Trader Joe's Tuna Salad Wrap

I'm crazy about tuna.

Probably because of the high levels of mercury in it.

OK, well I just read some report that said only 5% of tested tuna cans have unsafe levels of mercury in them. Phew. That's a relief. Only 5%. But wait, that's 1 in 20. So, if over the span of your long life, you've had more than 20 cans of tuna...which I think is the case for many of us...certainly is for me...well, you do the math...the odds aren't really in your favor.

Anyway, I do like tuna, mercury-laden or not. And once you get past the mercury risk, there's the whole "dolphin safe" issue. Come to think of it, I didn't really do my homework and make sure TJ's was dolphin-safe. Of course, there are some groups that still claim there aren't any truly dolphin-safe companies in the U.S. and that the whole Department of Commerce Dolphin Safe logo is just a big conspiracy. But then, I'm sure there are some conspiracy theorists who would claim that the government is deliberately trying to kill off the dolphins in order to wipe them out for fear that in several million years they will evolve opposable thumbs, rise up and destroy humanity in revenge for all of their ancestors that died meaningless deaths upon our carelessly-cast tuna nets. That's actually not that far-fetched, really...bah, must be the mercury talking again...

Ahem, moving along...we shall now discuss the semi-deliciousness of the aforementioned Trader Joe's Tuna Salad Wrap. It's moist and tasty. The tuna salad is a good mix of mayo and vegetable bits and seasonings. Sonia actually much preferred this wrap over the Chicken Caesar Wrap we reviewed a week or two ago, but as she pointed out, the tuna wrap still could use a little more kick in the flavor department. I could see how maybe dropping a few banana peppers in the wrap would help it a bit, just like they do with my tuna sandwich at Subway...mmm, now I'm craving Subway.

I guess that if, whilst reviewing a particular food product, one begins craving a completely different company's product, that the former product has not been very memorable or totally satisfactory. I guess I do prefer Subway's tuna sandwich—or even the TJ's Chicken Caesar Wrap, but only by a little. All things considered, the tuna wrap is a nice, fresh snack, but don't expect anything life-changing. This is a "not bad" food all the way. 3.5 out of 5 stars from me. Sonia agrees.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Rice Noodle Soup Bowls

I have a confession of sorts to make.

When it all comes down to it, I'm just not really a lunch guy.

Breakfast is usually my favorite meal of the day, especially if involving eggs and some good bacon. But sometimes, even just a bowl of delicious hearty cereal does the trick pretty well. Dinner, in any and all of its manifestations, is something I routinely look forward to and enjoy. But lunch? Usually, for me, it's kind of lame. Most of the time it means I'm still at work for a few more hours, and I'm munching on whatever I managed to grab in 30 seconds of half-awake stupor before running out the door, or some cheap greasy not-that-great chow that I went and fetched from some run-of-the-mill chain restaurant. I'd rather skip lunch altogether and either snack through out the day or hold out for one large mid-to-late afternoon meal, but since my work schedule doesn't look too kindly on that, I'm kinda forced into the lunch option. I think that's why I routinely look for the cheapest, easiest ways to do lunch, because if I don't like the meal all that much to begin with, I don't see the point in investing time, effort and money into trying to make it better.

Enter Trader Joe's Rice Noodle Soup Bowls.

For starters, they come in three varieties - Mushroom, Garlic, and Spring Onion. To review each flavor would be as pointless as reviewing each flavor of Ramen noodles - they all kinda taste the same, without all that much distinction. And, like Ramen, they're certainly not fantastic either - cheap noodles with some colored salt on them, and that's more or less it. Don't let the "Thailand" on the front fool you - these are about as authentically Thai as a can of Chef Boyardee ravioli is authentically Italian. They're not even remotely close to any Thai noodle bowl I've had at any restaurant anywhere - there's no sense of the complexities and layers of heat that good Thai cuisine offers. It's really just salt and parsley, a fancier Cup o' Noodles if you will. With a lot more packaging, to the point it seems downright wasteful. There's the outside cardboard sleeve, the plastic shrinkwrap, the lid on the bowl, the bowl itself (pretty sturdy in its own right), then inside there's a plastic baggie that's open half the time anyways that holds the foil seasoning packet, smaller baggie of either leafy green stuff or mushroom nanobits (depending on which variety you chose) and another little plastic packet of oil which I guess is supposed to add flavor to the broth. That strikes me as being packaging overkill - skip the cardboard sleeve and the bigger inside plastic baggie at the very least. Anyways, once you buzzsaw your way through all of that, dump it all together and splash in some water and nuke it for three minutes, the end result can be very inconsistent from one batch to the next. Without doing anything discernibly different and being very careful to fill the water to the lower inside rim, I've had bowls that were thick and full of noodles with very little broth, and others that seemed to average-to-skimpy in noodle-to-soup ratio.

Okay, enough with the negatives. I actually kinda like them. Here's why. They're certainly pretty easy to make, even with the most primitive of workplace kitchens at my otherwise state of the art facility where I work. The rice noodles, while not spectacular, do a decent enough job of tiding me over. Tastewise they're passable enough. But the number one thing they have going for them is this: coworkers have seen me eating them and have asked me how they were. My typical response has been "Eh, they cost a buck and they taste like it." That was just something offhand I happened to say without thinking about it much until I randomly found myself one day in the international food aisle of the local grocery chain. Perfectly identical rice noodle bowls (even down to the same three flavors of mushroom, garlic and spring onion) were $2.29 each. Even at the neighborhood Trader Joe's, they sell another brand of microwavable noodle bowls for $2 American a pop. These? One greenback. That's it. And while I'm willing to acknowledge I may be missing out on something, to me these are about as good as I can reasonably expect instant noodles to taste like, and even if the other brands are better, I doubt it'd be worth paying twice as much for them.

Chef Boyardee used to be my default quick-grab work lunch that cost a singleton. Not any more. I routinely snag at least three or four each shopping trip and Sandy grabs one or two for herself as well. I don't think it's that we're necessarily big fans of them, but we like the fact that they're cheap and simple, and they work well enough for lunch for us. Sandy was wavering between giving them a three or four before settling in the middle with a three and a half, stating she wished they were spicier and more Thai-like. For me, I have to dock some pointage for the wasteful packaging (though I've reused a couple of the plastic bowls for my desk to hold office supplies, and Sandy said maybe they could be useful at her preschool) and join with my wife in wishing they offered more spice and flavor, but the fact that I routinely purchase and munch on them for lunch says I can't dislike them too much, even if that's based more on value than overall performance. I don't know, sounds like a three to me.

Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Chicken Caesar Wrap

In the great state of Pennsylvania, there's a big convenience store turf war going on. From the west comes Sheetz. They've pretty well dominated the state in terms of 24-hour gas, food, and coffee operations. The unmistakable glowing red trim of Sheetz stores shines all through the night in a plethora of towns in PA and several surrounding states. Every time Sonia and I visit my parents in central PA, we stop by a Sheetz and order up some custom nachos or a made-to-order sandwich using their novel touch-screen system.

In addition to some national chains, the eastern part of the state has Turkey Hill minit-marts. But the Philadelphia area, where Sonia and I live now, is dominated by Wawa convenience stores. Sheetz has not yet been able to breach Wawa's line of defense. There are a staggering 200 Wawa stores within 20 miles of our apartment. It would be nice if we had access to both Sheetz and Wawa, but for now we'll have to settle for only having Sheetz on special occasions and westward-bound day trips.

Wawa offers a variety of pre-made sandwiches and snacks, and Sonia has completely fallen in love with their chicken caesar wraps. I agree that they're tasty, but I think there are plenty of other good chicken caesar wraps out there, including this one from Trader Joe's.

Upon tasting the TJ's brand, Sonia was crestfallen. True, it didn't taste identical to Wawa's chicken caesar, but I was impressed with its fresh, homemade qualities. Trader Joe's wrap had tomatoes, something that should have impressed Sonia more than me...she's a much bigger fan of fresh tomato than I am. The lettuce and spinach in TJ's variety were a dark, rich green and the chicken was all good, tender white meat. The one thing I will give her is that the dressing on the Trader Joe's wrap tasted a lot more like peppercorn ranch than caesar. Luckily, I like peppercorn ranch, but in Sonia's case...not so much.

Sonia's affinity for Wawa's chicken caesar and her dislike of peppercorn-esque dressings yielded one of our most lopsided scores ever, since I was quite pleased with Trader Joe's product, as usual. I give it a 4. Sonia was only half as impressed. She gives it a 2.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Heat & Eat Falafel

Growing up in a small town in central Pennsylvania, there weren't a whole lot of food joints around that sold falafel. I think I was aware of its existence at some point in college, but I never tried it until I lived in L.A., where they had Lebanese chicken places all over the city, most notably Roro's and a chain called Zankou. Both restaurants sold falafel. I tried it. Tasty. I'm definitely a fan of the versatile chick pea (garbanzo bean) and I always have been since I discovered them at the local Bonanza Steakhouse salad bar at the age of six.

With falafel, though, the chick peas are mashed up with some choice spices, rolled into little balls and then deep fried. I'm getting hungry just thinking about it...

This particular Trader Joe's variety comes frozen, although I've heard rumors of non-frozen, fresh falafel from TJ's, too. They actually suggest you reheat these frozen ones in the microwave, although the oven is an acceptable method as well. Before I filled my pita pocket with them or put any hummus on them, I just tried one plain. Delicious!

We ate them with Trader Joe's Smooth and Creamy Spicy Hummus. Ah, hummus, another brilliant chick pea derivative. This product doesn't lie. I totally agree that it's smooth, creamy, and spicy—but not too spicy. Just right. The flavors in here mixed very well with the falafel.

The inner circle (you can see it in the photo) is where all the spiciness comes from. There are dark flecks of some kind of peppery stuff in there. I think it's dark matter. I certainly hope all dark matter tastes this delicious, because our universe is quite full of it. If all dark matter is just like this, once we start really exploring the depths of space, let me tell you, we're in for a spicy future...

OK, that was weird. I just got all astronomical on you. Mainly to see if you were paying attention. But also because I needed a little filler to extend this section of the review beyond the photo of the hummus. It never looks quite right when I post multiple pictures in one review...Whatever, I know I'm weird.

Anyway, back to the topic...Finally, we ate the falafel and hummus in these Trader Joe's Soy Pita Bread pockets. Again, the perfect compliment to the other flavors present. Soy pita is just as good as regular pita. To tell you the truth, I couldn't really tell the difference. Maybe because there's almost as much wheat in these as there is soy. They're definitely not gluten-free. Whattaya gonna do?

So to summarize, we have a trio of big winners here. Especially the falafel. And it's all vegetarian. Let's take our final looks:

Trader Joe's Heat & Eat Falafel. Sonia gives it a perfect 5. I give it a 4.5. Bottom line: 9.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Smooth and Creamy Spicy Hummus. Double 4.5's. Bottom line: 9 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Soy Pita Bread. Sonia gives it a 4.5. I give it a 4. Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Paneer Tikka Masala

So, my last review got me thinking about the whole classes of vegetarianism thing, and like any good, curious fellow in this age and time, I went straight to the infallible, omnipotent source of all knowledge readily available on the interwebs ... yup, Wikipedia (Nathan sure got our unspoken WGATJ creed right). Turns out there's a lot of denominations within vegetarianism, enough to make my head spin. There's the vegans, who are pretty simple to understand - no animal product of any type. Raw vegans take it a step further - only raw, uncooked fruits, veggies, nuts, seeds, etc. Fruitarians go even more out on a limb and eat only such things that when harvested don't "harm" the plant (some of them don't even eat seeds because it "kills" future plants), but it's unclear to me if they can cook stuff or not ... maybe once it's fallen off the tree, do with it what you will? Going back towards the center, there's all the vegetarian classifications like pescetarianism, which allows for seafood, pollo-pescetarianism (seafood, poultry and white meat ... basically, Sandy's diet except the occasional burger), and so on. I kinda get all that, but then start seeing stuff like ovo vegetarianism (eggs okay, dairy not) and lacto-vegetarianism (dairy okay, eggs not), and think of all the label reading and care those following these diets must undergo to make sure they're not accidentally eating something that violates the tenets of their chosen food gospel ... I mean, I'm kinda just used to sticking whatever tastes good in my mouth and going with it. I'd like to try to pay some more attention to what I'm eating, maybe. Seems more purposeful somehow.

So let's start with this, Trader Joe's Paneer Tikka Masala. Okay, let's take a look at it ... I see cheese, rice, sauce and spices ... that's four of my major food groups right there that are good for me in moderation. Off to a good start. No meat ... no eggs ... hey, even gluten-free (like some other fine TJ treats) ... but it does have cheese. So this is lacto-vegetarian, then, right? Well, yes, but only because paneer (that's the cheese) isn't produced with rennet, an animal-byproduct enzyme that does something or other to pretty much every other cheese in the world. Apparently those lacto-vegetarians aren't down with that (also, no gelatin is given the green light ... c'mon, no Jello?). With all that and no eggs to boot, I can imagine it being tough to follow that kind of diet.

I'm sure it'd be easier if everything tasted this good.

Contrary to the picture on the box, the tikka masala comes in a compartmentalized plastic tray with the rice on one side, the cheesy saucy chunks on the other, with some plastic film on top that you poke a couple breathing holes in before nuking for about four minutes to heat on up from its normative frozen state. When taken out and film peeled away, the sweet-'n-spicy aroma will definitely draw the attention of your white bread coworkers, like mine who stare in wonder at my French press every morning while I make my coffee. It smells delicious and intoxicating and once the fragrance hit my olfactory receptors, my immediate thought was, game on. I tackled the paneer side first. The paneer comes in little tiny cubey chunks bathing in reddish-orangish creamy tomato sauce. I scooped up a couple and took them in, and was immediately pretty happy. The cheese bits were okay, nothing too special, kind of like the lovechild of tofu and soft, mild mozzarella in both taste and texture. But the sauce ... dare I say majestic? It was a little sweet and definitely creamy (enough to make me think there might be coconut milk involved - nope), light, and has a good little kick to it, too. The turmeric really stands out to me, at least. Though not exactly the same, it reminded me of some good Thai curries I've had. It definitely tastes warm and I could feel my taste buds dancing around when I slathered them with tasty spoonful after tasty spoonful. Really, really good - I wish TJ's or someone would bottle it, and I'd be tempted to put it on just about anything. The spinach rice was decent, too, but not all that noteworthy. Except when the sauce mingled its way on over, that is.

I'm a fan of this, and judging by the beeline Sandy makes for this when perusing the freezer section, she is too. Considering the first two ingredients are tomatoes and onions (two of her least favorite foods), that speaks volumes to its overall goodness. Sandy said she has to refrain herself from picking up the tray and licking out every last bit of the sauce every time she has it for lunch. I scraped out every trace I could with my spoon and wiped some more out with my finger when no one was looking. Just so good. Not sure how it stacks up overall compared to the chicken variation of the dish, but I was pretty well pleased.

The only truly negative thing I'd say about the dish is, although the paneer isn't all that spectacular, it's good enough that I wish there were more of it. I'm guesstimating there were maybe a dozen minute chunks of it in my lunch. Sandy echoed the sentiment and said she'd be lucky if she had that many. Because of the paucity of cheesy chunks I'd say it might be slightly overpriced at $2.99 but you can certainly spend a lot more on something else and not get something quite this good for a workplace lunch.

The two of us are pretty solidly in agreement that overall, this is one pretty darn worthwhile lunchtime pick up, especially if you enjoy Indian food. That sauce .... mmm. We love it enough to both grade the whole dish a sturdy four out of five, and award it a regular spot in our work lunch rotation.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons
p.s - Don't forget about our contest ... please don't let Nathan win!

Trader Joe's Lavash Flat Bread

Am I wrong, but there's something to be said for good, cheap carbs, right?

Probably the most famous cheap carb is the beloved Ramen noodle package. Well, "beloved" might be a stretch, but it's a pretty universal experience for college kids to subsist on them for long stretches of time. I certainly was one of them. My sophomore year, I sincerely doubt I went a day without a meal that involved either Ramen or leftover pizza from the dinner shift at Papa John's. It certainly helped that they were 10 for a buck at the local grocery shop. Some nights I'd eat two packages, other nights I'd mix in some frozen veggies and maybe make a piece of chicken. But man, all the Ramen ... I don't know how I didn't die from malnutrition. Once I was really, truly, ineffably sick of them, my grandmother came to the rescue and sent me a Ramen noodle cookbook. I had no idea about all the different possible uses for Ramen ... all the different stir-fries and noodle-based dishes, and even things like salads and pizza (using the noodles as a crust). That kept me going on them throughout the rest of my college years until I could finally routinely afford better starchy goods, like shells and cheese.

Anyways, I love me some carbs. I could never be a legit vegetarian because I like meat waaay too much, and Dr. Atkins and I would never be dietary BFFs because he'd be slapping bagels out of my hands way too often. And the more ways I can use a single form of carb (like the Ramen noodles) the better.

That's why I like Trader Joe's Lavash so much. It's a pretty simple product, it's just a legal-document sized ( 9.5 x 13) rectangle of rather plain baked dough. But, like the package says, this is some fairly versatile stuff, and there's a lot of it. The first time Sandy and I broke it out, we used it as a crust for a thin crust basil pesto pizza. It was good enough that we've used it a couple more times as a crust since then. When baked, it gets really crispy and crackery when the sides and corners get browned and curled up. I'd definitely recommend if using it for a pizza, let it bake for a little while longer than you'd figure otherwise as the middle can get a little sogged down with sauce, etc, but rebounds nicely if given the proper oven lovin' time. But that's not the only good use of the lavash. I've made a breakfast wrap or two with it, and it held up with the eggs and cheese well. Sandy's taken it to work a couple times and used it like a tortilla with some rice and beans, and reported satisfactory results. The great thing is, there's six of them in a package ($2.19, so a decent value), so there's plenty of it with which to experiment. I'd imagine they'd be pretty good cut and baked to munch on like a pita chip, or maybe even buttered, sugared, and cinnamoned, then cut into strips and baked for a dessert. Or maybe make some garlic breadsticks out of them in a similar fashion ... the possibilities may be endless.

The form of the lavash is pretty pliable, too. We tend to keep bread in the fridge to extend the shelf life some. I just wolfed down the last two-week old half-sheet remnant a few minutes ago, and it was as soft, floury, and flexible as the first time we used it. I could literally bend it any which way, and it wasn't stiffened enough to crack or break. Yet, it easily rips in a straight-enough line if you ask it to. I have to say, I'm pretty impressed overall.

Sandy gives it a 4.5 overall. "Mmm ... carbs ... it's good and it works. Not much else to be said," she says. Considering that I find myself craving a lavash-crust pizza once or twice a week, I'm inclined to be in the same ballpark. Part of me wishes it had a bit more flavor, like some sesame or poppy seeds mixed in (that's pretty common in Middle Eastern countries, from where this was inspired), but its plainness lends itself better to the overall versatility to use it to make it part of something of your own creation. Sounds like a 4.5 to me as well.

Bottom line: 9 out of 10 Golden Spoons.

Trader Joe's Lentil Soup with Ancient Grains

So, if you've paying close attention to my (Russ) posts over the past two weeks or so, you may have noticed that I've been featuring a lot of vegetarian/meat-free meals and options. This is because, in homage to Sandy's Catholic upbringing (and as a sort of experiment), the two of us decided to give up meat for Lent this year. Not just on Fridays, but for the entirety of the season (except for me, on Sundays, as taking a break from a Lenten fast is allowed then - hey, the Pope and Wikipedia are cool with it, so am I). It's been kinda tough - it's not like I've been getting the meat DTs - but as being accustomed to a certain level of carnivoredom worthy of my high position in the food chain, there's been times I've noticed a little meat could help make a decent meal even better.

Fortunately, Trader Joe's seems to have a fair amount of decent vegetarian lunch options, so I've been taking it as an opportunity to explore some mealtime choices I wouldn't otherwise. There's been some really pleasant surprises so far, and each new found good treat makes it a little easier.

Take this lentil soup for an example. I don't think I've ever had lentil soup before and the whole "ancient grains" part makes it sound like some sort of primordial stew that only hippies in Volkswagen toaster vans would enjoy. If not in search of cuddly animal-less lunches, I probably would never have found this, or may have even roundly rejected the notion when Sandy spotted it and put it in the cart. "We should try it," she said, and since she's always right, we did.

Fantastic. This is some heavy, serious stuff. Sandy siphoned some off one morning into some Tupperware for her lunch, and gave me the rest for mine. I am continually of a large appetite, and the roughly half a container I had more than filled me up with the assistance of an apple and handful of pretzels. It was kind of tough for me to discern what all was in there, it was so loaded. Definitely a lot of lentils, but texturally nothing stood out - not even all the veggies like carrots, onions and celery. I presume the "ancient grains" refer mostly to the quinoa (of which I'm slowly building an appreciation for) and millet, and maybe the flax seeds. The broth (if you can call it that, it's so thick) tastes mostly like cumin to me, though it's got some garlic here, some pepper and paprika there. It's spicy, but not in a spicy hot way ... it's more like a spicy full-flavored tastiness. And thick is the operative word - this stuff is dense and heavy, not all watered down like other soup options. I really, truly enjoyed this, and while spooning my way through this, I could actually ignore/not be envious of the guys sitting a few tables over plowing through their daily ration of buffalo wings. If you know me, that says a lot. This definitely the kind of stuff that'd be great on a colder day to stick inside you to warm and fill you up, but I think it'd pass muster even as the temps finally get a little warmer out here. And as a bonus, unlike some otherwise pretty decent TJ lunch options, it gives me a container (with a lid!) to keep and reuse and not draw too much spousal ire, though at this writing, I don't know if Sandy knows I still have it or not. Sometimes it's easier to ask for forgiveness than it is for permission.

I'm huge enough of a fan of it to go ahead and give it a perfect five. It's just that ridiculously good. Sandy surprised me when she said she'd offer it only a three, as she looked genuinely disappointed on Monday when we shopped and they were out of it. "It's good, but I just like my soup to be more soup-like, not all thick like it was," she said. Eh, to each their own, I guess. Even after Lent's up, I'll be checking the shelf still for it.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Ricotta & Spinach Tortelloni with Red Pesto

Want to know one of my favorite things about Trader Joe's?

The cashiers.

Seriously.

At the local store, at least, they are routinely some of the friendliest, knowledgeable, and conversational retail workers I've ever encountered. Most of them are quick to give a quick, honest opinion whether good or bad (like the clerk giving me a knowing nod and slightly uneasy "yeah" when returning these catastrophes) and just genuinely nice. Compare and contrast to the way I usually feel "tolerated" by the cashiers at the local big chain. On one of my last shopping trips there (because TJ's, unfortunately, doesn't carry everything) the clerk was literally slamming and throwing my groceries through the scanner and down the belt because she was "tired" and "felt like (unprintable)" ... if I hadn't spent half an hour in line and just wanted to go home, I would have reported her to management. I'll do something more effective and choose not to spend my dollars there. It's sad when your most courteous service comes from the self checkout that insists you have to put your item in the bag and have it "settle"in there in five seconds or the alarm goes off.

I mention this because on our last trip, I picked this package of tortelloni, and the clerk happily chirped that this was her favorite of the burgeoning microwavable pasta selection TJ's offers. This started a nice friendly little conversation about this blog, and if you, Mrs Nice TJ's cashier, are reading this, I dedicate it to you.

Okay, the tortelloni ... how's that different than tortellini? And shouldn't this really be Trader Giotto's goods? I'm glad I'm not the only one who forgets about him. Questions aside, this is some decent stuff. I'm not the biggest fan of ricotta and related cheeses. I'm sure it's not exactly Grade A creamy matter they stuff the pasta with, but it's gets my stamp of approval, with a caveat. Not sure if it was the work microwave's fault, but some of the stuff seemed to get a little overzapped and grainy in small pockets here and there. But it's pretty passable even for someone on the fence like me, and it helps that the pasta good and firm, not limp like some other stuff.. The pesto sauce is fairly zesty with all the basil and Italian spices, and even has a little kick. The veggies in it are decent - they definitely taste grilled, and are quite flavorful, but they're kinda squishy. It'd be nice if zucchini and peppers were a little crisper, but I guess between grilling, freezing and nuking there's only so much that can be expected. You get a fairly generous portion, even for someone with a larger appetite like me. Between this and an apple, I was pretty satisfied the rest of my work day. Pretty simple to make, too - just take off the surrounding cardboard, peel a corner of the top film off, zap it, and three minutes later you got lunch. Good tasting stuff.

But I have a complaint to make. I hope it's at least somewhat valid. But I love containers, simply because they can "contain" things. What things? Anything! And if you get them for free somehow, like with a food purchase, even better. Chinese takeout Tupperware is the king of this. I routinely save any and all beer case boxes to store stuff in the basement. Sandy, when preparing to move in, had to take quite some time convincing me it was okay to throw out the stack of clementine crates I had accumulated and saved over many a scurvy-busting session. It didn't matter that the crates were empty and had been for months - they could hold something and be useful and just didn't belong in a landfill when they're perfectly fine. Seriously, I was nearing Hoarders-level obsession with this kind of stuff - my house was going to turn into a literal container of containers. I'm getting better (thanks, wife), but still ... this stuff comes in a plastic squarish bowl thing. It doesn't have a lid (just that film over top) and it's kinda flimsy-ish (suitable enough to get your lunch from the freezer to your belly), but it's just solid enough to suggest (to me, at least) that it shouldn't just be tossed and to instead find another use. I knew I couldn't bring it home or Sandy would give me the stink eye for sure. I tried to think of what I could put in it for work - about the only thing I could think of was paper clips, and I've used three of those in the last year, so that didn't seem too beneficial. And since it was lidless, it'd be tougher to re-use as a food container. To compound the issue, for whatever reason, my work doesn't have lunchroom recycling, so it wasn't a matter of just tossing it in a bin. I was genuinely conflicted about what to do ... environmental responsibility vs psychological/obsessive-compulsive indulgence vs domestic tranquility ... well, I won't say what I did, but I feel ashamed. Lunch shouldn't make you feel that way. Good thing it was tasty.

Sandy hasn't tried this and never will. There's not only cherry tomatoes in it, but also they're deliberately cut in half to spread their tomatoey guts everywhere. It's a nonstarter for her. So I'll just double my score ... I'll give it a solid seven overall. Give me a real lid for it, and we'll revisit this.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader José's Mildly Spiced Vegetable Burritos

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

Why do I mention this?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

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

Trader Joe's Trader Potato Tots

Xerox. Kleenex. Scotch Tape. These are all pretty commonly known, pretty commonly used terms we use that are actually trademarked brand names. Like, somebody asks you for a Kleenex, and you know to pass them a tissue, whether it's that brand name or not.

But tater tots?

Excuse me, I mean Tater Tots™.

Yes, Ore-Ida actually trademarked the term Tater Tots™ to refer to those little, crispy, semi-greasy, hot, salty, irresistible cylindrical logs of tasty, potatoey goodness known by any good red-white-and-blue-blooded kid ever subjected to cafeteria food in the past fifty years. And to most adults, too. I have yet to find anyone who doesn't like a good, heaping serving of tots, and if I were to find someone, I'd assume they either grew up in a cave on the moon or were a Cyborg. Most likely, both.

Anyways, that trademarking thing is a little unfair sometimes, I think. For instance, Trader Joe's wants to make Tater Tots™, and can't call them that for legal reasons, although they are universally colloquially known as such in the parlance of our times. So they have to come up with another name and the best they can do is "Trader Potato Tots." Yeah, try saying that five times fast (it's even tougher with your mouth full of them). So many things wrong with that name. I mean, what else would you make a tot out of that would lead you to specify it was made from a potato? I've never heard of a broccoli tot or kumquat tot or carrot tot or anything like that. I'm fine with "tater tot" because it's natural and easy to say; "potato tot" is not. And do I want to know what a "trader potato" is? For some reason that conjures up the image of a potato made out of tofu to me, which I don't think is possible (and may be more technically a "traitor potato"), which just isn't right. Don't mess with the goodness of a potato, especially in one of its finest incarnations as a tot. The best alternative for a name I can think of is Trader Tots, though I'm a pharmacy technician and not a trademark lawyer, so I don't know if that's consider too closely named to Tater Tots™.

Anyways, forget all that and let's start chomping. And chomping. And (I wish) more chomping. Needless to say, Sandy and I love these. We usually bake them up (if we had a deep fryer, we'd deep fry everything, even bacon) and plow them down as soon as they're cool enough to bite on down. They seem pretty much unsalted, so sometimes we sprinkle some on, or douse them with a little hot sauce. Sometimes, we just grab them by the handful and mash them on down the trachea. That's usually the nights we make them after going to the gym. The only thing semi-negative thing about them is, Sandy and I have been trying to watch what we eat, and we figure portion control is a good thing, so we try to eat only one serving of whatever we eat. According to the nutrition label, one serving of these guys is only ten tots! Find me anyone, other than my wife and a crotchety, stingy blue-haired cafeteria lady, who thinks eating only ten tots is a good idea. Impossible. If Trader Joe said I could eat more on the label, then I would be allowed. Sigh. On the plus side, you get a two pound bag for only about $2, which at our consumption rate makes them last a while, though certainly not by my choice.

I'm not describing much about what they taste like, because imagine an ideal, good, tasty tot, and yup, that what these taste like. Tots are a classic taste that's so comforting, so good, and honestly, so hard to mess up. Kinda like meatloaf in that regard, though I've had bad meatloaf (never yours, Mom or Megan), and have never ever had a bad tot. So our ranking reflects more of our general feeling towards tater tots .... which is total love. Five from the Mrs and you can take five from me ... uh, Sandy, I'm talking about Golden Spoons, you cannot take half of my allotted tots, you give those back right now! Sandy!!!!!

Bottom line: 10 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Jacques' Ham and Cheese Croissant Sandwiches

Yay! Another "international" TJ's product. This time it's from Joe's arrogant French chef friend, Jacques. No, I don't think all French are arrogant. Of the many French people I've met, only one or two were arrogant, and the rest were friendly, down-to-earth folk.

However, we know that this Jacques fellow is an arrogant jerk. Just look at that fancy type-face on the box. It's a ham and cheese sandwich for cryin' out loud. You stick it in a croissant, and what, you think we're eating gourmet all of a sudden!? At $4.69 for two of them, they darn well better be gourmet...2 frozen ham and cheese sandwiches for $5...<huff> the arrogance! Pretentious Frenchious.

(Again, I have no problems with the French. I've been to Paris, and I thought the people were lovely.)

And what kind of person puts 95% of the US RDA for saturated fat in ONE ham and cheese sandwich!!?? An arrogant one, that's for sure! No ham and cheese sandwich is worth that much fat, not even one as scrumptious as this. Maybe the French national RDA for saturated fats is much higher than ours...? Somehow I doubt it.

But they are pretty yummy. Their taste almost justifies their fattiness. The cheese and croissant bread are pretty indulgent, and they come out soft and fluffy. But, there's not nearly enough ham inside. It's like they took one single ham cold cut slice and hid it beneath layers of bread and cheese. (Oh, but it's "Black Forest Ham," straight from the Schwarzwald of Bavaria, I'm sure.) Wait, isn't that in Germany? Shouldn't Jacques have chosen Bayonne Ham instead?

There aren't any cooking options that don't involve the oven. You may thaw it in the microwave, but you've got to fire up that big bad boy and bake it proper for at least 30 minutes.

These might be an option if you're really looking for a once-in-a-great-while kind of treat...but at 34g of fat (19 of which is saturated fat), and 550 calories per sandwich, it's just not worth it, in my opinion. Also, the 30+ minutes to cook them and the nearly $5 price tag make these puffy little pastry sandwiches a pass.

I give them 3 out of 5 Stars. Sonia gives them a 3 as well. Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Whole Grain Hard Pretzel Sticks

Okay, let me cut to the chase here:

These SUCK. Do NOT, under circumstance, get these. Whole grain pretzel sticks look like they might be a good premise, a good healthy snack. Well, they might be healthy, but they are horrible, horrendous, and just plain disgusting.

How bad are they? If pretzels were Willie Mays, these would be wearing a Mets uniform. If they were Sly Stallone, these guys would be "starring" alongside Dolly Parton in "Rhinestone." If they were the Beatles, ... well, let's just say Yoko Ono would be involved. These pretzels take something so good, so pure and enjoyable, and turn it into crap.

I mean, I love pretzels. Any kind of pretzel - sticks, rods, nuggets, those little grid-like guys, soft, extra dark, splits, sourdough, honey wheat, soft pretzels, flavored bits and pieces, pretzel buns, anything remotely pretzel-like. I went through high school eating two soft pretzels for lunch everyday (well, except taco day, okay). Sandy made awesome homemade soft pretzels a few days ago that once I polished them off I was begging for more. They are definitely one of my favorite snack food groups, partly because they're healthy compared to chips and cheesy doodles, and also because they're just good.

And these guys ... blah. I tried to like them. I really did. I wanted to like them. But there's nothing redeeming about them. They're bland, tasteless sticks of particle board. They're sparingly salted, which is okay, but there's no flavor to them otherwise, except burned. I took a look inside a stick I halfway crunched, and there's an orange-brownish ring surrounding a teeny white core. So they are just overbaked - I guess maybe that's to help them boast about their claim to be "hard", but they're really not - they're really not any more crunchy than any other pretzel stick. But they are much drier, which makes all the saw dust they leave in your mouth much trickier to swallow. After only two or three I needed a drink to literally wash them down.

I guess it's part of the whole grain curse. Whole grain foods, when made right, taste wonderful and nutty and delicious and help fill you up healthfully. But when made wrong ... man, I don't care how good they might be for you if they don't taste good. The marginal health benefits don't outweigh the taste experience for me. And these pretzels are about the best example I can think of for this.

I had Sandy try one. She munched down half a stick, made a face, went to the fridge and got out a jar of peanut butter to dip the other half in. That sounds like an epoxy recipe to me. "They're better with something," she said. I can buy that, but then that pretty much defeats the whole purpose of having a healthy snack. It's like making broccoli to eat healthy but dumping molten Velveeta on it - having to add something unhealthy to make an otherwise good-for-you food edible seems counterproductive and deceptive.

Anyways, I cannot find anything good about them. I considered returning them to the store, but maybe I'll save them for our dog when we run out of his treats. He wouldn't know the difference. Sandy is a little more forgiving than me, and she said she'd give them a two, "maybe a three," so that sounds like a two-and-a-half to me. Well, that's all they're gonna get. Absolute zero from me.

Bottom line: 2.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Really Expensive Authentic Handcrafted Chicken Burritos

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Meatless Corn Dogs

One day, I was particularly in the mood for corn dogs as I roamed the crowded aisles of my local Trader Joe's, when I spotted these frozen puppies. I didn't see any other varieties nearby, and I was crestfallen upon noticing the "meatless" seal on the cover of this box. I wanted meatful corn dogs. Who ever heard of a vegetarian corn dog?

Well, my friends, I was brave that fateful day (not to mention really desperate for a corn dog) and I went ahead and bought these corn dogs, devoid of life-sustaining meat. And wouldn't you know it, but the evil genius that decided it was a good idea to make vegetarian corn dogs also decided it would be a good idea to make them taste good. Now, I'm not going to lie to you -- if I had a meaty corn dog in one hand and these Trader Joe's Meatless Corn Dogs in the other, I could probably tell which was which. But, without having the meatful corn dog for reference, the average consumer probably wouldn't detect the absence of meat in these amazing TJ's Corn Dogs. I really like them. Easy to microwave, relatively healthy; look there, "4g of Soy Protein."

I've got to hand it to these vegetarians; not liking the taste of veggie foods is an increasingly invalid excuse for eating meat with every meal. Trader Joe's Meatless Corn Dogs are healthy and tasty, and you can enjoy them without wondering if there are pig snouts or hooves in the food. Always a plus.



Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Organic Tomato Bisque

Of all the things I would have guessed to be absolutely bursting with flavor, it wouldn't have been tomato soup. But this tomato bisque is quite possibly the best tomato-based soup I've ever had of any brand, anywhere.

Sonia and I like to grill up cheese sandwiches on the George Foreman and dip them in this soup. Simply amazing. We use whole wheat bread or multi-grain bread with Havarti cheese. That seems to go pretty well with this bisque. But just by itself or with saltine crackers is good, too. We haven't tried it yet, but I bet you could use this as a sauce for pasta.

Pick it up for $1.99 a can.

I give it Five out of Five Stars. Sonia does, too. Bottom line: 10 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Chili

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

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

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

Oh, and the Vegetarian kind is organic.




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