Trader Joe's Vanilla Mochi

As long as I've been shopping there, there has always been mochi at Trader Joe's, but this here is a new iteration of the Japanese-American frozen treat. They've always carried Mikawaya brand, although to be honest, I'm not 100% sure if they still do. Also, from time to time they've released their own flavors—everything from mango to pumpkin to coffee.

But as far as I know, this is the first time Trader Joe's has offered "plain" flavors with their own branding. It should be pert near impossible to screw up vanilla after tackling all those other oddball breeds, right?

Well...my answer to that question is a solid "maybe." And the maybe depends upon your feelings about the rice-based shell of this hand-held dairy dessert. I myself liked it just fine. I must admit it's a little thicker and chewier than almost any other mochi I've ever had, but it's not necessarily worse in my book, simply different. Sonia, on the other hand, hated it.

She felt like the outer mochi shell was too bulky and claimed it made the product taste and feel "stale." It moved independently of the ice cream within and kind of separated from it as you'd bite the mochi ball, whereas other mochi ice creams and shells blend seamlessly. I can totally see where she's coming from. I just didn't mind it as much.

As far as the ice cream, we were both okay with it, but not totally floored. In my opinion it tasted and felt like frozen whipped cream, rather than a rich, complex true vanilla. Fortunately, I really like whipped cream. Sonia, again, wasn't impressed at all, although she felt a little more positive about the dairy elements than the rice elements. She thought it was a bit like McDonald's-esque soft serve...so, you know, not exactly top-shelf, but still cold, creamy, and edible.

$4.49 for six mochi that come in a weird plastic egg carton-like container. Not exactly a stellar value, either. They'll do in a pinch, but we've seen better mochi from Trader Joe's, as well as from other brands. Two stars from Sonia. Three and a half from me.

Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Peruvian Potato Chips

Salt is bad, salt is bad, salt is bad. Yes, yes, yes. I know, I know, I know.

Still...does that really stop any of us?

You can limit all the sodium intake you want, it's still out there. It's inherent in almost anything. I mean, even Cheerios, which don't taste salty at all, still have a pretty hefty amount of sodium per serving for what it is.

One cannot avoid sodium. You can only try to get out of its way as much as possible. Like...not buying chips for instance.

Or if you do, consider getting the new Trader Joe's Peruvian Potato Chips.

Not. Salty. At. All.

Will admit, not realizing their low-Na ways, I was a little disappointed with the first bite. No matter how much I've love to reprogram my tastebuds, when I'm having chips, man, I want that salt. There's barely any here though. So my tongue automatically defaults to words like "bland" and "tasteless."

It's not really the case, though. I've been to Peru, and I don't really remember any big deal being made about their potatoes grown down there in the shade of the Andes. But these are good potatoes. Compared to perhaps the American standard of the Idahoan Russet, they taste perhaps a little earthier, a little nuttier. It's kinda fun that they're a little purpley, too. It's subtle flavor but it's good.

The texture and feel of these TJ's crispers strays a little more towards kettle cooked while not being as full out crunchy. I could do with a bit more crunch, to be honest, but they'll do as is.

Overall, I'm alright with these chips. They still are a little plain as they are, but would probably work well dipped in something. You know, for like more sodium and stuff. Eh well. I'm neither amazed nor dismayed, and neither is Sandy. We'll kinda shrug our way through this bag and see if we buy again, on the rare occasion we actually buy chips. Middlin' scores each.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Peruvian Potato Chips: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons  

Trader Joe's Shrimp Scampi Lasagna

Hmmm....

...hot, bubbly, cheesy lasagna...

...baking at 400 degrees for nearly an hour...

...on a hot, humid July evening...

...in an insulated, Thermosified brick oven of a house, with no AC...

...just to sit in your stomach, requiring a shower after to cool down from. With your house all heated up from that oven.

Yeah, I'd almost pretty much have to say no to that.

Except we're talking about Trader Joe's Shrimp Scampi Lasagna. It's all the rage on Instagram from what I hear from my lovely bride. So, off to do our sacred duty once more.

The whole premise of this product sounds great, right? Make a decent shrimp scampi except in lasagna form, with the layered noodles and whatnot. Add enough garlic and butter to make a sanguivoriphobic Paula Deen blush and it should be a slam dunk, right? How can this lose?

For perhaps the first time in reviewing TJ's products, I'd say the failure is the shrimp itself.

Listen, I get what they're going for here. With the open intent of making the product even more lasagna-esque (and likely also to help obfuscate how many shrimp are actually in here), the shrimp here are ground up. As in, not whole. As in, not fleshy and firm but instead little mealy tidbits kinda resembling really bad ground turkey. It just doesn't work. The shrimp tastes fine but still just seems wrong, if that makes any sense. Ground shrimp? That'd be a no from me.

Everything else works well enough if graded on a frozen pasta curve. There's plenty of the mozzarella/Parmesan cheese mix to go around - even my cheese loving kids said there was a little bit too much. I got a pretty good guilty pleasure from scraping some of the last remnants from the tray that had some extra butter and garlic on them. The white wine sauce was solid if not overly notable except a little tick up in spice from some crushed red pepper, and noodles were fine and firm and all that.

Still, yeah, the shrimp...the scampi lasagna would have been better with whole shrimp, even if it meant shrimp in less bites. Quality over quantity.

The setup costs $5.99 and comes as 3.5 serving tray. We picked up two to have for our family and it seemed about the right idea. My lovely bride enjoyed the shrimp lasagna just fine, without the same qualms I had. One kid scrunched her nose at it but ate it anyways, mostly, while another one asked for seconds, so there's a plus. I don't love it, I don't hate it, there's a good chance I wouldn't buy it again but wouldn't be upset if we did.

Maybe we can wait til it's cooler out though.

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

Trader Joe's Patio Potato Chips

Eating outside in the summer is pretty great, isn't it? I think so. A couple times already this not-quite-summer, Sandy and I have pulled our kitchen table out to our smallish back deck and piled everyone out there for a laidback "snacky dinner" - veggies, fruit, chips, hummus, cheese, etc. More times than not, something off the grill, which i'll fire up as the kids are playing in the sprinkler. It's great. Everyone gets to eat what they want, avoid what they don't.

In a similar vibe, here's Trader Joe's Patio Potato Chips. Everything about them evokes that eating outside, picnicky, snacky feel, from the name to the illustrations to the fun concept of four flavors of chips all mixed together. They're kinda like a summery-choose-your-own adventure package, right? And chips! Show me a decent picnic without chips...tough to do!

So, how these TJ's tangled taste taters fare?

Well, like many things, the concept is brilliant but the execution is a bit sloppy. There's four flavors here - salt and vinegar, dill, ketchup and barbeque. I can't tell the ketchup and barbeque ones apart after multiple tastes, and it takes a little discernment to tell the vinegar and dill ones apart, too. Part of the issue is, of course, they're all mixed up with flavor seasonings rubbing off on one another all the way from point of manufacture to point of consumption.

This leads to another point, sort of: if eaten all together, really the only flavor that stands out is, well, vinegar. It's probably because it's the punchiest of the varieties. But if there's a few dill chippies, there's more of a pickley taste, and if there's any of the other ones, they take one more of a sweet pickle type flair. That's not necessarily awful but perhaps not what everyone would be looking for.

Other than that, for the most part, they're pretty good chips. All of the chips are ridged and crispy with a little of the requisite greasiness that define high levels of snackitude. I mean, even when unsure how well all the flavors really melded together, I was downing way too many of them, so there's that. Sandy said she would have preferred if they different types were differently textured, so as to more easily tell them apart. I could be down for that as well.

Overall, the patio chips are an okay pickup. Chances are we'd buy again, but our girls weren't the hugest of fans so maybe not. Sandy gives them only a 2.5 for their flavor identity uncertainty issues. That's a touch low but not too far off the mark. I'll go with a 3.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Patio Potato Chips: 5.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons 

Trader Joe's Spicy Salmon Gyoza

Taking one for the team! It's what I do!

Seriously, as second out of four kids, I have classic middle child syndrome. Always had ever since my little sister was born. Remember minivans with only one side door and bench seats so there was that back corner spot? Who always volunteered for it, on the long road trips we'd take to New England as a kid? Me! Happily. Heck, one vacation up to my grandparent's old cabin, everyone realized we shorted ourselves a bed and blankets. So who volunteered to sleep in the van without complaint! Me! I was like 10. True story.

Kinda extends to the blog...except you're all like my TJ's siblings, and since this is where we all meet, I'm still in the middle. So if there's something a bid odd, a bit strange, a bit new looking, I'll happily volunteer to try it out...even if I'm a bit, well, apprehensive about it.

Such as it is with Trader Joe's Spicy Salmon Gyoza. TJ potstickers a common freezer staple, but those are like chicken, and pork, and stuff...salmon though. That's a different level. I like salmon just fine...but as a frozen dumpling? Errrr...well...I got it! I'll try it out! All for you all.

Pro tip: Don't bust them open while cooking, as I did. That's why I didn't take a pic of the actual product...because it looks, well, kinda gross. Smushed up salmon, some cabbage strands, some edamame, all in a pinkish hue...as a parent of small kids, there's a certain thing that came right ot mind that this resembled.

No matter, how it taste?!?!?! I think "interesting" is a good word. How to describe it? There's a certain fishiness to the salmon, a bit more than expected. It kinda leads off the flavor profile as dominant. Soon enough, there's some chili and sriracha and pepper that creeps in, and then lingers for a while. But there's still this fishiness that impedes it all. A cleaner tasting protein, whether it be salmon or chicken or pork, would have been a vast improvement.

Also, the salmon seems to be mushier than other gyoza in TJ's inventory. Not that any of them are overly firm, but there's at least a semblance of fleshiness to them. Not here. It's not completely unpleasant, but to that I'd say I'd have a hard time eating them if not sauteed a little bit first to get a little crispiness to the wrapper. A soggy steamed only outer shell just wouldn't work here, I don't think.

The instructions say to pair with your favorite sauce. There seems to be enough flavor here to not warrant too much more in terms of dipping dumplin's in a little sumpthin', but if that's your thing it could work. I'd suggest something mildish.

My receipt says the bag cost $4.99, but I swear the price tag on the freezer window said $4.19...regardless, it's not an awful price for an alright product. I guess the biggest thing to me is when I eat gyoza or dumplings or anything close to them, I crave more of a comfort vibe, and these seem more experimental. Good try though, and I applaud the overall effort. Chances are I'll finish the bag but it'll take me a bit to, especially if my beautiful bride continues to decide to sit them out as a non-salmon fan.

Middle kid gives these a middle score...can that keep everyone happy? Please?

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Spicy Salmon Gyoza: 5.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons 

Trader Joe's Milk & Dark Chocolate Sea Salt Caramel Popcorn

Growing up, most of us were aware of Whoppers—the candies, not the burgers. They weren't super high on my list of preferred treats, nor were they highly sought after by most of my cohorts. There were one or two oddballs in our class that liked them, but by and large, they seemed to be a snack favored by older generations. 

I can even remember my father talking about "malted milk balls" to some of my young friends and I when we were kids. All of us youngsters looked at each other asking, "What the heck is a 'malted milk ball'?" "That sounds gross," we unanimously agreed. It wasn't until much later that when aged folks would refer to malted milk balls that we youngsters would reply, "Oh. You mean Whoppers." I'd reluctantly consume them when they'd show up in my annual bag of Halloween spoils, but it was rare that I actually wanted or craved a malted milk ball.

These coated popcorn pieces are obviously not malted milk balls, per se. However, they remind me of them somewhat in terms of size, shape, color, flavor, and texture—and I feel very much the same about both types of candy in the end. It's hard to hate candies like this completely, but for Sonia and I, it's also hard to wholly embrace them.

The crispy inner portion—where the malted milk would have traditionally hidden—has been replaced with popcorn. It's not the first time we've seen this kind of thing at TJ's. Those reindeer dealies come to mind. In this instance, though, we see both milk and dark chocolate. Half of the pieces are just a deeper shade of brown. It takes a bit of discernment to distinguish the two flavors, though, predictably, I do prefer the milk chocolate version slightly if I really pay attention. Sonia didn't care to declare a favorite, although in general, she likes dark chocolate a bit more.

There is a thin layer of caramel between the chocolate and the popcorn, and there is, of course, salt, but both Sonia and I think the chocolate overpowers any "salted caramel" aspects of the candy. I'm not saying it's not there. I'm just saying if you want something to register as "salted caramel," you shouldn't slather it with a bunch of chocolate necessarily. Sonia doesn't even think the popcorn element is prevalent enough.

If you're craving something chocolatey and don't mind that popcorn and caramel aren't all that prominent, you still might enjoy these little guys. $2.99 for the bag. Sonia likes the packaging. It's all Eastery and springy and vernal and stuff. I guess Trader Joe's is replacing the Easter Bunny with an Easter Bear because they come out of hibernation this time of year...? Also because bears eat tons of chocolate...? And they hide in fields of daffodils...? 

Sonia said it was cute. She didn't say it made sense.

In the end, these candies just aren't very memorable in our opinions, and we probably won't buy them again. Double threes.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Barbeque Popped Ridges

There's a certain order for most things, right? And when that order is out of whack, it causes a bit of confusion. Sometimes we're not even aware that there is an order until it is disrupted.

Such as it is with Trader Joe's Popped Barbeque Ridges.

Whoops, there, I did it again. I mean Trader Joe's Barbeque Popped Ridges.

See what I mean? Putting "Popped" first seems more natural, doesn't it? There's a natural order to adjectives in the English language, and while the name of this snacky TJ's new particular item isn't a textbook example (though a new particular snacky TJ's item could be), it brought this to mind.

I keep wanting to put Popped first. But it's second. Maybe it's all so I can't refer to these chips as TJ's PBR and get some hipsters really confused.

Anyways, the chips. I guess you can call them that, but as you can see, the packaging refrains from describing these snacks in that way. The texture and crunch of these ridges is more like potato stick mixed with corn chips with a little extra styrofoam. It's a little offputting and is my major demerit. I don't eat junk food like this all that often, so maybe there's other similar products out there that have the same kinda structure to them. I've had popped items before, though, but none of them struck me like this.

Everything else is pretty on par. The barbeque seasoning is pretty representative - a little tangy, a little sweet, a little smoky, a little salty. Sandy described it as "cheap bbq flavoring" which is more or less accurate - TJ's went the tried-and-true route and didn't swing for the fences here.

Not sure what else to really say about them. In all the popped ridge thingamabobs are okay, and aren't terribly pricey at less than $3 a bag. I can't see these being a new favorite, though. If these were 100% potato chip, they'd be unremarkable but fine. If they were 100% corn chip, it'd also work. But as a half-and-half conglomeration of crispy crunchy snacks, well, they're just odd. Kinda offputting. We're likely to finish the bag just fine, but it won't be in one sitting for sure. Not that bingeworthy. They are gluten free but that's likely not a huge surprise.

Sandy musters them an uninspired three while I'll slide in half a spoon behind.

.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Barbeque Popped Ridges: 5.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Ruby Cacao Wafers

Wafers?

Seriously?

No. No. No.

Just to make sure I wasn't crazy, as least not as it pertains to the definition of a wafer, I Googled it. There it is, first result, right up top, set forth by whichever source Google deems as most trustworthy...

wa·fer

Dictionary result for wafer

/ˈwāfər/

noun

1. 1.

   a very thin, light, crisp, sweet cookie or cracker, especially one of a kind eaten with ice cream.

So imagine my surprise then, when opening a bag of Trader Joe's Ruby Cacao Wafers, that I did not see any wafers any where. None.

What I see instead: all these little roundish flat purply brown rose colored morsels that looked like a nonpointy ill chocolate chip or a baby candy melt.

No cookie. No crispy stuff. Nothing waferesque at all. Just these little pebbles that would look at home in an aquarium. I was sold a sack of lies.

Fortunately, whatever you may call them, these TJ's ruby cacao thingermabobs are actually pretty tasty.

My lovely bride, ever the source of new, trendy, cool stuff she sees all over Instagram, says that ruby cacao is a newish fad sweeping America, and that in Japan there's like ruby cacao KitKats. Or, you know, things with actual wafers. I digress. Never heard of it, so here's my first go...

Wow. Unique. I'm still struggling to come up with the right descriptors. Obviously, there's a healthy chocolate element, definitely towards the darker, deeper end. Yet there's so much sweetness - not even like from a chocolate covered berry, except similar. It's just not as potent, yet fruity in a different way. I checked the ingredients to see if any fruit flavors added - nope. Apparently it's what the beans taste like, and best I can tell you is, try some for yourself if you haven't already.

The morsels are soft, softer than most chocolate chips and closer to the aforementioned candy melts, except not as chalky. Speaking of melts, the cacao bits seem to do a good job of that - pop some in your mouth but keep 'em there for a few to let the taste come alive a little and wash all over. I also nuked a few and they melted right on up without much fuss. I suppose they could be used to dip all sorts of stuff in if that's your thing.

Sandy's not overly impressed. She had a couple then opted for a cookie for her night time treat, as did our daughters. I had a few small handfuls to try and get a better sense - I'd use the word interesting or intriguing more than delicious for them. They're kinda odd, but in a good way...probably. I dunno, try them for your self, kids. Middle scores here because we don't know what else to do, the only thing we're not wavering on is these aren't wafers. Period.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Ruby Cacao Wafers: 5.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Champagne Gummy Candies

Well, 2018, you've been an interesting year. You were certainly better to us than 2017, but that one wasn't hard to top at all. 

Sonia and I are loving life on the open road so far, and 2019 will be our first full year of nomadic living. Bring it on.

We found this fun bag of gimmicky gummies at a Trader Joe's in Austin, Texas. I don't think it ever would have occurred to me in a thousand years to turn champagne into gummy candy. But fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it—somebody did.

Each candy is shaped like a champagne bottle. Imagine that. Sonia thinks they resemble...well, I won't tell you what she said about their suggestive shape on this family-friendly blog. Just suffice it to say that I had to tell her to get her mind out of the gutter. Although, well, she kinda has a point.

The flavors are very subtle. There's rosé and brut. I want to say I can detect the difference between the two, but I wouldn't want to put money on guessing which was which in a blind taste test. They're not overly sweet or sour or flavorful. I suppose champagne is supposed to have a "dry" taste and feel to it. These do too in a way, although the dryness of champagne doesn't really lend itself to gummy candy particularly well, in my opinion. And there is actual champagne in there—but all the alcohol is burned off in the manufacturing process. I'm guessing if you were inclined to pair a gummy candy with a glass of actual champagne for some reason, this would be the product to reach for.

Texture-wise, Sonia and I both found the candy to be somewhat leathery. The "best by" date on our bag is in 2020, so it's not like they should be stale. It's an odd mouthfeel. There's no melt-in-your-mouth quality here at all. They require a tad too much masticating, if you ask us. Sonia thinks they might even pose a choking hazard, since they're "slippery" as well as overly-chewy.

If you're too cheap to spring for an actual bottle of champagne, you could probably skate by with this $2 bag of clever candies as your contribution to the NYE party refreshments. As long as people are on their way to Happy Town, they likely won't even notice that these gummies aren't that good. Meh. They're not that bad, either, I guess.

Happy New Year!

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Buche de Noel Ice Cream

Buche de noel?

Never heard of it.

Seriously, I haven't.

And not that it necessarily helps make anything any better...but a yule log? Again, only a faint idea. I had to look it up. Judging by pictures, it looks like something along the lines of Swiss roll (of which I only have slightly less vague idea of what that is) or a big ol' oversized ho-ho. Now, I do know what ho-hos are...I grew up shoving them down my esophagus by the fistful. But yule logs, which is so much easier to write than its French name which translate to the same thing? Nope, never had it to my knowledge.

Maybe that ought to DQ me from reviewing Trader Joe's Buche de Noel Ice Cream...but it's ice cream and a lot of you on Instagram and whatnot said it was good, so I had to try it, and it was between reviewing this or a bag of carrot sticks. The reindeer can take care of those in just a couple short weeks.

And sorry, not impressed.

This TJ's Christmas-inspired ice cream seems to be a somewhat fancier take on the classic taste of cookies and creme. Except, of course this time, it's cake and cream. And to me, it falls short. Not that it's terrible stuff, as I reminded myself with a couple late night spoonfuls right now. The sweet cream base is alright, at best. Unfortunately it's slightly bland whereas, as always, I wanted something more bold  for what comes down to a pretty basic ice cream flavor. It's all sorts of nondescript.

And cocoa swirl? Please. There's some slightly browner areas of the ice cream, if you look at it from the right angle in the right light. It's negligable, at best.

The "cake" bits are alright, though. They're plenty rich and flavorful and help pull this dessert more towards the realm of respectability. Thing is, when I taste and feel them, it's not cake that comes to mind. It's more dense like a brownie. Still, the chocolate cake is generously and amply (and if I may say so, deliciously) swirled in and about, with multiple pieces in every bite. So we got that going on.

Still, and I may be speaking out of my South Pole here, I wonder if this would be better as a chocolate ice cream with sweet cream swirled in. Keep the cakey bits as is, more or less. That might be more approximate of a true yule log experience in ice cream form.

Both Sandy and I took a couple bites and shrugged. Maybe we're just ice cream snobs. But we're both not impressed, for much the same reasons mentioned above, and we'll not rush to return the carton by any stretch, but we're not gonna pick it up again either. Bah humbug, I guess.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Buche de Noel Ice Cream: 5.5. out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Snowflake Pastry

I want to say it was two Christmases ago, but Sonia and I splurged and bought one of those O & H Danish Kringles from Trader Joe's, and it was amazing. All who partook of the pastry agreed that it was divine: family, friends, guests, and pets. The decision was unanimous. Whether dunked or dry, buttered or not, that pastry was a win, no matter how you sliced it. We neglected a review on this blog since there are generally so many Trader Joe's brand goodies to be scrutinized this time of year.

But with offerings like this one, TJ's is making us wish we'd picked up another Kringle instead.

They've got the right idea: a soft bread, almond paste filling, and some sugar sprinkled on top. But the execution is poor. Just look at the uneven distribution of the sugar. The almond paste is severely deficient throughout the bulk of the pieces, and even the bread itself is slightly sub-par.

The bites that were full of almond paste were head and shoulders better than their non-almondy counterparts, but there's simply not enough of it to go around. There's a thin ring of the stuff right where the outer lumps of bread join to the inner circle. When one snags a piece from this area, the first bite or two tends to have copious quantities of the almond paste, but after that, it's just plain old boring bread.

Unlike the Kringle, this product is conveniently divided into sections, making for potentially simpler servings. No knife needed. Simply tear off a slice with your hands, in the manner of a loaf of monkey bread or pull-apart cake. As you can see in the picture below, however, my better half did not trust my grubby paws and opted to slice her pieces with surgical precision anyway. 

The product does dunk well, absorbing a generous lot of whatever hot beverage you're sipping at the moment, but that can be said about nearly any holiday pastry, from loaves to cakes to muffins or even cookies. Heating the pastry improves both taste and texture slightly, but does not entirely redeem it.

There are about nine servings in the package, according to the nutrition info, and for once, I won't argue with that assessment. $5.99 for the whole thing makes it affordable, but probably not the best way to spend six bucks at Trader Joe's this time of year.

Sonia's biggest complaint was the uneven sugar and almond filling distribution, as well, but she was quite content dipping and dunking with her beloved java. Three and a half stars from her.

Had the bread itself been melt-in-your-mouth delicious, it might have been worth it, but as it stands, I'll be a bit Scrooge-ish and snub this poor pastry with two and a half stars.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Mint Flavored Fudge Brownie Bar

Earlier this week when writing about the roasted cauliflower dip, I wrote that I dislike when I ate a lot of something and don't know if I like it or not.

You know what else stinks? Not particularly enjoying something that it seems like everyone does.

It invites too many questions. Is the product somehow defective? Did I perhaps lose some portion allotment lottery where I just so happened to receive the least choice segment that is so unlike the rest of it? Is there something wrong with me? Am I too picky? Do my taste buds work right? Do I need to see a doctor?

Such as it is with Trader Joe's Mint Flavored Fudge Brownie Bar.

No, I won't be shelling out any copays over it, but, man. Sandy and I picked this up to bring over to our good friends Mark and Emma's to celebrate the first night of Hanukkah. Figured between us and our kiddos we'd all really like it and it'd somehow match up pretty well with Emma's delicious homemade latkes (10 out of 10 Golden Spoons there).

Dessert time! Kids devoured it, as one would expect children with anything chocolate would do. Both Sandy and Emma oohed and aahed over it. I took a bite...and was not impressed.

First, the brownie portion is too small. I neglected to take a picture of the actual product but the pic on front is fairly representative. Vertically speaking, it's maybe half brownie before going into icing. I'm an icing guy. I love corner pieces of cake...but man, there needs to be something that can back that up as well. There's not enough brownie for all that rich icing, and what was there was kinda spongey. I'll give it somewhat a pass as this is a frozen product which we quick thawed in the microwave, perhaps with a different method of warming it'd turn out better.

And then, the icing.

Mint flavored? Puhleese.

Unless my tongue somehow came down with a Paula Deen version of the Midas touch, it all just tastes like butter. Butter butter butter. Where's the mint? There's maybe a scarce hint here or there, but really, it just tastes like rich, thick buttercream slabbed up on top.

The chocolate ganache does add a nice touch and for me brings the whole brownie bar back into the respectable realm, so there's that. It really needed to counteract the butteriness and pick up the brownie's slack, which it did. The ganache doesn't completely salvage the whole thing, but you'll never hear me say anything bad about ganache either.

Both Sandy and Emma admitted it could have been a lot more minty which would have upped their already positive opinion. So it's not all me...they're just more forgiving and tolerable, which is a good thing for Mark and me. Both lovely ladies graced the brownie bar with similar sentiments and scores: "Damn tasty...could have been more minty...rich and delicious though," they both more or less said before plopping about a 3.5 to 4 on it each? Me? I'd go a little lower, but seeing as that I just might be the outlier here, you may take my score with a grain of sugar.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Mint Flavored Fudge Brownie: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Mini Stroopwafel Ice Cream Sandwiches

"I-C-E C-R-E-A-M S-A-N-D-W-I-C-H P-L-E-A-S-E."

"Great job, M, Now spell 'stroopwafel.'"

GROOOOOOOOOOOOANNNN.

"It's okay, baby. I don't know how to spell it either."

So it goes these days with my oldest daughter M. She's just a few months into first grade but knows how to spell most anything we can throw her way...and the thing is, she actually enjoys it. Weird kid. But she insists on spelling things at random, including when requesting her dessert the other night, which, of course, was one of Trader Joe's Mini Stroopwafel Ice Cream Sandwiches.

There's been a buzz about these recently. And with good reason. I mean....stroopwafels. Who can hate on them one bit? And ice cream too! These seem to be a match made in heaven.

I'll have to admit that I'm underwhelmed here, unfortunately. I kinda hate when something seems to be so built up, so buzzworthy, and purported to be something so amazing and divine, just for my experience to be so lacking. Is it me that's wrong, or is it all of you? Hate those questions.

Where to start? The taste. Yes, as one would expect, there's a fair amount of caramel here. But it's flat, very flat. The layer in the stroopwafel is frozen and hard and kinda bland, and it's not a strong flavor out of the ice cream either. There's none of the purported saltiness.

Also, frozen stroopwafels aren't particularly fun to bite through. Which I guess shouldn't be surprising - they are a wafer meant to be placed atop a hot cup of coffee, and we're at the other end of the spectrum here - but it's a little stiff cardboardiness going on. Ice cream layer is just fine.

I'm not impressed to be honest. These mini ice cream sandwiches could have been better with some stronger flavor and softer caramel. A serving size is two of these buggers but I was happy enough with just one - a second didn't seem worthy of my caloric indulgences for the day. I cannot be any less excited about them, which pales in comparision to how I felt pre-purchase. it's just meh all the way around, no matter how you spell it. Meh meh meh.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Mini Stroopwafel Ice Cream Sandwiches: 5 out of 10 Golden Spoons 

Trader Joe's Soft Honey Nougat with Almonds

The moment Sonia popped the confection into her mouth, she said what I was thinking: "Weird."

"Mmhmm," I agreed, mouth bulging with candy.

"It tastes fake," added the missus. 

I didn't disagree, but I looked at the ingredients. First on the list: glucose syrup. I was hoping to see "cane sugar" or "honey" there.

At first, this candy feels fake, too—almost like hard plastic. The nougat quickly softens, though, and goes from stiff and rigid to soft and pliable. The nuts are the only elements that remain hard after a few moments in the mouth, and they add the only non-sugary flavor to the product. The taste of honey is detectable, but I wish there were a good bit more of it.

We both agree the almonds are the best part of this sweet snack, and since they're playing second fiddle to a block of vanilla-flavored sugar, they still don't redeem the product entirely, in my opinion. Sonia started enjoying the candy more and more as she tasted the almonds, got used to the unfamiliar texture, and learned that the nougats came all the way from South Africa. I'm not sure why we have to import something that could potentially be little more than wads of corn syrup, but I guess we're just that much more sophisticated for eating foreign confections.

Despite an initial wariness, Sonia will bring a respectable three and a half star score. At $3.49 for 8 pieces of nougat, I think it's a little overpriced and uninteresting. I'd prefer a product that's simply nice big whole almonds with just a thin coating of this candy. Two and a half stars from me.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Double Chocolate Hot Cocoa Stirring Spoon with Mini Marshmallows

How can anyone resist picking up something like Trader Joe's Double Chocolate Hot Coca Stirring Spoons? With Mini Marshmallows, to boot!

It's such a simple, easy, almost no-brainer kinda concept. Get a cheap mini plastic spoon, stick in an ice cube tray-type square of chocolate, with a couple mini marshmallows on top. Package up in small individual sized packets, charge 99 cents a pop.

What this causes, naturally, is people like me to say "OOOOOOOOO" and without much regard to either grocery store budget (to channel Macklemore, shoot, it's just 99 cents) or the incoming surge of Halloween candy to pick it up as a) something fun for ourselves or b) something fun for ourselves and the kids. I mean, hot chocolate is already a pretty fun deal, but something like this? Watching a big blob of chocolate melt and slowly darken and sweeten a hot steamy mug of milk seems so much more fun than incessantly stirring a packet of powder.

If only.

It's a great concept, these TJ's cocoa stirring spoons, but it just doesn't quite work as well as hoped. First, they kinda take forever to melt, and my kids only have so much attention span, as do I. I didn't clock it, but it was more than advetrtised, for sure. Secondly, the melt isn't even all that great - there's still specks of stuff all over the place in there, which helps leave a kinda chalkiness or clumpiness. It's not as smooth as hoped.

A lot of this could be forgiven, but the outcome isn't even terribly tasty hot chocolate. it's very meh, kinda bland, even. I'm thinking it might be because of the combo of two chocolates, dark and milk. Either one or the others, all by themselves, would make a much more developed flavor instead of more or less cancelling each other out. It's extremely mediocre hot chocolate, at best, lacking a lot of richness. I can't imagine using water instead of milk for these - it'd be a lot worse, I think.

This is definitely one of those one-time gimmicky kinda buys for us, in all likelihood. Although we are somewhat tempted to buy once more but try them as a candy snack and not a beverage kit, so there's still a chance...yet our family is all pretty underwhlemed, even the kids. Mehs from all four of us.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Double Chocolate Hot Cocoa Stirring Spoon with Mini Marshmallows: 4 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Crispy Quinoa Stars Cereal

"Now THIS is my kinda cereal!"

Umm...okay...

Now, if this would have been uttered about, say, some pretty decent hot cocoa-inspired cereal, or some special edition Lucky Charms, or heck, even a fresh box of Honey Nut Cheerios, I'd understand. Those are all great cereals with a lot less ho-hum than an average bowful of corn flakes.

But...something like Trader Joe's Crispy Quinoa Stars Cereal? Really? People can get hyped about, of all things, quinoa for breakfast? Wow.

Apparently the answer is yes. And apparently one of those people is my lovely bride, as she happened to exclaim that exact phrase with spot-on inflection that implied complete excitement as she snagged the box and happily tossed into our cart.

Well, okay. Alright. Guess I can give it a try, too.

After some debate, it seems to come down to a simple fact. There's certain grains that are much more prevalent for breakfast cereals. Corn. Rice. Wheat. Oats. As a result, there's a certain level of acclimation and acceptance that can be a little hard to wander outside of, especially when grabbing a handful for a comfort snack, as is my most usual matter of cereal consumption these days.

I think that's what my perceived issue is. These quinoa stars taste exactly what I'd expect a quinoa-based cereal to taste like. They're super earthy, a little nutty. There's a small touch of honey to try and sweeten the whole deal, which kinda works, but can't fully cover up the whole quinoa-ity of the cereal. As a result, there's also this lingering aftertaste that seems to intensify. I ate a small handful as I sat down to write this, and I can still taste it all in my gums and it seems to be spreading to the back of my throat. It's not exactly awful, but not entirely pleasant either.

There's plenty of crispy crunch, though. My wife states it holds up well in milk. There is a slight stale vibe to them - not that ours are actually stale, at least I don't think so. But after occasionally consuming verified stale cereal, there is a small similarity, and I actually don't mean it as a knock. It's just a base for comparison.

And this is perhaps a small thing...but the packaging here is a little wacky. Of course, it's just a bag inside the box...but our inner bag was a full two inches shorter than the actual box. I've never seen a cereal box with that much headspace. It's odd.

Overall, I'm not gonna hate here, as I'm not the target audience. As someone with no gluten restrictions but knowing enough people who do, anytime a half decent gluten free product at a good price ($2.99) comes to market is a event worthy of at least a little celebration. But I can barely eat more than a small handful or two, and I'd probably not enjoy a full bowl. Sandy's kinda the same way, although she enjoy it more than I do and claims she'll buy it again. We'll see, as her initial enthusiasm has certainly dulled in the past few days. "I don't hate it" is about all she'll say. That's a far cry from the parade I thought she was gonna throw for it....eh well. Two spoons from me, three from the wifey.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Crispy Quinoa Stars Cereal: 5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Organic Turkey Bites

It's a little early to be looking at turkey and Thanksgiving stuff already, but here's a product that's hanging out on TJ's "new items" shelf that's just begging for a review. Never had organic turkey bites before? Me neither. Let's explore them together, shall we?

Any time I see a shiny, slender plastic bag partially filled with shelf-stable, processed foods like this, I think of astronaut ice cream. I used to love that stuff. So weird and unique—but in retrospect, it's not nearly as good as any decent actual ice cream. I think it was just the novelty of having A) ice cream that didn't need freezing or refrigeration of any kind and B) something that space men (and, ostensibly, extraterrestrials) actually consume. Also, the thrill of the hands-on science museum was heightened by the promise of an astronaut ice cream-induced sugar buzz after a brief visit to the gift shop at the end of the day. Good times.

Here, we have astronaut-esque turkey snack bites. I really wish they'd have called the product: Trader Joe's Astronaut Thanksgiving. I would have made sure it got a decent score if that had been the name...IF that had been the name. As is, I'm just gonna give it to you straight that this speculative concoction is a little disappointing.

When you Google the title of these bad boys, you get a little snippet from the Fearless Flyer stating "You can join in the cause of advancing snack science today by picking up a 2.5 ounce package of Trader Joe’s Organic Turkey Apple Bites for $4.99." Trader Joe's is giving it to you straight, as well: a purchase of this product is charity, plain and simple. In other words, please empower us to make weird stuff like it in the future. Or don't.

The turkey bites are soft little quadrilateral dealies about the size of a domino. You only get 12 or so in a pack. They're fairly dense, so the value isn't terrible, I suppose. I think they're going for a jerky-ish vibe, although, these are much less chewy, leathery, and dry than traditional jerky. I'm not exactly sure what I can compare the texture to—it's, like, maybe somewhere in between room-temperature meatloaf and an RxBar...? Sound appetizing? Didn't think so. Just remember, you're the guinea pig in a study advancing human knowledge of food science...or something like that.

The flavor is even more...experimental. It's not unlike that of a turkey-flavored dog treat. Nor is it a far cry from normal turkey jerky I guess, but there're also apples, raisins, and an odd assortment of garlic and other spices that would only go together with fruit in some kind of homemade Thanksgiving stuffing. Again, I guess that's what they're going for. Astronaut Thanksgiving.

I really, really want to like them. I do. And I'm sure someone out there does. Quirky, weird, protein-rich snacks made with almost entirely organic ingredients? I'm pretty sure Isaac Asimov wrote about these some 60 or 70 years ago, visionary that he was. People laughed at his parallelogram-shaped, compacted turkey and apple bites as "fanciful" and "far-fetched." Most of those critics are long dead...but if they were still around, they'd have to admit: the future is now.

Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Chocolate Chunk Cantuccini

As I'm offically entering the later part of my thirties, I'm learning more and more that adulthood is a series of learning to embrace and enjoy different shades and forms of bitterness. It's not exactly a bad thing. Like coffee, for instance. Or alcohol. Or, even, disappointment. Those are all cups from which I drink often.

I'm on a small disappointment streak with TJ's products, and Trader Joe's Chocolate Chunk Cantuccini are just a continuation of that trend. I can partially pin all this on me. The other night, while semi-listening to my lovely bride prattle on about her most recent TJ's trip, I heard her say "blahblahblah chocolate something-chini biscotti blahlblahblah" which my mind instantly, without though, translated into chocolate zucchini bread-inspired biscotti. Now that sounds intriguing and seasonally appropriate, and maybe something zany that ol' Joe would whip up. If you haven't had good zucchini bread ever, I don't know what to tell you.

So, imagine my disappointment when I popped one of these kinda Italian mini biscuits in my mouth...and tasted just a regular old chocolate chip biscotti. Except smaller.

Sigh.

Cantuccini is what I should have heard, not zucchini. Not familiar with the term? Me neither, but apparently it's an almost interchangable term with biscotti (i.e., biscuit), except cantucci are apparently more from Tuscany, and the -ini means they're smaller. Meh.

It's small chocolate chip biscotti. Nothing more, nothing less. Kinda almondy and earthy, with a vague sweetness, without quite the flavor of a full blown chocolate chip cookie...yup. No icing or any extras, with only a few small chocolate bits to vainly try to break the monotony. And they're smaller, making them less handy to dunk into coffee or tea or milk or anything. They also seem crunchier, maybe due to their condensed size. Sandy said they didn't seem to soften up when dunked either.

Blah. Disappointment. I really wanted to love these bitty biskies, but nope. There's nothing special about them, nothing to set them apart. In a word, they're boring. I'm disappointed. But I can embrace that, I guess, along with some coffee. Such is life. Matching twos from our house to yours.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Chocolate Chunk Cantuccini: 4 out of 10 Golden Spoons 

Trader Joe's Sun Dried Apricots

Every time I eat apricots, I think of my childhood pet, Apricot. She was an apricot-colored miniature poodle. I called her Apricot because she was, well, apricot...and I'm a writer.

In my defense, though, I was only 6 years old when I named her. Also, for those of you who think poodles are sissy dogs...you might be right. But they're also hypoallergenic for people like my mom who had a sensitivity to most breeds' fur and dander. I was just an elementary school kid who was very happy to have a dog at all. Apricot was my best friend until she passed away many years later while I was off at college.

Maybe that's why I don't eat apricots all that often. So sad. Apricot.

But these apricots are sun-dried, packaged in bright colors, and flaunt fun graphics and a whimsical font—one of the most cheerful-looking products I've seen in a while. There are three sections that break apart for easy travel with a peel-away top. Each little container has about 8-10 dried apricots, each roughly the size of a quarter. And to be honest, the packaging is the best part of the product.

Most of the apricots look pleasant enough, but Sonia and I both immediately observed that they're a bit more leathery than other dried apricots we've had. I know dried apricots tend to be a tad chewy, but I felt this offering was just a little too tough—not to the point where they were hard to chew once you had a piece in your mouth, but tearing off sections felt a bit too much like eating stiff beef jerky.

Flavor-wise, they were plenty sweet. There was nothing unpleasant about the taste at first, but we both agreed there was a slight odd aftertaste, almost as if there were a little too much of the "sulfur dioxide," which I assume is there as a preservative.

The three sections are super-convenient, and the price is reasonable at $1.49. If you need a blood sugar boosting snack that will easily fit in a small pocket, this isn't a bad product to reach for. We just can't tell you we were madly in love with these apricots. Three stars a piece here.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.