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.

Trader Joe's Peaches & Cream Tarte

So..anyone have an interesting story or anecdote or joke or anything about a peach tart?

No?

Me neither.

So that makes the kickoff of this review of Trader Joe's Peaches & Cream Tarte a little more difficult and less fun...until the Internet came to the rescue, yet again.

Here I was, just brushing up on the differences between pies and tarts, when I came across this potentially interesting info burst: this tart (pardon moi, tarte) is really more a gallete than anything else.

Rounded, kinda non-defined in form, fruit filled with crust folding over a bit and baked on a sheet? Yes to all of the above. Call it what it is, TJ's - this is a gallete.

Aside from the inadvertant culinary education and cultural refinement, there's not much this peachy pie parodist really offers. I mean, it's okay and all. The crust seems the right amount of flaky and firm, the peaches won't be confused for picked fresh or canned, and the cream portion (if I can even call it that) is a bit underwhleming. Sandy actually wondered aloud about the last part - really, it's just a thin spread between the fruit and crust, and it can be easily overlooked.

The fruit filling borders on a bit too syrupy sweet, though. I've had this weird lingering aftertaste for the past while after having a slice, and it's not entirely pleasant. Maybe it'd be dissipated if served with a little vanilla ice cream or something.

But yeah, not that special, not that great. The TJ peach and cream tart cost about $5 and took half an hour in the oven to warm up, and for that, I'd say it's probably not worth it. I'd hate to ding too much, but I'm struggling of outright positive things to really say. Sandy can't muster any more than a middlin' three, and I feel compelled to be a little lower. I mean, if it can't even be called the right thing...

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Peaches & Cream Tarte: 5.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons 

Trader Joe's Vegan Cream Cheese Alternative

It's nice when we can tell a certain group of diet-restricted readers that a product that's okay for them is every bit as good as the "normal" version. Sonia will tell you that's almost the case here. I will beg to differ. If I were, in fact, on a strict vegan diet, I would just skip cream cheese altogether rather than settle for an odd imitation like this.

Mind you, I'm not comparing this product to other vegan cream cheese spreads, because I've never had any other plain vegan cream cheese spreads. Yes, I know, I know...it's unfair to compare a vegan product with a real dairy product, especially since I'm not a vegan, but there's always the hope that it'll be a brilliant surprise like the recently-reviewed garlic spread dip was.

Speaking of garlic spread dip, it's remarkably similar in texture and appearance to this product. Come to think of it, the taste is quite similar, as well—minus the garlic, of course. And since there's essentially no flavor at all other than garlic in the garlic spread, what I'm trying to say is that this "cream cheese" is extremely bland—totally void of any true cream flavor. It's just a couple of oils mixed with salt and stuff, as well as "vegan culture." Interesting. I knew vegans had a culture all their own, and that "vegan culture is on the rise," but I didn't know you could pack that whole way of life into a spreadable condiment. Now I know better.

Just kidding. I'm sure that's referring to some kind of bacterial culture, which kind of grosses me out. I guess it's no weirder than cultures grown in cow's milk, though...which is also pretty weird if you start thinking about it too much.

Sonia had this spread with some jelly and bread and really liked it that way. She says she can tell the difference between this product and regular cream cheese, but she thinks the difference is negligible. I must admit, it does knife out of the tub and spread very similarly to traditional cream cheese. I just had it on plain bread, and I felt it added very little in terms of flavor. After consuming, I felt a little goofy, too—like one might feel after consuming too much oil. My stomach was a bit upset and began complaining audibly. That's never something I'm looking for in a condiment.

I think this is about a two star affair here for me. Sonia gives it the thumbs up, though. Put her down for four stars. Any vegans in the house? I'm curious as to how you feel about it. Let us know in the comments below.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's These Peanuts Go On A Date Bars

Go to most grocery stores and look at the snack bar aisle. Ay yi yi. Granola bars as far as the eye can see, in all sorts of variants. That's all I remeber from growing up. These days, though...Clif Bars, Luna Bars, Larabars, fruit/nut/seed "protein" bars, heck even Gatorade bars. It's apparent we love these lil handy snack buggers.

So of course, here's another entry into healthyish snack bars, and as an added bonus, it's another TJ's style attempt at copying off a more famous brand with only subtle differences. This time, it's Trader Joe's These Peanuts Go On A Date Bars.

Let me get this out of the way: the name bugs me, and I can't figure out why. It's cutesy with the cheesy pun (we expect nothing less, Big Joe) that makes for an easy illustration, and as far as I know it's grammatical, but...I don't know. It doesn't sound right. Maybe they could have been called Nutty Date bars, and for a picture, have my high school girlfriend on there...but I digress.

The closest mainstream snack bar to these TJ's nutty daters would be, of course, Larabars. Dates and nuts as the base for a on-the-go grubber is pretty standard and shared between the two. But there are, of course, differences. I've had Larabars with dates and peanuts in them, but to my knowledge, none with "peanut butter" also listed. There's not a huge difference tastewise, except maybe the TJ's bars being slightly less datey and slightly more nutty, but man, the feel is different. TJ's are much softer, almost limp, comnpared to the usal firmness of a Larabar. I can sense it being a textural challenge for some, for sure.

But yeah, other than that: Dates. Peanuts. Flax seeds and sea salt, which don't do much in my opinion. Whoomp there it is. Nothing exciting.

They are a decent value compared to Larabars, which I'm accustomed to seeing at roughly a buck a pop. TJ's box o' five is $2.99, so not bad, and easier than making your own - I know, I've tried, and I have the burned out blender to prove it. They're worth a try if Larabars are your bag, if not you'd be happier skipping. Kinda meh all the way around - not great, not awful, which is alright with me.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's These Peanuts Go On A Date Bars: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons 

Trader Joe's Hi-Protein Veggie Burger

Maybe it's because of my 9th grade biology teacher, but whenever I hear the word "protein," I can't help but think of science. "Protein" was so frequently the answer to her on-the-spot quiz questions, that if you'd answer one incorrectly with "protein," she'd politely say, "No, but thanks for playing." And just about 50% of the time, "protein" was indeed the correct answer. Any other incorrect answer would be met with a gruff "NO!" along with a personalized insult of some sort, generally along the lines of, "You're out to lunch, Mr. Rodgers!" 

And heaven help those poor students who answered something other than "protein" when it was the correct response. Louise Grove's biology class was more than 20 years ago, but I'm still traumatized. To this day, "protein" just doesn't sound appetizing to me in any context.

But hey, at least the packaging doesn't read "Now infused with delicious structural components of body tissues!" I'm not sure if it would be accurate at all, but you'll never see them even attempt to advertise the presence of any other macromolecules. "Trader Joe's Hi-Lipid Veggie Burgers!" "Trader Joe's Hi-Carbohydrate Veggie Burgers!" "Trader Joe's Hi-Nucleic Acid Veggie Burgers!" None of those work even a little.

So protein it is.

I've gotten pretty good at putting personal bias on the shelf when trying new things from Trader Joe's over the years. I'm not 100% sure my aversion to the word "protein" isn't affecting me here, but there's a good chance it's minimal, at least. These just aren't the best veggie burgers we've seen from TJ's. The Vegetable Masala Burgers and Quinoa Cowboy Burgers would be at the top of my recommendations list.

There are two big, heavy veggie patties, individually wrapped in cellophane. They only give you microwave and conventional oven heating instructions. No stove-top method is listed. We heated ours in the oven. After baking, the exterior of the burgers was slightly crisp and dry, while the inside was a bit soft and mushy.

The main ingredient here is peas—or rather "pea protein blend," (YUM!) but the flavor isn't entirely pea-esque. There's something nutty about the taste, but you can also taste the black beans and a hint of garlic. The overall effect isn't particularly taste-tacular. It's a subtle flavor—some might even say "bland."

On the other hand, it's versatile enough, going well with cheese, lettuce, ketchup, and mustard—pretty much all the usual burger condiments and toppings, but in the end, I think this tastes too much like the veggie burger that red meat eaters are desperately trying to avoid. It tastes a bit like "health food" to me, and for that reason, I'll never buy it again. I do want to reiterate, though, that there are countless meatless options at TJ's that I'd happily consume on a regular basis.

Although she agrees this isn't the best veggie burger option at Trader Joe's, Sonia liked this product significantly more than I did. She liked that they were very filling and easy to prepare. Three and a half stars from her. Two and a half from me.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Crunchy Maple Ladders Cereal

Ladders? Really?

I'm sorry, but Trader Joe's Crunchy Maple Ladders Cereal does not, in fact, look like a bunch of mini bite sized ladders.

Look at the cereal pieces. There is nothing ladderlike about them. The completed, enclosed ends negate any chance of them being able to reasonably be perceived as a ladder. It's three conjoined boxes smushed together. It's a segmented rectangle. It's a threepiece. It's not a ladder.

Really, what these maple cereal bites more resemble...is cinderblocks.

And not just in appearance.

Okay, that's probably a bit harsh for the TJ maple ladder cereal. But I'm stuck at a place where I really want to enjoy them more than I actually can. I LOVE the idea of maple flavored cereal. And as a glutenfree option? Even better! That's not a necessity for me but it is a preference.

Yet the feel seems off. It's a bit too much of a dry, kinda blah crunch. Is it the chickpea powder's fault? I have no clue - have never had cereal made from chickpeas before - but the usual munchiness of corn and rice based cereal is missing, even though corn and rice are ingredients here as well. So I guess it's the chickpeas. Oh well, at least it didn't dissolve into hummus, I guess.

The texture issue could be assuaded some if only the maple flavor was stronger. Unfortunately for this cereal, it's just a little too subtle and lowkey. Just a smidge more. I don't want to say a little sugar is needed, but I considered it. I liked what I could taste and wanted to taste it more, but instead was left hanging.

In all it's a decent cereal I guess, but it's not what I hoped for. For funsies I did mix some with some cinnamon cereal, which made it all the more enjoyable...except any traces of maple flavor got wiped away. Sandy was similarly underwhelmed and wondered aloud if somehow the lack of gluten made a suboptimal flavor base for the maple to build on. Not sure if there's anything to that or not, but it's a theory at least. I'm more in the camp that a cereal that I wanted to be a little too junky is instead trying to be a little too healthy instead. I'm just going to have to deal with my disappointment, one step at a time.

Trader Joe's Crunchy Maple Ladders Cereal: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons 

Trader Joe's Sriracha Shrimp Bowl

This was gonna be it. This was gonna be my revenge.

For all the slightly too loud talk with a little bit too much TMI. For all the ice crunching and nail clipping and shoe stripping. For all the times my jokes weren't laughed at - I mean, I'm not always funny, but be a little polite, ok? For all the burned popcorn and odd smells and perfumes and other scents, whether from something mass produced or from something...rhyming with what I just wrote.

Yes. I was gonna microwave Trader Joe's Sriracha Shrimp Bowl for my lunch at work, right in the central break room. I was going to parade it proudly back to my desk, as the aroma of nuked seafood and various spices would waft around the cubicle farm.

I try to get along as best I can....but today would be different. Revenge, in this case, would be a dish best served hot.

Too bad it didn't quite turn out that way.

Surprisingly, this spicy shrimp and rice bowl is not overly aromatic, whether from a seafood or a spice perspective. It's almost completely innocuous. I don't think a single coworker noticed. No one asked. No glares. No nothing. I just looked like a dude eating lunch at his desk.

Overall, it makes for an okay lunch. For $3.49 you can't expect too much, so that's how I'm trying to approach this. The biggest issue seems to be the shrimp itself. My bowl had five in there, which seemed to be a reasonable number. But the shrimp just didn't taste all that great, mostly because it wasn't seasoned, and the sauce didn't have a chance to really flavor the shrimp either. The result was every bite with shrimp had a big, fleshy, taste-tempering feel that wasn't too spectacular.

Everything else was about on par, though. Mostly brown with a few red grains spinkled in, the rice added a hearty, earthy bite, while the veggies remained steamed yet firm enough. And the sriracha was about what one could expect, and it definitely helped tie it all together, too.

I'm not sure if this says more about me or the dish, but one letdown was, only about an hour after eating it, I was kinda hungry again, enough to consider running downstairs to our work cafe for chicken fingers or something along those lines. I'd definitely advise not considering thes hrimp bowl to be an entire lunch in of itself, but pack along some fruits or veggies or something to help complement it all.

Good chance I'd buy this TJ's rice bowl again. There's only so many times I can eat leftovers per week, and I certainly can't buy/order out every day...unlike most of my coworkers...but that's another story. Just me grading it this time around, so gonna double up.

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

Trader Joe's Milk Chocolate Truffles

As you may recall, ice cream is a certain kind of currency in our family, good for all kinds of bribery...

Well, what about candy?

Candy is an oddball in our family. There's two main divergent views. The one I employ is, eat it all right away. Candy rarely lasts long around me. It's...kinda a bad thing. I've learned that, by in large, I need to avoid buying it or it will go down the hatch way too quick.

But candy around my wife or daughters? My goodness, explain to me what is wrong with them! They never eat it. Well, that's not exactly true...but almost. Sandy has candy leftover from last Easter that's still in her designated treat box that I am strictly forbidden from touching. Our girls have candy leftover from two Halloweens ago, I swear. We end up routinely tossing it out.

But somehow, if I were to consume it, even if we've had it for six plus months, they'd all know within 14 hours of its sugary demise and I'd be in the doghouse. Personal experience. Been there, done that.

So what's the ultimate fate of Trader Joe's Milk Chocolate Truffles?

Not sure. They're pretty decent candies overall. Sandy says they're pretty close to Lindt Truffles overall, which somehow I recognize but am not familiar with their overall quality. Around Easter, I'm more into jellybeans and Reese eggs than anything else. But I guess pretty similar to those aforemntioned Lindt balls, with a milk chocolate shell surrounding a rich, creamy interior. At about the size of a large marble, they go down pretty easily. One or two go a long ways, too.

I'm not completely in love with them. Nothing wrong, per se, but just a preference. But they're just a little basic and plain. With the different foil wrapper colors, it'd be cool if they contained different flavor creams, but nah, all the same. For me, they'll make an adequate occasional sugary treat, so I won't be surprised if I peck at them here or there, but if there's other candy around up for grabs, I'd go for them first.

If Sandy winds up stashing them in her box, though? They'll probably become family heirlooms. "Wait 'til you can savor them," she'll tell our great-grand kids.

Neither of us are big on them. Kinda meh. Kinda basic. Nothing too wrong, nothing too right. Going right down the middle here in all fairness.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Milk Chocolate Truffles: 5.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Crunchy Cinnamon Squares Milk Chocolate Bar

Wait...what?

Rereads package several times

Well, I'll be...

Alright, listen. I have no idea what the actual name of this product is. It might be Trader Joe's Crunchy Cinnamon Squares Milk Chocolate Bar. It might be Trader Joe's Milk Chocolate Bar With Bits of Crunchy Cinnamon Square Cereal. It also may be Trader Joe's Crunchy Cinnamon Squares Milk Chocolate Bar With Bits of Crunchy Cinnamon Squares Cereal. That last one is straight from the Department of Redundacy Department...but it is what the packaging of this particular candy bar suggests, isn't it?

I guess, no matter the name, it's clear its from Trader Joe's, its a milk chocolate bar, and it has something to do with crunchy cinnamon square cereal as well. Well, dang it, count me in.

Well, it's a pretty decent candy bar, though not without a flaw we'll get to here in just a minute. Unfortunately Sandy, the kiddos and I kinda devoured the thing before taking a better pic of the actual product, but it's a gridded up choco-bar, easily breakable into 24 pieces. So it's perfect for sharing with all sorts of group sizes. It all looks like a pretty normal Hershey's relative, save for a gritty, dusty undercoating of cinnamon and sugar.

Taste..eh, typical milk chocolate. I prefer dark, mostly, but it's an agreeable enough base. The cereal chocolate bar definitely emphasizes the cinnamon, though - it's heavy. My first reaction was a little of a turnoff - seemed a bit strong, too soon, but by the end of my allocated portion I was just beginning to enjoy the overall flavor. The cinnamony bite is pretty balanced out by the choclate, and it makes for a fun flavor, not too much unlike Mexican hot chocolate.

But there's a problem. I expected there to be cereal here. But...there isn't. The "bits of crunchy cinnamon square cereal" the packaging promised aren't there, at all. At the very least I would have hoped for something like a typical crisped rice/Nestle Crunch kinda deal, with lots of crunchies everywhere, if not big actual cereal chunks. Yeah, nope. The couple little specks of cereal here and there are few and far between and add nary a textural variant. It's kinda disappointing in that regard, so there's some mega point deductions there.

Overall the bar tatstes about right, if you like cinnamon, of course. But it just doesn't feel right. There's just too much untapped potential here. For a couple bucks, the cinnamon cereal chocolate bar with cinnamon but not really cereal made an alright buy, but it's not a purchase I'd seek out to repeat over and over. Meh.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Crunchy Cinnamon Squares Milk Chocolate Bar: 5.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Organic Vanilla Fudge Chip Ice Cream

Oh ice cream, what would we do without you?

This is a serious question.

Listen, if I want anyone to do anything in my family, bribery is required, with ice cream being the promised booty of choice. Want kids to clean their room and not complain too much? Promise ice cream. Do Sandy and I (okay, mostly Sandy) have a huge pile of laundry to slay? If there's ice cream when we're done, no problem. Need to motivate ourselves for a run or to get other chores or if we need to celebrate a milestone or feel better about a crappy day or sometimes just because? Yup, ice cream on all those counts. Nothing puts a smile on our collective face better than a lil ice cream, especially if we say we're giving an "extra little bit" when scooping.

Yep, we love our ice cream out here...but we don't love Trader Joe's Organic Vanilla Fudge Chip Ice Cream.

It's a pretty simple, classic construct. Kinda obviously, it's vanilla ice cream and fudgy little chips, and not much else. When there's such simplicity it can make your shortcomings all the more apparent. Other TJ's vanilla ice cream has taught me how absofreakindelish that plain ol' vanilla can be...this stuff is kinda the other end of the spectrum. It's just kinda amiss all the way around. It's not particularly creamy or flavorful or anything. Instead the ice cream kinda tastes and feels like somewhat chalky, cold dairy-like substance that vaguely tastes like the cardboard carton it comes in. That's not exactly high praise.

But the fudge chips? They're pretty good! Something seemed a little different yet familkiar about them, that I couldn't place until scanning the ingredients...coconut oil! Sandy has made some desserts made mostly from cocoa powder and coconut oil and some other stuff too, I'm sure, that these chips kinda tastelike. Coconut and chocolate almost always go great together, and even though it's pretty subtle here, the chips (of which there are plenty) are fairly choice and help pick up the rest of the dessert.

It goes without saying that our kids love this TJ's ice cream, as they're pretty easy to please with anything sugar related, but Sandy and I? Not huge fans. There's bonus points for being organic and whatnot, but man, if it doesn't feel or taste quite right, it ain't right. If this were our sole means of motioation, we might not get out of bed in the morning. No, wait, that's what we use coffee for...you know what we mean. We'll play nice and give it a five between us.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Organic Vanilla Fudge Chip Ice Cream: 5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Mexican Style Corn & Quinoa Salad

One of the best parts of being in an intercultural marriage is coming to understand and appreciate the other culture just a little deeper than one might have been able to otherwise. I still don't embrace things like feeding dead relatives on Dia de los Muertos—but then, Sonia never did either. But the food? Mexico has some of the greatest culinary traditions on the planet. And in Sonia's own words, "Mexicans don't eat bland food." She's not claiming that every dish has to be scorchingly spicy, but that it should at least boast bold flavor.

We see plenty of ingredients here that one might find in dishes from south of the border: cotija cheese, corn, cilantro, poblanos, jalapeños. But the overall effect? Not particularly flavorful.

The salad was fresh, and there was a good mix of cabbage, quinoa, rice, and corn. They were a bit stingy with the cotija cheese, as we've seen in at least one other TJ's product.

There was a narrow tube of dressing included with the salad. It was thick and green, quite similar in appearance to the Green Goddess we just looked at. It tasted like creamy cilantro, so...if you like cilantro, I guess that's not bad—but for a dressing that supposedly included poblano peppers, jalapeño peppers, green onions, and garlic, it was shockingly tame. Not only was there no detectable heat, but there was very little flavor overall. I understand poblanos aren't super hot, but jalapeños have a bit of kick to them. Onions? Garlic? Not even enough in there to sully your breath before a business meeting—which could be a good thing...you know, if you had a business meeting...

Five bucks for this salad, which allegedly includes four servings. 560 calories and 28 grams of fat in the whole container—significant, considering the subtleness of the flavor. And one more complaint: I found it very difficult to mix the salad around in the container without spilling elements out of the tub in every direction. It's not the end of the world, particularly if you're eating this at home. But on the go? At work? Might be a little inconvenient.

There's plenty of roughage and fresh, quality ingredients in this product. There's nothing particularly wrong with it. This salad's just not tasty enough to call "Mexican Style" or to warrant a repeat purchase. Two and a half stars from Sonia. Three from me.

Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Chicken Sausage Breakfast Burrito

Oh, fast food breakfast sandwiches. They will always be my vice. A few years back, I'd eat two of them a morning a few times a week, and wonder why I was about a hundred pounds overweight. Those days have passed, and I'm in a better place and all, but still...can't quite give up the breakfast sandwich. Fortunately I'm down to usually only one a week now, on Fridays as a treat. Seems reasonable enough a prize for lasting thru a long week up to that point, with a little added something to get me the rest of the way home.

I have my usual go-to spot, but anytime I hear anything new about a breakfast sandwich somewhere, my ears instantly perk. So only naturally, when I heard of the new Trader Joe's Chicken Sausage Breakfast Burrito, I had to give it a try.

Not that TJ's exactly has a sparkling history of mornin' wraps. I'm with Nathan on those - gross and nondescript. The burritos, I mean, and not Nathan. He's a pretty good guy.

As with most things, there's plusses and minuses here. First, it's in the refrigerator section, and not frozen. This means there's a definite fresher quality to the whole shebang that plays out through things like tortilla and egg texture, and there's no chance of any frozen little chunks here or there which torpedo any decent shot at breakfast. Indeed, everything's pretty on point in that regard. To heat, there's both oven and microwave options, which Sandy and I tried both - the oven, unsurprisingly, is the superior option by far, with the tortilla getting nice and crackery-cripsy, as opposed to soft and flaky and crumbly and kinda limp. Of course, you might not always have half an hour to heat a breakfast burrito, and if you did, you could probably easily make a better one yourself, so there's that.

Each element is good and solid in its own right - tortilla is representative, the eggs of decent quality, the cheese present but lacking much distinction, and the chicken sausage and potatoes holding up their end of the deal. Problem is, there's kinda an overall lack of flavor. Nothing is good enough to really stand out on its own, and there's not even enough spice added to really do too much. Granted, this just means you could easily doctor with your favorite salsa or hot sauce or whatever else you wanted, if you wanted to. I kinda just wish there was something more to it - more sharpness to the cheddar, or more savoriness from the sausage, or a little peppery kick, or something - but nope.

Then there's the price. It's $3.99 for the burrito. That doesn't strike me as great bargain for something I have to heat myself and probably add more stuff to. Heck, my go-to breakfast sandwich of choice costs less and I can pile high with veggies and customize to my heart's content. Man, I love touchscreen menus...

Overall, the sausage breakfast wrap is a good, not great, bite. It fills a void and uses up a lot of your discretionary nutritional values for the day. Sandy and I shared a burrito both times we had it for breakfast, and with some fruit and coffee it was more than adequate to hold us over til lunch. But I struggle to see the point of its existence - it's not often I'd find going to TJ's more convenient than a drive-thru or convenience store for a bite. Plus, I've learned through too many embarrassing shirt stains that burritos are absolutely not meant to be consumed on the go, which this seems tailored to...just odd. Maybe I'm completely whiffing on something here. Can't seem to muster more than a halfhearted three for it, while Sandy goes in a little higher.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Chicken Sausage Breakfast Burrito: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

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.