Trader Joe's Organic Fair Trade Café Pajaro Blend

I'm going to admit that I'm really not all that knowledgeable when it comes to coffee. I'm just not. I sorta know what a café au lait is because that has been one of Sandy's usual pickups out at the coffee shops. But a caffè americano? A latte? Espresso versus cappuccino? Can't help you there. Heck, I get confused about what Starbucks names their sizes. I'd be the world's worst barista, easily. For a good space of time, I was thrilled with whatever gas station brew as long as there was a good selection of the little colored International Creamers available.* So, yeah, I know I'm not exactly a threat to take over the title of Mr. Coffee, but I know what like. I like coffee that's dark, strong, and vibrant, that'll smack me awake as I settle in with a fresh French press-full for a long day's work at my corporately bland, super-bleachy lighted, muted cubicle (as you can see from the picture - hey, look, my reflection!). In other words, completely the opposite from the free work stuff that tastes like brown water that somehow spoiled. With the right stuff in my cup, there's a fighting chance that I won't commit a felony or curse out some ridiculous insurance company have to deal with (believe me, I've come close).

As a coffee novice, I generally like Trader Joe's selection. Two big winners for me are the New Orleans Style with Chicory and the Italian Roast, but even the cheapie Cup of Joe stuff does alright in a pinch. This past time around, it was time for something new, so let's get on with the Trader Joe's Café Pajaro.

In case you don't know Spanish or couldn't pick it up from the packaging context of the big ol' Toucan Joe, pajaro simply means "bird." So we're talking about bird coffee. I guess that's supposed to make consumers feel like it's a tropical treat. Eh, maybe. The coffee bean mix comes from farms in Nicaragua, Peru and southern Mexico, so it's at least a little exotic-y. The beans are definitely dark roasted but not scorched (like way too much other stuff out there). When brewed, the output is definitely dark, dark coffee that smells rather inviting. For me, a little half and half is all I need to get it right. Too much added sugar will cover up way too much of the natural flavor that's subtly sweet with some chocolate tones. The good thing is, unlike some coffee/cocoa crap I got at TJ's around the holidays, the chocolate taste is there but it doesn't muddy up the overall flavor. It's not quite as bold as I'd like (especially when compared to the TJ's chicory coffee) but it's certainly not weak or watery tasting at all. It won't be the best-tasting coffee you'll ever have , but the Café Pajaro makes for a good cup better than any at-work option, and for $7.49 a canister, a decent value. Definite bonus points for being organic and fair trade.

For the most part, Sandy's been off coffee for the past couple months. The few times she's snuck a sip here and there, she's grimaced and said "blecch" and not much else. Oh, good ol' pregnancy-induced taste aversions that ruin things you once held dear (like one time when we went out for Mexican food). If the baby doesn't like coffee, what can you do? Anyways that means I'm handling the judging of this by myself, like an adult. Hrmmm. It's decent enough but I like the aforementioned ones better, so let's be fair about it and say....

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Organic Fair Trade Café Pajaro: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons
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*I once made the mistake of telling that to a talented barista buddy of mine. He immediately cringed and turned away. We've never talked about coffee since.

Trader Joe's Premium Egg Nog

It's been a busy December, as Decembers often are. There's decorating, shopping, and holiday gatherings and whatnot. I often get stressed out and cranky. That's easy to tell from the first couple reviews I did this month. I figure this blog is one of my outlets for ranting and raving, as the blog I do for my day job is so extraordinarily postive and happy all the time. Which reminds me, since it's the holidays and all, we should be thinking about giving to others...and CURE.org is a great organization to support.

Now, before I move on to the actual eggnog, I must say that I really like the snowman cow on the carton. TJ's has some great artwork sometimes. Though, I'm not quite sure what's coming out of the cup in his hand. Is that steam? Is the cow drinking his eggnog hot? I've never heard of that. That's just downright weird.

And I must say I am an eggnog-drinking maniac. I loooove eggnog. It's so disgustingly delicious. I mean, it tastes delicious, but after I drink an entire carton by myself, I feel disgusting. Disgustingly delicious. I've had many, many different brands. I've had it by itself, I've had it with various liquors, I've had it with nutmeg and cinnamon on top, I've had it cut with skim milk. I have drunk it in a car. I have drunk it near and far. As of now, my favorite is Southern Comfort brand. It comes sans alcohol, in vanilla or regular flavors. Amazing. Sorry, Trader Joe. You didn't make the #1 spot.

But you're not at the bottom of the list either. I've had store-brand eggnog that comes in gallon cartons for like two or three bucks. Terrible. I think the worst I've had was Ralph's brand out in California. Yuck. I learned to just shell out the extra $2 and get something that tastes like heaven in a glass. So let's imagine a hypothetical diagram. It's a line. At the far right end of the line is Southern Comfort brand eggnog in that sleek black container, the very paradigm of dairy deliciousness. At the far left end of the line is a repulsive, yellowed store-brand with mysterious brown chunks and the smell of chewed bubblegum. TJ's brand falls just right of center. It's more good than it is bad, but not by much. Its flavor is a bit nutty. Its texture is creamy enough. But there's just nothing to really set it apart from boring, run-of-the-mill eggnogs.

Sonia isn't a connoisseur of fine eggnogs like I am. In fact, up until recently, she thought eggnog was disgusting. She could never get over the smell for some reason. Under slight duress from her husband, she managed to gag down a couple gulps of different eggnogs over the past 3 Christmas seasons in an attempt to expand her horizons and appreciate new things. It's grown on her. She has managed to discern that SoCo brand is the best, but she thinks TJ's may be second.

I agree it's not bad, but I think there are a handful of other brands that would fall in between Trader Joe's not-bad-ness and Southern Comfort's perfection, most notably Alta Dena on the west coast and Turkey Hill here on the east side. I've heard very good things about a brand called Bud's that I haven't gotten to try yet.

Well, apparently, since Sonia still doesn't quite appreciate eggnog fully and recognize it as the nectar of the gods that it is, "second best eggnog ever" only garners a 3 from her. I'm giving it a 3 also. But in my opinion, it's really just a very average eggnog. Either way, it's only gettin' a 6 from us.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Gingerbread Coffee

In the past, Trader Joe's has demonstrated an uncanny knack for nailing all things gingerbread-ish. Case in point: the cookie butter. It's not really gingerbread, but it is "reminiscent of gingerbread." Also, the gluten-free ginger snaps, the lemon triple ginger snap ice cream, and the pfeffernusse are all TJ's gingerbread (or at least gingerbread-esque) classics.

I believe this is the first gingerbread beverage I've ever had. It's quite drinkable. Not chuggable, in my opinion, but very drinkable.

I guess I should mention, in case you're a new reader, that I'm not a coffee person. I have the palate of a semi-sophisticated and relatively adventurous 12-year-old. And I like my beverages to taste like candy. So for caffeine, I drink energy drinks. Yes, they're bad for you...however, I've only been drinking ones without high fructose corn syrup, and have been feeling much better since cutting that out of my diet. But that's neither here nor there. My point is that recently, I've been attempting to plunge head-on into adulthood and become addicted to coffee instead of energy drinks.

It's a difficult transition for me—even with coffees that taste as delicious and unique as this one. I put a fair amount of sugar and milk in it when I drink it, though most coffee drinkers might put in less. But I guess gingerbread is intrinsically dessert-like in a way, so the presence of milk and sugar might be a welcome additive even for coffee purists who would only drink this stuff on special occasions and holidays.

This coffee has a mild cinnamon taste, but there really are hints of gingerbread in it, too. It's not a harsh or bold taste at all. This product strikes me as a gentle winter morning wake-me-up beverage. It's nice. Kind of a peaceful flavor, if that makes sense. Sonia likes it, too. She doesn't think there's anything particularly wintery about it, though. She hopes to ration her canister and enjoy this coffee well into the spring...which, apparently, is coming next week. Philadelphia isn't supposed to be in the 50's in the middle of January.

Sonia gives it 4 stars. I give it 3.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Organic Acaí 120

I remember it well. Circa 2004, I walked into Jamba Juice on Ventura Boulevard near my old apartment in Sherman Oaks, CA; the same Jamba Juice where I saw Natasha Henstridge, Brooke Burke (twice) and Shaquille O'Neal on seperate occasions. I perused the menu for a while, wanting to try something new. They had an item listed called the Acaí Supercharger, which, I believe, they have since discontinued. They now offer at least one other acaí-based drink. Curious, I asked about it. The enthusiastic "juice-ista" (that's a word I just invented) explained that it had about the same amount of caffeine as a can of coke (35 mg) but that the Supercharger's caffeine was all wrapped up in the completely natural acaí (ah-sigh-yee) berries, rich with fiber and antioxidants, etc. She explained that the natural caffeine would be slowly time-released as my body digested the berries, thus preventing the dreaded caffeine-crash associated with sodas, energy drinks and coffee.

I tried the Acaí Supercharger and quickly turned into a proponent of the acaí fad. Soon thereafter, every smoothie place and health food establishment in the city was offering at least one product with acaí. Those acaí-based drinks from Jamba Juice became a staple of my diet, and thanks in large part to those smoothies, I lost more than 20 pounds over the next 12 months (almost all of which I have gained back in recent years, unfortunately). At the time, I could have been the poster child for Jamba Juice—like their version of Subway's Jared, but hopefully a little less annoying. (If anyone from Jamba is reading this, please open a store in the Philly area, have me walk there every day, and I promise I'll rapidly lose weight again and you can use me as your Jared-like poster child, and I'll write my own commercial scripts as a bonus).

Now, I realize my opinion is probably part of a distinct minority, but I could write you a lengthy essay on why I believe Southeastern Pennsylvania is superior to Southern California. However, that's one thing I really miss about Los Angeles: my beloved Jamba Juice. The nearest Jamba Juice to Philly is over 2 hrs. away in NYC. Road trip, anyone?

Flavor-wise, acaí tastes a little like dark chocolate. It's a berry flavor, but it's very rich, very complex. This Trader Joe's acaí juice is no exception. The "120" represents the supposed number of berries in each bottle. At our TJ's, one tiny little bottle will run you about $2.30. You're paying almost 2¢ per berry. I suppose I can live with that, since the berries are coming all the way from Brazil—and in PA, there aren't a whole lot of other places you can buy organic acaí.

The serving size is tragically small, but it does pack more of a punch than one might think. The three gulps in the bottle are relatively filling, since they're thick and rich, and have 2 grams of fiber. It's just enough to curb a moderate appetite for a while, or to give a little boost of natural energy.

You should know that the acaí berry has taken flack recently for supposedly not being as healthy as was originally claimed, and also for allegedly being farmed and harvested unethically. I myself am still a fan of acaí for its taste and natural energy. If you've never tried any acaí stuff, I recommend you pick up just one of these bottles to taste it. And that's all these are: just a taste of acaí.

Because it does what it's supposed to, and it tastes good, I give it a 4. Sonia does too, for the same reasons. Be warned, however, that it's a lot of money for a very small amount of product. Perhaps our score is a tad high because the novelty-factor is also very high, here in our otherwise acaí-less world.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10 stars.

Trader Joe's Italian Roast

Y'know, Trader Joe's has had some odd names and silly packaging for some of their products before, but this one...this might be the most out there in a way. First, the name. If you weren't giving it much thought, or were completely ignorant of what section of the store you were in, and just saw a can labelled "Trader Joe's Italian Roast," well, isn't it conceivable it could cross your mind that this is a big o' can of tasty tender savory meat? Okay, probably not, but it's coffee, why not put it in the name? It'd be kinda like naming something "Honey Nuts" without an "O" in the title to tip you off it's cereal. Then there's the design on the canister. My picture cannot fully encompass the absurdity of it, but take a gander at it next time you're at TJ's. From left to right, you got Edward and Bella of "Twilight" fame pictures. Bella, of course, has kinda spacey, lost-in-the-sparkly-dreaminess-of-Edward gaze upon her face. Meanwhile, Edward has an arm growing out of the back of his head that's pouring a lady with a honky-tonk badonkadonk in a red dress a cup of coffee, while simultaneously apparently thrusting his spittle on a disproportionately huge steaming mug, served by a dude with a funny shaped head, skeevy 'stache, gigantor arms, and strong-as-all-heck fingertips. If that's not enough, there's the Tower of Pisa, the Red Baron flying by, and some chick who kinda looks like Mona Lisa sipping a cartoon drink through a straw. If you're a fan of bad puns, in the product write-up, there's a reminder that this'll make you a cup of guiseppe because it's Italian. Get it? Har-de-har-har. That's pretty lame.

Know what isn't lame though? A good full cup of this dark roasted coffee. I usually brew my own coffee at work with a French press (much to the continual amazement of my coworkers) and recently I felt the need to switch from my usual go-to get-up-and-go. I'm glad France and Italy got over any hard feelings from the Treaty of Cateau-Cambrésis a few years back and managed to combine efforts to make this kind of caffeinated beverage possible. For me, a good cup of coffee is strong, vibrant, with a little character, and it sure as heck shouldn't taste burnt. That's pretty much this. There's three types of beans (Costa Rican Tarrazu, Colombian Excelso, New Guinea Koban, if you're a coffee bean buff) which have much more flavor than, say, Sanka or whatever brown mulch my work uses for coffee. Each cup I've had of this has tasted well-balanced yet bold, and rich and well-flavored enough that I can usually get away without putting any sugar in it and only a sparse amount of cream. Not that's it's sweet or anything, because it's not. It's just good, kinda earthy, kinda nutty, and has more than enough caffeine to put me in a good mood for the day without buzzing like a banshee.

I've brought this home on the weekend for Sandy and I to enjoy...well, enjoy's too strong a word for her. Tolerate? Maybe. Sandy just doesn't like her coffee tasting like, well, coffee, and has to have all sorts of flavor shots and loads of sugar a la Dunkin Donuts to really like her coffee. Eh, I enjoy that stuff, too. "It's just too dark for me," she says, "although not burn-y. That's good." She's going through more of a green tea/steamed milk/hot chocolate kick right now anyways, so that may contribute slightly to her non-enthusiasm. We had a couple over for brunch the other weekend where we served this, and it was a definitely hit for me and the other guy ("wow," he said), so apparently it's all dependent on your preference. To be honest, I don't recall the exact price of this, but I think the can runs somewhere in the $6-$7 range, which isn't bad at all. I still like the chicory-laced brew a tad better, which I gave a four, so I think I'll go 3.5 here. Not a bad change-up, and it'll definitely make my work-coffee rotation. Sandy? For the aforementioned reasons, she's slapping it with a 2.5.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Name Tag Classic Lager

Sandy and I could not do anything else other than look at each other and make a quizzical face. We were away for the weekend at a resort in Ohio this past weekend, at dinner Saturday night at the onsite restaurant, and when we requested a refill on our Sprites, our waitress brought them out...one at a time...in a Styrofoam cup...to pour right into our glasses...right in front of us. If we weren't the only ones there and would have been so obvious, we might have busted out laughing at the absurdity of it. I've never seen this before, and while a valid way to refill a drink, I suppose, it certainly made me feel a little more confident about our decision to pass up the "unbeatable price" and "tremendous value" of the time share spiel we had to sit through earlier that day.

Of course, the weekend wasn't a total loss. It's always great to have a little time away with your better half, and always funny when a buffalo almost gets its head stuck in your car window on a drive-through safari (true story). Plus, the fine citizens of Ohio have some privileges that we, the plebes of Pennsylvania, don't, like certain types of products available for purchase at Trader Joe's...uh, not that we did...the beer fairy came by again....yeah, that's it...

I shoulda told the beer fairy to not bother at all with the Name Tag Classic Lager. It's so bad that Trader Joe didn't even really put his name on it, though like the kid with muddy boots on standing on a messy carpet, it's obviously his fault. Look at the font used and the flower, and the familiar oval-shaped name tag logo....yeah, it's his. And it's bad. Listen, I went to Penn State, then lived near Pitt campus in Pittsburgh for a while, and have been flat-out broke at times, so I know what crappy beer tastes like. This, simply said, might be the absolute worst. The first ice cold sip I took tasted like literally nothing except a faint sickly sweetness at the end, which was kinda gross. Subsequent sips were tastelessly bitter and bitterly tasteless, if that's even possible. Finally, it got to the point where I could discern what this tasted like...precisely just like the metallic innards of the can. This putrid, super light, watery, nastastic spew was so utterly devoid of its own flavor it had no choice other than to absorb whatever it could from an aluminum can. To my memory, this was only the second beer I've ever tasted that, based on sheer nastiness, the remaining gulps were poured down the kitchen sink and not into my belly. This is terrible stuff, and to make it even worse, no hot chicks other than my wife appeared, no parties broke out, no one pointed out all the other "unmanly" things I'd done that day already (like stop and ask for directions at a gas station), no silver bullet train ran through the living room...nothing like that when people drink other crappy beers on TV. I just kinda sat there feeling numb and depressed over a horrible beer while making all sorts of grimacing faces. Sandy didn't have to taste it to know she wouldn't like it. Ugh. I think PBR or even something called Beer 30 Light that my younger bro mentioned to me the other night would be at least ten, if not twenty, times better than this. It's just that bad. At least it's cheap at $2.99 for a six pack, but I'm certainly more than glad we, uh, the beer fairy, procured us some other inexpensive TJ adult beverages, or otherwise the shopping trip would have been a complete disaster.

It's so bad, in fact, while deliberating a score, I seriously wondered if I should set a precedent by giving something negative Golden Spoons. But I can't do that, for two reasons. First, if this, or even this, doesn't garner a negative score, nothing can, even though I think this may be the absolute worst TJ's product I've tried yet. Secondly, some of this crap-veza might have a valuable use, and no, I don't mean giving the leftovers out to the random adults who insist on trick-or-treating in our neighborhood. I've found that bad beer often is a valuable ingredient when used in making a good crockpot full of chili, and as it's getting colder, I feel my first batch coming on soon. My brother and sister-in law, who also choked down a few gulps before ditching the can, pretty much agreed. For that, and that only, I think between the three of us we can muster a total of half a spoon from the three of us. For one of the very worst (if not THE worst) beer any of us ever tried, that has to be considered more than fair.

Bottom line: 0.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Orange Peach Mango 100% Juice

I have a confession to make to you, dear readers. I have an addiction that I don't think I can stop. This isn't so different from you. We all have our little addictions (or perhaps, for the lighter stuff, "bad habits") ranging from pretty tame (say, like fingernail biting) to weird (teeth whitening) to just plain scary (plastic surgery, anyone?*). Way I look at it is, I'm not one to judge that much, especially because I got my own: juice. I freakin' love juice, especially the citrusy kinds. I've been known to drink a gallon of OJ by myself in a day and a half. I don't know if it's all the sugar or some deeply yet subliminally implanted fear of scurvy (probably both), but juice and me, we're good buddies. Ask Sandy. All too often, after shopping for the week and finding some alternative to water, milk or beer for our shelves, I guzzle down the entire jug with my poor wife getting nary a sprinkle of her own. Poor gal. Of course, though, we have slightly different tastes in juice. She's more a fan of different juicy blends so while I could absorb OJ on a constant drip, for her, it has to be mixed with something to make it drinkable. Otherwise, it's just too acidic and bitter for her. And oh, if it has pulp, forget about it.

Fortunately, Trader Joe's has a pretty decent juice selection ranging from sugary sweet to super healthy to, well, let's say unusual yet good. There's a lot of space for middle ground here. When Sandy and I shop, we don't always have to go the citrus route to satisfy my cravings, but when I'm really getting the DTs for a good liquid Vitamin C system shock, I know exactly what to reach for.

I love love love the Trader Joe's Orange Peach Mango 100% Juice. Love it, despite the weird placement of "100%" in its name. Love it, even though from a pure citrus standpoint it's not a be-all-end-all. Love it, even as I just polished off the carton moments before typing this, as I'm ready for more. It's really a blend of six juices from concentrate - besides the aforementioned orange, peach, and mango it also has apple (of course), grape (what doesn't have grape juice these days?) and pineapple. Altogether they form a nice orangey colored, thick, kinda cloudy free-flowing river of taste from my glass down into my belly. And the more I drink, the better it tastes. I love it. At first, the three citrus amigos are the prevalent flavor before smoothing into the peach and mango finish that erases any bitterness or acidic aftertones. I'm guessing it's grape's and apple's job to provide a good platform to make all this possible, and they do it well. The taste lingers for a while, too, if you allow it. It's good enough for me to enjoy it whether early in the morning or later in the evening. And for something like $3, definitely a good choice.

Sandy's not as big a fan as I am, but that's alright. She's enjoyed some glasses of it here and there, but I'm definitely the primary partaker of this preservative-free pasteurized potion at our homestead. In fact, I may or may not have drank the entire last carton without any spousal assistance...hrmmm...well, hopefully she won't be *too* mad. She at least recalled drinking enough of it at some point to go ahead and give it a 3, mostly because she wasn't nearly as much a fan of the citrusy aspects as I was. Other types of blends are much more to her liking. Me? I'm going with a 4.5. It doesn't completely satisfy my pure citrus cravings, but dang, it's good.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons
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* I bet you thought that was gonna be Michael Jackson. Oh no. It gets a lot worse than him. Gadzooks!!!

Trader Joe's Tropical Carrot Juice Blend

In a previous post, it was established that I have a fear of carrot juice. I've never been a fan of the original V-8 or any other vegetable juice. I like vegetable soup, salty and served hot, but cold vegetable juice seems to violate the natural beverage laws that I've come to accept. Fruit/vegetable hybrid drinks, such as V-8 Splash, can be hit or miss with me, depending on which ingredients they throw into the mix.

I'm assuming that the juices used in making this beverage are a bunch of tropical fruits with some carrots tossed in. Judging by the name, it's either that, or they've used some mysterious, elusive "tropical carrots," which are apparently sweet, fruit-like, and delicious.

But either way, I was pleasantly surprised by the taste of this juice. To me, it doesn't taste carrot-ish at all. I find most juice blends that sneak some carrot into the mix to be moderately palatable. However, I can still taste carrot in most of them. They usually find some clever way to dress up the carrot-taste with citrus fruits, but you can still detect that hint of vegetabliness. Not so with this juice. The carrot flavor is barely detectable, and it blends beautifully with the fruit juices. It's very tasty for a carrot/fruit juice blend.

So really, this is a genre of beverages that generally scores very low in my book, but this tropical carrot juice is a really solid effort on the part of TJ's. I would buy it again. I'll give it 4 stars out of 5. Sonia, although not as vehemently opposed to vegetable juices as I am, thought it unnatural for a carrot juice blend to taste so sweet. She found the flavor a bit strange, yet not undrinkable. She gives it a 3.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Espiral Vinho Verde

Wait, wait, what? I thought this was a Trader Joe's blog reviewing Trader Joe's products. Where's the "Trader" character name or cutesy packaging or anything like that? I don't see that anywhere near here. This looks like an actual, legitimate, bottle of wine that has nothing to do with TJ's. What's up with that, on this, the leading semi-authoritative foodie-hack review site of all things Trader Joe's?

Well, remember the , uh, "beer fairy" that was kind enough to drop off some TJ-brand cold ones a little while back? She was also kind enough to, uh, get us a bottle of Espiral Vinho Verde as well, which she left a note stating the shelf tag explicitly said this was exclusively available at Trader Joe's. And since there's sort of a precedent for this on our blog, well, I figure why not review it. Thank you, booze fairy, but I hope some day that the laws of Pennsylvania will allow you to retire.

This wasn't the first go-around with vinho verde for Sandy and me. Through the generosity of my folks and the marvels of resort timeshare networking, we spent our honeymoon exploring the southern coast of Portugal by day and relaxing in our hotel room at night with a bottle or two of wine and watching the Simpsons dubbed into Portugese with English subtitles. Now that's an experience. In short, if you have the chance to go to Portugal ever, go. We stationed ourselves mid-Southern coast in the town of Albufeira (Arabic for "castle on the sea") and since it was the cooler, winter months, we spent all of our time driving around our tiny Yaris to see different castles and cathedrals all the way from Sagres and into Seville, Spain. Trip of a lifetime, no doubt.

And the wine...delicious. I've heard that, by some measures, Portugal is behind only Russia as a drinking country (I think it's some type of per-capita ranking), and one of the favorite alcoholic refreshments is vinho verde. Literally, it means "green wine," although it's more generally classified as a white and certainly appears that way in color. I've heard it explained that the "green" refers to the very young age of the grapes used for making the wine, as they are smaller and much more tart than their older, bigger brothers and sisters.

For the Espiral Vinho Verde that the booze fairy got for us at TJ's, it's a fairly decent representative of the genre. Imported from Portugal, it's definitely a wine to serve well-chilled. If you take a good waft before drinking, the closest thing that came to mind for me is a freshly sliced, very fragrant green apple, as the tartness just smacks you in the nose. As you take a sip, the tart aroma and taste is even more powerful in a vivid flourish that ends on a slightly bitter note before the tartness reappears to linger for a while. Despite that, overall it is a fairly refreshing, crisp taste and experience that the label states is "medium dry" (I don't know enough about other wines to vouch for that, but it sounds about right, as it's certainly not sweet) which, like others of its ilk, makes a light but bold, unusual glass of wine. If you love tart, you'll love this. If not, you may not be as much of a fan, though for it's inexpensive price (from, uh, what I hear, five or 6 bucks) it's worth a try. We enjoyed a couple glassfuls with a simple lemon chicken pasta we made the other night, and I could see this pairing well with most fish and other seafood. Very summery, and packs a 9% punch to it.

Sandy's not huge into most types of wine, but she definitely appreciates the occasional glass of vinho verde. We were both pretty happy when we discovered that one or two of our favorite brands were available at the nearby state store. For this particular bottle, we both definitely liked it, but maybe slightly from the lack of fond memories associated with it, we can't rank it high among the clouds. As Sandy kinda said, using an example of a famous local product, "It's like getting a Primanti's-type sandwich in Mexico. It can be good, but it's not really the same, either." However, she did mention this was a little easier and smoother to drink as it had a slightly less tart bite to it than we've been accustomed to, and if we could actually obtain this at our local TJ's, I could see us picking it up often enough as the mood would strike. Sandy was content enough to give it a three. I think it deserves a little better than that, so I'm going to one-up that with a four.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's (and José's) Lagers

Ah, beer. Probably like most folks ,I fairly distinctly remember my very first sip of brew. I was seventeen, off to college (I was a young'un all the way throughout my academic career, thanks to my birth date being right before the kindergarten cutoff date), and away from home for the first full weekend of my young, almost adult life. Long story (even by my standards) short, crazy week, and when one of my hall mates banged on my door and invited me out to his cousin's apartment for some drinks, well, I figured, time to see what the fuss was all about. The next night, we headed out and I was handed my first ever bottle of beer. I gulped, took a sip, swallowed, grimaced, and promptly said something along the general lines of "Ugh, this tastes like bleep*." The roomful of twenty-something people went dead silent, and my hallmate's cousin looked right at me, a stern look in his eye. "That's the best beer you'll ever have, don't you dare insult it again," he said through gritted teeth.

You see, the first cold one I ever drank of wasn't just any beer; it was a Yuengling, which in Pennsylvania is considered, at the very least, a good, solid beer no matter type of brew you're into. Back in my day, it was the gold standard among the college crowd. I have friends who have moved who swear they took it for granted when they lived here, but now that they can't get it where they live, they miss Yuengling more than anything else. For me, it's a staple in my basement beer fridge. Regardless to say, my initial reaction has drastically changed.

All this to say, I love beer. I am by no means an expert on it, but I love a wide variety from a good hoppy IPA in the summertime to a darker, heavier stout when the colder weather rolls in. One of the biggest questions I have heard from readers is, why don't we review the tremendous beer and wine selection that many TJ's offer? Unfortunately for both Nathan and I, we both live in the otherwise great commonwealth of Pennsylvania where by in large because of some archaic and nebulous laws, grocery stores are not allowed to sell alcohol (unless, as is becoming more common in the Pittsburgh area, they have a cafe attached). Beer is only available through distributors by the case or the very infrequent bottle shop. So, no cheap TJ booze for us...no two-buck Chuck...no great, cheap selection I've seen in out-of-state stores (like $3.49 for Samuel Smith Oatmeal Stout)...no nothing. It makes it pretty tough to review when you can't taste it.

Anyways, I won't tell you how I happened to get my hands on a six-pack sampler of Trader Joe-brand beer**, except to say it must've been the beer fairy. Yeah, that's it, because it, uh, just magically appeared in my fridge one day...yeah. I'm going to run through the three types of beer in the Trader Joe's brand that haven't been reviewed yet (Nathan reviewed the light lager in his California days), with the caveat that Sandy and I are grading these on a curve. For me, I'm grading them based on that they're a store brand that cost (uh, from what I heard...) a buck a bottle, and more or less with the mindset of a good, typical lager like Yuengling being a 5. Sandy prefers beers that are, and I quote, "fruity and taste like Sprite" or different flavors of beers, like Atwater Vanilla Java Porter, so, in short, beers that don't taste like beers.

First up, Trader Joe's Vienna-Style Lager. I'm going to start by saying, not a huge fan. It's medium-ish, kinda amber in color, and overall fairly smooth flavor. The issue is, it's extremely, well, bittersweet isn't exactly the right word, but it's fairly sweet for most of the flavor before ending on a bitter note that settles in your mouth. This taste overrides any of the medium hoppiness or maltiness that the label purports this beer to have. I realize that's part of the style of some European brews, but honestly it's not a style that I've gotten into all that much. I'm having a tough time recalling what other brands it brings to mind to relate it to, but while certainly drinkable and refreshing, it doesn't quite do the job for me. As a plus, though, it's 5.9% alcohol for those who'd like to know. I churchkeyed the lid off, took a swig, and handed it to Sandy, who siphoned some off and promptly handed it back to me before unleashing a half-hearted "meh." Well said, darlin'. Her reaction tells me she'd give it a two overall as I doubt the second one of these we have will disappear at her doing. I think I'll be generous and say three to try and be fair to Trader Joe's here. I'm sure there's better Vienna-style lagers out there, but I doubt most any of them cost a buck.

Bottom line: 5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Next, we have Trader Joe's Bohemian Lager. Hmm, that's kind of a somewhat ironic name, as it tastes like a fairly conventional beer. It's a lighter, more golden colored beer that tastes pretty clean and straightforward, not much to it. There's some maltiness and a hint or two of some nuttiness that Sandy pointed out. Overall, there's not too much that's remarkable to say about it, except it's pretty smooth and refreshing overall. Still, while drinking it, I kinda found myself wishing I was drinking something else that was a little more complex. Maybe it's titled as being "Bohemian" because, conceivably, one could drink it without giving it much thought one way or the other. That's kind of how I felt. Oh, it's 5% alcohol, so about average, maybe slightly above for a basic lager. Sandy slowly nursed a bottle of this over dinner before it got a little too warm for her, and so she gave it to me to finish on up for her. This isn't an uncommon occurrence and she did say she liked it better than the Vienna-style lager, so she went ahead and gave it a three and a shrug. Again, keeping in mind it costs a buck, I'll give it a three as well...however, give me a Yuengling over this anytime.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Finally, we come to Trader Jose's Dark Premium Lager. I'm not sure how Trader Jose got the dark beer out of the bunch as when I think "Mexican beer" I immediately think "Corona"***, but like Nathan, I've given up on trying to make sense out of the different characters Trader Joe's has come up with. This, out of the three, is definitely the one I enjoyed the most. Part of it is my affinity for darker brews, and while this is a far cry from a Guiness or anything of that nature (of course), if you're familar with, say, Yuengling Porter it's about on par (not quite but almost there). Malty, smooth, fairly full-bodied and remarkably pretty tasty for a store brand. Is it going to change the world? Nah. I won't be pining for the beer fairy to show up with any more bottles of this cerveza, but if they were to appear somehow, I wouldn't mind either. Sandy simply sipped and stated a solid "Not bad," which is somewhat remarkable as this isn't one of her favorite styles. I'm assuming that means about a 3 in her book. For what it is and what it costs, to me, it's a good solid 4. Not terrific, but far from bad.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons

So there you have it. In short, Trader Joe's is a fine place to procure cold, frosty beers, but in the end you'll be happier picking up some of the great deals on breweries like Samuel Smith and Rogue (I also remember there being a Kennebunkport Blueberry Beer we found at a Massachusetts TJ's last year that we liked) over getting the store brand. The TJ's offerings tend to be pretty tame and straightforward without too much to them. They're all better than Natty Ice or Milwaukee Beast, so at least they have that going for them. I'd say Pabst as well, but I have too many friends who like them a cold PBR to say anything too negative about it, lest they cut off my supply. But in all, for a buck a beer, you probably could do worse than these. Now, where's my Yuengling....

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* It's a family website
** See "archaic and nebulous laws" reference
***Yes, I know, there's other Mexican beers than Corona. But it's the first one you thought of, wasn't it?

Trader Joe's Vintage Root Beer

In summers past, Sandy and I have had the privilege of going to some pretty remote towns in Mexico for a week to help out with some medical work and to get to know some of the local people. Honestly, I'm not even sure I can point to where we've gone on a map. All I know is, we flew into Mexico City, hopped into a 15-passenger van with 20 other people, and drove something like 10 hours over a mountain range or two, through endless desert stretches and then a rain forest, and wound up in a hot, dusty village on a mountainside where we'd set up shop for the week to go drive somewhere else an hour or more away to even smaller towns. Crazy fun. One of the best things about these trips (aside from, y' know, helping people/making a difference/learning from a culture different from our own) was, no matter where we went, no matter how remote, every single village had at least two or three small stores with a Coca-Cola sign out front. Go inside and there would be a cooler full of ice-cold Cokes, all frosty in their glass bottles. Late in the afternoon on a 115-degree plus day, after you get done chasing a bunch of 10 year olds around a soccer court, there's little that's more refreshing than that. Sandy and I would routinely seek a store out and for only a few pesos (something like the equivalent of 30 cents), we'd each have a Coke and seek out a shady spot to sit down and relax.

For those who don't know, "Mexican Coke" is much different than the Coke available here in the U.S. The biggest difference is, instead of high fructose corn syrup (HFCS) used a sweetener, Mexican Coke (and most other sodas in the world, for that matter) use real, honest-to-goodness sugar. HFCSs have been used commonly since about the late '70s-early '80s as an ingredient in pretty much every processed product known to man (In lunch meat? Really?) mostly because as a result of imported sugar taxes and farm subsidies, it's much cheaper to use in American food production. There's been all sorts of allegations that the prevalent use of HFCSs has been THE leading contribution in the spikes in obesity and heart disease rates in the past couple decades. There's arguments for and against that notion, and it could go on and on and on, and probably will ad infinitum.

My take? I just want to have a cold, tasty drink. Trader Joe's Vintage Root Beer makes a pretty excellent choice for that. Like other soft drinks marketing themselves under a "retro" or "old school" label these days, TJ's root beer is HCFS-free, just using sweet tasty cane sugar as nature intended. I find sodas made with real sugar tend to be lighter, fresher, and crisper tasting, and the root beer doesn't do anything to change that notion. It's smooth, too, because it's not nearly as fizzy as other soft drinks. To say that it tastes "flat" would be incorrect, I think, because that implies it lacks the carbonation it should have. TJ's Vintage Root Beer tastes more like what you could expect from a homebrew kit or festival stand (like the fresh birch beer I had on the 4th at a Pennsylvania Dutch festival) than a bottle of Barq's or can of A&W. It's light, refreshing and highly drinkable with real root beer flavors like vanilla and anise shining through, and even better served over ice. I'm not as sure it'd be a great choice for floats, though that could be more my own preference because I like the combination of fizz and ice cream. All in all, by itself, it's an excellent drink.

Sandy's not much of a soda drinker aside from the very occasional Dr. Pepper, but she said she really likes it, enough to give it a 5 for all the reasons above. I'm fairly certain she tried to sneak the last bottle while I was showering upstairs, and only very reluctantly shared it with me when I caught her in the act.* Me? Tough to say exactly. It's hard to impress me sometimes on some treats I grew up with in Eastern PA that those of the Pennsylvania Dutch heritage tend to make better than just about everyone else (if TJ's ever tries to make a shoo-fly pie or funny cake, God help them), which I consider root beer being among them. To me, it's not as good as home brewed at a festival, but better than most other types that are commercially available except for A-Treat brand. Now that's some great stuff...also, at $3.99 for a four pack, the TJ's strikes me as being a little pricey. If Coke can get a fridge full of bottles to some dusty Mexican village literally in the middle of nowhere and turn enough coin to sell them at barely over a quarter each, I'd think you could get a similar high quality bottle of soda for less than a greenback each in a major U.S. metropolitan area. Maybe that's just me. Eh. Enough quibbling for me, because for what it was, I definitely enjoyed it and I'm going with a four. All this writing about it definitely just got me thirsty for another one...

Bottom line: 9 out of 10 Golden Spoons
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* Yes, dear, this is a slight exaggeration. But only slight. By the way, notice how I wrote an entire review about soda and never once called it what you and all you silly Pittsburgh-born-and-raised folks call it?

Trader Joe's Lowfat Strawberry Kefir

"Kefir" is actually pronounced "Keh-FEAR," although so many people use the popular mispronunciation "KEY-fur," that it may soon be an officially accepted pronunciation. I wanted to say "Keffer" like it rhymed with "heifer," probably because I subconsciously associated yogurt with milk and milk with cows.

"What is Kefir?" you might ask. Well, up to this point, I've always thought of it as "drinkable yogurt." Trader Joe's version, however, declares itself "cultured milk." From a marketing standpoint, I'm going to go ahead and say that "drinkable yogurt" is probably the better way to think of this stuff. Let's face it, we've all left a half-gallon of milk in the fridge a week or so too long before...and, well, wouldn't that be "cultured milk" as well? I'm no dairy scientist, but isn't rancid milk essentially just milk that's been "culturing" a little too long? I guess this particular milk has been cultured with a unique strain of helpful probiotic bacteria and not the nasty little fellows that have raucous parties in our month-old milk cartons.

When you drink this Kefir, you can feel a tingling sensation on your tongue. I picture thousands of little one-celled characters square-dancing in the bottle and subsequently in my mouth and tummy. They're all wearing red and white plaid, which appears as pink to us, since we're watching the spectacle from a distance.

I don't know how they get the strawberry flavoring in there. I guess they just add the strawberry juice after the little square-dancing buggers have had their way with the milk. I'm not sure what deal they've worked out with the microorganisms to keep them from eating the strawberry flavors. I would think that after eating so much cream, the little guys would want some fruit.

At this point in the blog post, I'm quite certain I've lost all of the microbiologists and dairy science people, as they are no doubt disgusted by my ignorance of all things miniscule and microbial. It's probably quite pretentious to assume that any educated people are reading this at all and are putting up with my nonsensical anthropomorphism and talk of square-dancing probiotic organisms. No one except perhaps a few stragglers hoping to have a laugh at my expense...and possibly one or two who are interested in whether or not I enjoyed the product...in which case I should end this pointless tangent immediately.

I'll just go ahead and say this is very normal, average Kefir. I liked it. They didn't reinvent the wheel with this one. It's exactly what I expected. No more, no less. Smooth, creamy, strawberry-tasting. But since we know TJ's is capable of going above and beyond and doing so much more than their competition, simply meeting our expectations won't get this product anywhere close to Pantheon status. It's a 3.5 in my book. Good for digestion. A half-glass is a filling between-meal snack. No big complaints, but don't expect more than you'll get from any other brand.

Sonia gives it a 3. She thinks it's OK, and she knows it's good for her, but she's not a big fan of Kefir in general. She thinks all Kefir has a funny aftertaste, including this brand.

And, ah, word to the wise: don't read the second half of the ingredients list where they name all of the square-dancing microbial families...

Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Organic Tea & Lemonade

So, I didn't grow up in Pittsburgh but have lived in the city for just over eight years now, and in the meanwhile have learned all sorts of terms and phrases known as "Pittsburghese" spoken by native "yinzers." Thankfully, I don't drop them too often except the occasional "let's redd up" (because it sounds such much more fun than "cleaning") and refuse to acknowledge many of them on principle. One phrase I have picked up a few years back was "Arnold Palmer." Palmer, of course, is the legendary golfer from Latrobe (or as the locals say, "Lay-trobe") and through some means or another, his name has become synonymous with a mix of basically equal parts of lemonade and ice tea. Did Palmer invent this concept? I don't know. I mean, he does have a golf event named after him which he founded, so conceivably, Arnold Palmer could be playing in the Arnold Palmer while drinking an Arnold Palmer. That's pretty cool if you ask me. Anyways, I thought it was just a neat little local reference until I saw it popping up more and more, to the point where Arnold Palmer has an officially licensed Arnold Palmer with Arizona Brewing. Naturally, some variations have come along the way such as the John Daly (add vodka) and the Tiger Woods (add Ambien, Viagra, and bad judgment).

Of course, probably because of copyright issues, Trader Joe's can't come right out and label their blend as an Arnold Palmer. It's not the first time such laws got in the way of a perfectly good name. It doesn't mean TJ's can't make a wink and a nod to colloquial origin of the popular name on the packaging with a golfing gentleman depicted on the front, and a duo on the back along with some old school golfing terms like "mashie" (a five iron) and "albatross" (three under par on a given hole). Plus there's this out-of-place reminder on the side to replace one's divot.

Well, copyright issues be danged, I'm calling it an Arnold Palmer, because it tastes like a pretty darn good one. The taste starts off with a good tart lemonade flavor that refreshingly and fairly smoothly transitions to an ice tea finish. In between both lemon and tea are about equally present. It's slightly heavy on the lemonade for me but not offensively so. I prefer about 2:3 ratio of lemonade to ice tea while mixing my own, and this drink hit the middle of the fairway fairly exactly like a good tee shot (i.e., like none of mine ever do). It's pretty light and crisp tasting and wouldn't be out of place out on the links. Be warned though, it is kinda sugary so expect it to be very easy to drink a lot of it trying to quench your thirst especially on a hot day. I also appreciate the fact that it is organic so it is real cane sugar and not junk like high fructose corn syrup giving its flavor. Overall, this is definitely better than par (can't say sub-par, because even though that's good in golf, it's a negative statement. Hmm).

It's not to say it's my favorite. When picking an ice tea to purchase, I tend to side more with the offerings from the regional dairy. I appreciate it now, but it took me a while out here to get used to Turner's, and hands-down my favorite ice tea is still Rosenberger's. Store and national brands like Lipton just don't hold the same appeal to me. And as I mentioned a minute ago, I like being able to mix my own blends and Arnold Palmers to get them "just right" for me.

Still, the Trader Joe's Arnold Palmer is one of the best store brand pre-made ones I've tasted. Sandy agrees. She's not all that into ice tea other than the sporadic batches of homebrewed she makes or the occasional carton of Turner's, preferring green teas and the like instead, but said she liked this overall and found it very drinkable for her, giving it a four. My line of thinking is, a four is a pretty good score to settle for on most golf holes (except a par-3, of course, but someone would take a four on a par-5 any time), and by in large there's nothing to be ashamed of for that. Four it is from me as well.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Dynamo

When I hear the word "Dynamo," I think of the overweight, opera-singing, lightning-slinging baddie from 1987's The Running Man, starring Arnold Schwarzenegger. Played by some unknown Dutch-American fellow named Erland van Lidth, the character was bold, brash, and unfashionably fat. In fact, soon after the film's release, Mr. van Lidth passed away from heart failure in his New York City flat.

I thought maybe this beverage was inspired by the robustness of Dynamo from the movie. Or maybe, I thought, this beverage was dedicated to the loving memory of poor Erland, implying that if he had drunk more fruit juices fortified with vitamins and calcium and cut back on the greasy street vendor hotdogs, that perhaps he would not have met such an unfortunate, untimely demise.

It certainly didn't occur to me that this beverage might not have anything to do with The Running Man or the fictional Dynamo character. I mean, shoot, even the lights on the guy's costume were kinda orange. You expect me to believe that's just a coincidence?

At any rate, we decided to try it. I was somewhat scared. The beverage looked so very orange, I assumed that carrot juice was a main ingredient. I did check the list, and all of the juices seemed pretty safe. No carrot juice at all. Curious. Also, I noted on the product tag that some store employee named Jen recommended it. I took dear, sweet Jen for her word. Mind you, I have no idea who Jen is or whether, in fact, she is dear and/or sweet.

Then we tasted it. First impressions? The biohazard-orange color and the blatant Schwarzenegger action film allusions were way misleading. The first word out of Sonia's mouth was "Weird." We had both brushed our teeth just 45 minutes prior to trying this drink, so initially we blamed the lack of flavor on that. Later on, we tried it again, but same conclusion. The flavor of this beverage was not unpleasant, but was really, really, surprisingly subtle. Sonia declared, "It tastes like lemon juice with a little bit of sugar." I thought maybe I hadn't shaken the bottle enough. I proceeded to manhandle the juice, now with a sizeable pocket of air trapped inside the container, and agitated the beverage into a frothy foam.

There indeed had been a little extra flavor hiding in the form of sediment on the bottom of the bottle, yet still, I wondered where most of the apple, white grape, pineapple, and orange flavors mentioned on the ingredients list had gone. It was almost as if all those flavors canceled each other out.

I can see how this would be a very refreshing beverage after a run on a hot day. It is light, despite its robust name and color. And I'm sure the extensive list of vitamins and minerals would help an athlete regain his or her strength after a workout. Unfortunately, when we tried it, it was raining outside, so it was cool, and we were not in desperate need of deep refreshment.

Sonia's final assessment: "There's not enough flavor. I can't taste anything." But she agreed that it wasn't really gross, just kind of bland. She gives it 2.5 stars out of 5.

If I had been expecting something really light, I think I would have been fairly impressed. I think TJ's Dynamo would be extrememely satisfying after a half hour of jogging in the hot sun. I want to be careful to score it for what it is, and not for what I thought it was going to be. I give it a 3.5 out of 5.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's New Orleans Style Coffee with Chicory

So, not to bore you too much with the details of my day job, but I work in a cubicle farm for a rather large pharmacy where I work to fix what I like to delicately call insurance "fusterclucks" for folks who need their medication. It's actually kind of a cool position where I get to help out some folks who really need it. This is a fairly recent promotion for me (within the past couple months, anyways) and aside from that, one of the things I really truly enjoy about it is, I have my own cubicle there every single day. In my previous position, depending on what my job function was, I could sit in any number of different desks, which necessitated not having too much stuff to move around. It stunk. I don't think I'm all that territorial, but I definitely like having my own sense of space and having, finally, some of my own stuff to bling out my work space. As a promotion gift to myself, I settled on buying myself a French press to make my own coffee every day, because probably like yours, my workplace coffee is tepid, bland, brownish water brewed with monotony and flavored with, well, nothing. I survived on a couple cups of that every day for over a year, and since I had finally hit the big leagues (*coughcough*), it was time to finally get myself some coffee worthy of my newly attained status.

There's not too many sections at Trader Joe's that give me much pause, but the coffee section is one that always does. Compared to all the other products except maybe the salsa, there's just such a wide variety of selections that it's tough to pick which bundle of brewin' beans to bring on home. I don't claim to be any sort of coffee snob, but I know what good coffee tastes like, and I like something with some character to it. A canister lasts a little while and is usually among the more expensive items in the cart, so I want to make sure I'm making a worthwhile selection.

TJ's New Orleans Style Coffee with Chicory definitely is exactly that. It's a darker roast of Arabica goodness, but not overly burnt tasting like some other more famous chain store brands. The chicory definitely adds an extra element of bittersweet essence that adds some tasty uniqueness that makes one satisfying sip with a little cream and sugar mixed in (take it easy on the sugar, though). Apparently, the tradition of adding chicory to coffee comes from the French who, in poorer times, wanted to stretch out their coffee supply and couldn't think of a better filler. Well, France, aside from the bikini, this just might be the best idea you've ever had. It's one delicious blend that, though I've never been to 'Nawlins, I can imagine sipping a Cafe Au Lait while being washed over by live jazz and grazing on beignets at a night club. Or, if you prefer a bolder flavor with less cream, the smell of the grounds remind me of good smoky pipe tobacco, so imagine an early morning on a dock in the bayou waiting for a nibble on your line. Delicious, delicious stuff.

It must be partially because the images that the city and region conjures up that TJ's claims, right on the side of the can, that they love New Orleans. Heck, I haven't been there, but I think I'd love it there whenever I'd make it. Well, I know love can be defined in many different ways, but...guess where the nearest Trader Joe's to New Orleans is. That's right, you can't pick up a can of TJ's New Orleans Style Coffee in New Orleans. Nor anywhere else in the great state of Louisiana. Maybe a quick trip to Mississippi then? Alabama perhaps? Nope and nope. Try 468-freakin' miles away to Atlanta. Seven hours 26 minutes according to Google maps, but hey, no tolls. That's not any type of love I'm aware of, and as far as I'm concerned, that's not right. 'Nawlins, stand up for your right for a TJ's! While we're at it, for a cool city I've been to, rise up Asheville, NC! And I'm not absolutely certain, but I think my aunt who lives in Austin, TX would appreciate one, too. I mean, if my square-as-a-shoebox suburban sprawl of a hometown of Hatfield, PA can have a TJ's within reasonable driving distance (Mom, it's just on the other side of Montgomeryville, it's not that far), why not these vibrant Southern cities? Trying to instigate another Civil War? With all the good things you offer, Trader Joe, you won't be viewed as a carpetbagger, methinks.

Anyways, I'm glad to have a TJ's two miles from my house, and glad I gave the chicory coffee a try. It's the first can of coffee I've picked up twice there, and I've thoroughly enjoyed each mugfull as it amps me up for a daylong battle against insurance companies trying to screw their customers (note: I almost always win). With my French press full of this delicious brew, I feel like I can take on anything that comes my way. That's worth a four to me. Sandy, who's a little bit more of a coffee snoot (err, I mean, discerning palate) than I am, enjoyed relaxing with a cup tonight as I putzed around making dinner. She usually prefers lighter, milder blends and has said in the past that some of TJ's darker roasts taste like they were stirred with a burnt stick, but said she "wouldn't not not drink it again." When I pointed out that was a triple negative which, in fact, makes that a non-affirmative statement, she quickly corrected herself and said "I'd definitely drink it again" and gave it a three.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Omega Orange Carrot Juice

Here it is, right at the start of another month, and thus another fresh opportunity for the Pittsburgh home office of the WG@TJ's team to reassess our overall healthiness patterns and nutritional choices. Okay, it's probably not an every month kinda deal, but it's cyclical enough, and Sandy's got it on her mind, which means she's making sure it's on my mind, too. By "sure", I mean "very sure." For the whole month of June, we're going to be tracking everything we eat, estimate all our calories, focus on working out, and trying to start living our way into a more wholesome lifestyle. Or so we say, check back with us in a couple weeks. I suppose it's kind of a natural time to do so, with Sandy resuming her training for her next half-marathon after kicking some tail a couple weeks ago at the Pittsburgh half, and with me embarking on my two day, 135-mile bike ride to benefit the National MS Society* in just a few days. That and we want to be sure we're in tip-top bathing suit shape if we ever make a beach run to the pristine shorelines of Lake Erie. Or something like that.

With that in mind, Sandy and I promptly ran to Trader Joe's to find the healthiest non-swampy-looking juice we could ... Wait, that's not how that goes. Truth is, we bought the Omega Orange Carrot Juice sometime in the undetermined past, had it on the bottom shelf of the pantry for who knows how long until Sandy decided to try it a week or two ago (probably because the other drinking options were beer, milk, and water at our house), stuck it in the fridge, and I finally got my gumption sufficiently upped to give it a try because I was thirsty and the other options were milk and water.

Yeah, I'll admit it, I was a little apprehensive to give it a try. I understand what the typical run-of-the-mill sugary fruity juices are - they're delicious. Veggie juices and those that throw words like "Omega" in their name call to mind that ploppy chunky off-colored stuff produced by the Jack LaLanne Power Juicer. Please tell me how ramming through then drinking a whole cucumber gets anyone ready for a day of aimless posing around the senior center. I don't get it.

Anyways, TJ's has themselves another winner with this juice. It's not just legitimately surprisingly good, it's tasty enough to pass itself off as being unhealthy. The juice is actually a blend of four juices - carrot, orange, apple and pineapple - with the different qualites of each shining through in smooth, smooth fashion. The nose of the flavor hints at the citrusy qualities, while midway through it transitions seamlessly to a less acidic, more base-like flavor (a la apple juice) and finishes with a silky cinnamony flourish which I can only assume is the carrot segment of this tasty potion. If this sounds unusual, it's because it is - I'm never had anything that tastes quite like it. Want proof of how good this tastes? Take a look at what they sneak in - omega fish oils from sardines and anchovies, tilapia gelatin (now that's cringe-inducing). There's not one hint of it. Granted, I don't know if those fishy components are supposed to taste, well, fishy, but this particular juice easily incorporates and covers over them in a concoction so flavorsome it had me fooled, and that's not easy.

It's not just the taste that I appreciate, but also its smoothness. There's a pretty heady amount of sediment in the bottle until you shake it out, but once you do, there's no pulp or clumps or amebic blobs to gag on. It's just smooth, free-flowing, glorious juice. As for its healthiness, well, I assume it's pretty good for you based on what the label says and hearing a thing or two about omega fatty acids here and there, but really, I'm not an expert. Relative to most juices at least, I'll go ahead and say it is. Keep in mind, this is coming from the guy who on the first day of spouse-mandated food intake monitoring thought it'd be an okay idea to get a steak, egg and cheese breakfast wrap from the local convenience store. I specifically custom-ordered it from the touch screen to have them add lettuce, tomatoes, green peppers and jalapeños - that makes it kinda like a salad, right? Right? And the tortilla was whole wheat too ...

Anyways, I've been thoroughly enjoying a small cup of the juice while typing this review. Note to my wife: Sorry, dear, I forgot to pour it into a measuring cup first, but I'm being good and not gulping it down like I could very easily be tempted to, I'll track it, don't worry. Sandy's a fan of it, just not nearly as much as I am. She gave it only a three, saying she liked the cinnamony aspect to the overall flavor. I asked her what could be better, and she blinked once or twice and said "Meh." I'm not exactly sure how to interpret that. Anyways, a three is way too low in my book. I'll go ahead and give 4.5, if for no other reason than to make sure it is listed among one of TJ's "really darn good" items on this blog. Because really darn good is exactly what it is.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Blackberry Crush

It's hard to admit it, but I was wrong.

I was wrong about the blackberry. No, not the smartphone (I'm still not a fan of those crash-prone glitch-machines).

In a previous post about blackberry preserves, I not only demonstrated a decided lack of knowledge in the jams/jellies/preserves/fruit spread department, but I think I may have maligned the often misunderstood, dark, raspberry-like fruit known as the blackberry.

To the blackberries of the world, I apologize profusely. I mentioned in that previous post that I had overestimated you, but it seems, quite to the contrary, that you are more than I could ever hope for in a berry.

You see, the blackberry is apparently a really good team-player. In this beverage, we see a dynamic fruit trio: apple, white grape, and blackberry. Move over, pineapple/orange/banana. The apple and white grape juices give the beverage a nice, smooth sweetness. Then the blackberry puree adds an incredible, rich, full, tart flavor. This is what I wanted those blackberry preserves to taste like. I don't recommend putting this stuff on toast, however, I totally thought about it. It is a little bit thicker than the average juice, but not to the point that it loses any refreshing gulpability. It's very good. There's an almost earthy quality to it, but it's still sweet.

I really don't have any complaints. There were little particles of blackberry in the drink, but you'll get that with any real fruit puree. It makes it feel authentic. Reminds you that you're drinking real fruit and not some over-processed fake stuff.

This one is definitely getting a slot on our regularly-purchased Trader Joe's beverage roster. Sonia liked it too. She gives it a 4.5. So do I. Bottom line: 9 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Dixie Peach

Fun fact: California produces 65% of the peaches in the US. But there are peach orchards all over the place. Even my hometown of Chambersburg, Pennsylvania has a reputation for excellent peaches. See here. But I guess there's something romantic about those Southern peaches. Georgia is "The Peach State" after all. They even have a peach on their license plate. South Carolina is one of the biggest peach producers in the country, too. At any rate, TJ's decided that their peach nectar beverage would be called Dixie Peach. Away, away, away down south in Dixie.

It's actually a mixture of juices with peach and apple purees. Once, on a mission trip to the Dominican Republic, I had a peach nectar drink (Nectar de Melocotón) that was very similar. I've been looking for a peach beverage like it in the US ever since. There's a brand called Kern's that sells cans of peach juice, but they're definitely not as good. So my search continued...Thanks to TJ's, my search has now come to an end. Now, if only someone would sell pear nectar or something like it here, I'd be a happy camper.

The Dixie Peach is very smooth and thick. If you only like really watery, thin juices, you might get freaked out a little. It's plenty sweet, and although there's a mixture of fruit juices and purees, the overall flavor is decidedly peachy. Sonia wasn't a huge fan at first, but she says it really grew on her after drinking some more of it. She likes it best with tons of ice. It does seem like the colder it's served, the better it tastes for some reason. And a little bit of melted ice helps to thin it out a bit.

The sweet beverage fiend (that's me) gives it a 4 out of 5. Sonia gives it a 3.5. Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Spiced Cranberry Cider

As a young boy, my parents would regularly take me to visit my grandparents and various elderly friends of the family. During these visits I noted that older folks, for some reason, were quite fond of putting out candy, often unwrapped, in little dishes on endtables and coffee tables throughout their homes. That didn't bother me one bit. A source of free, quickly-replenished, easy-access candy was the stuff that my young dreams were made of. Before my parents could call me off, I would easily down a third of the dish. Then, inevitably, they'd yell something about spoiling my dinner, and I'd stomp off reluctantly with bits of chocolate smeared on my face and shirt.

One of the types of confections I'd frequently discover in such a candy dish were multi-colored, fruit-flavored gumdrops. I loved trying each flavor to see which was the best, and then I'd attempt to eat every gumdrop of that flavor in the entire dish. Or, I'd take one yellow gumdrop and one green gumdrop and try to create my own flavor combination: lemon-lime. In short, I loved gumdrops.

However, I can distinctly recall on one occasion stuffing my face with what I assumed were sweet, delicious gumdrops, only to be shocked by a biting, unpleasant flavor. I grimaced and choked back my gag reflex. The aged owner of the candy dish, taking note of my sufferings, said, "Aw! You don't like the spice drops, hmm?"

I thought to myself, "What on earth are spice drops?" For a moment, I thought I had eaten something that was intended for decorative or aromatic purposes only. Had I inadvertently eaten some bizarre form of potpourri?

Drinking this cider was a similarly disappointing experience. Maybe I should have taken the word "spiced" in the title as a warning sign. But I thought they meant they put a dash of cinnamon in it or something...

Typical spice drop flavors include: cardamom, clove, allspice, pimeneta, spearmint, anise, and licorice. This drink tastes like a base of cranberry juice with each and every one of those spices dumped in it. It's like drinking a glass of liquid potpourri. We finished the bottle, but it took some effort. Honestly, I'd rather down a bottle of Nyquil than drink this stuff again. Not a fan.

Sonia gives it a 2. I give it a 1. Bottom line: 3 out of 10.