mock me for it - "Hey, you got dinosaurs or ABCs today?" - as they chomp down on their delivery pizza and wings (coincidentally, these same ones complain a lot about "never having money" ... hmmm). A man's gotta eat, but after so many cans of mini-ravioli, you gotta find some other options too.

Fortunately, Trader Joe's seems to have some possibilities worth exploring.

One of the first canned pasta alternatives I stumbled upon were his Really Expensive Authentic Handcrafted Chicken Burritos (REAHCBs). They appealed to me for a few different reasons. First off, I love burritos and nearly everything about them - tortillas, meat, beans, cheese, whatever you can fill them with, and wrap it all up - delicious and vaguely Mexican, and I love any Mexican food that doesn't include cow stomach. Secondly, the directions seemed pretty short and simple to make - keep frozen, unwrap when you're ready to eat, cover them with a paper towel, and nuke 'em for a couple minutes. Quick and easy enough for a workplace meal. Thirdly, well, I didn't realize it until I started busting them out, but as a work place food, they look pretty impressive. One of the middle-aged ladies in the lunch room asked where I got them - "they look too good to be from the vending machine," she said. Judging by the look on her face, I could have probably told her they were from the Sharper Image and she would have believed me. As the guy previously most famous in the lunchroom for an unnatural obsession with the Chef, it felt good to have some recognition (however fleeting) as having the Cadillac of microwavable meals. Their pretty impressive name certainly helped.

Well, overall the burritos are pretty decent, but also somewhat tough to get a reliable gauge on through no fault of their own. I blame the work microwaves. The directions say to defrost for two minutes, then go on high for a minute - yeah, show me a work microwave that can you can trust to do just that. There's not even a defrost setting on ours, so I resorted to heating on high for about four or five minutes. The result was a burrito alternating between containing molten hot bean-y magma scorching the inside of my mouth and literal ice chunks which served as relief. The tortilla itself got a little chewy in the process too. But that's CVS's fault, not Trader Joe's, I think.

Taste-wise, the REAHCBs work for a lunch option. The filling is mostly typical bean filling with dark meat chicken chunks. It's flavored with some tomato, onion, and typical spices which give it a little kick, but certainly not taste bud overkill. When it comes to texture, I'd prefer if there were some whole beans or the occasional vegetable chunk in there to mix it up a bit. The tortilla is a decent flour one, but nothing terribly special either.

They're certainly not Really Expensive (I think they were $2.49 for the package) and depending on your appetite they can make one or two lunches. As for Authentic ... well, that can be a relative term. They're not nearly as "authentic" (or for that matter, "handcrafted") as some of the most delicious burritos and related Mexican food I've had in Mexican mountain villages where the women woke up at 4 a.m. to grind the corn and the chickens were clucking around three hours before being served up. But of course, that's not what I could expect either, so I won't hold it against them. Just that Trader Joe character can get a little boastful at times, that's all. At least he wasn't stretching the truth when it came to the "Chicken" and "Burrito" part.

I'll give them a little bit of the benefit of the doubt. With a better preparation method, I'm sure they'd be a little bit better, and I'm somewhat indecisive between giving a 3 and a 3.5 for them. But since Sandy hasn't had them (they have that killer word "tomato" prominently displayed), I'm solely responsible for their grading, so I'll give them one of each.

Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader José's Super Seeded Tortilla Chips

I'll spare you the details, but from what I understand, diverticulitis is not a pleasant thing to have. Basically, it's a condition in some people who cannot properly digest seeds, nuts, and things of the like because their intestines don't like them. I know someone with what I assume to be severe diverticulitis, and he claims if he were to eat any seeds, he'd end up in the hospital. It's really nothing all that funny.

But, it must suck to have it. Imagine. No popcorn ... no pumpkin seeds ... no freshly toasted everything bagels with semi-melty cream cheese. Extra care must be taken when eating watermelon. You don't know what rye bread or Chick-Fil-A buns taste like. Think of all the extra work if you want to put peppers in your chili.

And up there with all of those injustices of the condition, no Trader Jose's Super Seeded Tortilla Chips for you, either.

Trader Jose found him some good chips here. The first bite offers lots of evidence that they're tough to beat. They seem to be a bit thicker than most, so they have a good satisfying crunch that other chips seem to miss. The seeds add a good nutty undertone, enough to be noticeable but not enough to interfere greatly with salsa and whatever else you might eat them with. Sandy and I heartily recommend pairing them with some Trader Joe's Peach Salsa, but I assume any type of chunky salsa would be a decent match. I crumbled some up to put in a bowl of homemade chili, and that worked really well because they're so thick and crunchy, they didn't get soggy at all. My last bite still had a good, loud crunch in it. Some other brands of tortilla chips tend to be overly salty, and these guys, while not exactly low sodium, don't make you feel like you just swallowed some ocean water either.

And they must be as relatively good for you as tortilla chips can be. Though not expressly marketed as being organic, all their ingredients say they are, and I thought I saw a blurb somewhere on the bag saying they were. I was too busy munching them down to really notice, though. They're gluten-free, which is nice for all you crazy celiacs out there. Plus, all the benefits of the seeds ... let's see ... well, we all know Barry Bonds was actually telling the truth when he credited flax seed oil for helping him hit all those home runs. Chia seeds can help turn ordinary ceramic creations into lovable furry green animals or definite office conversation starters. Hemp makes you cool with the hippies. I think. There's also poppy seeds, which we all know what they do for you on drug tests, and caraway seeds, which, uh ... well, I have no idea what any of the seeds do but I trust Trader Jose implicitly. Amigo hasn't let me down yet.

Trader Joe's has a lot of pretty good chip options, and these guys are Sandy's and my tortilla chip du jour. I think we downed two bags of them in about a week's time. I asked her how many golden spoons she would rate them, and she just said "a lot", which to me means four out of five, mostly because I give them a four as well.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Soy Chorizo

Hey everybody! What's Good at Trader Joe's has a new contributor! So it's been a while since this blog has been updated ... my old college buddy Nathan's been busy moving across the country or something ... and my wife Sandy and I (Russ) happen to pretty big TJ's fans ... so hopefully you'll be seeing at somewhat regular posts by me. We're hoping this blog, while a work in progress, will be a fun way to share about the good, mediocre, and nausea-worthy stuff we find on the shelves at TJ's. Nathan made this sound better up top.

Anyways, enough about that. Let's talk about fake meat product.

If you know anything about me, you know that I like food. And I like my food to taste like what it actually is - a steak to taste like a steak, coffee to taste like coffee, beer to taste like beer, etc. Sandy, on the other hand, is a little different. She likes her coffee to taste like caramel apples (this is what her choice of creamer tells me) and she loves to use black beans to make brownies (which I don't really get ... I just pretend they're actual brownies and go with it). She also loves fake meat. No, not like Spam. Like Morningstar Farms soy chicken products and "chicken" at Whole Foods and stuff like that. She's not vegetarian (she doesn't like vegetables enough to be), but she just loves the fake meat. I've tried it, and honestly, for me, if you want something that tastes like a piece of chicken, have it be the actual bird. It's nasty enough what they do to a chicken to turn it into a box of McNuggets, and I don't want to think of the additional steps of nastiness required to turn a handful of tasty-in-their-own-right beans into that.Anyways, I guess it was her affinity for all things soy that led us to the original purchase of Trader Joe's Soy Chorizo. It sounded interesting to her, and I guess for the $1.99 and her happiness, we put it in the cart. We got home, put it in the freezer (it does freeze well) and a few nights later, decided it was time to try. I did not have high hopes. First off, the very name is a lie if you know any Spanish. Soy Chorizo = "I am sausage".* No, you're beans, not delectably ground up little piggies. Then the way it is packaged is somewhat of a lie. It's tubular shaped, and comes in plastic casing, which originally lead me to believe this was a grillable-type of chorizo. So I go out, put it in on the grill (anything is better grilled), and once it gets even somewhat hot, it starts crumbling into a mess. Not good. I take the pieces I can salvage and not knowing what else to do, come back inside, put in a frying pan, and start cooking it. I explain this to Sandy, we re-figure out our dinner plans, and decide to make a go of it. Not knowing what else to do, I think we ended up tossing in some black beans and rice once the chorizo was crumbled completely and beginning to brown. We also had some salsa to stir in along with some cheese, and either tortillas or tortilla chips. Finally, it was time to take the first bite ...

Freaking. Awesome.

For a soy-based meat product, it's really good. Scratch that. It's just really good, period. It's spicy, but not overly. The chorizo when cooked also has just a little of the requisite gristle so it's hard to remember that it's not actual meat. When made with rice, beans, and other stuff (our favorite way to have it), it really seems to hold it all together without dominating the other tastes. I think it'd be a pretty good meat substitute for anything ground meat would be needed for in a spicier dish, like chili, tacos, or hotter pasta sauces. It's not anything you can shape or form into a patty or loaf, so burgers and the like are out, but it tastes better mixed into things as opposed to standing on its own anyways.

This has become a "must buy" nearly every time we shop at TJ's - Sandy and I always ask each other how much milk we have left, how many eggs, and if we still have any soy chorizo in the freezer. It's almost become that much of a staple - I'd say we eat it probably at least every other week. We heartily recommend trying it out just as described above - with black beans, rice, your favorite salsa, cheese, and tortillas. Sandy calls it our "everything we love in a bowl meal", which I think sums it up pretty well.

I think Nathan did the star rating thing. I'll use the same methodology, except instead of stars I'll use golden spoons. I give it a rock solid 4.5 golden spoons (it's tough to get 5), Sandy's busy so I can't ask her but I think she'd give it a 5, 

so 9.5 golden spoons out of 10.

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*It occurred to me after writing this sentence that it might not have been a lie after all. If TJ's wanted me to read into the Spanish meaning of the product name, they probably would have marketed it under Trader Jose's, not Trader Joe's. We call it "I am sausage" anyways because it sounds funnier, and it's so good, I'm not going to argue with it.

Trader José Light Premium Lager

So this is supposed to taste like a Corona or something. It says it's imported from Mexico. Authentic. Trader Jose. Si, Senor. 

 It's not as good as Corona, but it's not bad for an imitation store brand. And, it's cheaper than Corona. Limes always help with Coronas, and I'm sure they would enhance the flavor of this beer, too, although we didn't have any when we tried this. 

Also, it is a light beer. There was no non-light version at the store when we picked this up. Light beers can't really compete with the real thing. I don't think I've ever had a Corona Light. It's probably on par with the Trader Jose. 

All in all, it's pretty good. I give it a Four. Sonia gives it a Four. 

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader José's Chunky Salsa

<gasp> This stuff's made in Needham, Mass? Well, this stuff ain't made in San Antonio, but I still think it's a good salsa. Actually it's only sold and distributed from Needham, Mass., and I'm not sure where it's made. Could be New York City for all I know. In this case, it looks like our good friend Trader Jose hopped the border and made straight for the northeast.

I'm happy with it, but I am a yankee, and I apparently cannot be considered a connoisseur of fine salsas. To me, it seems chunky, just like the label says, and it has plenty of flavor. It's got just a little kick, but it won't burn your mouth.

It's OK if a salsa burns your mouth some, as long as it's got the sabor to back it up. ('Sabor' is Spanish for 'flavor.' Have you seen those billboards where it says something like "Experience true sabor." I guess 'sabor' is a real Spanglish word now. We'll go ahead and define the Spanglish term 'sabor' as "flavor, as it pertains to any food or beverage imported from a Latin country, or a Tex-Mex inspired food, such as this salsa.")

Now my wife, who is 1st generation Mexican-American, has the authority to declare this a good salsa, despite the fact it's made in (or at least distributed from) New England. And she actually likes it more than I do. So that says something.

I think they have hotter versions of the same salsa. I guess this is the mild variety. There's a little graph in the shape of a chili on the side of the jar that shows you how hot it is, and the chili is 1/3 red. I'm guessing medium is 2/3 red, and so on. I'll have to try the hotter ones too at some point. For this kind, I give Four and a half Stars. Sonia gives Five Stars. Bottom line: 9.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Chili

Trader Joe's Turkey Chili is pretty tasty. All of their chilis are good. They also have beef and veggie varieties. Turkey is probably my favorite, though. Sonia likes Vegetarian the best.

The chili is a great value at $1.99, since it's enough for two servings and it's very filling. Turkey and beef have a decent amount of meat in them, and all three have a bunch of kidney beans.

I could stand the sauce being a little spicier, but nonetheless, it has a good flavor. Just add some hot sauce or peppers to remedy its lack of kick. I give turkey and beef Four out of Five Stars, Veggie gets Three and a half from me...Sonia gives Four to both of the meat kinds and Five to Vegetarian.

Oh, and the Vegetarian kind is organic.




Bottom line:
Turkey Chili = 8 out of 10
Beef Chili = 8 out of 10
Vegetarian Chili = 8.5 out of 10