Trader Joe's Queso Cheese Dip

So this weekend is the Super Bowl!

Whoop-de-doo.

A couple years ago, I could plop down, turn any old football game (much less the biggest one of the year) and be reasonably entertained. These days? Not so much. Not exactly sure why, but pigskin doesn't have the same appeal to me in the past few seasons. I didn't even watch the Super Bowl, opting for a date out with my wife including going to emptiest Cheesecake Factory ever. I've watched maybe five games over the past three seasons. My guess is, watching a bunch of big guys in tights run around, fight over a ball, smack each other senseless with concussions, only for every play to be dissected in slo-mo for ten agonizing minutes on "instant replay" with continued live look-ins to whatever funny grimace the head coach is making just doesn't hold the same appeal to me, and for my small amount of attention I can give the sports world, I choose to devote it to baseball.

It's kinda the same for Trader Joe's Queso Cheese Dip. I'm not sure how this blog has been around for like eight years and we've never mentioned this product...but it's true. If the TJ queso would have come up in review rotation years back, I'd probably LOVE this stuff. I mean, it's semi-spicy-salsafied cheese, how can it go wrong?

Well, for whatever reason, it just doesn't cut it for me any more. Sandy and I picked up the diminutive jar for a recent taco night in the name of trying something different. Shoulda sticked to the classics. The cheese is kinda runny and gloppy and absolutely needs to be warmed to be palatable. I tried some cold just now to revisit the taste - cold, clammy, and kinda booger-y. Not recommended.

It's apparently some sort of cheese blend that's primarily cheddar according to the ingredient label. I will grant that it's better quality nacho cheese than the stadium standard yellow sauce. But not by all that much. There's still a fake, salty taste to it. The spices and peppers do convey a little warm heat, but is generally inoffensive. If anything, it tastes a little more towards pickled and vinegar than actual heat. Overall, it's just not an impressive product.

Anyways, if you need a dip for the game, go for it. You could do worse, I'm sure. But I'll be looking for something else, as I am planning on watching at least some this weekend. I grew up an Eagles fan and am watching more out of obligation than anything, even though I can't tell you in 100% certainty if Doug Pederson is the head coach or quarterback after that Wentz guy got some sort of big ouchie. Won't have too much feeling about the outcome either way, I'm sure. Kinda the same for the TJ queso dip - mehs abound.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Queso Cheese Dip: 5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Tahini, Pepita & Apricot Slaw Kit

This probably doesn't come as any sort of huge surprise or shocker, but...salad, in general, doesn't really excite me.

Most veggies are perfectly fine. I can eat broccoli, Brussel sprouts, squash, etc all day long. At the continued shock of my coworkers, I'll happily eat plain raw spinach at my desk. Aside from beets, off the top of my head, there's not a single vegetable I can think of that I don't like...still, salad leaves me ambivalent at best.

Maybe it's mixing up veggies. Maybe it's my usual distaste for many salad dressings. Or maybe it's just kinda the boring hum-drum that I find most salads to be, especially of the pre-packaged variety.

All that to say, I was kinda excited to try out Trader Joe's Tahini, Pepita & Apricot Slaw Kit. Don't let the name fool you - slaw? Psshhh. It's salad all chopped up in shreds.

I wish I didn't get my hopes up so high.

There's nothing inherently wrong with the slaw kit. But there's nothing overly right, either. It's the same usual base blend of carrots, broccoli stalks, cabbage and kale in roughly equal proportion to one another. That part is good, but formulaic enough now for TJ's kits that it's not exactly meant as a heap of praise either. It's just kinda a given at this point. Fresh, crisp, crunchy, all that excellent stuff...

...but moving on to what should be the exciting stuff, right? The extras and mix-ins! This is where salads make or break it. First up: dried apricot tidbits! Always a fun add...if there were enough to go around. Not this time. We got only a small spoonful which is hard to split up in multiple meaningful portions. A small nice touch, as were the pepitas, for a little crunch and all, but again nothing too remarkable.

And the dressing? Ugh. "Tahini orange" it says. So sesame, with a citrus flair, so it could work, but there's also this vinegar-y presence that kinda muffs it all up. Much like my three year old when choosing between dinosaurs or trucks for her night-night pull-up, it's just so indecisive and kinda frustrating. Like, it should be good, but instead just gets in its own way. Sandy said it kinda tastes like nothing. I disagree - it tastes like something, just I have no idea what it should be. And instead of tying up the whole salad as a nice cohesive dish, it kinda makes the salad a turnoff.

Oh well. It's not a terrible price at $3, and I appreciate the ampersand in the title for what it's worth. They seem to be disappearing from TJ product names, as are the different Joes from around the world. Times are a-changin' I guess. But my general ambivalence towards salads is not. Both Sandy and I give it a pretty middlin' score.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Tahini, Pepita & Apricot Slaw Kit: 5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Organic White Truffle Potato Chips

Certain yummy things come from the ground. Potatoes, for example. 

I'd add chickpeas, lentils, and beans to that list, among other things. I can go either way on things like radishes, beets, and jicama. But in my book, once something has been in the dirt for a long enough time, it necessarily falls under the category of "things to burn," rather than "things to eat." Case in point: oil, coal, propane, natural gas—all of which are proving useful as sources of heat during this gnarly polar vortex we've got going over most of the country. You burn them. Nobody in his right mind tries to eat them.

I'd like to add truffles to that list. Fungi that have been in the dirt for 5-8 years have long since graduated from the "you should eat this" league, and are now well on their way to becoming fossil fuels for future generations to incinerate. Let's just go ahead and leave them in the ground for now.

Because they taste like dirt. They're bitter, chalky, and...I mean, some might use the term "earthy," but I think that word is simply too kind for this "gourmet" subterranean fungus.

Just the smell from the bag was too much for me. I'm not really even sure why. "Organic white truffle" is very low on the ingredients list, but there's nothing else on there that I dislike at all. Tapioca maltodextrin might be a little odd for potato chips, but I'm down with tapioca stuff. I like oil. I like salt. I like potatoes. The look, feel, and texture of the chips was just fine. If you lacked olfactory and gustatory senses, you'd never be able to differentiate these chips from run-of-the-mill salted potato chips. But for me, that truffley taste just overpowered everything else, and I could scarcely stomach two of the chips. 

I'd also like to point out that I'm in the minority here, apparently. The lovely Sonia enjoyed these soil-flavored chips, oddly enough. And our western PA blogging counterparts appreciated the Truffle Mac and Cheese exactly one year ago this week. I guess you can chalk it up to my lifelong aversion to fungi. I don't even really like mushrooms.

I, for one, hope to never eat another truffle-containing product for as long as I live. You can call me unsophisticated, but you can't call me unadventurous. Sonia and I consumed and enjoyed both alligator meat and python meat for the first time this New Year's Eve at a fancy hot dog place in Philly. Even those guys serve potato chips sans truffles. They know what's up.

I give these chips one and a half stars. I would have gone with zero, but their texture and appearance was just fine. It's the flavor I can't handle. Sonia will go with four. She thinks the flavor is "interesting," and she likes that the chips aren't as oily as other varieties.

Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Riced Cauliflower Stuffing

As any TJ's fan worth their Hawaiian shirt knows by now, cauliflower can do a lot of stuff. The real question is, can cauliflower do stuffing?

Well, guess we're gonna find out with Trader Joe's Riced Cauliflower Stuffing.

There's a lot to like about the concept here. Gluten free, vegan, no carbs for all you cave people out there. That's not an insult, I dabble with the Paleo diet here and there. But, when November rolls around, with Thanksgiving on the horizon, there's something to be said for good ol' traditional stuffing, whatever that means to you and your memories.

And there's something just a little amiss here with the TJ's cauli-stuffin'. It's hard to pin down completely what it is, but both Sandy and I noticed it.

Our best guess is, the stuff doesn't taste or feel like stuffing. It's...almost more like a pilaf. The cauliflower rice never loses its inherent ricey-ness and feels grainy, not soft and warm and inviting like stuffing. That being said, there's a lot to like. The product really tries hard to replicate traditional stuffing tastewise, and it almost pulls it off. The carrots, celery, and onion are on point, and there's copious handfuls of tart dried cranberries that make an excellent little touch - better than raisins or apples.

Still, it's off...and again I point to the cauliflower. Perhaps cauliflower has a "cleaner" taste than most bread, so all the flavors that are normally somewhat tempered poke through just a wee bit more. That seemed most noticeable with the onions. Also, look at the ingredient list and some unusual suspects. Tomato paste? Maple syrup? Never seen those in a stuffing recipe before. And they're not particularly noticeable, per se, but maybe they knock the flavor just off kilter enough.

This stuffing's decent enough, though. If you want an alternative to the usual salty carb bomb that is traditional stuffing, by all means, go for it. No denying it's healthier and more nutritious and all that - I mean, it's all veggies - and it's almost as good as the "real deal." But there's too much comfort vibe missing here. I think that's what it comes down to. It's only a few bucks in the freezer section, if you're lucky enough to find it - been a hot seller from what I hear - so I'd love to hear some more takes if you've tried it. But for me and Sandy, we just can't muster much enthusiasm.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Riced Cauliflower Stuffing: 5.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Curried Carrot & Cashew Dip

I think the pumpkin craze may have finally reached its apex and is starting to experience a bit of backlash. Can't put up a pumpkin review these days without at least one person remarking "I'm so sick of pumpkin!" With pumpkin spice hummus, pumpkin flavored dog treats, and even pumpkin spice cough drops on the market, it's pretty clear society has reached a saturation point. Even Trader Joe's seems to have slowed down the release of new pumpkin products this year. There are definitely a few additions, but on our last TJ's run, all we saw were the same sixty items that were available last year. So we'll just take a breather...for today, anyway.

So we turn our sights to another unique orange concoction: Trader Joe's Curried Carrot & Cashew Dip

It's NOT what I expected.

Our last adventure involving a tub of Trader Joe's curried veggies was surprisingly successful in my book, as have most of our other forays into the Indian-inspired land of curry-laden culinary creations. This one...I, personally, am not nearly as enthused about.

There aren't any suggestions for how to serve this condiment. It's packaged in one of those distinctive, clear, round hummus containers. Are we to smear it on a piece of warm pita? Is it a chip dip? Or is it a marinade for meats on the grill? 

We tried it as a chip dip. Interesting. But I wouldn't go out of my way to buy it again for that purpose. On bread? Okay, I can see it taking the place of hummus, but I'll take most hummus over this dip any day. Served with veggies, riced cauliflower, and chicken? Better still. But again nothing I'd crave over a "normal" condiment. 

I was expecting the curry flavor to dominate this product, but it certainly doesn't. In fact, carrot is the primary flavor coming through. It's essentially a tub of creamed carrots, with a few miscellaneous spices and vague cashew flavor throughout...not sweet. Certainly not what I was hoping for. I swear there's a strange, funky, almost mildewy essence in our tub. Sonia doesn't detect it at all.

To make matters worse, there was a single white glob of....something in our container. At first, we thought it might have been a cashew. But it wasn't. It was fairly firm, somewhat powdery, and...not at all like anything else anywhere in the tub. Sonia suggested it might be a ball of corn starch, as corn starch does indeed appear on the ingredients list. She seemed perfectly fine with that notion and proceeded to eat around the object in question. I began referring to it as "the tumor" and like any good amateur scientist decided to dissect it. Its middle looked like something in between white meat chicken and the inside of a nut of some kind, though much too large to be a single cashew. You can see it in two halves there toward the right side of the product photograph. 

I dared Sonia to eat a piece of the mystery blob—which, shockingly, she did with remarkably little coaxing. She just popped it in her mouth, shrugged, and said "it's fine."

I couldn't let her be a braver eater than I am, so I hesitantly cut a little bit with my fork and tasted it. It felt like a curd of cottage cheese and tasted completely flavorless. I still don't know what that thing was, but it grosses me out just thinking about it.

Unfazed by the incident, Sonia continued dipping various foods into the little tub and mixing it into her food. She said, "I enjoy it. What do you think?"

"I'm not feeling it," I muttered, backing away from the table.

I might have mustered two stars if not for that...wad of...stuff. One and a half stars from me. I haven't disagreed with the wife this strongly on a TJ's product in a long time. Four stars from Sonia.

Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Premium Peanut Butter Roundels

So...what's a roundel?

Sounds like a singular member of a 1960's Motown group, or a really balloony shaped letter of the alphabet. If you would have asked me what a roundel was a few days go, I would have said one of those, or pulled some equally dumb joke out of nether regions. I'm a dad, it's what I do.

But as it turns out...a roundel is a "small disk, especially a decorative medallion." Or a circular disc used as a symbol. Says Wikipedia: "The term is used in heraldry, but also commonly used to refer to a type of national insignia used on military aircraft, generally circular in shape and usually comprising concentric rings of different colours." So like all those bull's eye type deals on old airplanes, or to my suburban-acclimated mind, the Target symbol. 

Hrm. Didn't know that 'til now. That makes Trader Joe's Premium Peanut Butter Roundels food for both body and mind.

You don't see TJ's throw the word "premium" around too often. So, that along with the nearly irresistible combo of chocolate and peanut butter made this an intriguing buy. Unfortunately, there's something here that seems a little lacking if not even a little disappointing in some ways. 

Seems to be the chocolate. 

Forgot to take a pic of the actual product (lo siento, amigos), but the roundels look much like the package pic - main coat of dark chocolate with some milk chocolate striped on top. It looks fancy, but really, it's kinda bland and waxy. This isn't the usual TJ quality dark chocolate here, it's noticeably different. The package even confirmed it's different by it's cacao content - only 49% versus the usual 60s octane blend. Even with a decently thick coat, in all honesty, to me, it doesn't taste like much, and that's disappointing.

So naturally, the main flavor is the peanut butter portion. It's good, not great - a little roasty and earthy, but a lot of added sugar. I mean, it's better than the usual Reese Cup fare...but not over-the-top delicious, and it doesn't quite have the "comfort vibe" of a good pb to me. I'd prefer a little roastier, maybe a touch saltier, and not as sweet. It's possible that with a better chocolate coat the peanut butter would stand out a little better or differently, but as is, it's certainly not unpleasant but it's far from transcendent.

The description on the box is pretty apt of the roundel being a "patty." There's no cookie or cakey kinda base. It's a pbv cup in a different form. That's something else that could have improved it - something a little crunchy in there, maybe a few actual peanuts. 

And be forewarned - these get super melty very easily. Use caution when giving to kids. Had to hose off both my girls afterwards. 

So what do these roundels signify? A decent enough treat for the $4 or so from TJ's. Not earth shattering. I'd be somewhat surprised if we get them again - good, but not great. At least I got to add to my vocab while I was at it. Matching threes. 

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Premium Peanut Butter Roundels: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons 

Trader Joe's Pumpkin Marble Mousse Bar

Ah, the first day of fall is finally here. Sure doesn't feel like it yet, though. It'll be nearly 90 degrees here in New Jersey for the next few days. I'm eagerly awaiting temperatures cool enough to wipe out the local mosquito population—or at least temperatures cool enough that I can spend some time outside with long pants and long sleeves on so the little jerks can't bite me as readily. You should see my legs. It looks like I have some bizarre skin disease...but I'll stop right there since this is a food review blog and talk of skin disease and mosquito bites isn't particularly appetizing.

Know what is appetizing? Pumpkin pandemonium at Trader Joe's. We can just stay inside, crank the AC, eat fall foods, and pretend it feels cool outside. Fun stuff.

Pumpkin cheesecake over a fudgy brownie base? Yes, please! Looks delicious!

Except once you bite into it...it's not terrible...but really? That's cheesecake? I tried just the top part of the product by itself—the "mousse" section. It's nothing like cheesecake in my humble opinion. It tastes and feels like pumpkin pie filling. And that, of course, isn't a bad thing in and of itself. But I was promised cheesecake. Also, the fudgy brownie part isn't very fudgy. It's just...there.

There's a vague chocolatiness to the brownie base and an even more vague pumpkinniness to the crown, but overall, it's not particularly pumpkin-spicy or creamy or chocolatey. It's just an orange and brown dessert that, again, isn't terrible. It's just not terribly good or unique, either. The product's name makes it sound super gourmet, but the taste and texture just don't quite live up to our expectations—especially in light of the $6 price tag.

On the plus side, the presentation is stellar. These would look great on the dessert table at a fall party or something. The bars are very simple to prepare: just thaw, cut, and serve. And as Sonia pointed out, all of the constituent parts are quite moist and soft.

We'll easily be able to finish these bars over the course of the next few days, but if you're excited about Trader Joe's pumpkin products, this is not the first six bucks you should spend there.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Peanut Butter Protein Granola

Granola. For dinner. Ummm...yum?

We have a busted refrigerator to blame for that. Or, I hope to say, had. Something something was something somethinging the something (or so I understand, as explained by the Sears repair guy and filtered thru my wife) making the bottom of our fridge leaky and pooling water. Been doing it for months, actually, and just got it fixed earlier today...but at time of writing this, we're now on the evening of Day 2 with an unplugged icebox in the kitchen. Been eating down whatever supplies from the fridge all week. Can't restock quite yet. No spare fridge on site. Thought we'd be able to use it by tonight, and already kinda spent our eating out budget at Red Lobster last night...

...so granola for at least part of our dinner. It's what we had. Living the dream.

Granted, evening sustenance and main course is probably not the intended use of Trader Joe's Peanut Butter Protein Granola. As with most granola, it's definitely one of those snack-on-the-go type deals, or an easy morning breakfast with a little yogurt or something. Also never a horrible idea to have a bag tucked away in the desk drawer at work for midday munchie.

But, I'm not convinced this pb granola is all that great. It's not really horrible, either, but there's something a little off about it after a few bites. Tough to explain, but it gets that taste in your mouth, you know, the one that resides in the little pouch between your teeth and cheeks. Bitterswee-tish, almost metallic in some ways. You know that one? It's what I get.

Which is a shame, because this stuff has some potential. The granola comes in all different sized chunks with an appropriate crunch - hard enough to give the molars some work to do, crumbly enough to not make it unpleasant and tastes reasonably like a decent peanut-based product. The rolled oats and pea protein crisps get along nicely with each other for an agreeable bite, if not a bit bland. Seems head scratching to me that there's eight grams of added sugar per serving...how would the granola taste if not over 10% bonus sugar content? Doesn't compute. The texture is spot on, but the flavor just doesn't

Probably not a repeat buy. Even as a peanut butter aficionado and a general granola fan, there's just not enough here to make me want to come back. It fills a void and that seems to be about it. Sandy's not impressed either. "Meh" is about all we said about it. Might be more enjoyable with some cold milk...we'll get back to you on that.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Peanut Butter Protein Granola: 5 out of 10 Golden Spoons.

Trader Joe's Sunflower Seed Spread

September! Back to school time...or for Sandy and me, time to get our firstborn daughter, M, off to kindergarten. Time flies...seems like just yesterday I wrote this.

M impresses me. She does, for real. Like when we took her grocery shopping for lunch supplies for school. We got a big packet of info for the upcoming school year, discussing all the different school rules and policies. Understandably, there was some space spent on peanuts and nuts, etc. The school rule is, for lunch, things like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are allowed to be brought in...but those who are allergic to peanut butter and can't be near it have to sit at a different table than everyone else. It's probably not a perfect solution, but it's what the school can do to keep everyone appeased.

Anyways, we kind of explained of this to M as best we could. Now this girl has no food allergies and loves peanut butter and jelly. Loves it enough to rival mac 'n cheese. So there we were, at Trader Joe's, near the PB shelf and presented M with a choice: Get peanut butter like she'd be allowed to get, and only sit with some certain kids...or try Trader Joe's Sunflower Seed Spread and be able to sit and make friends with anyone at lunch time.

She chose the sunflower seed spread.

Granted, it's not awful. But I'm a PB guy, through and through. This particular seed butter is medium-thick, oily, kinda goopy, decidedly salty, and unmistakenably made from sunflower seeds which I like, but not nearly as much as the earthy goodness of a good ol' peanut. If it seems similar to other TJ's products, you'd be mostly right. Big difference is lack of added sugar as this spread is composed of just seeds and salt. It's more functional than snackable, I guess.

M feels the same. Those eyerolls she tosses out right now when we ask what she considers a dumb question - man, those upcoming teenage years oughtta be a hoot. I got one for the ages when I asked her if she likes peanut butter or sunflower seed butter better. "Peanut butter" she muttered with as much implied "Duhhhh" in her tone as she could muster.

Still, M chooses it every time for her sandwich, simply because this little girl wants to be friends with everyone. She wants to be able to sit down and happily chomp away at her lunch with any set of kids and be able to talk about what happened on the playground or favorite colors or bugs or farts or whatever kids talk about at cafeteria tables. She's willing to meet other kids where they are, and sacrifice some of her preferences and entitlement to do so. She's willing to see that even though some other kids are different than her, they're not wrong or bad or to be avoided. They're all just some kindergartners wanting to enjoy lunch together.

Maybe I'm being particularly sappy and sentimental with her going off to school...but dammit, that's kinda beautiful to me. Maybe we'd all be better off if we could all see the world the way she does when choosing her lunch. I know I'd be. 

When I asked for her opinion of the seed spread, M just gave me a sideways thumb and a scrunchy faced grimace. I think that's actually a slight compliment...so there's that. I feel strangely the same, actually. But I'm glad to slap some on bread with some blueberry jam for her any time she wants for lunch, so she can enjoy with anyone she wants.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Sunflower Seed Spread: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Sea Salt Chocolate Chunk Cookie Sticks

So many varieties of cookies in the world, isn't there? there's hundred if not thousands. In Pittsburgh, it's traditional to have a "cookie table" at a wedding where it's veritable cookie buffet...which to me is usually the highlight of the show. Can't even tell you what my favorite cookie is, because there's just too many to choose from...

...but then there's the classic chocolate chip. It's all American and apparently a much more recent innovation that I had thought. Still, there's that timeless taste and feel, that though it may not be the absolute tastiest cookie in the world, it's one I'll go back to over and over again. The brown sugary batter, with semisweet chocolate chips, preferably fresh out of the oven, or least still a little soft and hopefully not too crunchy siding a little bit towards melty....mmmm.

I'm not one to think that such a recipe needs to be doctored up with too many add-ins like nuts, oatmeal, or, in the case of Trader Joe's Sea Salt Chocolate Chunk Cookie Sticks, a bunch of sodium. Other salty baked goods from TJ's have been darn near overkill. Still, I had to wonder how TJ's would pull these off.

I think they forgot the salt.

From previous experience, I was expecting big crunchy sea salt crystals in these cookies. Though not visible on the outside, there was the possibility they were baked in. Na. No crunchy salt pockets anywhere. To me, this is kinda a plus, but if it's what you were expecting, you may be disappointed. Or we may have gotten a bum batch. Or something.

The rest of the cookie confection is okay at best. It's a decent chocolate chip cookie-type deal - still soft and a little chewy, not all crunchy like a biscotti - but it also tastes a little off somehow. Like there's an extra bittersweet essence in the midpart of the bite. Maybe this is where the salty part sneaks in, where it heightens the contrast of brown sugar and butter against the semisweet chocolate. It doesn't taste wrong, per se, but a little off perhaps.

Also, going back to the texture...I'm not a big cookie dunker by habit, so this is untested personally, but seems like the cookie stick would probably crumble and break apart if submerged in coffee or milk or whatever. Thing is, the cookies even remain that way - we've had the package about a week, and they haven't dried out. Which is a plus to me.

Then again, that a package of chocolate chunkers have lasted that long around here says to me that maybe we don't think they taste all that great.

Meh. Lots of cookies in the world, they can't all be slam dunk winners. C'est la vie. Even our kids were noncommittal about them, favoring chocolate bananas for their dessert of choice recently. Meh all the way around. Both Sandy and I are around a 2.5 to 3 for them, so let's go with one each.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Sea Salt Chocolate Chunk Cookie Sticks: 5.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Sriracha Seafood Potstickers

Trader Joe's 50th anniversary? A rare total eclipse of the sun over the USA? How spectacular on both counts!

Unfortunately, I picked a relatively lame product to review right after the monumental events of the last few days. How anticlimactic.

Sriracha? Seafood? Asian dumplingy things? Doesn't sound too shabby to me. What's not to like? Hmm. Well...

First of all, I thought this was a new product. It's not. It's been around for a while, though it looks like it may have recently been an unwitting participant in one of TJ's infamous repackaging schemes. Apparently, it used to be green and red? I don't know if I have those facts straight, but I have a sinking feeling that someone will correct me in the comments section if they've got better intel than I do.

Anyhoo, I think I heard one of you ask, "What's not to like about this delicious, exotic appetizer, Nathan?" Well, first off, the texture...but before I go on a little rant, let's cover the positives—er, at least the less negative aspects of the product first.

How about we start with the sriracha? I actually think it tastes vaguely like sriracha and does indeed have a little kick. It's not a big kick. And both Sonia and I are always hankerin' for bigger kicks in these foods that are supposed to be spicy. But the spice-level I can live with here. I could certainly stand it stronger, but I personally didn't find a lack of sriracha to be one of the biggest weaknesses in this product.

Likewise, there were little chunks of shrimp that I would have loved a lot more of. They didn't taste bad and their texture was probably the most enjoyable element of the appetizer.

But the texture of the crab combined with that of the wrappers? Weird. It was just a slimy mush. I heated the potstickers via the stove top method detailed on the packaging. I think it was that final steaming step that threw them off. Or maybe I added too much water. At any rate, I drained the water and then fried the remaining pieces in a little more oil. This made them significantly more solid and somewhat more enjoyable, but there was still a gelatinous element to the whole thing that was a little off-putting to me.

I mentioned before that the shrimp wasn't bad and the sriracha wasn't bad, and I'll stand by those assertions. I guess the flavors that didn't really do it for me were those of the crab and the carrot/red pepper wrappers. It really didn't taste like crab to me. Overall, it was a weird flavor—vaguely spicy and vaguely seafoody, but in general, it didn't work. Both Sonia and I feel like onions, shallots, celery and/or actual carrot bits might have served this product well—any kind of actual veggies would have been welcome.

$3.99 for twelve potstickers. Not super cheap, but not the worst value in the world if you're one of the people who happen to like them. In the end, it's not a complete disaster of a product, but neither of us can recommend it very highly.

Sonia: 3 stars

Nathan: 2.5 stars

Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Seed & Bean Medley

Seeds and beans...beans and seeds...I love me some beans and seeeeeeeeds.....

No? Don't know that tune? Good, means you didn't hear it bouncing around in my head.

Thank you for not being in my head. It's a scary enough place without you there, too.

Actually, it's just my lame attempt at making a tune for Trader Joe's Seed & Bean Medley. Other products lend themselves to song parody much more easily. There's not much to really sing about here.

And not that much to really say, either. These kinda snacks must have their own little niche market, with a devoted following, because it seems like every couple months some sort of new dried veggie-type concoction comes up and on shelves and then just as suddenly disappear. Some are hits, others....not.

This one falls somewhere in the middle. Really, the highlight here is neither the seeds nor the beans...it's the corn. Those big, crunchy kernels are reminiscent of other snacks, and are pretty popcornesque sans any trace of fluffiness. I like them, and the flavor of them blend nicely in with the assorted pepitas and fava beans and other stuff that seem more or less  indistinguishable if you're not looking at them.

The major drawback? Again, neither bean nor seed...but the peas. Silly legumes. Really, they're the morsels that stick out the most - there's an almost earthy sweetness to them that kinda stands out unevenly from the rest of the crowd. Not awful...but not exactly terrific either. I jusr didn't like them.

The oily crunchy saltiness is the overarching flavor, as would be expected. But a little something else to them would have been appreciated - maybe a little ranch or something a little spicy - but na, just salt. And why isn't this labelled as gluten-free? Cross-contamination concerns that bad at the factory? Jeez.

Our fam was split on the snack bag o' beans and peas. Sandy and our oldest daughter thoroughly enjoyed the mix, while our youngest and I kinda took a bite or two before dismissing it. Meh. Not my thing, but could be yours. And at only like $2 or $3 for the bag, it can be...for practically a song.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Seed & Bean Medley: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Organic Purple Maize Flakes

"Open your mind...harmonious convergence...Transcend the ordinary..."

From a breakfast cereal? Seriously?

That's what the back of the box says about Trader Joe's Organic Purple Maize Flakes. I get the punny Hendrix connection and motif, and there's always been a hippie/hipster vibe to TJ's (at least in ym area), so it kinda works, but still. A breakfast cereal. It's corn flakes. I can understand folks looking for a transcendental expereice in a bowlfull of something or another, but...cereal? Well, alright...I guess.

The obvious draw, Woodstock-era connotations aside, is the fact that these are purple corn flakes. Oooooh, pretty, right? My kids like purple, maybe they'll eat them. Organic is, as always, a plus. That "harmonious convergence" the box speaks of is between purple maize and brown rice flours, additionally making this cereal gluten free. All well and good. Kinda groovy. Cereal for the people, man.

As with anything, there's plusses and minuses. Let's start positive. These flakes are seriously crispy. I'd even say almost downright crunchy to the last spoonful. Seems to be due to the basic flake construct being a little thicker than most typical flakes I've had, which easily get limp and soggy quickly. Not here. And there's nothing too funky about the taste - the fact that it's purple has no bearing, and corn and rice usually work well together, except....

Salt. The corn flakes are downright palpably salty. It's enough that if TJ's were to market these as tortilla chip cereal, I would think it appropriate. I kinda want to dump some salsa on the cereal to give it a try. it just might work. Granted, the saltiness does kinda dissipate once milk is poured on and a little sugar added, but still...there's no reason to get 1/7th of my daily sodium in one cup of breakfast cereal.

And no, the flakes won't turn your milk purple either. I'm alternately gracious and disappointed.

Overall, though, it's a decent enough cereal. Both my kiddos liked it enough to have multiple bowls, while both Sandy and I snacked on a few extra handfuls. I don't do cereal often, and neither does Sandy, so this is definitely on the fence as a repeat purchase. Not that there's anything too horrendously wrong, but once our girls' fasconation with purple cereal goes away, it'd take forever to get through a box. Not terrible, not awesome, and certainly not transcendental. Maybe the purple maize isn't all in my brain. Good.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Organic Purple Maize Flakes: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Avocado Citrus Greek Yogurt

Avocados are simply delicious. When they're just ripe, there's nothing like 'em. We're huge fans of putting them in salads, sandwiches, burgers, quesadillas, or anything else we can justify throwing them into. And who doesn't like chips and guacamole?

But yogurt? That seems just a little weird to me—almost along the same lines as putting bacon in a chocolate bar or elephant dung in candy bites...well, okay, that last one isn't actually a thing...yet. But you get the picture: it almost seems like certain products carry a bit of shock value just by stating their name. And if it works, great. But if it doesn't...everybody's like, "Um yeah, I didn't think that would work, so why did TJ's?"

Case in point: avocado yogurt. It doesn't sound like it should work, and in my humble opinion, it simply doesn't. The best part about this product is that it doesn't really taste that much like avocados. It's much more citrusy than avocado-y. But there's enough avocado to make your mouth a bit confused. It's sweeter and more citrusy than yogurt-based guacamole, but it's sour and tangy like most Greek yogurt, and then there's still that distinct, earthy, almost nutty essence of avocado—and at least my personal taste buds insist that it just doesn't belong in yogurt.

I gave it the old college try, but I'm not feeling it. Two stars from me. If it had been "Citrus Greek Yogurt with a Hint of Avocado," then maybe, just maybe it could have worked. Interesting concept though, I guess. And I don't feel super let-down, because my expectations for this product were much lower than the ones I had for, say, the PB&J Greek Yogurt. 

Sonia's only comment: "I don't hate it, but it's just weird." Three stars.

Bottom line: 5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Puff Dogs

"I want you to review these just for all the Puff Daddy references you could make."

Love ya, sweetie, but Puff Daddy/ P. Diddy wasn't my jam back in the day. I'm familiar enough with the work of Mr Combs, but enough so that I could off a bunch of references in relation to Trader Joe's Puff Dogs? Nah.

I mean, "Puff Dog" does sound like a mid-to-late-'90s rapper. Probably was one, or could have been like a super dup between the aforementioned Diddy and Snoop Dogg.

As the story goes, the only reason we bought these was at the behest of one of the local TJ's employees, who knows who we are and what we do, and we were strongly advised to buy them. Why that is, I'm not sure, as I wasn't there. I personally wouldn't have. I have nothing against a quality hot dog wrapped up in a buttery biscuit type deal, but...it's easy enough to do on your own if the mood hits. Which for us is pretty rare...I don't think I've done this since college. Maybe even before. Aside from micro hors d'ouevres, of course. Those are tasty.

And yeah...that's what these puff dogs taste like. A fully grown hors d'oeuvres. There's nothing special, unique, or all that interesting about them, to be quite honest. I mean, yes, there's quality to be had here - the smoky beef hot dog in all its uncured goodness is rather tasty, admittedly - but, there's not much to be had otherwise. The puff pastry is standard, run of the mill flaky and a little buttery, and that combined with the beef dog do have a little greasy comfort food vibe that would taste even better after a few beers, I'm sure.

But there's nothing else, really. There's no "Trader Joe's-y" twist to them, like an unexpected seasoning or fancy cheese or some other novelty to them. It's tough to even argue a convenience factor, and at a somewhat premium price ($4.99 for five dogs - a buck per pup), you can get more bang for your buck by buying a pack of frankfurters and a tube of crescent rolls seperately and get much the same result.

Plus - this is probably silly - I hate the picture on the front. That yellow stuff hanging off the bitten-off hot dog? Is that supposed to be nacho cheese or day old scrambled egg? Yes, I know, probably mustard as evidenced by the cutesy mustard bottle up top, but still...there's something unsettling about it to me. Especially with the word "buttery" in close proximity. Yes, I'm weird.

Can't nobody hold me down. It might not be all about the Benjamins, but for the mo' money for these, I don't want mo' problems. Come with me or I'll be missing you...ugh, I can't do this any more. Probably not a repeat buy. They're okay, but what they'd best for is what P Diddy was best at: Sampling.

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

Trader Joe's Coconut Cold Brew Coffee Concentrate

"This was obviously made by someone who hates coffee."

That's an actual recent quote from my mom, and in what actual context, I forget. Doesn't matter, I may be adopting it to describe any coffee that I don't like. I'm beginning to realize that I need to have my coffee just the way I like it, or I get cranky. This must be one of those signs that I'm getting older, I guess. File it alongside: Realizing I can play Pearl Jam too loud while in the car by myself. Recognizing the need for supportive walking shoes. Not recognizing anything on the radio except the classic rock station.

Anyways, here's yet another cold brew concoction from our main man here. This time, it's Trader Joe's Coconut Cold Brew Coffee Concentrate. Well, okay. Flavored coffees aren't really my deal, per se - coffee should taste like coffee, ya whippersnapper - but heck I'd give it a try.

I like the idea of cold brew concentrates, mostly because I don't like the idea of paying three or four bucks from a coffee shop every time I want one. But the trouble always seems to be getting the ratio of concentrate to diluent correct - too much of one or the other throws it way off. Seems to be the same case here. I measured, I tried, I recalled my seventh grade chemistry teacher saying to measure the meniscus...still couldn't get it quite right. So there's a part of the problem I'm willing to own.

But the other issue? It's just not very good coffee.

It's the coconut. In theory, it sounds good, but to me, it doesn't jive. The coconut just kinda clanks around, with almost a tinny or metallic taste to it. Ugh. No likey. It's obtrusive. And it's tough to tell for sure, but the coffee almost seems to rely heavily on coconut for flavor, instead of the natural earthy goodness that actual good coffee delivers. If you need to add flavors to make your coffee drinkable, to me, it's just not that good to begin with.

I realize I may be in the minority here. That's okay, fire at will. Sandy absolutely disagrees with me, noting that she liked making hers with sweetened almond milk and ice. I think I took a sip of one of those, and admittedly it was almost passable. A terrible idea, though, is mixing this with something like a  flavored LaCroix...we tried it, it's supposed to be trendy....it also tastes awful.  Sandy would buy again happily, while I'd just as happily mumble about it if it were to reappear. Maybe it's made not by someone who hates coffee, just by someone with a very different opinion than me. Bah. My blog, my score. Get off my lawn.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Coconut Cold Brew Coffee Concentrate: 5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Kitchen Sink Dunkers

"Comparison is the thief of joy."

I've heard it said and quoted so many times...a quick Google search says its Theodore Roosevelt who coined the phrase. I'm pretty sure I've heard it was someone else...but then that's like comparing sources, and well, that's contradictory to the purpose, is it not? No matter who spoke it, it's no less true.

I say this because - Sheetz Trash Can Cookies. You ever one? If you haven't, and live near a Sheetz, or ever happen to be traveling by a Sheetz on an journey, go get one. Preferably immediately. If you have, i hope you know what I'm talking about - amazing cookies. Soft mealy, with a plethora of ingredients ranging for chocolate chips and Reese Pieces to popcorn and pretzels. Awesome cookies, one of our faves for road trips.

Was really hoping for a similar vibe with Trader Joe's Kitchen Sink Dunkers. The name carries the same implication, a little of this, a little that, and then there's that other stuff. Kitchen sink, as in, "everything but the..." Gotta be a lot of stuff, right?

Can't say they fully delivered. I like the premise, more or less, but the name sets up a little bit for failure. These dunkers are basically oatmeal cookies trying to pose themselves as being a bit more fancy then they actually are. I got nothing against pecans, or sunflower seeds, or chocolate chunks, because they can all make a fine cookie, but mixed all together with some rolled oats, there's not much that stands out or is terribly descriptive.

At least there's no...oh wait, yes there is. Not sure how they snuck in. But there's raisins in here too. So it's a showboating oatmeal raisin cookie. Listen: Nobody I know likes oatmeal raisin cookies. I only eat them when I didn't look close and thought they were chocolate chip, and am then immediately disappointed. Everyone I know thinks the same way, and so must a lot of y'all, because why then aren't raisins mentioned mentioned on the front of the package, hmm? It's a conspiracy 

Of course, as a cookie made for dunking in coffee, the dippy dunkers are pretty rigid when dry but soften in a crumbly way significantly once met with coffee. I personally did not have a chance to sample hem this way, but Sandy said so, so it must be true.

Not awful, not terrific. Could use a lot more pizzazz in my humble opinion. I'll munch on them but not seek them out. Too many other great cookies out there...these dunkers just don't really compare.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Kitchen Sink Dunkers: 5.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Mango Chipotle BBQ Sauce with a Hint of Salted Bourbon

"But they were on sale!!"

Sigh.

Normally, I like those words just fine. But they were a source of frustration when Sandy was trying to explain to me why she bought St Louis style ribs (read: with bones) as opposed to our usual boneless "ribs" she gets for me to grill.

I can grill wannabe porkchops easily enough. But ones with bones? That requires some skills and patience I don't have - hours of slow, indirect heat? Not when the fam is over expecting dinner any minute, and I just then realized what I was dealing with.

Solution: after charring and burning the outside of ribs while still looking raw in the middle, give up, throw on an extra pack of hot dogs, move ribs to top rack when done, reheat/cook more following night, and rely on Trader Joe's Mango Chipotle BBQ Sauce to salvage dinner. Oh, and with "a hint of salted bourbon." Good for the sauce, maybe, and good for me, definitely.

So, how'd it work?

Ehhhhh.

Seems like it might be a classic case of trying to do too much. I mean, in theory, this sauce sounds fantastic. And in many ways, it's not bad at all, and kinda unique. But it's just so uneven overall. First hit of the sauce smacks sweet mango flavor full on, almost like candy. It's almost too cloyingly sugary, like a dessert type treat almost. Then, that sensation qiickly dissipates and dissolves before a big ol' spice wallop of smoky chipotle hits. Eating straight on (say, if dipped into by a fry or something) the heat seems more fierce, but it's weakened a little by being brushed onto meat and the like.

Both sides of that equation are palatable enough (I prefer the heat over the sweet myself) but there's nothing really bridging those two extremes. Nothing really tying them together. I could see the "hint of salted bourbon" being intended for that, but if it's there, it's not noticeable enough.

It's not a terrible sauce by any stretch, but it's not good/versatile/tasty enough to be used as an all-the-time barbecue condiment either. It'll take Sandy and me some effort and time to finish up the bottle we have - no one else here will touch it, for sure. I'm too ambivalent about it to give it any more than a 2.5, whereas Sandy enjoys it a bit more, so it'll go a little higher for her. Not gonna be ribbing her for that.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Mango Chipotle BBQ Sauce with a Hint of Salted Bourbon: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Giotto's Misto Alla Griglia

A couple things about this product mystify me. The first is the defrosting instructions. They say to defrost from frozen at room temperature for two hours, and then to serve. I'm not sure if we just keep our home a little on the chilly side, but after two hours, these vegetables were still very much on the cold side of room temperature. Even at the two and a half hour mark, they still wanted to crunch a little from the ice crystals left within them. 

Another thing I don't get is that they recommend serving these at room temperature in the first place, rather than hot. After having tried them both ways, I still greatly prefer them heated—while Sonia preferred them as the instructions specified.

Sonia thought maybe that heating them in the microwave would be detrimental to their texture—that they might get more leathery or chewy in the microwave. And while I wasn't a fan of this product's texture in either case, I must admit the veggies, most notably the eggplant and zucchini, were slightly less chewy when not heated in the microwave. But something about eating them hot, particularly when served with pasta, made them just barely palatable. My gag reflex wanted to kick in when attempting to consume them lukewarm or cold.

The best thing about this product was the marinade of vinegar, oil, and spice, which gave the mixture a nice savory flavor and enhanced the natural flavors of the grilled vegetables. When eaten with pasta, the herby tang of the misto alla griglia spread out beyond the vegetables and served as a nice subtle dressing for our linguini noodles as well. No other sauce was needed—although we did throw in a bit of the 21 Seasoning Salute.

But still, I preferred each bite to contain very small bites of the veggies and plenty of pasta, because otherwise I found the texture unbearable.

There's always the possibility that we got a bad bag and that your eggplant and zucchini will simply melt in your mouth. We've already seen eggplant from Trader Joe's go both ways. Click here for a big eggplant win, or here for a big eggplant fail. At $3.99 for the bag, Sonia thinks it might be just as cost effective to buy and grill your own vegetables. Of course, it would be a bit more work, but grilling your own eggplant, zucchini, and peppers might be more fun than thawing this nonsense for a full day in your fridge or half a day on your counter and still not knowing if it's the right temperature. I'm pretty sure this won't be a repeat buy for us.

Three stars from Sonia. Two and a half from me.

Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10.