Trader Joe's Organic Brown Rice Marshmallow Treats

This past week, Sandy and I had the honor of helping host some friends of ours from Mexico City as they visited and worked with our church for a few days. On Thursday night, we threw a "make your own pirogi" party at our house, which once we all sat down and began talking over dinner with our visitors and some neighbors and friends from our church, the topic of American food quickly came up. We were asked what are good, traditional, all-American foods that we as a country and culture invented. Honestly, we came up fairly empty. Hot dogs? Burgers? We made them popular, but they were "invented" in Germany and other parts of Europe. Apple pie? I wouldn't believe that, in the arc of human history, it'd take long enough for us to show up to invent something so basic yet so tasty. I thought I had a sarcastic winner with that ever-so-delicious high fructose corn syrup (no thanks) but nearly simultaneously it was pointed out that it's more of an additive than an actual food, and my friend Josh blurted out Turducken, so that may be the winner. Honestly, aside from junk food like Cool Ranch Doritos, there may not be much else.

Except, maybe, the good old Rice Krispie treat. Okay, sure, yes, it's technically a junk food, too. But man, I've never heard anyone rattle off the evils of them, and never met anyone who doesn't like them. They're simple enough for a child to make with a little supervision, but tasty enough that every time I see them at a picnic I make a beeline. I love how the Krispies mingle in with the marshmallowy goo and create this semi-chewy, quasi-crispy square block of a dessert. And though there's lots of variations, for my money, the very basic and plain ones are best of all.

Which is why Trader Joe's is toeing some thin ice here with these Organic Brown Rice Marshmallow Treats.* You have to be careful when you're experimenting with a classic, especially when you're playing with the tried-and-true formula by trying to make it healthier. And honestly, I've heard that lots of folks don't particularly like these all that much, so I wasn't sure what to expect when we picked up a box last week.

Well, they're not my favorite, but they're not all that bad, either. You can definitely taste the difference with the brown rice (more grainy), which also affects the texture after a few chews (alas, also more grainy). Apparently science has advanced to the point where such things as organic vegan marshmallow-type things are possible by combining brown rice syrup, evaporated cane juice (isn't that just sugar? Am I missing something?), guar gum (which I presume to better than GWAR gum), and sea salt. I'd say altogether, they're more chewy, less crispy, and lighter and airier than the typical crisped rice 'n marshmallow love fest. Tastewise, they even seem a slight bit sweeter with a touch of vanilla. Each box has five bars inside, each about four or five not-so-big bites each, and seem to be low-calorie and low fat in comparison to most. I'd say they're not bad to tuck into a lunch or to grab for a quick, small snack for an energy boost.

It doesn't mean I think the treats all that great, either. For one, for $3.99, they're one item I'd say is definitely overpriced at TJ's (few and far between, but hey, it happens). And I guess when it comes down to it, I prefer my marshmallow and crispy rice treats to more closely resemble the outcome of the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man crashing into a Kelloggs factory then these experiments in organic snack food science. I do appreciate the effort, however, so I'm not knocking that (and in fact I think TJ's ought to be commended for it), but there's just some classics you shouldn't mess with, like remaking "The Longest Yard" or "Bad News Bears." What the heck was it with 2005 and crappy movie remakes? When Sandy took a bite of one, said "Meh" and not much else, so that's roughly a three in her book. I'd go a little lower, as the added graininess in the texture throws me off a bit and the cost factor, but I'll give some props for the health-consciousness factor of these, and go with a three as well.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Fiberful Handmade Dried Fruit Bars

This entry kind of goes as a companion to my post on Monday about Trader Joe's Organic 100% Natural Fruit Wraps. We'll be doing some comparing and contrasting since they're such similar products, sold in the same little section of TJ's.

The biggest difference between these two types of dried fruit bars is that these Fiberful ones are indeed full o' fiber, as the name so blatantly and appropriately declares. Six grams in one bar. That's not too shabby for such a thin, flat piece of snack food. And I'll be brutally honest, you can immediately detect the presence of fiber in the bars when you start chewing—there's definitely a gritty, almost dirt-like texture to these babies. Their fruit flavor wasn't bad. It was actually pretty similar to that of the other fruit wraps. But the problem was I simply couldn't enjoy the flavor while chomping through layers of sawdust and cardboard.

Here again, I find myself playing the bad guy. I know from just the small amount of online research I did that these bars are fairly well-loved by the general populace. And if you bought these fiber-rich snacks for the purpose of getting some extra roughage in your diet and you consider the incredible amount of fiber they've crammed into them, their texture is acceptable.

However, if you're not buying them expressly for the fiber, I would highly recommend you stick to the aforementioned Organic 100% Natural Fruit Wraps. Their texture beats that of these Fiberful bars hands down. I'd only recommend purchasing these if you're, ya' know...looking to, ah, give your digestive tract a little help...

And at this point, I would leap dutifully into a paragraph or two of potty jokes and bathroom humor, if not for the fact that I've learned my lesson the hard way that fart jokes do not generally go over well in mixed company. Furthermore, a food blog is the last place on earth we'd want to hear such filthy musings. So, for once, I shall listen to my better judgment and conclude this post here.

Sonia wasn't terribly impressed with these bars either. A 3 out of 5 from her.

I just can't give these a great score when I know there's a much better alternative right on the same shelf at TJ's. A 2.5 from me.

Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Sugar, Chocolate & Coffee Bean Grinder

There's some things that hold a lot of appeal for Sandy that, while I understand on a certain level, I'm not really all that enamored by. Take, for instance, gadgets like any e-reader device. I know that as humans we come preinstalled to like anything with a glowing screen as a standard feature, but, to me, if you're gonna read a book, make it an actual book. Not Sandy. She's been researching these and polling friends left and right about the Kindle, Nook, and whatever else is out there these days as she's been saving up her babysitting dollars for one of these and has been talking about them endlessly. We've talked about it, and I get the arguments for, like ease of portability (Sandy at any time can have up to seven books in a backpack, though I believe she can still only read one at a time), but the arguments against are much stronger to me, such as: breakability/durability (like if you were planning to read at a beach, would you really want to take one of these? Think of all the places sand could go), risk of theft (airports, etc), "another screen," and finally, just, there's something about a book and holding it in your hands and turning actual physical pages that make it a more satisfying experience. And don't get me started on the iPad and other tablets. It strikes me as just being an iPhone for old people, kinda like the large print Reader's Digest you see at nursing home versus the regular sized ones. If they could be a viable, versatile-enough alternative to a laptop, sure, I could be on board, but until then they seem like some overall gimmicky marketing ploy to get folks to spend money they don't have on things they don't need. Maybe I'm some old school ornery codger, but I just don't get it. Sandy definitely does, and we've come to more or less a truce about it, and chances are she'll be picking up a Kindle or something soon, and maybe then I'll see the light. Til then, meh.

Of course, this is a bigger example of something that plays out in much smaller circumstances. Take, for instance, Trader Joe's Sugar, Chocolate & Coffee Bean Grinder. Last week, Sandy spotted it on an endcap touting TJ's new products and immediately started this kinda weird, silly, not remotely serious little"gimme gimme oh please please please" dance that immediately said "You better put this in the cart, there, Mister." Since it was something like two bucks, eh, sure. Cheaper than an e-reader. Sandy's little dance was definitely cute and gave me a chuckle, so I didn't mind, but whenever we have a kid and Little Russandra does that, you can bet I won't be so amused.

Okay, so I get the appeal of the sugary chocolatey coffee beany grinder guy. There's a built-in grinder that, instead of dispensing tellicherry pepper or sea salt, grinds up sugar crystals (both brown and white), chocolate bits (dark?) and coffee beans wherever you can dream it can go. Good in theory. The side of the grinder says it goes great with ice cream, coffee, and toast, among other things. Sandy's preferred method of consumption is to hold it high and grind directly into her mouth*, which she did once we got home like a sugar-deprived lunatic, and still does occasionally when she thinks I won't know but I can hear the telltale scrapy-grindy sound from the living room. Anyways, I tried it on vanilla ice cream, which was alright. I could definitely taste the three main elements and it almost made my ice cream not taste like plain vanilla, and added a gritty, crystally texture that though a little odd wasn't completely unwelcome. When ground on top of coffee, it honestly didn't add too much, which shouldn't be surprising if you think about it. While okay with buttered toast, if I wanted something sweet and tasty on toast and have it not be jam, I would have much preferred the timeless classic of cinnamon and sugar. And finally, straight from shaker to mouth...meh. That's a silly, not overly rewarding thing to do if you ask me. Overall, I think it's safe to say it just doesn't tickle my fancy all that much.

If you ask Sandy, though? She loves it. Besides the aforementioned methods of consumption, she's also put some on top of cottage cheese and maybe yogurt, too. She loved it with ice cream and with toast, but agreed with my thoughts about it with coffee. And I hear her grinding away in the kitchen often enough to know that she's happily plotting her next cavity in a way she finds most satisfying. Sandy said she gives it a four, which I thought was low for her but made sense when she explained, "It adds flavor, and it's really good, but it could add more." Me? I think I've made my opinion fairly clear, but to summarize it strikes me as being something akin to parsley for your desserts. Looks good, but doesn't do much of anything worthwhile, a Paris Hilton of the pantry, if you will. I'm going with a 1.5.

Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons
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* For some reason she wouldn't let me take a picture of this. I can't imagine why.

Trader Joe's (and José's) Lagers

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

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

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

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

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

Bottom line: 5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

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

Bottom line: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

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

Bottom line: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons

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

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

Trader Joe's Chicken Pot Pie

No, Kittah, this is mah pot pie!

I don't think I'll ever eat another pot pie in my life without thinking about the stupid antics of Eric Cartman. I can't even remember what was so funny about that scene. There was just this fat kid eating a pot pie and his pet kitty cat kept meowing because it wanted some. He got really angry at the cat and started saying "No, Kittah, this is mah pot pie!" I remember the other guys in the dorm and I howled with laughter for some reason. I guess there's just something universally funny about a fat kid getting all worked up about protecting his food from a little cat.

A similar scene could have unfolded in our apartment last week. Except instead of Eric Cartman, the angry fat kid would have been me, and instead of a meowing kitten, it would have been my poor, sweet wife on the receiving end of my exclamation: "No Sonia, this is mah pot pie!"

That scene could have unfolded. That is, if Trader Joe had whipped us up a more respectable pot pie. Fortunately - or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it - the pot pie wasn't worth fighting over.

As you can see, the cover of the packaging brags about the "rich golden crust in oven or microwave." I'll certainly give it that: the crust wasn't bad - especially for a microwaved pot pie. Furthermore, as you can see, the cover of the packaging doesn't really brag about much else. Because that's where this product's bragging rights end. The vegetables were edible, but Sonia thinks they were tasteless. She kinda thinks the whole thing was bland. She dumped all kinds of hot sauce on hers.

Blandness wasn't the biggest problem for me. My major issue was the texture of the chicken itself. The pieces looked fake and felt funny. They were kinda chewy. If it weren't for that, I could have seen myself purchasing this product again at some point. I'm sorry to say it, but the only other chicken pot pie I've had in recent memory is one of the 80¢ Banquet ones from the freezer at Target...yeah, that's all I really have to compare it to (and our detractors say we're not real foodies). Now I know the Banquet ones are disgustingly not-good-for-you, and they're significantly smaller than TJ's version, but if we put those two head-to-head in a taste-test...um, I would go with the Banquet one.

Yes, I know that's pretty harsh. Really, if you don't mind rubbery chicken, they're not that bad...and there's always the possibility we just got one made with a batch of sub-par chicken. For the tasty crust and the not-bad vegetables, it earns a 3 from me. Sonia gives it a 3 as well, docking 2 points for an overall lack of flavor. So, we both thought it was just OK, but for different reasons.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Dynamo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Multigrain Pilaf

pi·laf
noun
\pi-ˈläf, -ˈlȯf; ˈpē-ˌ\\pi-ˈlō, -ˈlȯ, ˈpē-(ˌ); Southern often ˈpər-(ˌ)lü, -(ˌ)lō\
Definition of PILAF
: a dish made of seasoned rice and often meat
- http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/pilaf

: usually the most disappointing and forgettable part of a meal.
- Me

Yeah, I really don't get it either. I'm a guy who should like pilaf. I'm on record as a guy who enjoys rice and random seasonings and mixing it all up, so, really, what gives? I think I've never really had a good one, I guess. Granted, my experiences are pretty much limited to high school cafeteria, college dining commons, and the wedding banquet variety of anything that marketed itself as being pilaf, so I don't consider myself a subject matter expert on it. That, and any good rice/seasonings/other stuff memories are mostly filed under "fried rice" or "stir fry" so I guess I've assumed pilaf to be some lonely, bland, neglected outpost of the food spectrum, welcome to come and play only when a fancy-sounding cheap starch is needed and potatoes au gratin's busy.

Anyways, Sandy and I are continuing to try and move more away from prepackaged foods, but sometimes we know we just won't have the time to make a proper home cooked meal. I guess that's why we picked up TJ's Multigrain Pilaf. Sounds healthy (it has that buzzword "Multigrain" after all) and quick 'n easy (two minutes in the microwave!) so, well, why not?

Sandy nuked it up as I quickly grilled up some sausages the other night. Let's just say when it was done, it didn't make the best impression. You see, you open a small corner of the packet, nuke it, then open it the rest of the way and kinda dump it on your plate. First, the smell. It's a dead ringer for Spaghetti-O's. I kid you not. I had my back turned when Sandy was getting it on our plates, and I could have sworn she warmed up a bag of Chef Boyardee instead. Then, when it's on your plate, visually, it looks like...well, this is a family friendly webpage, so I won't say what I first thought. But use a little imagination. No further details. Sandy took some time to try and fluff it up with a fork to make it look, well, let's just say more appetizing.

Tastewise, at first, it's kinda bland, but then the heat sneaks up after a couple bites. Nah, it's not hot, but it's actually semi-discernibly spicy. There's a couple of the usual suspects around like turmeric, pepper and garlic, and overall tastes alright enough. Still, it wasn't the flavor but more the texture I noticed. Instead of rice, it's made of cracked wheat, soy beans and millet. The soy beans are decent sized and fleshy, which kinda weirdly jives with the smallish ball-like quinoa-esque bite from the other components. It's actually kinda fun to eat when focusing on the texture. Sandy, who can be texturally squeamish at times, agreed. Still, overall, it wasn't a terribly intriguing product, and left to my own devices, I probably could have made something I would've enjoyed more.

I guess I could say this is the best premade pilaf I've had yet, but then again, for me, that's kind of like remembering my favorite Pittsburgh Pirates losing season* or figuring out my favorite Rush song (I'm sorry, I know they have rabid fans, I just can't stand any of their songs. So sue me). It's not bad, but again, between the tasty grilled sausages and my wife's homemade strawberry rhubarb pie, it again was relegated to the realm of the meal's weakest link. Poor pilaf, maybe sometime you'll have your day in the sun. Not today. Sandy gave it a three based mostly on presentational concerns. I think a three is more than fair for it as well.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons
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* There's so many to choose from, but any that prominently feature Tike Redman warrant serious, serious consideration. That play is the best he ever made. And notice he's in an Orioles uniform. One game I was at, he was brought in as a defensive replacement, only to drop two fly balls in a row. Ouch.

Trader Joe's Shrimp Stir Fry

So there's been much ado in the news over the past week or so about the old food pyramid being scrapped in favor of the new plate-shaped graphic to try and help us nutritionally illiterate Americans decide what's healthy and not to eat. One of the critiques which I actually heard of the old pyramid was, since fats and sugars and junk food were depicted as being the top of the structure, they were being portrayed as the crown jewels of the American diet, so the pyramid had an unintended effect of inadvertently encouraging unhealthy eating. As if, generally speaking, society needed that. I mean, just do a Google image search of the burger chain Hardee's, or think of the last fast food meal you grabbed. One of my neighbor's husband found what really should have been the new plate diagram, but unfortunately I couldn't find it to link to it. Instead of "fruit" and "grain" and so on on the diagram, it simply said "Don't eat processed crap." There's a lot to that simple statement, but in summary it's not coincidence that obesity and related health condition rates have skyrocketed in the past few decades with the growing popularity and easy availability of prepacked meals and products made from all sorts of cheap nefarious production methods.

It's one of the big reasons that Sandy and I have decided to go on a little experiment with our meals the next couple of weeks. We're going to try to avoid more processed products and make dinners from scratch, and try to stick to healthier sized portions and make healthier choices. We're certainly not experts on the matter but trying to give it the old college heave-ho. A couple nights, though, we're busy enough with stuff that we realize we won't necessarily have the time or energy to cook a full meal, so when making something from a box or bag, we're going to try and make healthier decisions.

Because of this approach we're toeing, I picked up TJ's Shrimp Stir Fry on my last trek to the local shop. Sandy was off babysitting, so I felt a little pressure as I was embarking on this new mission of healthy eating while flying solo. I stuck mostly to the list she scribbled down for me, but for a premade dinner, she just wrote down, "premade dinner." No guidance, and I was going to have to wing it. Lo and behold, a bag of frozen shrimp and vegetables that takes less than 10 minutes to make on a stovetop. Shrimp and vegetables = healthy, low fat, low calories. Check. Quick and easy = check. And since there's nothing but raw frozen shrimp and a variety of veggies, from what I can tell there's a comparative small amount of processing involved - maybe some preservatives, but nothing like any high fructose corn syrup randomly injected in. Oh wait, not even any preservatives, and there's a "gourmet pepper seasoning" packet tossed in too. It definitely seemed to match all the right criteria, so it made for a logical pick-up.

Sandy and I just had it tonight (somewhat ironically, after making an after work trek to the local food co-op and farmer's market for some goodies for other meals), and well, let's say I was higher on it before munching through it than afterwards. I'll start with the positives. The shrimp itself was good - pretty good in fact. It wasn't salty or mushy like what I've had with other frozen brands. Indeed, it was firm and fresh enough tasting, and TJ's tossed in something like 15 of them, so they weren't skimpy on it, either. And it was a pretty good selection of mixed veggies in the bag, too - red peppers, sugar snap peas, broccoli, water chestnuts. Along with some rice I made on the side, Sandy and I had plenty enough for dinner, and enough left over for me to take some rice and veggies to work for lunch. Despite all that, and despite its overall healthiness, it just lacked something, like a good light sauce or seasoning to tie it all together. That gourmet pepper packet? It consists mainly of black pepper and garlic powder, and for whatever reason I was hoping for something more Iron Chef than "first two things I saw on the spice rack" inspired, and there wasn't enough to have it permeate the dish anyways. I don't know if some soy sauce would be the proper response to this. Sandy ended up sprinkling on some crushed red pepper flakes, but for the integrity of this review I trudged through without any further dressing up. I appreciated the fact that a lot of the natural flavor of the shrimp and veggies came through, but I just couldn't shake the notion that something was missing, and neither could Sandy. Also, I know that just by putting in slightly more effort than opening a bag to dump into a skillet, I could have easily made something just as good if not even better, and certainly more tailored to our taste buds.

I think I know why Trader Joe's decided to keep his name on it and not Trader Ming or Trader Joe-San. Ming has brought us too many good things that it'd be a shame for this to sully his reputation, while that Joe-San character has more of a legacy of disappointment which is best not to perpetuate. Big Joe himself has enough of a solid rep that this won't sway it too much one way or the other. For a quick, easy, healthy bag meal, I guess it's not too bad, but it could be better. A lot better, actually. As it comes, it's just too bland for us, but with minor adjustments, I'm sure it could be a tastier dish. Really, just a light sauce or more seasoning, and it could be a bigger winner...But not today. Both Sandy and I give it a 3 and a shrug.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10

Trader Joe's Chocolate Chip Chewy Coated Granola Bars

The good people at Trader Joe's have really shot themselves in their collective foot. They've established such high expectations from their customers that it's virtually impossible to please all the time...even with a decent product. I think many people who have been shopping at TJ's for a while have come to expect their products to be innovative, high-quality, unique, healthy, and green.

Those are some high standards to live up to. And, more often than not, they meet or exceed those standards, in my opinion. However, in some cases like this one, Trader Joe's seems to do what everyone else is doing, and even though their product is just as good as the competition, it feels like they didn't go all out...they didn't put their whole heart into it. And we know Trader Joe's can do better.

There are some unique TJ's products like the recently reviewed Scallop Bites or the classic Meatless Corn Dogs that simply aren't comparable to many products from other brands. Trader Joe's gets to set the bar in those cases, and they generally set it very high. Then, there are products like the Peanut Brittle, where TJ's takes a classic, common food, and they simply knock it out of the ballpark...they make it the way it was supposed to be, and they go above and beyond what's expected.

So when Trader Joe's makes a run-of-the-mill, average granola bar, it's a little disappointing. At any regular grocery store or Wal-Mart or Target, there's going to be a store-brand version of your basic chocolate chip granola bar. Those store brands are always going to come close to the name brands, but maybe fall a hair short on taste, texture, and/or overall quality. That's exactly what TJ's has done here. They're not bad, but they're not great either.

Sonia liked that these bars were gluten-free, and that they were rice and oat-based. She liked their texture, but she wasn't thrilled with the chocolate part, stating that its flavor was "weird and carob-ish." I agree. I thought maybe the chocolate was just darker than I'm used to, but Sonia really likes dark chocolate and she wasn't really a fan. I think a non-coated version of these bars would have been more successful.

They're certainly convenient like other brands, they come individually-wrapped, and they're very portable. They're crispy enough and they have plenty of chips. It's just that when it comes down to it, I'd still choose a Quaker Chewy Granola Bar over the Trader Joe's brand. TJ's version just tastes like a regular store brand snack. So-so.

Sonia gives it a 3, and I give it a 2.5. Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Corn and Chile Tomato-Less Salsa

One of the best parts of writing for this blog is using it as an occasional forum to poke some light fun at my wife. Food is a pretty easy and tame avenue for me to do so. A few years ago as we were beginning our dating relationship, I remember it taking a lot of effort (and trial and error) on my part to try and learn Sandy's "food rules." Chili? No. Red meat? Except for a burger here and there, nope. Some vegetables are okay, others aren't. We kind of turned it into an ongoing joke where I said I'd need to keep a spreadsheet of what was and wasn't okay, and when. For example, squishy cooked vegetables are flat-out never acceptable. Onions are okay only sometimes, such as onion flavor, but Sandy doesn't like big chunks of them, except for onion rings. I really wanted to learn these rules so I could impress her and make sure when we were going somewhere there would be food choices she would like. I took it quite seriously, to the point where one night early on in our relationship when I was making a homemade dinner and dessert for us, I felt compelled to ask her if she liked from-scratch chocolate chip cookies because I didn't know and didn't want to make them if she didn't. As she can attest to, Sandy certainly loves them (who doesn't?) and probably wonders why I don't make them more often (the answer = like we need more cookies).

By now, I've grown so accustomed to them I rarely have to think about them much. It's kind of like natural knowledge at this point. And to her credit, I think she's opened up to more kinds of foods. But there's still one sure-fire food item that she'll refuse to have nearly any part with: tomatoes. Except for maybe a little ketch-up and just enough sauce to make her pasta noodles semi-red, Sandy wants nothing to do with them. Increasingly, salsa is getting some more leeway for her in this department, even though she's still a little wary of the chunkier varieties and prefers salsa verde, which is made from tomatillos, over the more usual salsa types.

I guess that's why Trader Jose's Corn and Chile Tomato-Less Salsa appeals to her so much. There's the huge upfront plus of no tomatoey guts being spilled for its sake. Plus, it's something different than the usual variety, though I'm not so positive about its authenticity as an actual salsa class instead of being a gringoey gimmick. Correct me if I am wrong. The only other time I've seen or heard anything about corn-based salsa is at Qdoba's or Chipotle's, and though I've never tried it there, that stuff has always appeared to me to be more spiced corn than an actual salsa. That's how the TJ's brand strikes me as well, except to say it's spiced is a little bit of an overstatement. It doesn't have the spicy pepper meter that usually overstates heat level on the jar label, and I'd like to think that was on purpose because, to me, it'd barely register a blip. There's a little heat that emanates from the back of your throat after a corner-of-a-chip-ful or three, but that's about it, and it's more than balanced out by the overall sweetness. Like any good American food product, the two chief ingredients in the salsa are corn and sugar, which makes the salsa seemingly syrupy-sweet. There's not nearly enough jalapeños and spices to combat it with any sort of effectiveness. It's kinda like flinging rubberbands at a tank - not gonna work. One good thing the salsa has going for it is, it's decently fresh tasting as the corn kernels taste like they were just stripped from the cob, and certainly not mushy but good and firm, almost crunchy in a way.

Anyways, Sandy loves it. Last night, as I came downstairs after a post-work/pre-dinner shower, I could hear her rustling our bag of soy and flaxseed chips shut followed shortly by the sound of a jar lid being screwed back on. I got to the kitchen just in time to see her one step away from our fridge, half-gone jar of salsa in hand, with a very guilty look on her face. This is an extremely common scenario in our house, except with the roles reversed. Granted, we poked at it some the night before, but she did some serious work on it while I was washing away the day at work. "It's just so good, I could eat it by the spoonful," she said. "Apparently," I said as I shook my head and tsk-tsked her. I couldn't be too mad not only because I've been the guilty party in this situation way too often and therefore thought grace would be the wisest route to go, but also because honestly I don't like nearly as much as she does. I'm going to have to go low and give it a 1.5. Sorry, while it's a good premise and has potential, it just doesn't have enough spice to hold my interest, and it's way too sugary-sweet for me to even try to pretend it's a mild, enjoyable salsa for me. While she agreed it needed to be spicier, Sandy was so joyful about finding a salsa she liked without tomatoes, she literally broke out into song as she scaled our stairs to turn herself in for the night with a good book. "It has no tomatoes, it has no tomatoes, that makes me happpppyyyyy, it has no tomatoes," she sang to our beloved little fur baby as he no doubt shot back a quizzical look. Sandy toyed with giving it a perfect five before settling on a 4.5, tripling(!!!) my score. Usually we agree more or less on our rankings, so this type of split is definitely unprecedented and hard to repeat. Sandy's probably happy though, because since I don't like it so much, it means more for her.

Enjoy the rest of the jar, dear. All yours.

Bottom line: 6 out 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Coconut Shrimp

So a little while ago I made a list of things that didn't make sense to me. I'd like to add two more things, and in fact, I can't believe they didn't make the original rundown ... somehow they musta slipped my mind. Anyways, two things: First, who thought it was a good idea to position the number zero and the letter O right-freakin'-on-top of each other on your keyboard. At work where I mash buttons indiscriminately all day, I find myself continually pushing the wrong one mucking things up. Stupid nonsensical QWERTY keyboards. Secondly: how are fish and shrimp, clams, lobsters, etc, not universally considered meat? I'm not talking about the Lent/Catholicism/religious tradition issue as much as there seems to be different classes of vegetarianism where, depending on what you choose to believe, seafood either is or is not meat. I've asked several vegetarian friends* of mine about this, and they either stare blankly at me and really don't explain it, or I get an explanation that fish don't feel pain, they don't have blood, so it doesn't harm them. That sounds a little, well, fishy to me. To me, it's clearcut ... all those creatures have mom and dads, they were born/hatched at some point, they lived, breathed, ate, and pooped. At some point, somebody caught them and they died en route to my dinner plate. I don't know how we can determine that one type of animal feels pain while another doesn't, and as far as I know with my very limited zoological knowledge, fish gotta have at least some sort of blood-type system to keep them ticking. It was an animal. Animals are made of meat. Ergo, when I am eating a fish, I am eating meat.

Except ... enough people consider them not to be to create a loophole I will exploit. And Sandy agrees enough to allow us seafood while abstaining from meat during Lent. It's getting towards the end, I miss meat more than just about anything (I've told Sandy I want cheeseburgers, not jelly beans in my Easter basket), so I've been trying to check out some different Trader Joe seafood stuffs. When we went shopping on Monday, I definitely felt too strong an urge to not leave the store without something that used to have a face. Shrimp has always been my far-and-away favorite ocean animal to chomp on down on, so spotting this battered tasty-looking Coconut Shrimp required little to no thought.

Well, it's not bad, but it's definitely a little weird/not quite what we expected it to be. We've had coconut-battered shrimp before, and it's always been the shaved coconut mixed in with the breadcrumbs variety. The Trader Joe's tastes like coconut milk was either used as a base for the batter, or that the shrimpy guys were heavily saturated with it prior to crumbing it up. The result of this is this interesting mix of textures ... the fleshy-ness of the shrimp, the creaminess of the milk, and the crispy greasiness of the batter. It's definitely strange, especially the first bite when it's not expected. I didn't mind it too much, but Sandy was a little put off by it. But the taste itself is fairly gratifying. I've come to really enjoy things like rice prepared with coconut milk (coincidentally our side dish last night, with the mango-from-the-picture's cousin chopped up and mixed in) as it adds this creamy, slightly sweet, kinda ethereal dimension of flavor. The coconut with the shrimp did much of the same .... decently good, though when mingled with the batter I found myself wondering if the whole combination was the best idea. I thought the shrimp itself was good, not great. Each one was about a bite-and-a-half sized, definitely fresh and clean tasting, and not too salty/mushy/gritty like I've tasted with other store brands at other places. Sandy said she had one that tasted pretty fishy to her, though. I didn't notice that for any of mine, but the fact that she let me finish her allotment up told me she wasn't the biggest fan. I was so hungry for anything resembling meat I plowed them all down (mostly because I doubted they'd be any better reheated), and I think I managed to eat a tail or two by mistake. Yuck.

I can see us giving these a try again sometime to see if we like them any better then, now that we know a little more what to expect. Still, for now, Sandy could muster up giving them only a 2 because of the oddball texture and fishy tidbit. I'll grade them a little higher, but pantheon-bound these are not. The milky/creamy thing docks them down a little, not just because of the texture but also because it made the batter not stick to the shrimp as well as it should have, causing some half-naked pieces and extra scrubbing for the baking sheet. Also, I appreciated the product overall, but just wasn't left with enough of a glowing impression to recommend them too highly. I found myself enjoying the rice side dish more than my shrimp ration, and if you had any idea how much rice we've eaten recently ... Sounds like a 3.5 from me, though I'd totally get if you think we rated these too low.

Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

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*I think some (not all) of my vegetarian friends ascribe to the theory that it is okay to only eat animals that cannot be considered cute and/or cuddly. I've heard people describe pigs, cows, and even chickens (though they are nasty little birds) as such, but never heard of anyone wanting to cuddle up with a fish or lobster or crab. So perhaps that's an argument for being cool with eating meat that swims. Hey, whatever works.

Trader Joe's True Thai Vegetable Pad Thai

So sue us, we didn't review any beer for St. Patrick's Day. How terribly un-festive of us. The title of the previous post did contain the word "green" twice. And anyway, we'd have to travel into another state for a Trader Joe's that sells beer. Just go back and read this post. It's Mexican beer, so what? They're a Catholic country that has green on their flag, too.

Anyway, let's get down to business shall we? Today we'll be talking about fine vegetarian Thai cuisine...oh, and this Trader Joe's Vegetable Pad Thai, too.

In L.A., there's an amazing restaurant at Orlando and Beverly called Vegan Glory. Everything they serve is, as the name would indicate, free of animal products of any kind. They serve mostly Thai-themed food...and honestly, this is not only the BEST vegan or vegetarian food I've ever had anywhere, but it's one of my favorite restaurants period. I'm certainly not a vegan, but anyone I've ever known that's open-minded enough to try it instantly becomes a fan, regardless of how much meat-lust lingers in their stomach. If you ever decide to stop in, I recommend the pineapple fried rice with soy chicken nuggets. Put a little hot sauce on it, and WOW...meatless Thai food that'll blow your mind for a totally reasonable price--not to mention good, friendly service from people whom I think are actually from Thailand. (Most of them speak good English, though.)

Now, if Trader Joe's can make a killer meatless corn dog, you would expect them to make a killer meatless pad thai. I mean, that is, given TJ's generally good track record with Asian style food products, as well as their wide array of tasty vegetarian and vegan foods, one would think that a Thai entree as basic as Pad Thai would be an easy one to knock out of the ballpark. Lots of Thai foods are vegetarian or vegan anyway. Meat seems more intrinsically necessary for the success of a corn dog than that of Pad Thai.

However, I've gotta say - and maybe it's just because I was spoiled by Vegan Glory - this Pad Thai misses the mark. The noodles are too chewy - almost rubbery. The sprouts are stringy, and the little chunks of tofu, which were actually my favorite part, were too far and few between. Even though their texture was nice and their flavor wasn't awful, I found myself pining for real chicken pieces. I would say I was craving better quality tofu thingies, but there was something about these little guys that made me NOT want anything vegetarian. Because they were so unlike real meat, they reminded me of why I like meat in the first place. A good veggie Thai dish shouldn't leave you wanting real meat. Again, they aren't bad in and of themselves, but they're not nearly as good as real chicken. And I've had plenty of vegetarian dishes that completely quell any meat cravings - including a good many Trader Joe's products.

The sauce on the dish is certainly palatable. No complaints there, except that there could be a little more of it.

Sonia kind of surprised me with a higher-than-expected rating. She gave it a 3.5. I'm going to have to be the bad guy on this one and give it a 2.

Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Kettle Brewed Green & White Tea

Imagine you're in a bonny wood listening to a sappy balladeer named Green Tea play a bad folk song on an out-of-tune guitar. Then in the middle of his song, a lithe male acrobat in a spandex onesie, White Tea, springs into action, doing gymnastics in front of the musician. And finally, amidst the music and the acrobatics, imagine an angry, minty leprechaun running out from behind a nearby tree, heading straight for you, jumping way up in the air and kicking you in the teeth.

Drinking this beverage is a similar experience, except not as bold...well, the mint part is that bold, but nothing else.

It needs some sugar. Or honey. Or Stevia. Or even corn syrup, but for heaven's sake, TJ's, don't leave it the way it is, please.

I can drink some other green teas without sweetener. But this product doesn't really have a green tea flavor...it's just that minty aftertaste that lingers like the hurt from a bloody lip.

Sonia generously gave it a 3 out of 5. I'm not sure why. When I asked her if she would ever buy it again, she quickly replied "NO!"

I give it a 2. Bottom line: 5 out of 10.

Trader Joe-San Tempura Chicken

Since becoming an amateur food-reviewing hack, I have become more and more aware of how little I know about food and its vocabulary. I realize I basically know nothing beyond the basics and American terms - like, okay, I get what a "burger" or "deep-fried and greasy" mean, but stuff from other cultures? Not so much.

Take, for instance, our Japanese friend Joe-San and his Tempura Chicken. A couple years ago, for the one and only time in my life, I went out for sushi and sampled many different types of rolls. California rolls were okay but didn't do too much for me, and I don't recall the names of any other type of roll I ate except some shrimp tempura ones. Sandy was pretty content to just stick to her fried rice. Those shrimp tempura rolls were pretty good, and I recall them being fairly spicy, so since then I have taken to assuming that the word "tempura" implies some level/type of spice. Well, turns out that's wrong as I found out after trying out this chicken. "Tempura" is actually a style meaning lightly battered and fried, with no implication of spicy hotness. Which, in turn, means that when I thought I was eating raw shrimp in the sushi, it was actually not, which means not all sushi is raw (to which Sandy says "duh"), which just leaves me a little confused, like I ventured a little too quickly down the rabbit hole.

Anyways, the tempura chicken .... meh. What caused me to look up the meaning of the word "tempura" was the flavor (or lack of existence thereof) of this particular dish. To make this stuff, you bake up a bagful of skimpily breaded chicken nuggets in the oven (you can also deep-fry, which I guess leaves it technically "tempura") and toss it around in some red sauce that comes in a packet you microwave and dunk in warm water. The chicken itself is decent - it turns out to be crispy and chickeny and all that good stuff. The sauce though - it doesn't do anything except put a coat of reddish goop on your dinner. It's just there and doesn't taste like anything. It's as worthless as a plot in a Jerry Bruckheimer movie. I tried a little bit of it by itself, and there is a faint, barely distillable sweet-sour taste like the package proclaims, but when put on chicken, the taste of the actual chicken easily overpowers it. It was only slightly discernible when eaten with plain white rice (not like there was much to spare .... Joe-San is a stingy guy saucewise). After a few bites, just to give it some flavor, Sandy and I dumped a few sprinkles of crushed red pepper on there. On a positive note, texture-wise you do end up with a plateful of chicken chunks that mirror what you'd expect from a Chinese restaurant, so it does have redeeming qualities. Given the choice between the two, I'd definitely recommend TJ's Mandarin Orange Chicken if you're in the mood for an inexpensive, easy-to-make semi-Asian inspired dinner.

Both Sandy and I are in agreement about it: We'd get it again, and wouldn't necessarily mind it, but we definitely wouldn't be upset if we pass it up on a fairly regular basis. Next time, we'd probably modify the sauce a little before combining it with the chicken ... I'd imagine some various chili peppers, maybe some Chipotle, cumin, black pepper ... wait, those aren't really Asian, and Sandy would be semi-upset that it wouldn't be right (I have a tendency to just dump whatever spices in, and they have to be at least semi-thematic for her) ... I have much to learn. Sandy gives them a 2.5 out of 5, and I agree. The taste just isn't quite there enough to rate them any higher.

Bottom line: 5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Organic Mango Nectar

I like the thick, rich texture of this juice. And that's about all I like. The taste leaves a little to be desired. Sonia wasn't a huge fan either.

I like mangos. I guess they just don't translate into nectar the way I was hoping they would. My logic was "I like the way mangos taste, therefore, I will like the taste of this organic beverage made from mangos."

It's as if the good people at TJ's found a way to create a delicious mango flavored beverage, but they couldn't get the texture quite right, so they decided to see if monkey urine would smooth everything out, and even though the flavor was completely ruined, they just left it that way because they ran out of ideas.

Sonia says she thinks it's bland...I disagree...I think it tastes the way a mango tastes, but with something extra...something that just ruins it. Not sure what it is...the package mentions white grape juice and vitamin C, but I've never heard of either of those things ruining the taste of a fruit juice before.

With this Mango Nectar, TJ's has offered us a healthy beverage flaunting near perfect texture and consistency, with a flavor not unlike the fluid waste of a diseased chimpanzee...not that I know what that tastes like...I'm just guessing.

If you're really really crazy about mango, you should try it...I might be wrong. It gets 2 stars out of 5 from this reviewer. Sonia gives it a 2, stating "And that's being generous." Bottom line: 4 out of 10.