Trader Joe's Roasted Red Pepper and Artichoke Tapenade

To the best of my knowledge, I've never had tapenade before this, except possibly on top of some bruschetta here and there. It's obviously not a stand-alone item. It needs something bready to be served on. It's more of a condiment than anything else.

If Sonia and I had been ambitious, we could have made our own bruschetta by toasting a crusty loaf of French or Italian bread in our oven and adding some olive oil and this tapenade. Or if I had been smart, I would have just picked up the Trader Joe's Pita Bite Crackers that were sitting next to the tapenade on their display, and then I could have made this a double review. BUT, just as I picked up the tapenade, I remembered that we had a big box of Ritz-type crackers that we ate with our Wine Country Chicken Salad slowly going stale on our shelf, and one of the more practical voices in my head told me to just use those up before purchasing any more crackers, knowing full well that the pita bite crackers would be consumed before the Ritz-type ones, thus rendering them even more stale, and risking a bit of food wastage. SO...we put them on the Ritz-type butter crackers.

Big mistake. The butteriness of that type of cracker did NOT go well with the pasty, peppery oiliness of the tapenade. For some reason both textures and tastes conflicted a little. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't terrible. It just wasn't the gourmet taste adventure that we discovered shortly thereafter.

We satisfied my frugal side by finishing up our butter crackers, and then we ran out to the grocery store next-door and got some Town House brand Pita Crackers with Mediterranean seasoning, and they were a much better match! 

Despite being full of peppers, the taste of the tapenade was pretty mild. I almost expected it to be salsa-like at first, but it was a delicate, oily, vegetabley flavor. The red peppers gave it just enough zip to keep it interesting. And somehow the herbs in the crackers perfectly complemented the relative subtlety of the tapenade. The dry graininess of pita crackers worked much better texture-wise, too. Sonia and I both agreed we'd never eat tapenade with butter crackers again.

So...be sure to stock up for Superbowl Sunday. Because there's nothin' like tapenade...and football...together.

I give the tapenade 4 out of 5 stars. Sonia gives it 3.5.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's "Just Sauce" Turkey Bolognese

As the package boldly indicates, this is indeed "just sauce." And in case there's still some confusion about the issue, we'd just like to clarify that this item does NOT come with bread, it does NOT come with crackers, NOR does it come with any form of pasta. It's just sauce. But unless you enjoy eating sloppy joe filling by itself, you'll probably want to supply your own bread or bread-like substance. I suppose this dish could be likened to a beanless chili of some kind and consumed via spoon, but really...I recommend eating it with bread. Pasta would work, too.

In fact, Bolognese sauce traditionally pairs with pasta. As the name would suggest, it originates from Bologna, Italy. And that reminds me of my wife's childhood nickname: "Sonia Bologna," which I affectionately resurrect from time to time when I feel like I need to be smacked. But that's neither here nor there.

I liken this sauce more to a sloppy joe filling than to a pasta sauce since most pasta sauces I've experienced either have a tomato-esque flavor, as in Marinara sauce, or they're creamy, as in Alfredo sauce. This sauce is meaty. Turkey is definitely the main attraction here. The only other flavor that jumped out at me was licorice. Black licorice. 

I looked on the ingredients list, and of course, there's no black licorice. However, dried fennel is listed. I began Googling "fennel tastes like..." and just as I expected, the search box auto-completed my inquiry with "licorce" and "black licorice" before I even finished typing. Voila. I knew I tasted something licoricey. Granted, fennel and black licorice are not the same flavor, but they are extremely similar.

Here's a picture of the product by itself. It's not much to look at. It brings to mind things that should never ever be mentioned on a food review blog.

Try it on pasta if that floats your boat. But I say try it on bread. Just think of a decent sloppy joe, replace the beef with lean-ish turkey, and add black licorice flavoring, and that's pretty much what you have here. Both Sonia and I wished it had beans, onions, or some other substance to it, but I guess then it would be chili.

I give it 3 out of 5 stars. Sonia gives it 3.5.

Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Pumpkin Soup

This might have been the most pumpkinnish product we've had so far. Not in terms of ginger, allspice, and nutmeg—although "spices" were present in moderation—I'm talking about the actual large orange squash-like vegetable (or is it a fruit?). I felt like I was tasting pumpkin for the first time. And for those of you who've been reading this blog for a while, you'll know that it's definitely not my first time eating a pumpkin product.

This soup had a very natural flavor. Similar to butternut squash soup in terms of taste, this dish was just creamy enough, flavorful enough, and spicy enough to not seem, well...weird. Unlike tomato soup, pea soup, and lentil soup, pumpkin soup was entirely unfamiliar to me up till now. And when I try something brand new to me, my biggest fear isn't really that it will taste bad. If it's simply unpalatable, I'll just steer clear of it next time. I'm most scared that it will taste so strange to me—that the flavor and texture will be so far outside my experience—that I'll somehow be unable to appreciate a perfectly good product because of my own personal shortcomings; my failure to expand my horizons wide enough to incorporate this unfamiliar substance into my realm of appreciation.

Fortunately, neither of those scenarios was the case here. It was just really good soup that happened to taste like pumpkin. And Sonia and I were both appreciative of the fact that it's pre-mixed. There's no digging through the cupboards to find that measuring cup and then wondering whether you should use skim or whole, or whether you can substitute almond milk for cow's milk, or any of that nonsense. The mix was already done, and it just happened to be perfect. Plus, the box was less than $2. 

Our only complaint would be to point out that by itself, the soup is a bit boring. Some crackers or grilled cheese sandwiches are definitely in order if you want to turn this stuff into a meal, but happily, both crackers and grilled cheese complement this product perfectly.

If you're averse to pumpkin or plain, creamy soups, this product ain't for you. But if you're on the fence about trying it, Sonia and I both think you should check it out. Double four's.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Speculoos Cookie and Cocoa Swirl

This is Shandra. This is not an awesome (or even "passably good") picture, courtesy of my new cheapo cellphone, but Shandra, and in fact the whole Salt Lake City Trader Joe's, is pretty awesome. As is our habit when we're out of state, Sandy and I were strolling thru late Sunday night, hoping to see anything new or different from our Pittsburgh base, and just as we sidled up to the sample station for a little cherry cider, she came running across the store to her coworker manning the slab, jar of Trader Joe's Speculoos Cookie and Cocoa Swirl in hand, positively shrieking "OHMIGAWWD THISISNEW OHMYGAWDD WEGOTTATRYTHISRIGHTNOW OHMYGAWDD!!!" She cracked it open right in front of us and said "You guys want to try?" It's like she knew who we were! Except, ummmm.... she didn't. Anyways, I'll skip some of the nittygritty play-by-play, but the jar she grabbed was the last one and since it was opened we couldn't buy it but she asked her manager, the very nice impressively bearded Greg, who personally climbed thru the truck that was in the middle of being unloaded just to procure us a jar that we could, in fact, purchase. It kinda helped that he had heard of us, but no matter, we appreciate it all! I, for one, also appreciated the two women who were wandering around the store in knee high socks and what I'll generously call a two piece bathing suit. "Poor girls, having to choose between food and clothes," Sandy said. You never know what you'll see or experience at Trader Joe's, I guess. It's all part of the fun.

So.....Trader Joe's Speculoos Cookie & Cocoa Swirl. The very existence of such a product begs the question: "How much awesomeness can one jar contain?" Unfortunately, neither has the English language coined the proper words to describe nor has the technology been invented that can compute such things can adequately attempt to answer. It's.....just go. Right now. Go get your own. You'll see.  

For those of you still here, let me flail and fail at trying to describe. It's a perfectly unparalleled union of two of the greatest inventions the junk food industry has ever produced: the mega-nommerific speculoos spread and Nutella, of which I can sing its praises all day. It's almost liked I wished this munchie matrimony into existence, because I've spread both cookie butter and Nutella on the same piece of toast before, and had the thought in the back of my head, "wouldn't it be great if these were combined into one thing?" It's mostly because I'm too lazy to use and/or wash two knives. And by "Nutella", I mean legitimately the real deal, hazelnuts and all. If it's not actual Nutella in this product, then it's pretty much the most convincing knockoff/imitator ever this side of Frank Abagnale Jr. Except for the occasional crispie here or there, it's a smooth mix that perfectly straddles the balance between the gentle gingeriness of the speculoos and the dark, decadent tones of the cocoa portion. My goodness. It's....again, just go. Trust me.

It's tough to imagine a more perfect condimental match than these two tasty lovebirds mashed into one. I've previously posited a "chocolate gum theory" that states that two things that are good separately are not necessarily good when combined. That is far, so far away from being the case here. Maybe it's just my sweet tooth going into overdrive but man....this is just a perfect product. Sandy agrees. After one taste she knew exactly what her score was going to be, and I could tell it just from the look in her eyes. A perfect five from her, and you can count on a perfect five from me as well. I almost feel like I'm shortchanging it, but ten's the max and them's the rules. For something like three bucks for the jar, you simply cannot beat it.
  

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Speculoos Cookie & Cocoa Swirl: 10 of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Pumpkin Cream Cheese Spread

Russ was right. And I look dead sexy in my yoga pants. I might not, however, after I gorge myself on every pumpkintastic item I can get my hands on because I will have gained about 30 pounds by the end of this season. As of Sunday, it's officially fall. And yes, like any red-blooded American man with northwestern Euro-mutt roots, I love me some Oktoberfest beers, but the giggly 21-year-old college girl living inside me loves pumpkin ales just as much. Guess what else she loves?

This pumpkinriffic cream cheese. It's super soft and plenty punkinny for me. It's a nice balance of cream cheese, pumpkin spices, and actual pumpkin. Sonia seems to think it needs more pumpkin flavor. I disagree. It's not pumpkin pie here. Nor is it pumpkin pudding. And along those same lines, one should definitely not eat this stuff straight out of the tub with a spoon, tempting as it may be. It's meant to top a bagel. I actually think the pumpkin-factor is a bit too much when it's spread on

toast. A bagel has enough breadiness—enough substance—to put this pumpkin cream cheese in check, just like regular cream cheese works with a bagel while butter and jelly works with a piece of toast. 

But I will say this: there is something light and fluffy about this cream cheese. It almost feels whipped. It's not as dense as a regular cream cheese if you ask me. When you're knifing it out of the tub, it comes out with ease. There's very little resistance. But the full-bodied flavor is still there somehow. It's a miracle of science. It's a miracle of nature. Just like the pumpkin. And the pumpkin spices. And the drool that now covers my desktop as I sit here and pine for more pumpkin. Stay tuned to WG@TJs for more ridiculous, fictitious, pumpkin-based adjectives like "pumpkinlectable" and nouns like "pumpkinnishness." 

When we made our latest TJ's run, the checkout guy looked at Sonia and I and made a funny face. "I see you've been stricken with the same pumpkin affliction that I have, too." We both just nodded and slobbered all over the counter and grunted out a zombie-esque "Puuuuumpkiiiiin."

I give this pumpkin cream cheese 4.5 stars. Sonia gives it a 4.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Organic Super Fruit Spread

I could chalk it up to me being some kind of berry snob, but unfortunately my slight aversion to the taste of this spread is more likely a consequence of a lifetime of eating non-organic, heavily-sweetened, fake-flavored, overly-processed products of our modern industrial age. Sad. This stuff kinda reminds me of the blackberry spread we reviewed a long time ago. Like the blackberry spread, I feel that this "Super Fruit" lacks a certain punch. Unlike the blackberry spread, this stuff doesn't have corn syrup or added sugar, which is always good.

My 13-year-old palate wanted both of those products to taste like Trader Joe's Blackberry Crush. But I suppose if something's gotta have a grown-up taste, it's better if it does so with truly organic ingredients. I'm still waiting for the spreadable version of Blackberry Crush, but until it comes, there are always brands like Smucker's that offer organic jellies, most of which have "organic sugar" added. I'm pretty sure TJ's has similar products, but we just haven't gotten around to reviewing them yet.

But to be fair, I must mention that Sonia really liked this spread. She doesn't have the sweet tooth I do, so the natural fruit was plenty potent for her. She liked the consistency of it, too. It's pretty

smooth overall, yet there's enough mashed up berry bits that you really believe the product is coming straight from crushed fruit. And I must say, I enjoyed the product much more when used in a PB&J sandwich, rather than just by itself on toast, although people who really enjoy the taste of organic fruit might disagree, Sonia included.

I thought for a minute when I first looked at the jar that maybe "Super Fruit" was some kind of amazing, recently-discovered plant from the Amazon that tastes like chocolate and has preposterous amounts of antioxidants or something like that. Kind of like an "açaí berry" or "passion fruit," but you know, like, more super. I was wrong. Super Fruit is nothing more than the amalgamation of cherries, grapes, blueberries, and pomegranates.

Since there's basically nothing but fruit in the jar and since Sonia loved it so much, I can't give this a worse score than I gave to the blackberry preserves. So 3 stars from me. Sonia gives it 4 stars. That puts this product squarely in our "not bad" category.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10 stars.

Trader Joe's Hot & Sweet Mustard

As I've written before, with the notable exception of hot sauce, I'm just not a condiment kinda guy. I don't know why that is. I mean, I like the idea of adding different kinds of sauces and whatnot to a sandwich or pile of fries or whatever, or the idea of salad dressing to spruce up an otherwise dull plate of greens and veggies, but when push comes to shove, more often than not I'll just pass. Maybe I just like my food to taste like however it's going to taste without too much outside interference. Don't like ketchup. Don't like pretty much any salad dressing. And don't get me started on mayonnaise. And most importantly, if it's in a squeeze bottle that makes farty sounds, no way on earth I'm trying it. Them's the rules for me. Blecch.

One very occasional exception to this would be mustard. And I must say, very, very, occasional. I'll put some on a pretzel or, back when it was a viable lunch option, let my Subway sandwich artist put some on every once in a great while. It's no great loss when they don't. So, when someone (I think my brother, not sure) told me that Trader Joe's Hot & Sweet Mustard was more or less the best thing ever, I felt good about trying it out despite my usual prejudices (keep those in mind as you read the rest of this).

This mustard, to me, just isn't all that great. Not that it's terrible, either. "Hot and sweet" is not a completely honest description for it - "sweet and sour and a wee bit of something that approaches hot" seems a bit more accurate. Trader Joe's repeats their fairly classic mistake of assuming vinegar equates to heat (prime example: their black bean dip) for their "hot" and loads up on sugar for the "sweet" part (see first ingredient). So imagine very sweet, vinegary mustard. Maybe that's tantalizing for you. For me, not so much. To be fair, after dunking a few pretzel sticks in it, the back of my throat began to sense something a little spicy, or perhaps overly bitter, in a kinda horseradish-y sense. There's no horseradish in this mustard, of course, but that's the closest thing I can equate it to. Overall, the mustard seemed okay, not bad enough to keep me from snacking, but not good enough for me to keep on craving it. For whatever reason, it tasted a little better the one night we dipped our chickenless tenders in it instead.

My wife's admiration more than makes up for my ambivalence. "Oooooooh, this is so good, I could drink it right out of the jar!!!" Sandy exclaimed. I offered to snap a picture of her doing so and can't believe she said no. That would've been a much more interesting visual addition than our usual product shots. She agrees that it's closer to sweet and sour than hot and sweet, so good to know I'm not just making that up. It's not a terrible pickup for the measly $1.49 it costs, but if solely up to me, it's not one we'll make often. Sandy gives it a four. For me, about the fairest I can be is to call it right down the middle with a 2.5.

Bottom line: Trader Joes Hot & Sweet Mustard: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons     

Trader Joe's Lemon Curd

A month or two ago, in the downtown area of our tiny little suburb right outside the City of Brotherly Love, my wife and I found ourselves hunting for some vittles one bright Saturday morning. We settled on a new diner/cafe right on the main street. It was a quaint mom and pop's joint. It reminded us of a little place we used to go in Hollywood called "The Corner." 

Now, my wife Sonia usually eats an hour or two after she gets up, whereas I am in the habit of eating at least a little bit of something immediately upon waking, usually accompanied by a caffeinated energy drink of some kind. That meal, a true break-the-fast is often very small, allowing me to eat a little more a little later and join Sonia when she finally does eat breakfast. Inspired by our good friend Peregrin Took, Sonia and I refer to that latter meal as my "second breakfast."

But second breakfast can't be as big as a normal meal, since it's book-ended by first breakfast and elevensies. So when I searched the menu at this little cafe for a small-ish meal and declined when offered a hashbrown add-on, our waitress of course decided that I must be a cheap SOB and that she would undoubtedly receive little or nothing in the way of a tip. We received little or nothing in the way of service after that, as our waitress strived dutifully to fulfill her own prophecy, but when my meal finally came out (pancakes with lemon curd) everything in the world was right as rain. I was delighted at the tart, tangy, lemoniness of the curd. I was upset that something so delicious would be called "curd." I giggled like a schoolboy as I smeared it 'round my flapjacks. Then I literally licked my platter clean.

Sonia, apparently offended by the streams of yellow drizzle on my face, said to me flatly, "You know they sell that stuff at Trader Joe's."

My eyes widened at the realization that I wouldn't have to go back to this goofy little diner for lemon curd. BUT, would TJ's version taste as good as the poor-service cafe?

In the time that's passed, I have confirmed that YES, TJ's version is every bit as good as the one I had at that diner, and in fact, that the two taste so similar, I'm guessing the cafe's lemon curd "supplier" IS Trader Joe's. 

It's got the consistency and feel of honey, but it's RIDICULOUSLY lemony. It made me want to scream "Lemony Snicket!" like I did when I ate the Lemon Bars. It goes well with pancakes, with toast, with scones, with cookies, or just about anything you want to taste like lemon candy. It's super sour, but also super sweet. I'm in love with it. I don't know if anywhere else sells this stuff in the states, and I'm pretty sure Trader Joe didn't invent the stuff, but I'm going to give TJ's the credit for introducing me to it. 5 big stars from me. 4.5 stars from Sonia.

Bottom line: 9.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Dried Kimchi

I've mentioned my feelings about kimchi in one or two previous posts. It scares me. It's foreign, it's fermented, and it's cabbage. It's just a bit intimidating. 

And it's not just kimchi that terrifies me, but all forms of fermented cabbage, like sauerkraut.

But you can't say I'm not a trooper. I've eaten sauerkraut on hotdogs and with porkchops. I've tried kimchi in fine Asian restaurants, mostly Korean barbecue places. And I've tried multiple different kinds of it. I did appreciate some of the varieties a little more than the traditional cabbage-based one, but none so much that I'd snack on them on any normal occasion. I just can't get into it.

Recently, an excellent article about fermented foods by Ellen Byron went up on the Wall Street Journal site. (If that link takes you to a "Get the Full Story" screen, that means they've placed the article behind their paid subscriber wall). And it really got me thinking. It got me thinking that if a delicious condiment like Sriracha is actually fermented, a fact I was previously unaware of, that maybe I should give this whole kimchi thing another whirl. 

I thought that maybe the dryness of this Trader Joe's product would cut down on the grossness of the kimchi. When it's all wet, I just can't get it out of my mind that it's cabbage being broken down into a liquid slowly by millions of little bacteria. So, after postponing the consumption of the dried kimchi as long as possible, I finally decided to be brave and open the bag. There were dozens of chunks of dried kimchi with a dusting of a powdered version of the traditional red spices you'd find on any regular kimchi. It looked and felt like the bag of kale chips I reviewed a while back. The taste, however, was very different from the kale chips.

Chalk it up to my aversion to kimchi if you must, but I simply can't recommend this stuff like I did that delicious bag of dried kale coated in a weird nacho sauce. This stuff STILL TASTES LIKE ROTTING CABBAGE!

I found it a shade more palatable when I ate it in a bowl of ramen instead of straight out of the bag, but in the former case, it gets wet again. I imagine that the millions of little bacteria responsible for the sourness of the cabbage have been in suspended animation for months, and then when I drop it into my bowl of warm soup, they come to life again like a package of Amazing Live Sea Monkeys and begin swimming about, devouring bits of cabbage and ramen, rushing to establish a culture of their own in my bowl before I can gag them all down and digest them.

My wife Sonia, who generally appreciates regular kimchi, felt like TJ's Dried Kimchi was mostly flavorless. I disagree. I think it tastes sour like authentic rotting cabbage. And I also tasted the spices, which I might have actually enjoyed if they were sprinkled onto, say kale, instead of ... rotting cabbage. Neither Sonia nor I could ever feature ourselves buying this again, but perhaps for slightly different reasons. I can only recommend trying this product if you're a big fan of regular cabbage-based kimchi. I know you kimchi fans are out there, and I wish I could join your ranks. But this is one food I fear I may never fully develop an appreciation for.

Sonia gives it 3 stars. I give it 2.5.

Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Coconut Oil Spray

Since it has long been established that Russ and I are "foodie-hacks," and since there has been a precedent set for a "celebrity guest reviewer" to show up in a post or two, I decided it was high time we found someone respectable enough for the title of "full-fledged foodie" to co-score an item here on our illustrious blog.

Not only the Director of Community at Consmr, she's also the co-founder of Philly's own Federal Donuts and a food writer for numerous publications even more impressive than this blog...please welcome Felicia D'Ambrosio!

At her suggestion, we're taking a look at this coconut-based cooking oil from TJ's. It was cheap, a little under $3 at my local store. It has delicious-looking coconuts on the packaging that make the product look like it could quite possibly be used as an ice cream topping as well as a cooking spray. (I found out the hard way that it should NOT be used as an ice cream topping).

But it does have a slight hint of coconut flavor if you ask me. Felicia found it to be "neutral in flavor," adding, "I haven't noticed much coconut in finished foods, since you are using so little in each spray."

I think she was hinting that if I'm tasting any coconut, that I'm probably using too much. But in true foodie-hack fashion, I slathered the pan with a generous coating of coconut oil, and at least with the first item I made, a stir fry, I could have sworn I tasted just a hint of coconut. The can does mention that it's "mild flavored," and after squirting some directly into my mouth, I did confirm that there is a subtle hint of coconut there. Granted, it's so subtle that spraying the product into your mouth is not a particularly pleasant experience, and it follows that any normal amount of the oil should probably not be tasted in your finished food. When I baked these crab cakes in the oven, I no longer detected any coconut.

But the taste of this product (or lack thereof) isn't the reason for using it. Felicia used it to make veggie burgers, steaks, and she raved about its non-stick properties in regards to baking. She recommends it for its "high heat tolerance on the grill and for baking as a healthier alternative to products like Pam." I did raise an eyebrow when I saw the words "propellant (no chlorofluorocarbons)" on the ingredients list. It's great to know the ozone's safe, but will we be safe? Apparently propellant is in most aerosol-style cooking sprays, so it's probably something that can't easily be avoided. 

But anyway, we were both impressed that actual coconut oil could be used as a replacement for traditional kitchen cooking sprays. Again, Trader Joe's appears to be ahead of the curve in terms of culinary innovation. There are other "health food" brands that make similar products, but they tend to be significantly more expensive than $3 a can. Felicia asks, "How long until big food companies pick up on this coconut cooking spray idea?" 

They're too busy finding new ways to kill us slowly, Felicia.

Ms. D'Ambrosio gives this product 5 out of 5 stars. I'll give it 4.5, docking half a star because part of me still wants it to taste more like coconut.

Bottom line: 9.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Indian Fare Madras Lentil

If you like veggie chili, I can't imagine you not liking this dish. It's another winner in TJ's "Indian Fare" line. At a mere $1.99, this product's an incredible value in my opinion.

It's tomato-based, with some kidney beans, lentils, and subtle spices. It goes great with rice, and I'm certain it would pair up nicely with Indian naan bread. It's not particularly chunky other than the beans, and unlike other veggie chilis, you won't find big pieces of tomatoes or other vegetables, but the lentils add a welcome heartiness that adequately fills that void.

The box suggests using it as a burrito filling, in case you're going for that "Indi-Mex" vibe. And I think it would work fine in any context you might use plain old American chili, too. You could put it on baked potatoes, create an interesting dish of international chili fries, or make your own Indian-American chili dog.

But at least part of the fun of dishes like this one is experiencing a small taste of another culture. You can be adventurous without breaking the bank at a fancy Indian restaurant. Apparently, Madras Lentil is also known as Dal Makhni, and it's usually "cooked on special occasions," according to the packaging. Click here to take a gander at other Indian-inspired product reviews from the WG@TJ's gang.

Like the Punjab Choley, this product requires no refrigeration, and like the Indian "hot pockets," it can be prepared in the microwave. It is, of course, vegetarian, but not vegan, as it does contain some cream and butter. It's not as hot as I would have liked it to be, but I guess not every Indian dish is supposed to be a spice-fest.

Considering the low cost, the ease of preparation, and the no-maintenance shelf-stability, this is one of the most hassle-free items we've come across at TJ's—or anywhere for that matter. Sonia and I are both impressed. 4 stars from each of us.

To see the prepared product close up, check out our video review on YouTube.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Organic Creamy Tomato Soup

A couple weeks ago, we reviewed Trader Joe's Organic Tomato and Roasted Red Pepper Soup. In that post, I brooded sufficiently over TJ's discontinuation of their Organic Tomato Bisque, so I shan't do so any more in this post. But man, I really miss that bisque!

I should also point out that a reader mentioned in a comment that Trader Joe's English Cheddar with Caramelized Onions makes a brilliant companion for the aforementioned red pepper soup. I would think this creamy tomato soup would work well with it also. Or try dipping Piccolo Paninis in one of those tasty TJ's soups.

All that being said, I guess you're wondering what this soup is actually like...

Well, it's got the texture of typical creamy tomato soup. Think Campbell's. Or think TJ's Roasted Red Pepper Soup. 'Nuff said.

As for the taste, it's not as good as TJ's Tomato Bisque. But nothing is. Furthermore, Sonia and I both agree that the Roasted Red Pepper Soup has a bit more flavor and uniqueness than this product. But if you're a fan of just plain old, traditional, classic tomato soup, then check it out. It's organic, so that puts it one step ahead of Campbell's, and it doesn't contain anything nasty like high fructose corn syrup, so that puts it two full steps ahead of Campbell's right there. And it tastes like creamy tomato soup. Pure and simple.

I only use Campbell's as an example since it's the archetype for all American soups, the wrapper of which is worthy of Warholian pop-art. It is the standard by which other soups are often measured. That doesn't mean there aren't other brands of healthier tomato soups out there. Amy's comes to mind. And word on the street is that she offers a chunky tomato bisque, comparable to Trader Joe's...I'm'onna check that out!

All in all, we can't complain. But I usually reserve the really high scores for weird stuff with bells and whistles. 4 stars from Sonia. 3 stars from me.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Cowboy Caviar

There's a few random things that spring to mind when I think of the product name "Trader Joe's Cowboy Caviar." First, for whatever reason, I can't recall right now what exactly real caviar is, so hold on just a moment...alrighty, well, honestly, that sounds kinda gross. A "cowboy" version of that woulda be even more gross, considering what we know of "Rocky Mountain oysters" and all, so, first, there's some gladness that this isn't something a little more literal. Secondly, there's the vision of actual cowboys eating actual caviar. I've always thought that the only people who eat caviar are people like the Grey Poupon gents, though it seems a little beneath them to randomly stop alongside another car and beg for condiments. So it's tough to think of grizzly, musty old booted cowboys enjoying some fine salt-cured fish eggs. It's a "tough meets classy" juxtaposition that's as comically out of place as Chuck Norris at a tea party (note carefully the capitalization of what I just said).

And third, well, despite the goofy name and all, Sandy and I were pretty glad there's a new salsa sheriff in town for our samplin'. Here's the actual verbatim exchange that transpired last Monday night between the two of us in the salsa/chip department. Unlike other conversations I've let you eavesdrop on, this one is not made up at all.  Me: "Want some chips and salsa?" Her: "Hrrmmmm...nah. There's nothing we haven't had." Me: "Yeah....wait... Cowboy Caviar? What the eff? Let's try it." Her: "Oooooooo I'll find us some chips!!!"

So, how does it stack up? Purdy darn well, amigo. Obviously, from the label and a quick peek at the jar contents, the base of this salsa is comprised of black beans, corn, and red bell peppers. Those just happen to be three main staples in our house that we seemingly never get sick of. There's nary a trace of tomato, except for a little puree that's the base for the chipotle adobo sauce that gets mixed in. Mmm, adobo sauce....that's the primary taste here. It's deep and smoky with a sneaky little kick to it that'll rattle you like a snake in your boot if you're spice-adverse. Despite that, though, you can still taste everythng...the citrus bite from the lime, the little flames of heat courtesy of the jalapenos, even a little sweetness, with the flavor of the beans and corn and peppers still poking through without getting too muddied up. This is certainly tilts towards chunky, with everything in it, but man, it works well. I misplaced the receipt so I can't tell you the exact price offhand, but it's about the price of a typical jar of salsa there, somewhere around $2.49 to $3 or so.

I'm not sure how the jar survived three nights between the two of us. It must be some newfound restraint Sandy and I have, because in the good ol' days, I could see this being polished off in a night. Seems to me the Cowboy Caviar would pair well with most any chip, but it was especially good with the veggie flaxseed tortilla chips we picked up (which may just be the most uncowboy-like ones available. Regardless...). It's a much better, taster spicier and truer salsa than the Corn and Chile Tomato-Less Salsa we tried way back, though Sandy loved that one too because of its lack of, well, tomatoes. This one had her fooled, too. "Four it up!" she exclaimed. Four it up, indeed, and tack on an extra half spoon just because. 

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Cowboy Caviar: 8.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Organic Tomato & Roasted Red Pepper Soup

Aside from slipping nasty products like Meatloaf Muffins and Sockeye Salmon Pasta by us once in a while, the meanest trick our friend Trader Joe likes to play on us is discontinuing amazing products like Lemon Gingersnap Ice Cream. TJ's execs clearly aren't reading our blog enough.

If they were, they wouldn't have taken away my beloved Organic Tomato Bisque. It was the perfection of tomato soup, in my self-important opinion. And if it ain't broke, Trader Joe, please don't try to fix it.

Now, I'm not saying this roasted red pepper stuff is bad. It's certainly not. It's just that it's so similar to the tomato bisque, that it's kinda pointless. If it were a slight improvement, I could understand. But it's not. There are no soft lumps of perfectly-stewed tomatoes. And if anything, the tomato flavor is dulled down just a tad. To this product's credit, it does taste slightly of red peppers, but the tomato-pepper combo just doesn't do it for me the way the pure tomato lusciousness did in the bisque.

Now I might just be illogically clinging on to something from the past in the same manner I was repulsed initially by the extended versions of the Lord of the Rings because they weren't exactly the same as the perfection that was the theatrical versions. But in the case with LOTR, each viewing made me like the extended versions more. In the case of this soup, each bowl simply makes me miss the bisque more. Please forgive me for this nerd-tacular comparison.

In summary, I think this soup falls just slightly shy of its potential. While the taste is similar to that of Trader Joe's Organic Tomato Bisque, whose spirit shall live on in the halls of our Pantheon long after its cans are forgotten by the shelves of your local TJ's store, this tomato red pepper soup's flavor is good but not amazing, and its texture is that of traditional creamy tomato soup. But make no mistake, as whiny as this post may sound to you, this soup is still really darn good.

My wife agrees, but she won't dock this product as much as I will. We gave the bisque a perfect score. She'll take away half a star for this soup. I'll have to knock off two full stars.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Guacamole Kit

This year for Lent, I promise you something. Unlike years past, when I've given up meat or sweets, I will not be endlessly writing about it on here, bugging the living crud out of 90% of you who just want to know my opinion of some fake meat or whatever. If you're really all that  interested in what I'm doing, you can check out my sporadically updated side gig.

This will be my one mention of things here: In addition to some other things, I've made the decision to include at least one raw vegan meal every day into my diet for the next few weeks. Perfect time of the year for that, eh? I'm hoping this just won't mean a salad or baggie of carrot sticks and an apple, although I'll be doing more than enough of that since my super-happy fruit of the earth meals will usually be my lunch during the week at work. Just works better that way for Sandy and I. And I mention that only because that decision to do raw vegan chow is what propelled me to buy Trader Joe's Guacamole Kit. I realize that guacamole is a pretty easy entry into the raw vegan world. It's about as adventurous as I wanted to get until I get "crazy" enough to try some of the tasty-lookin' recipes like this.

Anyways, does this guac kit rock it? Tough to say. Taking a look at it, $3.99 for this isn't exactly a killer deal. Let's compare to buying each part separately. There's two avocados (about a buck each for the good ones - we'll get back to that), a lime and about few garlic cloves (let's say 50 cents for the two), two jalapeños (cheap!), a tomato (let's round up and say 70 cents), and a teeny little onion that I mistook for a rounded garlic bulb at first glance. So that's not quite $4 worth of goods they're selling for $4. It's not a ripoff (there's always a price to pay for convenience) but it's not a steal either.

As for the stars of the carton, the avocados....yeeeeah. I'm not familiar enough with avocado carbon dating to know if mine were a little too old or not quite ripe yet. Regardless, I expect when I buy produce from somewhere, they'd be fine for consumption three days later. These were, but were tough, tough enough that I had to whip out our noisy-as-all-heck food processor (think heavy duty construction zone mixed with a congested snoring Gilbert Gottfried) at almost midnight to chunk them down instead of following through my original plan of fork-mashing them. Thank God I didn't wake up Sandy (granted, she regularly sleeps thru the alarm blaring six inches from her head every morning) or get any complaints from the neighbors. Even after about five minutes in there, there were still a sizable chunk or two that I'll just decide to man up and eat anyways. These avocados were very much unlike the ones TJ's sells separately, which whenever I've bought them have been soft and perfect, and I think a little bit bigger, too.

Everything else was great. The jalapeños were as fresh as the ones I've grown in our garden each summer, and no complaints about anything else. When I finally had a chance to take my taster for a test drive on my self-made guac, it was pretty decent overall. Nice, good kick to it, mostly because I didn't bother de-seeding the peppers, with plenty of lime as well. If I were thinking, I would've left all the tomato and onion and diced goodies out of the food processors, as I like the chunkier varieties, but this was okay enough for my first crack at making guacamole. I didn't measure exactly how much guac this made, but two cups seems to be a fair estimate. It'll be more than enough to dip some veggies in for lunch for the next few days.

I kinda assume the point of the guacamole kit is to try and entice folks who wouldn't be so inclined otherwise to make their own guac. I'm willing to take another crack at it, but next time I do, I honestly won't be buying this particular product again. The price isn't compelling and the quality is too much of a mixed bag. Regardless, I'm not overly dissatisfied, nor am I particularly satisfied. For Golden Spoon time, let's just play this completely down the middle.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Guacamole Kit: 5 out of 10 Golden Spoons.

Trader Joe's House Whip and Trader Joe's Greek Style Yogurt

Alright, I'll admit it, I'm scrounging a little here for some review matter. It's not entirely my fault. As part of some healthy eating kick the wifey and I are on, we're buying less prepackaged TJ's stuff, and especially we've cut down on all the tasty treats we used to gorge ourselves on. It's working. But then there's less selection from our grocery basket, unless you want to read about my thoughts about an apple or a bag of carrots. That's boring. From our last trip, I was thinking about two things in particular, but found out that Nathan had already reviewed some wasabi snacks, nixing that. No matter, we still had this new-fangled candy bar...except I spent too much time deedling and dawdling about what to write and how to work in some whole bit about kids and dinosaurs and this random Family Guy clip (true story) that Nathan swooped in and reviewed the new-ish PB&J chocolate bar before I could. Consider yourself spared. We've scrounged once or twice for review matter in the past, so I guess here goes my turn.

I'm left with two kinda boring, kinda plain products. However, I have a recommendation for both of them that you might not expect. I'm usually not one to give out cooking tips, leaving it to the pros who wrote the TJ cookbooks, but this is what I'm resorting to here.

First, let's go with Trader Joe's House Whip. Hmm, it's organic cool hwip. That's right, cool hwip. That's how I've been saying it around Sandy just to yank her chain. It drives her crazy. I don't know why. Anyways, I'm not usually a cool hwip kinda guy, and don't even get me started on that nasty spray junk from a can. But I like this. First, it's organic, and that's cool. Sandy says it shades towards tasting vanilla-y. Plus, while I'm sure it'll be a perfectly adequate ice cream topping or whatever else you use cool hwip for, Sandy's a genius and found a Weight Watchers dessert recipe that's simply cool hwip swirled around with a few dollops of your favorite peanut butter, separated into cupcake papers and frozen. My goodness. It helps I'm a peanut butter fiend, but man, those are awesome.  She made a dozen of them, and we were good and spread them out over a little more than a week, and just polished off the last of them tonight, and I want more already. Do it. Trust me. It's like rich peanut butter ice cream, except better, and in a few manageable, satisfying bites. You'll thank me.

You may also thank me after my suggestion for Trader Joe's Greek Style Yogurt. Sure, it's Greek yogurt, so use it as a sub for sour cream, or mix in some berries or honey or whatever. We've featured for many a taco night, or on top a baked potato, or a quick breakfast snag. That's not what I'm going for, even though I highly recommend it for all that. Did you know you can make pizza dough with just Greek yogurt and some self rising flour? I didn't. It's true. We've done it. Twice. It takes a little work and patience (because it looks NOTHING like pizza dough until all the sudden it does), but both times we've done it for homemade pizza, it's made an absolute killer crust. I like thick crust that's crispy on the outside and chewy in the middle. That's what this makes, plus it doesn't really taste like Greek yogurt at all. If you like thinner and all-the-way-through-crispier, I think you can just spread it a little thinner, and it'll work. We go back and forth between the regular and low-fat versions (depending on who's shopping/paying attention) and have been equally pleased with both.

Well, there you have it. There's not much else to be said about the House Whip or yogurt. Trying them together might be a little odd. The Greek yogurt is an absolute staple in our house, and the House Whip just might as we come up with some different dessert ideas using it as a base. There's no great way to really rate them, but here goes:

 Bottom lines: Trader Joe's House Whip: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons
Trader Joe's Greek-Style Yogurt: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons



 

Trader Joe's Indian Fare Palak Paneer and Trader Joe's Malabari Paratha

This whole week I've been crazy sick. My wife and I both got hit with what I'm assuming is H2N4, or "warthog fever" as I've been calling it. It's the latest mutation of the swine flu. I figure if the first strain had something to do with swine, then there was a second mutation that might have been named after potbelly pigs or something, and so on, up through boars and such, until they arrive at this horrific version which will logically be named after warthogs. Furthermore, when Sonia and I cough, it rather sounds like the grunting of a wild warthog. So there you have it: warthog fever.

I've been delirious these past five days from a high temperature and lots of medication. I take this generic NyQuil that makes me hallucinate so heavily that I believe that I've fully recovered overnight and then once it wears off, I realize that I'm still sick as a dog. It's a great scam: one becomes so attached to thinking that one is well, that you go ahead and take some more, even if there's little or no evidence that the medication is actually helping you fight off the flu. Er, but anyway, that's all just to say that if this blog post doesn't particularly make sense, it's probably because that cat got my girdle.

Oftentimes when ill, I like to eat spicy foods when I have enough of an appetite, as I find that the spices help clear my sinuses and charge up my body with a little energy and liveliness. Now, I don't keep track of what or how often I eat very well, unlike Russ who wisely keeps a detailed log of his daily intake, but I feel like I ate very little during this sickness. It's possible that I ate multiple meals during some of my NyQuil blackouts and I simply can't recall, however, I would think there would be evidence in the form of dirty plates and crumbs, etc. But again, I digress. All that to say that I was fairly hungry and ready to eat when we heated up these Indian dishes from TJ's.

Even though Mr. Shelly wasn't a huge fan of his most recent product like this, my last Indian dish from Trader Joe's was yummy, as was, incidentally, my last Indian snack from Archer Farms. However, all good international cuisine streaks must come to an end. And come to an end it did. The appearance of the palak paneer is as unappetizing as anything I've ever seen from Trader Joe's. It's a deep green mush, not unlike freshly juiced wheatgrass, but thicker and slightly darker. There are a few chunks of cheese throughout it, but by and large, it looks like...well, you know—something I've vowed not to talk about on this or any other food blog.

The taste is heavily vegetabley. And the "green" flavor as I shall call it overshadows the taste of the cheese bits. It's sort of bitter, although it's also kind of hard to describe, because it is a unique bitterness, if that makes any sense. There are some Indian spices, which did help clear my head for a moment, but they're not strong enough to make this dish worth trying simply out of love for hot Indian spices. Now, it might be the medication talking, but green sadness always makes the heart get grumpy.

Instead of eating this paneer with naan bread, we ate it with malabari paratha—an Indian food I've never heard of before. They're like little Indian pancakes. I really can't complain about these too much, but it's hard to separate them from the paneer, which I was definitely not a fan of. We cooked the paratha on the stove, and they came out rather oily...but maybe that's because we used too much oil when we pan fried them...? I didn't think we used that much, but who knows. In the state that Sonia and I have been in, it's a wonder we didn't pan fry them in TheraFlu. They're soft, white, and you can tear pieces off to dip in your paneer or whatever you've got. They don't have a whole lot of flavor, but I don't think they're meant to be a stand-alone item. 

Sonia gives 2 stars to the palak paneer. I'll be merciful and give it 2.5. Sonia gives 3.5 stars to the paratha, and I give it 3. It's been a sick, foggy week people, so everybody keep track of the sunshine, because the leprechauns are on the go this year.

Trader Joe's Indian Fare Palak Paneer. 

Bottom line: 4.5 out of 10 stars.

Trader Joe's Malabari Paratha. 

Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10 stars.