Trader Joe's English Cheddar with Carmelized Onions

If I were a better writer, I'd be able to write this review in such a way that you could imagine John Cleese of Monty Python fame narrating it. If I were oddly endearing and full of witty banter, and could make some cheesy special effects and have Sandy put on an alien costume, I'd make a video and add it to Nathan and Sonia's YouTube thing they have going, and it'd make you laugh and cry as from the David Tennant era of Dr. Who. And if I wanted to bore you to tears with stuffy British aristocratic handwringing, well, I could attempt to write something like another popular BBC show (I much prefer Downton Arby).*

Great, I think I just alienated half our audience with that last line.  And from what I understand from the last episode, it's poorly timed.

Moving along, for those of you who are left, I'm obviously none of those. I'm just a guy with a mouth who writes things about the stuff he shoves into it. In my world, that qualifies me to write about cheeses like Trader Joe's English Cheddar with Caramelized Onions.

I've been hearing pretty much since the advent of this blog about how amazing this particular chunk o' cheddar is. I never once picked it up until my last stop. I've been burned by some cheesy choices in the past, so don't blame me for being a little shy. Anyways....it's interesting. I'm not sure in which way I mean that. Just....interesting. It was and was not what I expected. What I expected: Sweetness from the caramelized onions, with good mild cheddar flavor. What I didn't expect: That sweetness to permeate every little bit, with the cheese itself being so soft. Seriously, right out of the fridge, "cold and clammy" are the two words that come to mind (which is, incidentally, how I envision much of England to be). My tasters aren't sure what to think. It's good to warrant more bites, but in the end...I simply don't know. By the time we finish off our remaining cheese, we may decide this s worth a repeat purchase. Then again, maybe not.

Overall, being honest, the caramelized onions are the standout part of the cheddar. They're much like the ones Sandy and I had recently at the local Irish pub atop our bangers and mash before our night of Ceili dancing, so that's a good start. Maybe I'm just too acclimated to the cheddars from our side of the pond, but if the rest of the cheese were more like a good, firm sharp cheddar that didn't seem to get so sugary from the onions, I'd enjoy it more. Seriously, "cheese candy" is what comes to mind, and whether that's a good or bad thing, who knows.

"'Cheese candy?' I wouldn't phrase it like that," Sandy said, though she noted how much she liked the overall sweetness and cheesiness. She also liked how soft it was, too. For her grade, though, she seemed as much on the fence as I am. "Ehhhhhh....I'm not a really cheese connoisseur, so I don't know....let's say a three." Playing it down the middle always seems a safe bet, so likewise for me.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's English Cheddar with Caramelized Onions: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons
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* The only thing I can enjoy about "Downton Abbey" is trying to spot all the actors who've been in any of the Harry Potter movies or on "Dr. Who." In one episode, paying only half attention, I spotted five. Five!

Trader Joe's Dolmas

Generally speaking, the month of January in Pittsburgh sucks. It's even worse this year, with the Steelers woofing the regular season and missing the playoffs, while the band of thugs formerly known as the Cleveland Browns are going to the AFC Championship Game. Ugh. I'm not talking any more about it. It's too depressing. And usually, that's what the weather's like in January out here - gray, cold, windy, days and days go by with no sight of the sun. Usually, it's pretty bad. Seasonal affective disorder? I totally buy into it.

Fortunately, though, Mother Nature cut us some slack this past weekend - sunny, clear skies. Temps in the 60s. Downright springlike, anyone reasonable would say. One of the best things about spring in Pittsburgh is the plethora of Greek food festivals around (lots of Greek Orthodox churches), so the warm weather started me thinking about them. Anything to give you hope, I guess.

So while there were none of those going on, I had to settle for one of my favorite Greek treats, TJ's style, with some Trader Joe's Dolmas. Normally, "settle" is a bit strong of a word, as they've done well with other Hellenic delicacies. But "settle" seems to be about right for these stuffed snackies. There's a lot that's good about them - the leaves are right; while a bit oilier than I'm used to, the texture's also about right - but, I don't know, they lack a little something. Particularly, it's a little lamb. Perhaps I'm a bit spoiled, but I'm used to having lamb meat in my stuffed grape leaves, and these have none. Interestingly, though, the package isn't marked "vegetarian", yet the ingredient rundown lists no meat product, except for potentially in the very vague "spices", which I presume means something like chicken broth in this case. It's an okay attempt - the rice tastes fine, with the right flavorings, albeit without pine nuts - but the word "okay" is about where I start and end.

I could offer Sandy a million drachmas, and she still wouldn't eat one of these, ever. The cold grape leaf wrapper just gets to her and she can't get past it. I hate doing the solo judge schtick, but she'd just give these a zero, and that's not even remotely fair. So, sorry, this is all on me. I'd buy them again for the $3 or so they cost for the teeny bucket of eight, as they taste alright enough and make a decent enough little snack that's relatively healthy enough. They certainly are filling for the two bites you get from each. But, in the end, they just make me a teensy-weensy bit more anxious for spring to arrive with all of its food festival glory. Something like a three sounds about right to me.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Dolmas: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Chocolate Peppermint Cupcakes

The packaging declares these cupcakes "Minty, delicious, and festive too!" Well, they're certainly minty and festive. On that other point, however, I might not agree so enthusiastically. It seems peppermint desserts like Pretzel Slims and Chocolate Covered Joe-Joe's can be hit or miss at TJ's. And new things like Peppermint Macarons are apparently fairly tasty. But, personally, I would call these cupcakes another miss.

Don't get me wrong, they didn't taste bad. They were moist, they had plenty of frosting, and as far as I can tell, they were made with quality ingredients. The icing tasted sweet, minty, and cream cheesy. But unlike other sweet frostings, I felt that the flavor conflicted with and overshadowed the chocolate cake part of the product. Chocolate and mint can easily complement one another. Just look at York Peppermint Patties or Andes candies. I'm not sure what exactly is working in those products that failed in this one, but I definitely tasted more peppermint cream cheese than chocolate cake.

It didn't taste like toothpaste, which is a plus. But it also didn't taste like a dessert to me. Even the cream cheese, sugar, and peppermint elements of the icing seemed to cancel each other out a bit, even before the chocolate came into play. Again, I could be wrong. There's a lot of positive buzz out there about these cupcakes. But I have to offer this dissenting opinion. There's nothing gross about them, but there's not really anything I would describe as "delicious" either. Sonia enjoyed them significantly more than I did, but she also admitted that she didn't see herself buying these again in the future. There are just too many other products at TJ's that we do find "delicious," and I don't want to waste my precious RDA for calories and fat on something I would say "meh" to.

I'll give these a very neutral 2.5 stars. Sonia gives them 3 stars.

Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Chocolate Hazelnut Cookies

Chocolate. Hazelnut. Cookies. Let's repeat that again, and let it sink in. Chocolate. Hazelnut. Cookies. Let the wild drooling rumpus begin!

There's very few word trios that hold that kinda sway over me. Maybe "pizza/ wings/ beer" or "baseball/ boxseats/ beer" or maybe, from the looks of things, just "yada/ yada/beer." How can these be bad? And how could I have held strong, and walked past these shopping trip after shopping trip, and never give into temptation like I have been so tempted to before?

As it turns out...I could have waited and not missed much. I'm shocked at those words I just typed. But it's the truth. Let's analyze this. It's not the fault of the cookies, in this case meaning the twin hazelnut shortbread discs on either side of the chocolate filling. Oh no. Those are ab-sah-freakin'-lutely delish. Soft, crumbly, sugary, nutty, melty-in-your-mouthy...if it were a simply a box full of simply those, despite any restraint I am trying to cultivate within me, these would have been demolished within seconds, and Sandy and I probably would have inadvertently ruthlessly bloodied  each other as we fought each other off for every last little crumb. That would have been awkward to explain at the forthcoming family Christmas gatherings. But much like these similarly flawed shortbread-inspired snacks, there's a certain something that otherwise holds them back from being all they can be. This time, it's the middle.

Perhaps it's not really all that fair, but when I see the words "chocolate" and "hazelnut" together, my mind kind melds them into one word that stands above most others in this world: Nutella. Nutella's the standard, and despite several noble attempts to duplicate its success, well, you just can't. Coming close and falling short is okay, but to miss it completely, like the choco-nutty filling of these guys do, well, that's unacceptable. Them's the rules. It's not really the flavor itself, though it's not quite rich enough to really stand out from the rest of the cookie. It's the texture. I'm not sure if it's tough or kinda chewy or just plain hard, but to when your teeth sink right thru the wafer and strike upon the middle, it's a rude awakening, like digging through soft soil only to run into some hard clay. It's certainly not the "creamy" the package purports it to be, probably in an effort to fool you into thinking there's a reasonable Nutella knockoff dwelling inside. Not a fan.

Overall, the cookies would be better off either a) skipping the chocolate filling altogether 2) packaging a little jar of spread inside, separate from the cookies, in order to spread your own on or d) with you scraping off the spread then dipping them into Nutella. For me, this makes three not-so-glowing cookie reviews in a row...I'm beginning to question if I like cookies as much as I think I do...I might finally have to cave in and try the cookie butter to see what all you kids have been raving about for months on end. Sandy's not so huge on them either, for all the same reasons. We're waffling between a 3 and 3.5 each, when really, I wish we were talking another holiday pantheon candidate. Sigh.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Chocolate Hazelnut Cookies: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons   

Trader Joe's Sweet Corn Tamales

So, a few weeks ago, I started a new job. It's closer to home, it's less stress, and it pays a lot more. Those are all good things. That's not to say that the place isn't a little bit of an unusual environment. Walk inside and probably the first thing you'd notice is the giant indoor walk-thru arboretum, and if you happen to glance off to the side, you can see the little pond with picnic tables around it. That's pretty sweet. And there's a pretty decent little employee cafe inside with made-to-order sandwiches and whatnot. My previous job didn't have any of that, not even the cafe. If you wanted a sandwich, it had to come from a vending machine. And that was at a flagship, otherwise state-of-the-art facility. Oh, and their microwaves sucked. My new job even has the same microwave that I own, and it's a good one. What they lack, though, is almost comical. There's no sink or hot water tap in almost any of the break rooms, making my routine morning French Press o' coffee a tougher task. But get this - they don't even have a freezer where people can store their frozen meals. There's none. There's a fridge, though, which keeps most lunches semi-frozen enough until lunch. You'd figure, if they can stock a pond and have some indoor trees that require upkeep every two weeks, there'd be a freezer somewhere. Maybe that's just me.

I mention all this because no matter where I work, I gotta eat lunch, and for the longest time, Trader Joe's tamales have been a staple of my noontime feasting. They're easy to make, they're inexpensive, and as Nathan pointed out a while ago, they're surprisingly good. In Pittsburgh, at least, the Sweet Corn Tamales are a new option, which I was only too glad to pick up, as the chicken, cheese and beef ones get a little old after a while.

They're...okay. Not great, but not bad, either. I'm not sure if the tamales themselves or my work's lack of freezer-hood are to blame, but they're kinda a weird texture, at least in my experience. It's definitely a different masa than the other types, which I could tell before even tasting due to its lighter color and softer, kinda soggier texture. A lot of folks on our Facebook page said to be sure to place a wet paper towel over them while nuking, lest they get all dried out. I didn't, because it's impossible to get to a sink without going to the bathroom where I work, and yet, after three minutes in the microwave, they're pretty soggy still. I'll be willing to split the blame.

As for taste, the corn masa exterior tastes like good sweet ol' cornbread, which I'm all about. Inside there's a respectable amount of fresh-ish sweet corn and little green chiles. The chiles don't add much (if any) heat, and the manchega cheese (which is fairly mild anyways) isn't all that prevalent, so overall, these tamales just taste like sweet, semi-chunky cornbread. Some slightly spicier chiles, and some queso mas fuerte, and they'd be much better. As is, they'll probably make my semi-regular lunch rotation, but I think that's more a function of TJ's small cheap lunchworthy entrees than anythng else.

Sandy doesn't really like tamales based chiefly on texture. We've been to Mexico and have eaten some fairly authentic ones, and even then, the masa shell makes her gag a little. So, in fairness and to avoid unilateral Golden Spoonage awarding, I asked our Facebook page what they thought about them. Overall, it was a bit of a mixed bag, ranging from amorous declarations ("I totally love these!" says Lindsey; "I eat them all the time and they rock!" says Kristine) to utter contempt ("I love tamales...these disappointed on all fronts" says Karen), with most folks in the middle. The average score that peeps gave them was about a 2.5 to 3, which seems about right. I'm not utterly opposed to them, but I definitely like the chicken and cheese ones much better. So, it's a 2.5 or 3 from me as well.      

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Sweet Corn Tamales: 5.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons
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P.S. - I completely whiffed on snapping a picture of the nutritional info for these. I'll add it the next time I buy'em.

Trader Joe's Sweet Potato Tots

Back on Thanksgiving, Sandy and I decided to try and give sweet Lil' Baby M a sweet little treat. At a little over 4 months old, she's being staring at us pretty intently whenever we've been eating or drinking something*, so we decided that maybe she was ready to try her first bite of "real people food." So, Sandy scooped up a little bite of our baked sweet potatoes, mixed in a little mama milk, and mashed it up and plopped into Lil' Baby M's mouth. I, of course, had our de facto video recorder (read: iPhone) running to preserve the moment for all of time. And her reaction? Well, to ask that question assumes that she had one. She just kinda looked and blinked and swished it around and spit some up and might have managed to swallow a little, all with a completely blank, pretty uninterested expression on her little face.** Guess she ain't ready yet.

And I'm pretty sure her reaction would have been exactly the same if her first bite would have instead been a Trader Joe's Sweet Potato Tot, because, well, that was pretty much ours when we had them a few nights ago. Minus the spit up, of course.

It's not the taste that doesn't work. They're pretty legitimate sweet potato mini-nuggets. No real problem there. It's more the texture. You know how a tater tot is supposed to be - crispy on the outside, kinda soft/kinda firm in the middle, and a little greasy too? Indeed, TJ's makes some freakin' excellent ones that are perfect right from the oven. These...are more like baked mush. Anything purporting to be a tater tot cannot simply be a dollop of potato mush, with the outside being slightly less mushy mush. Doesn't work. And that was even after baking them for a little beyond the 35-40 minutes the instructions give for a crunchy tater barrel. I think to get anything resembling a crispiness or a crunchiness we would have had to flat-out blacken these suckers.

That's part of the sweet potato curse. Kinda like salty/chocolate combos, or stuff made with whole grain, or (for my taste) wheat beers, there's a balance that has to be struck. They can be absolutely great, but if not done well, it doesn't work. A little unlike those examples, sweet potatoes almost always taste great, but texturally they either work very well (like these frites) or not at all (look at these gnocchi! Ugh). I'm not sure what really separates them from their regular cousins in that regard - I guess it's something that has to do with the additional natural sugars softening them up during preparation.       

Anyways, out of our veggie corn dog and tater tot dinner, these were the absolute disappointment. "They're basically like a baked version of the gnocchi," Sandy said. Oooh, that's a deep insult. She gave them a two, based solely on the texture. I'll be a little more generous than I might otherwise and say a three.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Sweet Potato Tots: 5 out of 10 Golden Spoons
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*She's the most interested whenever we drink a beer. I guess she likes what's in her bottle so much she wonders what's in ours. I don't know how to feel about this.
**We have so many nicknames for her. "Little Face" is one that Sandy came up with. I wish I had veto rights over nicknames, like what we granted each other when discussing actual names, 'cause man, I hate that one.

Trader Joe's Firecracker Shrimp

In a recent post, I described the new morning routine that Sandy, Baby M and I are now have now that we're both back to work while M's off at baby school (fairly conveniently at Sandy's jarb). Those can be a little rough. Know what else is tough? Evenings. For those of you with kids, you probably know that already, and I don't want to sound whiny, but we're just trying to get settled into the "new normal." Finish up a long day of work, get home, feed the baby, take care of the dog, feed the baby again, be tired, be hungry, deal with a crying baby who apparently cannot stand the mere thought of both of us eating at the same time, do chores...the list doesn't end. Add in the occasional run to the chiropractic office not only for Sandy's back, but also for my elbows and arms to stop hurting after sneezing (true story), and it can only make things more hectic.

No wonder convenient meals-in-a-bag are so popular. There's barely time to do much else some nights, especially when your belly just needs some grub before moving on to the next thing. While we definitely got a preference for homemade dinners and have maintained a good habit of those whenever possible, there's some nights we just kinda cave in and grab something quick 'n easy.

Recently we nabbed ourselves the Trader Joe's Firecracker Shrimp. Most TJ shrimp products have done well for us - routinely, it's high-quality, fresh-tasting crustaceany critters that's not salty or gritty or mushy like too many other store brands I've had. Mostly our quibbles have only been with whatever gets slopped on them, or what they come packaged with. History holds true here. Excellent, excellent shrimp itself - fresh, roughly quarter-sized, firm, with a little light coating on them that crisped up in the oven well enough. Absolutely no complaints. It's just the sauce again. Exactly as you do with other products like the Mandarin Orange Chicken, after you bake the bites you swirl them in a bowl of the sauce. For something that's marketed under "Firecracker," I'd expect some heat, except TJ's repeats its classic error and confuses vinegar with spice, which is not that nice. Combine that with the lemon and sugar and whatnot tossed in, and the sauce tastes almost downright citrusy with nary a hint of the sriracha that it purportedly contains. I'm thinking the sauce would be greatly enhanced by adding some of my own chili powder or some crushed red pepper, but as it comes, it's lacking in our book.

That's not to write the dish off completely. But it's kinda disappointing, knowing just how much better it could actually be with a few small tweaks. Aside from the sauce, Sandy said the shrimp could do with either more breading, or none whatsoever. It probably didn't help that half the coating stuck on our foil-covered baking sheet. Also, say, if I were to buy this at a restaurant, I'd be happy with the quantity of shrimp for our $6.99, but for a make-at-home dinner, even a low effort one like this, either the price could stand to go down, or there could be an extra handful of shrimp included. No matter. It did well enough for a busy Monday night, and it reconfirmed that homemade dinners almost always win in our book. However you want to split our score, you're probably right.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Firecracker Shrimp: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons         

Trader Joe's Contemplates...Inner Peas

I'll admit it, I wasn't eager to try out Trader Joe's Contemplates...Inner Peas. It has nothing to do with the terrible reach for a pun for the name, either. It's just that, normally speaking, if I were to be in the mood for something crispy and vegetably-inspired, why not eat, I don't know, any actual vegetable?  I mean, that's an ideal to strive for, to hunger for fresh produce instead of some pseudo-wanna be-potato chip-type thing, and one I'll freely admit to falling short of quite often. That doesn't change my position, though. Not only that, but with just an exception or two, I have not been a fan of most of TJ's crunchy vegetable snackies - I mean, one of them tastes like a stale McDonald's fry, for goodness' sake. Semirelatedly, I flat out refuse to try their seaweed snacks (wasabified or not) because just the name brings back some bad memories of Japanese rice cracker/seaweed snack my dad liked when I was growing up. Nearly made me upchuck every time.

Sandy, though? I'm not sure how artfully my photo hides the large gaping gash at the top of the package where she eagerly and ravenously ripped it open in anticipation of all the little munchy green pea sticks inside. I mean, girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do, I guess, but let me take a proper picture first. I guess by that, she's just demonstrating how far up her alley a snack like this is. Maybe she just couldn't have her inner peace until she had her Inner Peas. Great, now I'm making bad puns, too.

As far as the snackety snack goes, I am neither appalled by them, nor am I overly enamored, either. To me, an Inner Pea just tastes like a crunchy, semi-Styrofoamy stick that tastes a little salty, slightly oily, and however slightly reminiscent of a pea. And believe me, I can definitely tell when something's made from rice flour, as it usually tastes a little off to me. There's no mistake here - they're ricey, and for all that, gluten still sneaks in somewhere. Aside from that, if you told me these were mummified green beans, I'd probably believe it. Maybe that's your kinda thing. Maybe you use them as a dipstick for some good hummus, and that's probably a half-decent idea I wish I would have considered before these al disappeared. By themselves, though, they're kinda nondescript and while "bland" is not the right word, "flavorful" certainly isn't, either. They're just kinda...there. Maybe, for my palate they're just too contemplative and peasfull...dang, another one...sorry!

Sandy might like them a little more, but she's not exactly bowled over, either. "They're not great, but they're not bad either," she said. Based on her aforementioned eagerness, that almost sounded like a slight indictment to me, so I was a little surprised when she gave them a 3.5 rating. Sandy did, however, add that she'd probably like them more if they were in a salad or something of the sort. Me? I'm willing to allow for the fact that the pea sticks just aren't my kinda thing, so I'd be willing to be slightly more generous if not for my wife's rather muted reaction. I don't know, I'll say a 2.5 from me. I'm at peas with that.

Okay, I'm just gonna leave now.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Contemplates...Inner Peas: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Gluten Free Rice Pasta & Cheddar

I've gone on a whole diatribe about macaroni and cheese before, so I'm not going waste yours and my time rehashing it all. Let's just get down to business here.

Truth be told, Trader Joe's Gluten Free Rice Pasta & Cheddar was not a product I was particularly eager to buy, much less consume. I think it's the "rice" part. Now, I have nothing against rice, per se, as Sandy and I keep a sealed bucket in the kitchen full of it, and we eat rice probably at least twice a week. It's just that I've had rice step outside the realm from which it belongs and total ruin something. A prime example is some TJ's rice flour tortillas which really ought to be discontinued - I bought them once, nearly retched upon first bite, threw them out (this was before I knew about their awesome return policy), and have refused to buy since. Just keep away from them. Far, far away. So there's that, and there's the fact that TJ's has already made a perfectly good corn pasta for the gluten-free crowd. If I were in charge of the whole shebang, that would be the route we'd take here.

But I'm not in charge (not yet, at least), so here we are with ricey mac 'n cheese. Eh. I'll be honest, I'm not a huge fan. There's just something that tastes a little off. Maybe it's all the gluten that's not in it. Sandy made up the pot, and while admittedly she may have undercooked it by the tiniest bit, the noodles were a little too dense and chewy. For whatever reason, the thought that came to mind for me was thick newspaper. That's kinda also how the noodles seemed to taste. Also, in my experience, I've always mixed the powdered cheese, milk and butter right on top of the noodles in the pot. Not this box. It actually instructs you to mix all that together separately, then pour over. Sandy, as always being the directionally obedient chef, obliged without too much questioning. I could be completely making this up, but as a result I don't think the sauce clung to the noodles nearly as well, and yeah, seemed to taste a little off. Is there gluten in regular mac 'n cheese cheese sauce? Don't know. But that could be it. Fortunately, it was all something that a little hot sauce could fix.

For the record, Sandy thinks I'm full of it. "You made up your mind before even trying it that you weren't going to like it and now you're going to write a review nitpicking it left and right just because it's different," she said. Talk about being put in your place. She's probably at least partially right. Sandy deemed it worthy of a four, and has reiterated several times how much she likes it, as if the brand needed her personal, continual affirmation to make it thru each day. Me? I'm trying to be fair but it's just not that great. For the gluten-free folks, this simply isn't how boxed mac 'n cheese tastes. You don't deserve another not-so-great imitation of an American classic, especially when better glutenless noodle technology not only exists but lurks only a mere shelf or two over. I'll play nice with a 2.5.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Gluten Free Rice Pasta & Cheddar: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons     

Gum's The Word Sugar Free Gum

Okay, I'll admit it, I was fooled. This looks like a Trader Joe's product, is packaged like a Trader Joe's product, and has the classic value of a Trader Joe's product (24 pieces for 99 cents? Nice!). Indeed, the only place I have ever seen this sold is at a Trader Joe's, right by the checkout, in fact. However, Gum's The Word is not labelled as a Trader Joe's product, so....I'm guessing it's not really a Trader Joe's product. Fortunately there's a precedent or two...or three...for these kinda situations on the blog, and since a) these are sold at Trader Joe's b) I can chew enough gum to give Violet Beauregarde a run for her money and c) I didn't notice this wasn't a TJ's product 'til literally about 30 seconds ago, well, I'm reviewing it and you can't do anything about it. Them's the rules.

And, well, I'm kinda glad it isn't a TJ's product, because it isn't all that great. The chief issues with the chewy chomping Chiclet wannabes is, they start off so incredibly minty that my sinuses would be cleared (which I kinda like) but within literally two minutes there's no flavor left at all (which I don't like at all). Seriously, goes from actually too much peppermint to none at all in no time flat with no happy medium. It's kinda like a sprinter who exerts too much effort from the start line to save anything for the finish line. There's another colloquialism or two I could use, but this is a family website. At least it's about the right consistency that would incline me to keep chewing if any it had more flavor that lasted any respectable amount of time. Other than that and the aforementioned value, meh. There's also a spearmint incarnation, which I doubt I'd like much better, as peppermint is usually higher up in the flavor hierarchy for me.

Sandy isn't as generally gung ho about gum as I am. She chews it occasionally on road trips but that's about it. "Meh, it's gum, and that's about it," she said. Yeah, at the end of the day, that's pretty much all that can be said. It's gum at a good price, with a cool package design and a name that tangentially reminds me of one of the most annoying Family Guy episodes ever. That doesn't mean it tastes great.

Bottom line: Gum's The Word Sugar Free Gum: 5 out of 10 Golden Spoons
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Trader Joe's Petite Cocoa Batons

In honor of this particular petite product, I'm going to write only a petite (by my standards) review of Trader Joe's Petite Cocoa Batons. No tangential ramblings. No lengthy sidebars. No nothing but my straightforward opinion about the product at hand. Okay, here we go. 

Actually, that's just a polite way to say that there's nothing much to say about these mini choco-sticks. Well, to call them a stick, much less a baton, is a bit of an overstatement. To me, a baton is something able to be twirled about by a color guard member in a parade, and a stick is something I should poke my sister with. These, friends, are neither. Call them a teeny roll or micro-wonton, but don't call them a baton, because the only place these will be twirled with the all the freedom afforded by being baton is in your mouth or tummy because they're so small, like a quarter by half an inch, maybe. You can't even swish your coffee with these guys. It's not a baton. 

But they are petite, and they're certainly full of cocoa, but again, that's about all I can say. Imagine a wafery Cocoa Puff with a kinda creamy center, and that's about what these are. They're light, airy, and crispy, with a lil' dollop in the middle, and that's about it. If hungry, I could probably eat the whole box and not be remotely satisfied. After just a few of them, the taste doesn't do all that much for me, anyways. They're actually kinda boring. I suppose they could be a nice companion for that aforementioned cup of coffee as part of your a petit dejeuner, but other than that, I feel a little silly just munching on them as I sit on my couch writing this review. 

Anyways, Sandy likes 'em, with the disclaimer she'd prefer they sided more towards gran than petit. Me too. I'd imagine at least then there'd be something more we could do with these choco-batons than just munch them on down. Overall, they're probably not a repeat purchase unless when Baby M gets a little older and we want to give her a mini treat for doing something good....eh....they'll probably be discontinued by then anyways, which begs the question of why on God's green earth these or these are still available. Anyways, however you want to split our score below between Sandy and me, you're probably right.

 
Bottom line: Trader Joe's Petite Cocoa Batons: 5.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Pinachios

piz·zazz/pəˈzaz/

Noun: An attractive combination of vitality and glamour.

pa·nache/pəˈnaSH

Noun: 1. Flamboyant confidence of style or manner. 2. A tuft or plume of feathers, esp. as a headdress or on a helmet.

pis·tach·i·o/pəˈstaSHēˌō/

Noun: The edible pale green seed of an Asian tree.

Combine those three words together and that's how you get "Pinachio." Or so I assume. I wouldn't have figured the "pizzazz" part, but the side of the Trader Joe's Pinachio container tells me these cookies have that, and I guess something like "Pizznachio" just sounds a little bit too ridiculous.

Anyways, those a lot of words could use to describe these pistachioed-white chocolate-chipped cookies, but pizzazz and panache are not on the list. I mean, they're not bad, but despite their premise, they're just not all that fancy or particularly great either. Each cookie is mostly just that...cookie. As in, not pistachios or white chocolate, but kinda like the empty space between the stars. Just not a lot there. As a result, while present, there's not a lot of pistachios or white chocolate to taste. Also, this is my personal bias, but I don't like overly crunchy cookies nearly as much as soft semi-melty ones, and the Pinachios are some crunchy little buggers. For the record, they pair great with milk, but to me it's almost a necessity to help soften them up to make them enjoyable.

Sandy swears they softened up some over time. I'm not arguing or contradicting her, but let's just say my mouth's interpretation as to the rigidity and texture pertaining to crunchtitude of these said packaged goods differs from hers. We both agree there isn't all that much to them. "They don't have nearly as much pistachio flavor, as, say pistachio ice cream," Sandy said. "Hmm, these would have been great with ice cream...We should go get ice cream." Oh, twist my arm, sweetie. Anyways, somehow in my life I have managed to be blessed with a semi-regular influx of absolute killer white chocolate chip macadamia cookies, which I'd go for way over these. Just to show how indifferent Sandy and I were to them, after opening them, the container lasted a full week just sitting out on the kitchen table. If that's not an indication of "meh", I don't know what is.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Pinachios: 5.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Giotto's 'Spearean Risotto

My dear Giotto,

Bongiorno. It was nice to see you on your most recent visit to the U.S. of A. And we were happy to taste another one of your Italian dishes. But as a foodie-hack of sorts, I have to be honest—I'd really prefer pizza or pannacotta again next time you visit.

First of all, when I look at the picture you show on your bag, all I see are asparagus tips. But all I saw in my actual dish were the bottom parts of the asparaguses...or is it asparagi? And let's face it, the asparagus "butts" simply don't have the taste or texture of the top part—the "spear" that you so prominently feature in the title of your entree. So give us more top parts. I may not be good at math, but one would think that for every bottom part, there would be one top part. Where did those go? Did you use them all in the photo shoot for the art on the packaging? Did you eat them all yourself? Giotto... were we not gracious hosts? Why would you hold out on us like that?

Furthermore, they seemed unusually rubbery and stringy—even for the bottom parts. Overall, your dish lacked flavor. There's a bit of butteriness, but it's not enough. Your risotto was soft and your sauce creamy, but it tasted like I was eating something off of the "lite" menu. I know that we Americans are fat, but when we eat Italian, we expect a treat, Giotto! Mama mia!

And I must say that your rice dish would greatly benefit from a few more ingredients. Add different veggies, add sausage, or heck, add bacon! Adding almost anything would have helped hype this dish up a bit! Sonia fully shares my sentiments on this matter. Sure, we could add more stuff in ourselves, but you're the chef, Giotto. And furthermore, we're lazy.

It's not that we're ungrateful for the dish you cooked up for us. It's just that we know you can do better. After all, if your American cousin can make a good Sicilian Pizza, shouldn't a real Italian be able to nail an Italian dish? If we were going to score your risotto on a scale of one to ten gondoliers, we'd have to give it only cinque.

Your American pen pal,
Nathan

Bottom line: 5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Skinny Fries

They're called "skinny" fries, perhaps not because they are skinnier than fast food French fries in size and shape, but presumably because they will make you skinnier if you choose them over fast food French fries. They're crispity and crunchity, and their flavor is vaguely reminiscent of an actual fry, but unfortunately, they taste like a reduced-guilt option.

They're very light. Not only low in calories, but each individual fry seems to carry no mass—as if they would float out of your hand if prompted to do so by the subtlest breeze. Although, paradoxically, there does seem to be a fine oily residue on each fry. They taste a bit like natural potato, and they taste a bit like vegetable oil. They're lightly seasoned with sea salt, and they do contain some wheat flour, but I must say I couldn't really taste it. 

If you're looking for something along the same lines, but actually want a bit more flavor, we recommend Trader Joe's Veggie Sticks. Not quite as light, but they're certainly not going to give you a heart attack—at least not by themselves. The Veggie Sticks are extremely similar to these Skinny Fries in taste and texture, but the Skinny Fries fall just a bit short in each category, especially flavor. 

Honestly, if I were going to choose a light, fluffy snack, and it had to be on the bland side, I'd probably choose a rice cake over these Skinny Fries. If I wanted something in the direction of an actual French fry, I'd go get some actual French fries (Trader Joe's has multiple oven-ready varieties). And if I were looking for some potato-crisp, fry-esque noshables, I'd go with the aforementioned Veggie Sticks. I just can't see us ever having occasion to buy these Skinny Fries again. They're not bad, but there are just too many better alternatives out there, in my opinion.

Maybe if you're a fan of the Veggie Sticks, but want to shave a few more calories off of your afternoon snack, these might be for you. We don't want to beat them down too hard, but we also can't muster a lot of enthusiasm for them. Sonia gives them 3 stars. I give them 2.5.

Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10 stars.

Trader Joe's Honey Glazed Miso Salmon on Salad Greens

I'm beginning to grow skeptical of Trader Joe's salmon products. The best score we have so far on a TJ's salmon dish was a measly 6.5 stars out of 10. But our biggest complaint about the Mojito Salmon wasn't the salmon itself.

The Sockeye Salmon, however, was a different story. In this case, the salmon completely ruined a halfway decent bag of pasta and vegetables. With a few notable exceptions, we had a lot of comments and emails supporting our findings and opinions about that particular product. The salmon in that bag was just nasty.

Yet, brave adventurers that we are, the foodie-hack bloggers of WG@TJ's plow forth—with our tongue-in-cheek statements of self-aggrandizement held high, ingesting even the most risky of TJ's dishes, hoping that we, for the vicarious benefit of our readers, will discover something unique and tasty and worthy of our hard-earned dollars.

This dish, unfortunately, does not fall into that category.

I must admit that there is generally a huge range of differing experiences when it comes to Trader Joe's already-prepared, refrigerated meals, since the freshness factor can vary a bit, and the amount and quality of each ingredient used can also vary. But again, as in the case of the Sockeye Salmon, we have a meal with great veggies and pasta that is spoiled by a batch of highly-fishy salmon. The dressing was good, the lettuce was fresh, the lo mein was tasty, if maybe a bit too soggy. No major complaints, except for the salmon.

But unfortunately, the salmon is the centerpiece of the meal—or so one would think by looking at the label. I suppose in this case it was a saving grace that there wasn't very much salmon in the salad. What little salmon there was tasted like dirty socks—and yes, I know what dirty socks taste like...long story, don't wanna get into that now #childhoodtraumas.

I'm just going to go ahead and tell you to try it if you're desperate for a lo mein-topped salad with Asian-ish dressing. But be prepared to scoop out the salmon and serve it to a starving stray cat, who very well may pass on the offer.

2.5 out of 5 stars from me. The same from Sonia.

Bottom line: 5 out of 10 stars.

Trader Joe's ¡Mango! ¡Mango!

Seeing as that Trader Joe's, despite their otherwise healthy-ish vibes, is basically a store jam-packed of all sorts of impulse buys just begging to happen, Sandy and I have made ourselves a pretty simple rule for shopping there. We're each allowed to pick out one snack or treat for ourselves (ideally, we'll share), and if we both behave and keep pretty close to our budget, at the checkout we'll pick out one snacky kinda thing to share for the ride home. I'm sure it sounds kinda silly to motivate ourselves to "be good" in a manner not unlike you'd motivate your toddler, but you know what? It works! Like a charm! I mean, we tend to go there for just our snacks and lunch stuff and the odd ingredient for a dinner (opting to hit up farmer markets for our produce, most of our meat, etc) so it'd be easy for us to get carried away, especially when walking down the ice cream and candy aisle, or as I call it, Temptation Lane. No matter. The stands by the checkouts have tended to have some pretty great finds, from a recent favorite of ours, a dark chocolate speculoos filled bar, which rivals only the caramel/black sea salt bar as the best chocolate slab God has ever bestowed upon humanity, to things like candied squishy penguins. We've almost always been happy with what we find there.

We've kept hearing how good TJ's ¡Mango! ¡Mango! fruit gummies are, and so finally recently relished the chance to give them a try at last. As you might be able to guess by the blue denim covering my wife's knee area that served as this week's photo backdrop, we didn't wait long after loading up the Tucson to bust them out. We love our gummies, and greatly enjoy almost anything Trader Joe's and mango related (like our favorite granola), so, man, we were eager.

And to be honest, the mango^2 chewy guys were a bit of a disappointment to us. That's not to say they were completely bad. First off, each gummy wasn't, in fact, all that gummy. Instead they were tougher, much chewier, and very firm, despite the packaging claiming that they were going to be soft. That's not necessarily horrible, but I think that the texture kind of added to the general lack of flavor. I don't need a cavity cavalry's worth of sugar to make something taste good, but mango can be (and in this case, is) a relatively subtle flavor, and so having to put a few good, hearty chomps before any flavor starts leaking out is not optimal. It wasn't just that, but in our bag of about 40 candies, only seven had any yogurt parts on them, and maybe that many had passion fruit on them too. That's just not enough, even though the ones that did were only marginally better.

Overall, both Sandy and I just weren't all that impressed, especially after our pretty good experience with those penguin-themed Gummy Tummies. I think Sandy was kinda hoping the ¡Mango! ¡Mango!s would be a bit more like them, as she said she wished these were softer and had a liquidy part to them to add a little more flavor. I agree, although I would have settled for a wee bit more mango-tinged goodness. They weren't bad overall, but we'll be looking for another treat next time at the checkout before we reach for 'em again. If you're a fan, that just means more for you. From here, though, we're gonna split things right down the middle.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's ¡Mango! ¡Mango!: 5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Raspberry Tarte

There were a few semi-related thoughts going through my head as I made a solo trek to the local Trader Joe's on Sunday afternoon. First, the wifey instructed me to find a tasty dessert for the usual family dinner that night as she was busy getting a mama-massage off somewhere with some of her other pregnant lady friends. Two, not like we're dietarily perfect otherwise, but if there's one thing that Sandy and I stink at when it comes to food, it's eating enough fruits and veggies. We like them and like the idea of eating them, and indeed we did pretty well last summer between growing our veggie garden and hitting up the local farmer's markets, but I had just cleaned out the fridge and ended throwing out too many veggies that were bought on a mild splurge the week or so before at a farm stand. The winter's a little tougher as we haven't canned and well, we're both not fans of the TJ selection with an exception or two here and there. That's on both of us, and we both need to do a better job. And third, well....Sandy and I decided we'd give up sweets for Lent. As I've written before, that's been much tougher than what either of us thought. Well, on Friday, Sandy admitted to me that she caved in when some donuts were brought to her work, and, well, I've been sneaking a non-sanctioned sugary snack or two here or there, which I finally 'fessed up to, too. We both kinda looked at each other then, and remembered where we hid away some cookies, and had at it. I figured, well, if we're back into eating sweets again (tsktsk on us! Don't tell the Pope!), we might as well find quasi-healthyish ones, right? Right?

All these factors led to my purchase of Trader Joe's Raspberry Tarte. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. The dumb-dumb blogger saw the big ol' raspberries on top and figured it'd be a dessert that even Jamie Oliver would sign off on. That's...not so far from the truth, I'll admit. But hey, at least it's not like some other desserts we've recently tried, so baby steps, okay? Baby steps.

As for taste, yeah...it's not bad. As one would probably figure, the raspberries are pretty sweet yet deliciously kinda tart, and are semi-coated with a raspberry/apple compote-type gloop. The crust kinda reminds me of a mix between graham cracker crumb and shortbread, which also means it's delicious. There's also a layer of something or other between the raspberries and the crust, but I forget what the box said it was, but it really doesn't matter to me because whatever it was, I didn't taste it anyways. Of course, there's the big drawback that this comes frozen and it's supposed to thaw for an hour before serving. Like some other TJ desserts, that didn't work out so well. It thawed for at least two hours at room temp and still there were icy bits while the rest tasted like it came from a freezer. I don't know if following some of the baking instructions would help. All I know is, overall I wasn't blown away or disappointed by the tarte, and vanilla ice cream was definitely a major plus for a slice.

Sandy wasn't a huge fan of the raspberry tarte, either. "I kinda like the berries, except when they were still frozen," she said. "But overall...meh." That's a pretty accurate statement. For the $6.49 I plopped down for it, I was hoping for more. That being said, when it came time to munch down the last couple bites left, I was a fairly willing volunteer, if even just because I figured the fruit made it a better option than the brownies that were also available. Eh well. I'm a little more enthusiastic about it than Sandy is, so I'll go a spoon up from her 2.5.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Raspberry Tarte: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Mini Mint Ice Cream Mouthfuls

Well, I'll start off by telling you that these ice cream sandwiches are barely a mouthful. I expected them to be just slightly smaller than a traditional ice cream sandwich...but they're just a tad larger than an oreo in reality—like a regular oreo cookie. They're just one or two bites a piece. It works as portion control, which is good for people like me, who tend to overeat every chance they get. If I'm sitting there thinking "Wow, I've already had three ice cream sandwiches," I'm going to go ahead and stop eating. What kind of pig eats four ice cream sandwiches in one sitting?
So it's a good, built-in reason to not snarf down too many at once.

Another good reason to not snarf down too many: they're just not that good.

It's really hard to screw up mint chocolate chip ice cream. And while it's not a total failure in this case, it does leave a bit to be desired. Sonia was thoroughly disappointed that it wasn't even green. I thought it had a green hue in certain lighting, but Sonia claims that it was stark white. Furthermore, there were very few chocolate chips. And finally, it wasn't really even that minty. It was a very subtly-flavored mint chocolate chip ice cream. Which wouldn't have been that bad, except that the flavor of the cookies completely overpowered the flavor of the ice cream.

The cookies had a decent, natural kind of chocolate taste. Sonia thinks their flavor was similar to carob. I disagree. I don't like carob at all, but I didn't have a problem with the flavor of the cookie part of these sandwiches. What I did have a major problem with, however, was the texture of the cookies. Sonia wholeheartedly agrees. It's something that neither of us could put our fingers on exactly. We wanted to call them dry, but they're not really dry...we wanted to call them gritty, but that's not quite it either. There was just something about the cookies' texture that completely overwhelmed—and to a degree, ruined—all of the pleasant aspects of these little snacks.

We both decided that the ice cream by itself with, perhaps, a few extra chocolate chips and some good old fashioned green #3 would have made a better treat. While the flavor of the chocolate cookies was acceptable, it totally overpowered the taste of the ice cream, and their texture was simply not pleasant. All in all, this is one of the more disappointing frozen snacks we've had from Trader Joe's. There's a novelty to their diminutive size, and the ice cream by itself would have had some potential, but neither of us are going to give these moderately-minty mouthfuls a stellar score.

Sonia thinks they deserve no better than two and a half stars. I agree.

Bottom line: 5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Organic Split Pea Soup

When I was a kid, I loved pea soup. I'm not sure why really. For those of you who have been reading for a while...or even if you've only read one or two other posts of mine and just happen to be really perceptive, you've probably noticed that I have a sweet tooth, I love the same things kids love, and I'm not totally into healthy things unless they taste really good. I was even more that way as a wee one. I really didn't like healthy stuff.

But for some reason pea soup was an exception. Maybe it was because I crumbled about 20 Ritz crackers into the mix and was actually eating nothing but salt and bleached flour with maybe a hint of vegetable matter. Or maybe it was because I was eating Campbell's brand pea soup—which I haven't had in years, so I can't really do a direct comparison...but I have a feeling it would still taste a bit better than TJ's brand. Who knows?

All I know now is that after a very long hiatus without pea soup, coming back to it was not the joyous occasion I had anticipated. This soup tasted like what I would have thought pea soup would have tasted like before I ever tried pea soup as a kid. That is to say: it was bland, gritty, pasty, vegetabley health glop. Sure, organic, vegan, pea-based anything is going to lack a certain...excitement...but we've seen Trader Joe's do incredible things with organic, vegan soups before...I'm thinking Organic Tomato Bisque...and I really don't like tomatoes. At all. Cooked tomatoes and ketchup and that sort of thing, yes. Tomatoes, no. But that bisque...I could eat it everyday.

But I do like peas. So why didn't this very natural, untarnished pea-based soup do it for me? I don't know. It was just bland. It was pea-mush—and not much more.

Sonia liked it because it was so natural. She says it was filling, too. I suppose it might have been if I had been so inclined to eat a bowl and a half like she did. She says it's easy to prepare and highly portable. Aren't most soups easy to prepare and portable? I just don't think those are reasons to praise this soup beyond its due.

Now before you slather me with comments insinuating that I'm a big fat jerk that only likes junk food and is ungrateful for the earth's great and bountiful pea harvest, please take a moment to remember that I did indeed enjoy other varieties of pea soup in the past, and that just because I can see room for improvement with this one doesn't mean that I'm not extremely grateful that such sources of nourishment and sustenance are so extraordinarily affordable and plentiful in my 21st century western world.

That being said, with a clear conscience, I can give this item 2 out of 5 stars. Sonia gives it a 3.5.

Bottom line 5.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Santa Fe Style Chicken Flatbread Wrap

It's dangerous to go to Trader Joe's while hungry. I mean, really, it is. I picked up Sandy from work a few nights ago and as we made our way over to TJ's (it's literally halfway between her job and our house). we discussed what we'd like for dinner. When hungry, I tend to go by power of suggestion, and since she's expecting* and all, I asked her what she wanted for dinner. "Hmm...hot dogs and tater tots," she says. I can go for that, and before y'all freak out, we were talking about these nitrate free chicken beauties that TJ's has, so chill, it's cool. We get there, and the front display is all about their Wisconsin cheddar mac 'n cheese. She's already inside with a box in her hand as I pull the cart in. "Ooooh, I meant hot dogs and mac 'n cheese!," she exclaims. Okay, yes dear, we can do that instead. A few more steps in, and we stop and take a look at one or two of our fresh pizza top choices, and as we debate them, I see these new-fangled Santa Fe Style Chicken Flatbread Wraps. Instinctively, I think to myself, "Hmm, lunch?" But the gleam in Sandy's eyes tell me differently. "Dinner! Right here!" Yes, love. I wagered they'd be good with some chips and salsa or something of the sort, but as we walk by the produce, Sandy changes her mind to baked potatoes. So yes, that's what we had for dinner...a prepackaged ready-to-eat convenience item paired with something that takes nearly an hour in the oven so she can take a warm bath before dinner. Somehow, this is normal for us. God, I love her, even though she causes a case of some good ol' non-lice-related headscratchin' every once in a while.

So, here we go, TJ's Santa Fe Style Chicken Flatbread Wrap. It actually should be Wraps as it's a two pack with a cup of salsa verde for your $3.99. I'll start with the not so good, as it's obvious with the accompanying photo here: our wraps came prebusted. Both flatbreads were broken in half when we opened the package, causing some innards to spill out. It's not the first time something got mishandled that we bought, but it was off to a bad start. My theory is the flatbread itself is a little too thick to be flexible enough to roll with the S & H punches. Despite that, the flatbread is pretty decent tasting. as it's all nice and pillowy. There's a bit too much of it, though, especially because there's just not quite enough filling to go around in each wrap. The picture's a little misleading, I think, because if there's one thing it doesn't lack, it's the cheddar. Predictably, it's scroogey in the meat department (between the two, there *might* have been one reputable serving) and there's not enough black beans and corn to fill the void. I mean it all tastes good, there's just not quite enough in it. I think twice as much filling could fit in the wrapper, not that that much more would be necessary. As an added bonus for spice addicts like me, when the packaging just said "peppers" they really meant "jalapeños" and the salsa verde is legitimately hot for a salsa verde. I had mine cold as is, which I thought was pretty decent, while Sandy preferred to heat hers up a little, which she said made a big difference to her.

"I wouldn't go out of my way to get this again, but I wouldn't not get it again," Sandy said. Man, her double negatives sometimes...she's as bad with those as I can be with my ellipses while writing..."Maybe if we were on our way to a ballgame or something," she said. Well, I wouldn't recommend trying to eat this while driving, but I got her point, and I agree. I think we both wanted to like it more than we did, because chicken, black beans, corn, salsa, cheese and all, that's our style. It wasn't quite a dinner time fail, but it wasn't all that impressive, though with some tweaks, I think it could be a legitimate star. Eh well. I can't recall if she said a 2.5 or 3 for her rating, so I'm saying whichever one she didn't.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Santa Fe Style Chicken Flatbread Wrap: 5.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons
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* "What? A velociraptor?" as one of our friends likes to say when she hears the phrase "I'm/we're expecting." Cracks me up every time.