Are pumpkin products still legit after Thanksgiving? I mean, pumpkin pie sure is, at least until Christmas, right? So pumpkin season rolls on in my humble opinion. Mid-September through Christmas seems appropriate.
On one hand we have hoppy IPA beer and on the other hand we have sweeter stuff like pumpkin cider. I'll do either/or depending on my mood, but something like pumpkin ale often falls between the cracks and fails to meet the needs of either my arrogant hipster wannabe persona or that of my inner giggly college girl. I mean, who actually craves a pumpkin ale?
I just grabbed one off the mix-a-six shelf at Trader Joe's some weeks ago and haven't had the opportunity or desire to drink it yet, so what better time than now while I'm stuffed to the gills with heavy Thanksgiving fare and the first of the Christmas season's fattening goodies? Here are my thoughts...
It pours an amber-ish color with an off-white head. It's sweeter than I thought it would be. Pumpkin spices are evident, though not overwhelming. It's almost more of a cider than an ale, but it's not as appley as drinks like The Gourd Tree Pumpkin Cider.
Despite the sweetness and pumpkin spice aura, the beer finishes surprisingly clean. Alcohol-wise, it doesn't taste as strong as most 7% ABV beers, but it'd be a rare occasion I'd go out of my way to find and procure an ale this "girly."
The price is nice at $1.34 for the individual can. Brewed by Josephsbrau. I guess I might throw another one in my mix-a-six next year if it's around again. Sonia sat this one out. I'm torn between 3 and 3.5 stars, so I'll do one of each.
I guess if I were a real foodie, I'd know what the word "confit" meant without having to look it up. I've heard the phrase "duck confit," but that's about the only context in which I've ever actually noticed the word before. And to be honest, I have no idea what duck confit is.
I'm quite familiar with and fond of onions, however, so I thought I'd give this product a whirl. I looked at the packaging and saw a sort of dark brown swirl on these crackers. My brain immediately made the connection to caramelized onions since that's the first place my mind goes when I think of onions in a dark brown format.
And...yeah...no. That's not what these are. Apparently confit is anything cooked for a very long time at a low-ish temperature in grease or oil. Even if I had been aware of the meaning of the word "confit," I still don't think I would have imagined the taste of these swirls even semi-accurately. I would have imagined something, you know, greasy and oniony.
These crackers are dry as can be, if but maybe a tad oily...and they don't really taste like onions, sadly. Onion powder is the third ingredient after wheat flour and butter, and I guess there's a whisper of oniony essence, but not much more. I thought they'd be similar to those crispy onion chips, which were freaking amazing, but with maybe a bit more breadiness to them.
I don't know how I'd eat these things other than tossing them into savory soup of some kind. Honestly, I don't know if I'd ever reach for these puppies over classic croutons or even saltine crackers. They just need more onion flavor to be worth it. And they're extremely tiny. I wouldn't have minded if they were, you know, bite-sized...instead of half-bite-sized.
$2.49 for the 2.5 serving box. We will polish off the box within the week with the help of some tasty bisque or stew, but we probably would not buy again. Three and a half stars from Sonia. Three from me for Trader Joe's Onion Confit Swirls.
I love shrimp. It's a blessing and a curse for Trader Joe's shrimp dishes because I get my hopes up so high each time I try a new one that it's difficult for some products to live up to my expectations. Throw the word "garlic" in the title and I start salivating like Pavlov's dog.
One thing I didn't notice when purchasing this product: it has mushrooms. I have a mild allergy to mushrooms and I really don't like them at all. It's not like I'll die if I eat them, though. I just get mild heart palpitations and increased pulse for a few minutes. Yes, my allergies are weird. I'd get into all that, but let's save that disturbing discussion for another review and dive right into this appetizer.
The flatbread comes in what appears to be a vacuum-sealed garbage bag that's black on one side and see-through on the other. Interesting. Haven't seen packaging quite like that before.
The heating instructions read "DO NOT MICROWAVE" bolded in all caps. Yikes. Okay, I mean I wasn't going to in this case, but I'll be a good boy and follow the instructions exactly this time. Just stop yelling at me. 375° for 20 minutes and we're ready to chow down.
Certain bites contained more cheese than others. The cheesiest sections delivered a generous blast of parmesan while other bites were simply toasty bread and garlic bechamel sauce. I'm certainly not complaining about the sauce, but by itself, it wasn't particularly memorable and only faintly garlicky.
There were only ten shrimp specimens on our entire flatbread. For six bucks, that's not super generous. The small quantity that was there, however, was quite tasty. They weren't rubbery or chewy at all—good quality, cooked to perfection. The mushrooms, though noticeable, were not abundant enough to bother me at all.
In the end, the flavor of this flatbread just wasn't special enough to win over either Sonia or me completely. The shrimp, though enjoyable, were not plenteous enough to save the dish entirely. Probably wouldn't buy again.
Three stars from me. Three and a half stars from the beautiful wifey for Trader Joe's Shrimp & Garlic Flatbread.
For those of you unfamiliar, bolognese sauce originates from Bologna, Italy and is traditionally made with beef or sometimes pork, and it's rich and hearty and commonly served on pasta. Some versions contain red wine, while most contain herbs and spices like rosemary, fennel, and/or oregano.
Here we have Trader Joe's Vegan Italian Bolognese Ravioli. Seems pretty straightforward: little round ravioli pasta pieces filled with that vegan bolognese sauce that we reviewed a few years ago? We liked that sauce okay, so filling ravioli with it will probably make a passable meal. Let's just dive right in.
The ravioli is very dainty here. Like each piece is simply two paper thin layers of pasta with a spoonful of a relatively thin tomato and lentil-based sauce inside. It has a pleasant, though not particularly pungent, array of spices. Tomato is far and away the dominant flavor.
Sonia wishes there were more of the sauce within each pasta round. I don't disagree, but I'd rather have a thicker, more robust sauce. It doesn't need to have meat, but even the lentils and tomatoes are crushed into oblivion and feel nearly liquefied. There's very little to chew on in this dish.
We actually wound up finishing the package by dumping Trader Joe's Calabrian Chili Spicy Pasta Sauce on the remainder. That stuff completely drown out the comparatively subtle flavors of the bolognese sauce and made the pasta much more flavorful. Everything's more exciting with that sauce on it.
There's nothing unpleasant about this pasta product, but it could be improved with greater quantities of the bolognese sauce and/or making it thicker, and even bulkier pasta on the ravioli would help.
$3.99 for the package, which Sonia and I easily finished in a single sitting. Three out of five stars from yours truly. Three and a half stars from the beautiful wifey for Trader Joe's Vegan Italian Bolognese Ravioli.
Ah, the very first NEW fall product of the season. You can just taste the anticipation in the air with a knife. Er, wait. That's not right. I'm sure there's some idiom that sums up what's going on here, but can't think of it right now because I'm too hungry.
Apple. Cinnamon. Buns. Any one of those three elements is enough to make my mouth water. All three together? Shoot. How could Trader Joe's possibly go wrong?
Well, first off, there are no heating instructions on the box, which I thought was weird. I mean, sure, there are plenty of baked goods you can just snatch right out of the packaging and go to town on. These seemed possible candidates for such a situation, and the lack of preparatory directions reinforced that assumption.
However, the buns were decidedly unimpressive at room temperature. Sonia described them as "hard," whereas I simply saw them as "stale." We consumed them a full three days before the best by date, in case you were wondering.
So we mused whether we'd nuke them for a spell or air fry them. We opted for the former at least partially out of impatience, but also because 12 or 15 seconds in a microwave posed less of a risk of drying out the product than any number of minutes in an air fryer.
After heating, the product was markedly improved on several fronts: the texture was wetter, softer, fresher, and even the cinnamon flavor seemed to pop a little more than it did prior to the pastry's ride in the radiation robot. I slathered my share with butter which gave it a bit more of a comfort food vibe than the product provided just on its own.
Still, there's not nearly enough apple in the buns to make them magical or memorable. There's a shallow, paltry pool of minced apples in a sugary sauce right on top in the middle of the buns, but that's about it. For these to get our enthusiastic seal of approval, that apple filling would need to at least quadruple or quintuple in quantity.
As is, we're looking at about three and a half stars from Sonia and three from me which, honestly, I think is being a little generous. Heated, with some added butter, these buns make a passable dessert treat, but they're a far cry from legends like the Rustic Apple Tarte in terms of appliciousness and overall purchase-worthiness.
$4.49 for two buns. Probably wouldn't buy Trader Joe's Apple Cinnamon Buns Crumb Topped Danish Pastries with Apple Filling & Cinnamon again.
Wait a minute. This isn't a fall food. Watermelon is more summery than autumnal. True. We're still doing non-fall food reviews on this blog right now for a number of reasons: (1) many if not most of the fall items at Trader Joe's right now are re-releases and have already been reviewed on this blog. Go ahead. Use the "Search This Blog" bar up top to look up the products you're curious about. (2) It's not fall yet. September 23 is the first day of fall. (3) It's still too warm for autumn products, though it's markedly cooler than it was just last week. In short: patience, young grasshopper. All in good time.
Does anybody remember the chocolate raspberry sticks? Are they still around? Well, these are basically the same thing, but watermelon flavored. I guess I got fooled by the packaging. These watermelon dealies come in a bag while the raspberry version came in a plastic tub. I must say I think the watermelon flavor works better than raspberry for some reason, but even this product doesn't really do it for me in the end.
They're just a gelatinous fruit-flavored center surrounded by a thin layer of dark chocolate on all sides. I guess they're pretty good for a blood sugar picker-upper type situation. The watermelon flavor is more in the direction of like a watermelon lollipop rather than, like, actual watermelon or watermelon puree. It's very candy-esque—not very authentic to my taste buds.
The candies need to stay cool. And I mean, if the temperature is above 72° at all, both the chocolate and the filling will start getting soft and melty. Keep napkins on standby or only consume in cool weather.
$3.49 for the resealable bag. Probably wouldn't buy again, but I can see how some folks dig 'em. Three stars from me. Three and a half stars from Sonia for Trader Joe's Dark Chocolate Watermelon Sticks.
This is the third installment of our Trader Joe's canned organic sparkling apple cider vinegar beverage series. Most of you remember the recently-reviewed Elderberry + Pomegranate version. And some may even remember our review of the Ginger + Lemon flavor from 2021.
I was surprised how much I liked the taste of ginger and lemon and was quite impressed at how efficiently they masked the intense sourness of apple cider vinegar. I was slightly less impressed with the elderberry iteration of the drink since it wanted to be sweeter and failed to be so. I'm even more disappointed with this flavor since strawberry is sweeter still even than elderberries or pomegranates and clashes with the tart pungency of vinegar more desperately than its deep purple predecessor.
It's like someone took a delicious, refreshing summer-themed beverage and poured salad dressing into it as a prank. I'd almost say this product is less sweet than that strawberry vinaigrette we looked at last week. It utterly frustrates my taste buds.
Sonia has given four and a half stars to each of this beverage's forerunners, and she'll have to go a half star lower this time because, like me, she's not quite as fond of this flavor. This is definitely my least favorite flavor, so I'll throw out my lowest score yet for these ACV beverages.
Once again, about two bucks for the can. Plenty of health benefits from drinking ACV in any form. Organic. Kosher. Bubbly. But still, I can't go higher than two and a half stars. The beautiful wifey will bestow this beverage with four stars.
Vinaigrette. Is it like the female version of "vinegar"? I mean, we have Smurfette, who's the original female Smurf. Then we might have a kitchenette or a launderette, which are basically like petite versions of the originals. And of course the suffragettes were all females looking for the right to vote and stuff.
Should a self-respecting man be eating vinaigrette at all? If he wants a little something on his greens, wouldn't it be a lot more manly to just dump a bunch of household cleaning vinegar on his salad? The answers to these questions and more...are definitely not is this review. But they are worth pondering.
So I asked Google's new AI chatbot named Bard what it had to say about the matter. He gave me four paragraphs as a response, the last and most pertinent of which read: "If you are looking for a manly way to dress a salad, I recommend using a vinaigrette made with good quality olive oil, vinegar, and herbs. This will give your salad a delicious and healthy flavor without any of the risks associated with using cleaning vinegar."
Thanks, Bard. You always know what's up. Although, in this particular product, we have canola oil instead of good quality olive oil. Some folks think that's a bad thing. Apparently, canola oil causes inflammation, and that's something I'm trying to avoid.
Also, there are a total of 4g of sugar, all of which are "added sugar." You'd think there'd be some natural fructose from the strawberry puree, but I guess the amount is negligible. Must all come from the cane sugar.
And this dressing is definitely sweet. It's at least teetering on the verge of too sweet. It's quite strawberry forward, and there's definitely a spicy, earthy basil essence underneath. The vinegar flavor doesn't come through very much at all. The dressing isn't particularly tangy or tart to my taste buds.
$3.99 for the 8 serving bottle. I wouldn't buy this one again. I just don't do sweet summer berry salads enough to make it worth it, and I feel like I've had better berry balsamics and berry vinaigrettes than this one. As usual, Sonia will be a little more positive and lenient. She likes the sweetness level and strawberry flavor.
Two and a half out of five stars from me. Three and a half stars from Sonia for Trader Joe's Strawberry Basil Vinaigrette.
The thing about toffee is that I don't like dentists.
I feel like every time I eat it that I'm tempting fate to snap off one of my teeth, or at least a section of a tooth, and then I'll be forced to either do some extraordinarily painful homespun remedy involving clove oil, pliers, and an ungodly amount of ibuprofen or go to one of those overpriced professional purveyors of pain.
No offense if you happen to be a dentist reading this. Nothing personal. Unless you're that horrible lady that removed my last wisdom tooth. Then you should definitely be offended.
Toffee. It's like hard candy that you're supposed to chew. There's a reason we don't chomp down on Jolly Ranchers or Werther's Originals or Dum Dums. Toffee is basically the same thing, but if you slap some chocolate and almonds on it, suddenly it's okay to bite into rocks made of sugar.
I'm exaggerating slightly of course. I mean, I'd simply suck on this candy like I do other hard candies, but the nuts make it kinda impractical to do that. It's not quite as a hard as a lollipop or whatever, but it's darn close. And it's sticky. Each bite leaves more and more crushed up toffee fused to the surface of your teeth.
I guess it's unfair to punish this toffee for, you know, being toffee. Compared to other toffee, it's quite good. There's a nice balance of caramel flavor, chocolate, and nuts, and it's buttery and sweet just like I'd expect it to be. I guess I just really want there to be a softer version of toffee—like a chewy, creamy toffee covered in chocolate and almonds. That would be great.
But this here is traditional English toffee. Fair enough. If you've got teeth of steel, you'll love it. $3.49 for the 8 oz tub. Three stars from me. Three and a half stars from Sonia for Trader Joe's English Toffee with Milk Chocolate.
Some days I don't have any silly intro story or clever segue into the actual review, so I just reminisce about products from the past and link to them at the beginning of the post. That's what we'll do today. We won't remember every single product with cauliflower that we've seen over the years, but we'll look at the times when cauliflower has become a substitute for some other food staple. Ahh...let's look at:
Okay, well, that last one might not have been a thing. But you get the picture. They can turn cauliflower into anything. So crispy little crackers should be a walk in the park for the versatile cauliflower, right?
In my book, not so much. These snacky circles are too dense, too rigid. If they were thinner, they'd be much easier to bite and chew. As is, they're like little cookies—more three-dimensional than I'd have imagined them to be. I thought they'd be delicate like rice crackers, but they're much more solid than that.
They taste a little like cauliflower. They're much more earthy and bitter than typical rice crackers. I think I'd be fine with the product if they used all the same ingredients and simply lost the cauliflower. I mean, brown rice flour is the second ingredient, and I never met a rice crisp I didn't like.
Sonia enjoys them. She thinks they have a very unique flavor, and I don't disagree. She's just a little more fond of that unusual flavor than I am. I'd try redeeming them with random toppings and dips, but I'm afraid it would just ruin my enjoyment of said toppings.
We paid $2.99 for the 2.5 serving bag. I wouldn't buy them again if it were just me. Sonia might I guess. Three and a half stars from the beautiful wifey. Two and a half stars from me for Trader Joe's Cauliflower Crisps Snack.
Nate's Notes: This review was originally posted 2/5/21 but Sonia and I decided for no particular reason that it needed a video companion, embedded below. Thanks for reading/watching.
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When looking forward to something with great amounts of anticipation, there are varying degrees of severity of the phrase "not impressed" once you get to experience said something, right?
On one hand, the latest season of Letterkenny? Never watched it or never even heard of it? Change that this weekend, start at season 1, and go. I'd recommend skipping the third episode (named, uh, "Fartbook') as it's a bit hit or miss with newbies. Season 9 of the series debuted on Christmas after a few months of delays...my lovely bride and I binged the whole season in one night...and were left kinda disappointed. It just didn't have the same feel or cleared the same hurdles that previous seasons lifted the bar so high for. Still ok...but not that great. I hope in time appreciation will grow for it, but now, just a simple "not impressed" will do.
The other extreme may be most of 2020. Maybe the appreciation will grow in time...lots of time...but yeah. That's a pretty emphatic NOT IMPRESSED.
So where do Trader Joe's Dark Chocolate Drizzled Plantain Chips fall on this spectrum?
Yup, we looked forward to them with great anticipation. Plantains are good and dark chocolate is great, right? Those are still undeniable truths. Yet here, in this iteration, there's a bit of something lacking. Much like previous plantain chips, there's the soft, starchy, styrofoam comfort feel to the actual chips themselves. It's an experience we know well and it works. Except...maybe not for sweet-tilting indulgent treats? It kinda feels and tastes, well, not wrong but not right either. That's not it's fault, it's a plantain and by now inanimate.
As usual, no real issues with the dark chocolate. It's on point and delivers once again, as expected.
Maybe it's because we somehow expected or craved something more akin to a chocolate covered potato chip that we're left a little not impressed here. Or heck, like our recently rediscovered love of plantain crisps? Yes please! Like...we knew it wasn't gonna be but wanted it anyways. I will say the overall taste is good, and has some promises, and perhaps like the latest season of Letterkenny appreciation will grow in time, but right now, neither my lovely bride nor I are really all that impressed.
Maybe we're wrong - it happens, a lot - and we let poor expectation management override sound judgement.
Bags cost a few bucks each - maybe three - and it'll take a few days to finish the spare we have. Our kids like them and their diminutive size (the chips, not the kids) make them a reasonably good snack treat. I was handing them out like literal candy to them the other day. So I'll bump them a grade for that at least. Doing right for kids goes a long way in my book. Still not impressed, though.
Bottom line: Trader Joe's Dark Chocolate Drizzled Plantain Chips: 5 out of 10 Golden Spoons.
Though we may have been slightly more lenient with our scoring, Sonia and I more or less came to the same conclusion: Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10.
Chhurpi is the world's hardest cheese, chewed like gum and eaten by the people of the Himalaya region. Now TJ's has a crunchy version of this aged Himalayan cheese for your dog. Watch the video to see Alfred and Sadie's reaction to the unusual snacks.
Four paw prints from Alfred. Two paw prints from Sadie.
Half the time I review Trader Joe's brand cookies, I'm complaining: "Oh no, not more cookies." I mean, Sonia and I are constantly looking for items that have never been reviewed on this blog before, and virtually every time we do a TJ's run we're like, "Oh look, fifteen new varieties of cookies we can review."
I mean, you don't have to hold a gun to my head to get me to eat cookies, but man, it takes something super impressive to get me excited about them these days. I don't mean to be a Downer Dan, but most Trader Joe's brand cookie reviews on this blog are lackluster at best.
Unfortunately, that will be the case with Trader Joe's Chocolate Chunk Cookies. At least give them an exciting name: Trader Joe's Chunkolate Cookies. Can't go wrong with a portmanteau. Or throw a tagline on the bag: "Trader Joe's Chunky Cookies ARE chunky, and they'll MAKE YOU chunky, too!"
But what we have here are very standard chocolate chip cookies with slightly larger-than-normal pieces of chocolate. These aren't the first "chocolate chunk" cookies I've had, and they're definitely not the best. I guess it's kinda neat when you get a bite with a bunch of chocolate, but honestly, I wouldn't even say there's more chocolate in each of these cookies than an average chocolate chip cookie. The chocolate is just concentrated into one or two "chunks" rather than half a dozen "chips."
The bread part is so-so. Truly nothing original or Trader Joe's-esque is going on here. I'm on the record saying I like soft and chewy cookies better than crispy ones, but man, these are just boring. Throw in some coffee, mango, or ube next time, TJ's. We'll finish the bag but we won't buy again.
$4.49 for 8 cookies, found by the other baked goods. I guess the cookies are fairly large, but I still think that's a bit too much money for what you're getting. Two and a half stars from me. Three and a half stars from Sonia for Trader Joe's Chocolate Chunk Cookies.
Sometimes I wonder if the people who come up with these products aren't, you know, like really high when they think of ideas for new items. Truth be told, I've never smoked weed. Absolutely no judgment if you do. Honestly, I think I'd do pretty well with the stoner crowd. Those folks seem nice and chill.
I've never even had edibles. I mean, there was this one time in college when I was at a party, and I was super hungry, and this pan full of fresh-baked brownies appeared on the coffee table in the living room. I grabbed a couple because my blood sugar was very low and I absolutely inhaled them. I started feeling really funny after that. I never figured out if it was just like a huge blood sugar spike or if they were "special brownies." Guess I'll never know for sure.
So you can probably see where I'm going with this. If you've got a hardcore case of the munchies, chocolate-covered Fritos, Lay's, and Rold Golds probably sound not just edible, but incredible. When you're stone cold sober, maybe...not as much?
So I did an experiment. I had a couple shots of gin as an aperitif while Sonia sipped on wine, and sure enough, these weird, crunchy, chocolatey concoctions suddenly sounded not only eatable but downright enticing. I didn't finish the bag, but I made a dent in it for sure. Sonia was still not quite sold even after a nice glass of red—and I mean, red wine and chocolate go together better than gin and chocolate...
$3.99 for the bag. Three out of five stars from the beautiful wifey. Three and a half stars from me for Trader Joe's Munchies Clusters...er, sorry, Snacky Clusters.
Mexicans and Mexican-Americans like my wife eat some unusual fare from time to time. They eat cow tongue (lengua) and cow stomach soup (menudo). They eat grasshoppers (chapulines) and cactus (nopal) among other things.
I've tried lengua tacos. Not a fan. It's a texture thing. While I've had more than one stomach dish in my day, I've never had proper menudo. I'd try it, although I haven't enjoyed eating any kind of stomach ever. Not that they're my snack of choice or anything, but grasshoppers fried in oil and dusted with chili powder are not nearly as disgusting as one might think. You vill eat ze bugs and be happy!
Nopales, on the other hand, I enjoy eating fairly regularly. Sonia makes a dish with eggs, nopales, onions, and hot sauce that's really yummy. So we were excited to see nopal cactus as an ingredient in Trader Joe's Vegetable & Cheese Enchiladas.
The dish is quite mushy—almost soupy. I wouldn't mind more veggie chunks in the mix. More corn, more nopales, more zucchini, more onions, more of almost everything.
Taste-wise, I'm fine with the cheese and sauce blend. It's tangy and tomatoey, with just a hint of spice. I would prefer significantly more heat.
Sonia actually thinks these are quite bland. She thinks Trader Joe's is replacing the classic black bean and corn enchiladas with these veggie and cheese ones, and she's not very happy about it. She wants more spice, more onion, and more garlic flavor here.
While I'm not blown away, I'm not super disappointed either. I'd prefer a bit more kick and a little something to sink my teeth into, but I can see why some people are digging these enchiladas. Sonia...not so much. She thinks the flavor is a flop and would have preferred a tangier Mexican cheese like cotija.
$2.99 for two enchiladas. Two and a half stars from the beautiful wifey. I'll throw out three and a half for Trader Joe's Vegetable & Cheese Enchiladas.
Wait. This has been around for over two years? How did I not hear about this stuff until recently? I love onions in pretty much any form. Roasted onions in macaroni topped with both Swiss and cheddar sounds absolutely scrumptious.
And it is...sorta. I mean, there's definitely a comfort food factor here in Trader Joe's French Onion Macaroni & Cheese. It's a heavy meal. There's a visible layer of grease glazing the white-yellow cheeses. It goes down easily enough. It's super carborrific with 102 grams of total carbohydrates, almost a thousand calories, and a whopping 125% of your RDA for saturated fat. That's if you eat the whole thing, though—which is within the realm of possibility.
It's more practical as a meal for two, even though there are two and a half servings in there somehow. Whatever. If you think of it as a treat, I mean, sometimes you just gotta splurge. The question is: is it worth it? The simple answer from Sonia and me is "not really," unfortunately.
We both think Trader Joe's French Onion Macaroni & Cheese needs more onion flavor. I wouldn't have minded bigger chunks of onion. And although Swiss and cheddar might be my two favorite cheeses in the world, I'd almost have preferred something tangier here. The macaroni is plentiful and soft and pretty normal in most respects.
The big bready croutons were a nice touch for folks who might have some sort of severe carbohydrate deficiency or are doing that carbivore diet I've heard so much about. Honestly, though, it never would have occurred to me in a million years to throw croutons in mac and cheese, and as far as taste and texture are concerned, it worked a lot better than I might have guessed it would. Those were probably the most pleasant surprises in the dish.
$4.99 for the 18 oz box. We're not hating. We just can't jump on board the bandwagon of super-fans. Probably wouldn't buy it again, but I also wouldn't rule it out completely. I think we're looking at about three stars a piece here from the beautiful wifey and me for Trader Joe's French Onion Macaroni & Cheese with Swiss and Cheddar Cheeses, Croutons & Roasted Onions.
Our modern western society has had it so easy for so long, I feel like we need to be aware of our roots a little more. It's just so easy to eat something like a McNugget and not even pause to reflect that what you're consuming came from a living creature. Folks like Sonia's grandparents eat chicken just like we do, but she's actually seen them grab the feathery animal from the coop, place it on its side, and chop its head clean off its body with a hatchet. I don't think I'd eat chicken as often if I had to do that each time I had a hankerin'.
Likewise, can you imagine if we humans were farmed and consumed by an advanced alien race? Wouldn't it be the worst if you gave your life so Kodos and Kang could have a gourmet meal and they decided that your meat was too stringy or chewy, and they cast your corpse aside in favor of some other human with a more savory texture?
Your spirit would be floating there in the ether, looking down at the ungrateful extraterrestrials. "Hey, I died for this meal! The least you could do is show a bit of gratitude!"
In that same way, it seems such a shame when I'm eating an animal and I have to complain about the taste or texture. Trader Joe's Grilled Chili Lime Chicken Strips certainly weren't awful, but neither the taste nor the texture were on point like we were hoping they would be.
The preferred heating method for this product is the microwave. The microwave always yields chewy chicken, and this product was no exception. We tried heating some in the skillet, but it was chewy that way, too. It wasn't stringy or rubbery or gristly per se—it was just a little stiffer than we were hoping it would be.
On the plus side, it was low fat, low calorie, and high protein. So...there's that.
$6.99 for four servings of Trader Joe's Grilled Chili Lime Chicken Strips. Probably wouldn't buy again. Three out of five stars a piece from Sonia and me. And thanks to that chicken that died for our sustenance. We appreciate you.
Kind of a random little last-minute checkout stand kind of purchase here. I like mints. I like the flavor of chai tea. But I've never really craved a mint that tasted like chai.
But if Trader Joe's says I need chai tea mints, then maybe I need chai tea mints. Why not?
They're about the size of your average Altoid or other brand name mint. They are leaf-shaped and have leaf veins on one side and "TJ" on the other.
The taste? Hmmm. Kinda odd. I see where they get "chai" from, for sure. I guess it's the cardamom and black tea. You can taste it immediately. Later, you can taste the hint of peppermint oil mentioned on the ingredients list. There's something chalky both in taste and texture throughout the whole experience, though. I find it rather unpalatable. Is it the calcium stearate?
Do they even freshen your breath? Well, kinda. I guess it's better to smell like a chai tea latte than garlic, onions, and tuna fish...I mean, if that's, in fact, what you had for lunch...
About two bucks for a tiny tin of chai flavored mints. There are supposedly 57 pieces in there. Vegan. Would not buy again. Two and a half stars from me.
Sonia likes them enough. In regards to the discrepancy, she states, "Well, I like chai." I do too, wifey. However, I don't like chalk. She claims she doesn't detect the chalkiness. Four stars from her.
I like my chocolate like I like my women: dark and chunky.
Ha, no. I can't even right now. I like my women petite, like my Sonia. And I actually prefer white chocolate. I just always wanted to say "I like my women like I like some food or beverage." I tried it once long ago, and it didn't work then either.
Seriously, though: a quick internet search will reveal that dark chocolate is the best kind of chocolate for raising serotonin levels in the body. Among other things, it's the chemical that regulates emotions, appetite, and sleep cycles. So despite a preference for the taste of white or milk chocolate, there are other reasons why I might reach for the dark variety once in a while.
And there's plenty of dark chocolate in this little bag of bark. There are big slabs of the stuff—mostly quadrilateral shapes. I'd say each chunk is at least four bites a piece, and I'd say the vast majority of the product is nothing but chocolate.
There are definitely almond and pretzel bits in every hunk, but the average bite only contains a teensy crumb of either almond or pretzel. It's rare if you get a detectable piece of nut and pretzel in the same bite.
That's my biggest complaint. I like the almond and pretzel presence here. I wish there were a bit more of it.
There's plenty of sea salt, though, in Trader Joe's Dark Chocolate Bark. Just a slab or two will make you plenty thirsty. If anything, I think the salt could be toned down some.
I expected Sonia to enjoy this product a lot more than me since she's way more into dark chocolate, but she too wished there were more of the mix-ins throughout the bark and a lot less salt. She gives it three out of five stars.
I give Trader Joe's Dark Chocolate Bark three out of five stars, as well. Dark chocolate lovers might like this product more than I did by virtue of the dark chocolate content, but this product could use a little more pizzazz if you ask us. We'll finish the bag easily enough, but it's probably not a repeat purchase. $3.99 for 10 oz of kosher dark chocolate in a resealable bag.
