Trader Joe's Rum of the Gods

As alluded to on our booze lovefest/podcast a few weeks back, Trader Joe's Rum of the Gods isn't exactly topshelf kinda stuff. A straight swig or two, and it tastes kinda burny, kinda medicinal, and fairly flat and bland all at once.

But then again...who drinks rum straight?!?!?! Not me.

Not sure what the gods have to do with it, but it mixes well with others. Fancy a rum and coke? Yes. Put some extra jolly in your winter wassail? Absolutely. Spike your egg nog? Full speed ahead, Captain...I mean, not "Captain" like Captain Morgan...sigh. Regardless, it all works, and for a pretty low price - I think I paid about $8 or $9 a few months back at the Princeton, NJ store for this.

It won't make you the hit of your holiday party, but at least it'll be a less of a hit to your wallet.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Rum of the Gods: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons.

Trader Joe's Uncured Bacon Wrapped Dates Stuffed With Goat Cheese

Late December weekend. You know what that means: holiday parties all around! I have two or three this weekend, plus hosting one. Yikes!

Might as well bring something really easy and really tasty to share...like Trader Joe's Uncured Bacon Wrapped Dates Stuffed With Goat Cheese. Seriosuly, rip a box open, stick in the oven for a couple minutes, and voila! You've got yourself one fancy hors d'ouevre. Each component works so seamlessly together - the medjool date, the goat cheese in the crevice where the pit was, and the apple smoked bacon wrapping it all up and holding it tight. It's a smoother-than-aniticipated bite that highlights the best aspects of everything involved - the salty-sweet awesomeness of truly good bacon, the soft creaminess of the cheese, the savory depth of a good date. I only wish for the price ($5 or $6 for a box of ten) either the dates would be a little larger, or there'd be a few more tossed in just to make it a little better value.

Bonus: As you may have heard on our podcast, my three year old made the acute observation that these look like Baby Jesus in the manger (date = manger, baby = cheese, bacon = blanket), and she's right. So, extra Christmas points for a delectable treat that points to the true meaning of the holiday. From the mouths of babes...

We like 'em. Double fours.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Uncured Bacon Wrapped Dates Stuffed With Goat Cheese: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons.

Trader Joe's Wintertide Tea Cookie Collection

This "wintertide" has been ridiculously warm here in the northeast so far. Granted, it's still not technically winter until next week. But this past weekend, I walked barefoot in my backyard wearing nothing but jeans and a t-shirt. It was in the 70's. All things considered, I'd prefer our normal December temperatures with highs in the low 40's, especially approaching Christmas time, but hey, if it feels like Florida in New Jersey in mid-December, I'll roll with it...at least for a little bit. Not so much with Sonia. She moved nearly 3,000 miles to get away from the year-round "feels like you're inside even when you're outside" vibe of Southern California, and by golly, she wants it to feel like winter.

I must admit these high temps don't really put me in the mood to have hot coffee or hot tea, but I could probably count on one hand the number of times I've properly paired a tea cookie with actual tea in my whole life. Tea cookies and milk, yes. Eggnog, probably. Sugarless energy drinks, maybe, sadly. And by "maybe," I mean yes.

So right now, just for you guys, our faithful readers, I'm going to go heat up some hot tea and have it with these tea cookies so I can tell you how it works. I'll turn on the air conditioning if I have to. Brb.

<5 minutes later>

Okay, I have returned with a cup of steaming hot black tea. And yes, as shocking as it may sound, it pairs very well with these cookies. It really enhances their flavors somehow. 

My favorite, with or without tea, is the hot cocoa flavor. I think it tastes like a solidified version of actual hot cocoa. Sonia thinks it's just vaguely chocolatey. The Italian wedding flavor is the closest to just a sweet, run-of-the-mill, not-going-for-any-particular-flavor type cookie out of the three. It's a close second favorite for me. 

The gingerbread flavor is pretty heavy on the ginger. It leaves a nice little tingle on the back of your throat after consumption. Sonia thinks it's similar to Trader Joe's Pfeffernüsse, but she says she likes these tea cookies even more. They're her favorite of the three flavors. I guess they're vaguely reminiscent of the German spice cookies, but I feel like the pfeffernüsse had a more complex flavor and were slightly softer. I wonder if these gingerbread tea cookies would pair well with red wine as well...?

The box is $7, but as Sonia pointed out, if Starbucks, for example, were to offer any similar product, it would probably run you in the ballpark of $20. The packaging is attractive, elegant, and top quality. The box is worth hanging on to for future use. Each cookie flavor is packaged in its own bag and there are three separate compartments within the box. There's even a magnetic flap on the front of the box so it stays closed and keeps its shape without having to tuck ugly cardboard tabs into little slots on the side of the container. This product is very much about presentation and would probably be a great thing to take to a posh Christmas party or to give as a gift.

I'm not very big on any dry, powdery cookies in general, and these particular flavors are good, but they don't really have that wow factor in my opinion. I would never buy these just for myself to snack on, but as something to bring to a holiday gathering, they're just about perfect, so I can't go lower than three stars. Sonia gives it four stars, freely admitting that the beautiful packaging heavily influenced her score.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's 2015 Limited Edition Aged Sumatra Coffee

It's a good thing my middle school math teacher perhaps fibbed a little when she stated that I'd not always have a calculator with me, because I just whipped out my smart phone and figured that a pound of Trader Joe's 2015 Limited Edition Aged Sumatra Coffee costs barely over $9. A couple good cups of coffee at that price is a good deal, let alone a whole pound. And how that computes when you pay $7.99 for a 14 ounce canister...well, my currently under-caffeinated brain was not ready to do that by itself.

Speaking of being low on caffeine...so's this coffee. Typical for darker roasts, I know, but it seemed especially true with each cup. Not that it's necessarily a bad thing, but if you're counting on a cup to have the fog lifted, you might be left a little disappointed. I personally wondered if my coffee was broken once or twice.

At least this is some darn good coffee. It's certainly the most coffee-tasting coffee I can recall having. Very earthy, dark and roasty, no hints of acid, no frills or kooky flavorings or anything. Just straight-up serious java. Some might say it tastes "flat" for that, but I still feel there's a certain vibrancy to it. There's a whole fancy write-up on how fancy this is, with the natural process and aging and all for these "select" beans...eh, it had me at "limited edition", the price point, and the cool looking tiger. Not a wake up and slap-yo-face brew, but perhaps ideal for some afternoon-sippin' or a dinner/dessert cup. I'll let it pass with decent enough marks...which is what that math teacher did for me, for some reason.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's 2015 Limited Edition Aged Sumatra Coffee: 7.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons.

Trader Joe's A Joyful Trek Mix

I think they mixed up the ingredients list on this product. You're supposed to list the most prevalent ingredient first and then go on down the list. But both Sonia and I feel like those little M&M-ish things are by far the most ubiquitous ingredient. That's probably because it's our least favorite. 

Things like almonds seem rarer in the mix because we're both seeking them out like kids meticulously selecting only marshmallows out of their Lucky Charms. I guess that shows we're maturing slowly now that we're carefully selecting the least sweet ingredient out of the blend. Or maybe not. Maybe we're just getting nuttier as we age <press play on laugh track for 1.5 seconds then abruptly hit stop>.

Those M&M things, along with the yogurt chips make this one sweet trek mix. We were joking that it's a particularly "joyful" trek mix because it quickly gets you on a sugar high. Those Greek yogurt chips are actually pretty good, by the way. They're sweeter than most Greek yogurt products, but they still have that Greek yogurt tang...in a good way.

So yeah, it's a decent trek mix, but like last year's Jingle Jangle, it could use fewer of the M&M-esque dealies and more almonds...and pistachios...and cranberries. Basically, more of everything except those "milk chocolate buttons" (which are actually shameless M&M ripoffs). But overall, it's worth a purchase—if you don't mind a little candy in your trek mix. Also the container is pretty cool. Click here for nutrition info. Double 3.5's on this one.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Cranberry Gingerbread Granola

TJ's has always loved throwing raw ginger into products. The Ginger, Almond, and Cashew cereal comes to mind. Or, you know, they might just give us a bag of nothing but ginger.

Don't worry, the ginger level in this product isn't quite that extreme, but it's certainly headed in that direction. In fact, that's the dominant flavor I'd say—more than gingerbread, cranberry, or oats. Good news for gingerphiles. Uhhh, no. Not that kind of gingerphile.

I saw plenty of cranberries in the mix, but I, personally, wouldn't have minded some more. Flavor-wise, their sweet-tartness didn't do much to offset the gingeriness. In general, I'm loving this trend where we're seeing lots of cranberries in different Christmas items. But in this case, and in the case of another recently-reviewed item, I'm always wanting more cranberries than these products offer. Uhhh, no. Not that kind of cranberries.

On a more positive note, this granola is very filling, energizing, and works reasonably well as a cereal or yogurt topping. All in all, it's not bad, particularly if you're into that raw gingery flavor, but I'll probably go back to more traditional granola as soon as this box is done. 3 stars from me, 3.5 from Sonia. Here's a link to the nutrition info. And as always, your opinion counts, and we love to hear it. Leave your comments below, por favor!

Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Partially Popped Popcorn with Butterscotch & Sea Salt

With a little intuition, you could guess that Trader Joe's Partially Popped Popcorn with Butterscotch & Sea Salt is a lot like the original bag of wannabe widows, except it's butterscotch this time around. And, lo and behold, you'd be right. So the only question we got here is: Does it work?

Answer: Sort of. Butterscotch can be a tough flavor to pull off, especially in dusty form. That's the case here. As is usual with these type o' snacks, some bites were very heavy on butterscotch-y flavor, others not so much. With those that were lacking, I wanted more. But with too much butterscotch came too much juxtaposition between the sugary caramel-y sweetness and the natural grainy flavor from corn. I've yet to find a perfect bite, but not from lack of trying.

 Sandy rather enjoys it as a sweet, salty, crunchy treat, and honestly, for once, I wouldn't be too upset if she happened to have a little more than me.I think I just liked the original better, and I'd prefer a savory variation over a sweet one...hrmm...maybe something a little more baconesque? Please? Sandy's keeping her original score, while I'm knocking mine to match the price: 2.5.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Partially Popped Popcorn with Butterscotch and Sea Salt: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons.

Trader Joe's Apple Bourbon BBQ Sauce

Let's see...Nathan has had some very favorable reviews recently on products that predominantly feature apples or bourbon, so how about something that has both apples and bourbon?

Indeed, there just may be a small revolution or passing trend going on with TJ's products: bourbon. First, there's that pecan pie filling (which of the many things my Aunt Brenda puts in hers, I am quite sure that bourbon is not one of them). I've also seen a bourbon barrel aged maple syrup which I haven't had the occasion to pick up yet, but really, I should (here's a quickie review here). And for those fortunate few who live in the right areas that fully recognize the 21st Amendment, TJ's actually has a pretty decent housebrand bourbon as well.

Now, there's Trader Joe's Apple Bourbon BBQ Sauce. You can't tell me that doesn't sound gooooood. I'm not  huge condiment guy - I like food to taste how it "should" taste - but I'll admit to a little puddle of drool when I first heard the word. I was due for a good mix up from my go-to barbecue sauce of choice anyways.

Gotta say I'm pretty well pleased overall. This is some thick, goopy, slow-movin' sauce, which is how it oughtta be. "Pretend there's a 57 on it and tap it!!!" Sandy cried out when I was trying to pour the first load onto my plate one night. If you have no idea what that means: here. I hate ketchip, but yeah, that method got the proper flow going. This was also when I first noticed little apple tidbits flinking around here and there - not enough to add any crunch, but a slightly noticeable textural variant.

And there's definitely more apple than bourbon going on here. In a lot of ways, this sauce tastes mostly like a pretty solid, decent barbeque baste with a hefty dose of added appley awesomeness. There is a soft bourbony undercurrent, but there's certainly not enough to make it terribly boozy by any stretch - it's possible I would have missed it if I knew not to try and find it. Sandy said she didn't really taste any, but then again, she's pretty much never had bourbon. There is a little added acidity to it, which looking over the ingredients, could be the somewhat curious inclusion of both apple cider vinegar and pineapple juice. Regardless, the emphasis should be on sweet and apple more than bourbon or smoky if doing it straight up.

Just wish we gave ourselves the chance to really try it out with some good pork. Not like the sauce didn't make our grilled chicken and fries taste fairly delish, but after first taste, my immediate thought was ribs followed quickly by pulled pork. I then wondered about the best way to try to incorporate it with some bacon. But alas. We also enjoyed it in place of ketchup in some homemade meatloaf (although Sandy's mom hated it, probably because it had actual flavor), and with some meatballs as well. Cooking with it certainly mellowed out the sweetness a touch while bringing other flavors to the surface.

No real complaints - it's a worthy pickup, for sure. Not the best out there, but pretty decent, so here's to hoping it'll stick around for a while.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Apple Bourbon BBQ Sauce: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Rosemary Garlic Monkey Bread

Very controversial past couple days here in the Pittsburgh home base, and nothing to do with Starbucks cups. Nope, it's all about Trader Joe's Rosemary Garlic Monkey Bread.

Let's see: Sandy says I shouldn't have thawed it out by slightly preheating an oven, then turning it off, and trying to let the bread rise...even though that's exactly what I did last weekend while making homemade pizza dough and it worked like a champ. Instead, I should have just sat it on the counter. Directions stated to let rise in a warm place, and the heat ain't on yet (two things I don't allow on before Thanksgiving: furnace or Christmas music), so the counter in a cool kitchen didn't sound great, and it's not like I could tell a lump of frozen dough to put on a layer and run a lap to warm itself up. We've gone back and forth, and back and forth, and back and forth....

...but not nearly as much as we have about the silly little flimsy plasticky bundt pan the monkey bread comes in: To bake the bread in it, or not to? Here's, TJ's really should have thrown us a clue and stated SOMETHING about it somewhere. Take out of box: Duh. Remove plastic film/baggie surrounding it: Check. Nothing about the pan. No "oven safe" label. No "Hey dummy, don't bake plastic" sticker. This is actually a legitimate TJ's question as evidenced by Nathan's Sad Pot Pie Fiasco of 2013. I say we should have baked in it, Sandy insisted we didn't, and we sided with the risk of slightly suboptimal chow versus poisoning ourselves, and went sans the pan. Was this the right call? I have no idea. But maybe you do. Help.

And no great way to really segue this in, but mid photo shoot, our subject box o' bread took a dive off the back deck, about 15 feet down and splat into the withered remains of our tomato plant in our garden below. I guess it just had enough of our shenanigans right then and there. 

Anyways, the outcome, perhaps not surprisingly after all that, was perhaps a little sub-optimal. But I'll do my best to be fair here. Let's see: The idea of a savory monkey bread was pretty intriguing. My only previous experiences have been of the sweet and cinnamony type, so a herbed garlic with cheese one sounded like a worthwhile try. Problem is, very heavy on the rosemary, not so much the garlic. I had to pick out the "weird little green things" for my normally carb-crammin' three year old to even think of touching these, which I don't blame her for (this was after her first bite). So. Much. Rosemary. But doable, especially with the dough, having been rolled in parmesan cheese, getting an outer, crispy, burnt-cheesy bite. Nice touch there.

But for the texture: I'll own whatever portion of the blame is for any of our potential missteps. But when I think "monkey bread" I think light and fluffy, only a little bready...not dense and chewy and grainy. But that's what we had here. Part of the blame has to go to the wheat flour, at least, though. Normally I'm not terribly opposed to it, but it just didn't work here. Another point: monkey bread to me is a bunch of little pull-apart bites all stuck together, not 10 or so dinner roll sized buns to break off one another. So "monkey bread" seems to be a bit of a misnomer.

I think we all, in the end, enjoyed it enough to warrant buying again with perhaps some clarification of the rules of engagement here. Sandy said she wished it came with a little dipping sauce, suggesting some marinara. For the $4.99 price point, I think a little pouch could be included. For all the clamor this product has caused - I doubt a single food item has ever caused as much ongoing debate as this silly thing - it's a sign of our overall union when we both gave it a matching 3.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Rosemary Garlic Monkey Bread: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Pecan Pie Filling in a Jar

Here's another $7 item from TJ's. One might justify that lofty price tag with the added bonus of a quality mason-esque jar you can keep long after the pie filling has been consumed. One might also justify that seven dollar premium with the notion that this stuff is pretty tasty. Because it is.

After making the purchase, Sonia and I mused about whether or not we'd need to employ the recondite prowess of one skilled in the culinary arts in order to enjoy this unique delicacy because, unfortunately, neither of us are particularly gifted in that department—at least as far as pies are concerned. Sonia can make some tasty Mexican dishes thanks to some family recipes handed down to her from her parents, who, incidentally, were in town this past week. They brought delicious, authentic Mexican sweet breads from a bakery in Los Angeles. It seemed an obvious pairing to me, if perhaps nobody else, so of course I slathered a piece of the bread with this sweet blend of nuts and syrup: Mexican-American fusion at its rarest and finest.

It worked. As long as you didn't mind the moderate alcohol essence from the bourbon in the pie filling. Other food pairings yielded similar results: ice cream, pancakes—and I can only imagine with cheesecake as well, as mentioned on the packaging—all super sweet and super tasty, but there was still that alcoholic kick. I'm well aware that the bourbon is less harsh after baking, and for that reason, I decided to try my hand at whipping up something in that big, hot, bakey thing in the kitchen that's not a microwave. What's it called again? "Oh-ven" or something like that?

My baking experiment was a reasonable success, as I modified the pie recipe on the jar to use the filling in little crescent rolls instead. The process of baking and a good bit of butter certainly helped to mellow out the bourbon zing, and the pecans were even more tasty, as they picked up a lightly-toasted flavor and slightly crispier texture in the oven. 

Straight out of the jar, it's extraordinarily sweet—and bourbony, as mentioned before. The first and fourth ingredients are both types of sugar. So yeah. Hope you brought your sweet tooth. It's really just a jar of rich, luscious, maple-esque syrup and a boatload of whole pecans. Between that Chocolate Pecan Pudding Pie and this, Trader Joe's must be single-handedly keeping the pecan farming industry afloat. 

I think this product is vastly more enjoyable and successful after baking, but Sonia is perfectly happy with it as a raw topping on just about anything. She gives it four out of five stars. Because it's expensive, wants to be baked, and a little too much like drinking pecan-flavored whiskey, I think I'll keep my score to a modest three out of five. But don't let this average-ish rating scare you away, particularly if you're blessed with mad baking skills.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Sweet, Hot & Savory Honey Roasted Cocoa & Chili Peanuts & Almonds with Roasted Salted Pecans

Three adjectives. Three major flavors. Three nuts. Three ampersands (a TJ's first?). Three minutes to type out the name, and three breaths to say it all. Can you say it three times fast? Not me, at least not easily.

Yup, Trader Joe's Sweet, Hot & Savory Honey Roasted Cocoa & Chili Peanuts & Almonds with Roasted Salted Pecans. What an epic name. I suppose something like "Triple Nut Treat" sounds a little too, well, oddly suggestive, and I cracked enough "thanks for taking pictures of my nuts to put online" jokes to Sandy to continue down that track, so let's back up and just look at that name in all its 105-character glory.

Even just as an acronym: TJSH&SHRC&CP&AWRSP. Dang. But once you get over the length of it, just look at it al. Don't know you about you, but man - I was intrigued. Honey, chocolate and chili powder, on a perfectly great assortment of roasted nuts. Sounds promisingly, presumptuously and preposterously pleasant, piquant and palatable, and for just $4.99 for a not-quite-a-pound, like a bargain, too.

 Well, I wish I were a little more bowled over, I guess. It's not a bad sack o' nuts by any means. Though predominantly peanuts (as one would expect), there's more than ample almonds and pecans mixed in. Though pecans are further down the ingredients list than almonds, our particular bag seemed to have more pecans than almonds, which I think is a great thing. Almonds have always been the disappointment of the nut family to me - nothing personal, but they don't do it for me as much as a pecan or cashew or macadamia.

Regardless, in case you got lost in the product name (it happens), it's just the peanuts and almonds that are honey roasted then blasted with cocoa and chili powder. Not any of those flavors really stand out though. Instead, the dominant flavor upon first bite really seems to be the nuts themselves - crunchy, meaty, earthy, like any good roasted nut. A few seemed perhaps a little over-roasted but not by terribly much - could have been more a visual deception than actual reality. There's a little sweet twinge from the honey, and the chocolate chili dust is noticeable and it adds a nice taste, but it's more accompaniment than main feature. There's only a slight residual burn too, so if spice is a concern, you're probably okay here unless your palate is super-sensitive.

Of course, this dark dust slips off the peanuts and almonds and makes its way over to the pecans as well as a virtual powder reservoir towards the bottom of the bag. I expected to unearth some potent flavor when I started mining that particular area, but to be honest, not that much more came out. On one hand, I get it - keep a mellow balance, have a great little easily munchable snack, placate the masses, more or less. But on the other, I wish the flavor were a little more bold, with each flavor - honey, chocolate and chili - more amped up to a more distinctive taste. As is, it all tastes a little more muddied than anything else.

I can't debate that these super-long titled nuts are fairly decent as is, though. The wife, without much elaboration, concurs. I probably exasperated her enough with too many offline nut jokes for her to add much more than that. Appropriately enough, though, we both are going with the same score: Three.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Sweet, Hot & Savory Honey Roasted Cocoa...seriously, I give up: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons 

Trader Joe's Pumpkin Panettone

This is actually the second panettone we've reviewed here on WG@TJ's. The first one—the Panettone Classico—was much smaller than this selection, and it was offered around Christmas time. The write-up on the packaging for this unique product mentions that it's also eaten traditionally by Italians at Christmas time. Strangely, this offering is brought to us by the one and only Trader Joe, while the aforementioned "classico" selection was brought to us by "Trader Giotto." I erroneously assumed the discrepancy was due to the classico coming from Italy and the pumpkin version coming from here in the US. In fact, both products state plainly "Product of Italy" on their respective boxes.

Speaking of the boxes, wow! HELLO packaging! Not only is this thing huge (much larger than its classico cousin), but it's also beautiful and ornate. In fact, there are little loops at the tops of the boxes in case one is inclined to use them as decorations. But if you do wait until the yuletide season to purchase a pumpkin panettone, I'd warn you not to hang the unopened box on your Christmas tree, as it is likely to bring the whole thing crashing down. At a full pound, this treat from the old country serves eight and is densely packed with "pumpkin flavored filling cream" and pieces of candied pumpkin. 

For about $5, it's perfect for parties or holiday gatherings, but when it's just you and maybe one other person, be prepared to open and close the packaging several times, as you'll never be able to eat this thing in one sitting. And be prepared for a struggle each time you open and close the package. In addition to the large, bell-shaped outer box, there's a big cellophane bag with a twist-tie and an oversize paper muffin cup around the cake itself. Serving yourself a slice of this dessert is rather like breaking into Fort Knox.

And as soon as you open it, there's a peculiar smell that's hard to describe. One might say it's a citrusy, fermented kind of fragrance. It's undoubtedly from the pumpkin ingredients. Sonia wasn't as pleased with the candied pumpkin as she was with the creamy pumpkin stuff. I found them both to be equally unexpected and unusual. They both taste like actual pumpkin, but sweeter. They're not too heavy on the traditional pumpkin spices like cinnamon and nutmeg. I thought the candied pumpkin was similar to any dried fruit you might find in a dessert like this. Sonia thinks they should have added pumpkin seeds to take the place of nuts, like you might find in a similar product.

We both wholeheartedly agree that the best part of this product is the soft, fluffy cake bread. It's almost like angel food cake, but slightly more bread-like. It tastes and feels incredibly fresh. In fact, I can't figure out how a shelf-stable, pre-packaged product like this one—one that's been imported from Europe, no less—can flaunt such perfectly soft bread. Well, actually...I take that back. The three hefty layers of packaging might have something to do with it. But still...the freshness of this bread is impressive.

I can't say the pumpkin cream and candied pumpkin were entirely appetizing to me, primarily because I'm not used to them. Sonia was even more weirded out than I was. But in the end, I have to admit that I'm glad we purchased this uncommon Italian holiday dessert treat, because I'm all about trying new things, even if they don't blow me away at first bite. This is the sort of thing I think might grow on me over time. And man, that fluffy breading is amazing. I can't go lower than four out of five stars. Sonia wants more pumpkin cream, less ginger flavor (I barely noticed the ginger in this product), and the addition of pumpkin seeds in version 2.0. Three and a half stars from her.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Magic Beans

It's easy enough to see Trader Joe's Magic Beans and make the allusion to Jack and the Beanstalk, or if you're all hip and cool and into today's musicals, Into The Woods, but I'm not going there. I mean, if I traded my cow for these beans, maybe, but I digress.

Nope, going with the tried and true classic, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

Not that there were any magic beans in that classic novel brought to life on the screen by Gene Wilder (totally ignoring you here, Johnny Depp, go prance somewhere else). But...wouldn't it be cool if Willy Wonka made actual magic chocolate beans? He made everlasting gobstoppers, a chocolate bar you could reach into your TV and grab, a chocolate river...why not a magic candy bean?

If these TJ choco-beans could conjure up any magical power, I know which one I'd want it to be: plant a chocolate tree in my stomach so I could stop craving chocolate practically nonstop. Over the past year, I've practically choked off almost all of my other candy cravings (I can resist Reese's products and Take 5s like a pro by now)...but chocolate? For whatever reason, it's grown only stronger, and it'd be so nice to have something in my tummy to make it stop. That way, I wouldn't have to end up making a video like these for the Jimmy Kimmel show after my kids go trick-or-treating...except it'd be real.

Well, I'm pretty sure that cocoa plant in my innards isn't going to happen with the lack of sunlight, soil, and basic science and all, but that doesn't mean I don't want to keep on planting these beans down in my tummy anyways. There's three different main colors - brown, green, and white - which are kinda marbley in appearance and identical in taste. The thick, candy shellacked shell (thicker than typical M & M) gives way to some pretty basic milk chocolate with an almond nougat middle. Pretty big beans, overall, with the nougat core taking up about half the insides, and adding a big ol' solid crunch.

Yes, a solid crunch, all the way through. Interesting. When I hear the word "nougat" I think of the stuff that resides inside something like a 3 Muskateers bar, and not this almost-but-not-quite toffee-esque substance in the middle with some almonds adding some girth. Some quick hack research on the matter (i.e., good ol' Wikipedia) reveals that not only what the 'murican standard of nougat is is something that's not quite the real stuff (go figure), but also that there's such thing as "brown nougat" or "nougatine" that is firm, crunchy, and made without egg whites. So that's what's on the inside here, in case you, like me, were expecting a soft iddle and were surprised by the wholly solid core.

Overall, the magic beans aren't a bad confection by any stretch. Just a few will really do the trick for a quick cocoa pick-me-up, and there is a small novelty factor to them. But while we both like them, neither Sandy nor I are particularly bowled over by them. That may be partially because the candies weren;t what we were exactly expecting, which doesn't make them less tasty, but maybe just more aware of our ignorance to the larger world of nougat out there. I'm also pretty sure to have any chance of these taking root and growing into that cocoa plant, I'd have to swallow a bean whole, and they're much too big for that - potential choke hazard for small kids, I'd think. Also, the price seems perhaps slightly high - $3.99 for a 7.7 ounce bag - which isn't horrible, but I'm used to a better value from TJ's. Cost less than a cow, though. Matching 3.5's here.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Magic Beans: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons

 

Trader Joe's Pumpkin Tortilla Chips

I can't deny these are good tortilla chips. But Sonia and I have a small problem with them. We don't know how they want to be eaten. On one hand, they are salty and savory, with pumpkin seeds and corn flour. The back of the bag says to dip them in "any salsa or even a yogurt-based dip." You mean like a Spinach and Kale Greek Yogurt Dip?? 

The problem with that is that there's nutmeg and cinnamon on these chips. How often are you craving Greek yogurt, kale, cinnamon, and nutmeg all at once? I don't know. Maybe there's a type of yogurt dip they're thinking of that's just escaping me right now.

Now, I did try these fascinating tortilla chips with spicy, traditional tomato-based salsa. It worked just fine because the heat and flavor of the salsa easily outshined the subtle cinnamon seasonings on these snacks. If you only ever had these chips with spicy salsa, you'd hardly even know they were anything other than plain old corn tortilla chips. 

But I also tried them with Pumpkin Pie Spice Cookie Butter. And that worked, too. Magically, they were transformed into dessert chips in a way I'm not so sure plain tortilla chips could pull off. In this latter case, I think the cinnamon and nutmeg helped seamlessly blend the chips with the cookie butter.

When eaten plain, the chips feel and taste like basic tortilla chips, but then there's the definitely-detectable presence of the above-mentioned pumpkin spices—yet there's no innate sweetness. It's a bit confusing for my tongue. It's almost as if these chips don't know who they really are or what they want to be. And this isn't the first Trader Joe's product we've come across that's had an acute case of dissociative identity disorder.

But then there are those of you who will insist that I praise the versatility of this product, rather than dismiss it for straddling both sides of the fence. You wouldn't be wrong. For that reason, I give them four stars. Sonia isn't convinced. She wants them to be one thing or the other, and for that reason, she gives them only three stars. Who's right? Are these chips too creative for their own good, or does their weirdness make them wonderful? Let us know in the comments below!

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Ghost Pepper Potato Chips

Boo!

Err, I mean, yay! Finally, a perfectly seasonal item from Trader Joe's that has nothing to do with anything even remotely resembling a pumpkin or any of its usual camaraderie of spices. It's about freakin' time.

How are Trader Joe's Ghost Pepper Potato Chips "seasonal" you ask? Well - Halloween is just a few weeks away! And these are ghost peppers we're talkin' 'bout here, Willis. Although, as grammatically improper a statement it is, I don't believe in no ghosts. But ghost peppers? Listen: Anything that has potential to melt your face off as if you just peered at the Ark of the Covenant ought to be feared and respected. Although not the most capitally capsacin-incapacitated peppers out there...those suckers are hot! Beware!

So, it was with some fear and trembling that Sandy and I ripped open our bag the other night, and with even more trepidation that I took my first waft in preparation of placing one of these potentially unholy tater wafers in my mouth. Hrmm...not picking up much here. A quick glance brought to mind sour cream and onion chips almost - a dusty cakey coating of some type with little dark specks. And I got my first good luck at the chips unique (to me, at least) structure of being lattice cut - I've seen waffle fries and ridged chips, but never some combination of those. Maybe that's just my general chip world ignorance speaking there. Anyways, I said a quick prayer, gulped, and prepared for first bite...

Crunchy. Very crunchy and crispy yet lighter and airier due to design - in some ways it was like eating a flattened sheet of potato sticks, which I say as a compliment. Great texture, great munch. Then the flavor started sinking in...smokey, a little mesquitey, a small hint of sweetness, a scant of burn - hey, wait a second here! I just described a pretty adequate barbecue chip. And honestly, that's what these supposedly spicy suckers tasted a lot like, except with a little tingle on the afterburn. The spicy seemed to build a bit with each successive chip, but never to the point of unpleasantry. In some ways, after such a huge ramping up to get myself psyched, it was a big letdown.

Not. Hot. But don't take my word for it. Take my toddler's, who's adventurous as a three year old can be when it comes to food, but shies away from most spicy stuff. She insisted on trying a chip, though, and with some hesitation, Sandy and I offered her one, milk cup and tear rags ready to go just in case. "Yummy!" she exclaimed. "I wike these." I asked if her if she thought they were spicy, and she said "No, maybe just a little bit."

So, there you have it - another exotic sounding TJ chip which turned out to be more BBQy than truly unique. In some ways, I'm somewhat relieved of that - the munch factor was extremely high, so it was nice to not be inhibited by spice overload. But in others, I'm kinda disappointed - I wanted these pepper chips to have enough heat to scare me away a little, but be enough of a treat to keep me coming back for more.

For $2.29, they're tough to argue with, though. Sandy enjoyed them enough to give them a four, mostly for texture and crunch (seriously, try eating just one or two - not gonna happen) which seems around right to me. A little more spooky spice would send them over the top, but their overall tastiness isn't an apparition.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Ghost Pepper Potato Chips: 7.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons    

Trader Joe's Iced Pumpkin Scone Cookies

I recently took a look at some non-TJ's Pumpkin Scones. In the review, I mentioned that those scones were soft, fresh, and just a step or two away from homemade. That's the main thing Sonia and I liked about them. They had a freshness sticker on the container to let consumers know when their "best by" date expired. Beauty is fleeting, and apparently, so is fresh-baked pumpkin goodness.

But these scone cookies feel like they've been in the packaging for a while. And to be fair, they have. They're not meant to be super soft and have a significant shelf life. These scone cookies, in my humble opinion, are just a step up from something you might get out of a vending machine. Now, granted, I've had many a delicious and satisfying snacks from vending machines over the years, and one of my favorite purchases used to be Little Debbie's Donut Sticks. They get a "D-" for their nutrition information, and at first glance, TJ's offering would seem to be significantly less bad-for-you. But if you think about the relative serving sizes, I'm pretty sure two of these little scone cookies don't come anywhere close to one full donut stick. And anyway, the donut sticks are decidedly lacking in pumpkin spice goodness, although I wouldn't put it past Debbie—that saucy little minx—to offer us a pumpkinized version in the near future (if there isn't one out there already).

I must say, though, that texture-wise, that's what these scone cookies remind me of. There's a heavily-iced outer layer that's firm and sugary, and the bread within is dense and sweet—but not as sweet as the coating. Yes, the texture is similar to some other scones, but somehow I think the donut sticks analogy works better here.

Flavor-wise, they're not such a far cry from other pumpkin goodies in recent memory like the pumpkinny pumpkin bites, but the firmer texture of the scone cookies makes them a tad less palatable, in my opinion. They've got the pumpkin puree and signature spices (cinnamon and nutmeg) that we've come to know and love this time of year. But those spices, combined with the cookies' relative dryness, made me cough a bit here and there.

I wish I could give these a sparkling review, but during this autumn season, overwhelmed with Pumpkin Joe's pumpkinny pumpkin parade, only the true stand-outs will get anything close to perfect scores. And at this point, I do have to mention that I finally tried the Mini Ginger Pumpkin Ice Cream Mouthfuls that Russ reviewed last year. Now THOSE are truly unique and delicious. In that case, ginger is the main attraction and pumpkin plays second fiddle, and I think that's one of the primary things that separates them from the pack, although there's still a uniquely autumnal, harvesty goodness about them. 

All things considered, these scone cookies aren't bad at all—and they're cleverly packaged in multiple sheets so you don't have to unseal the whole package at once—but they're certainly not the first pumpkin product I'd steer you towards in that ever-increasing ocean of orange.

Three stars from me, four from Sonia. She liked them significantly more than I did.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Pumpkin-y Pumpkin Bites

If you're not sick of pumpkin by the end of October, then we're just not doing our jobs as food bloggers. This product is TJ's way of saying, "You want PUMPKIN?? Oh, we'll give you PUMPKIN!" And they found a clever way to work the word "pumpkin" into the title of the product not once, but twice. I'm certain there's a triple-pumpkin product on its way, but until then, here are some suggestions, Trader Joe, for more ways to work the word "pumpkin," or some variation of it, into the title of a product two times: Trader Joe's Pumpkintastic Pumpkin Cookies, Trader Joe's Pumpkiniferous Snack Bars of Pumpkin, Pumpkin Joe's Pumpkin Puree, Trader Joe's Pumpkin Flavored Pumpkinosity Blasts, etc, etc. I could go on for pages and pages. 

I do question the use of the hyphenated form of "pumpkin-y" over the more obvious "pumpkinny," though. I feel as if when creating fictional pumpkin-based adjectives that hyphenation tends to scream "This is a made-up word!" whereas simply adding a suffix to the previously inalterable word lends the fictitious adjective a bit more credibility—and, yes, perhaps even a bit more dignity. But I digress.

These dessert squares are indeed pumpkinny. But why these are worthy of the double pumpkin moniker and something like, say, Pumpkin Butter, is not, I'm not quite sure. They're about as pumpkintastic as any of the other myriad pumpkin products we've seen from TJ's these past few years. True, they do have "pumpkin flakes" (whatever they are), pumpkin puree, and pumpkin spices, but I'm not sure if I think these are head and shoulders more pumpkincalifragilistic than any other pumpkin product.

They taste like above-average pumpkin cookies. They're nice and soft, and the coating of brown sugar and spices on the top gives them just a hint of a firmer, almost crunchy texture. They're almost like little pumpkin-flavored coffee cakes. The batch we have here at home tastes fresh, without a hint of staleness. You can definitely detect certain pumpkin spices like cinnamon and nutmeg. The pumpkin spice flavor is moderately strong, but certainly not overwhelming. My guess is that it's not a product for "pumpkin agnostics," though. You've got to be pretty heavily into pumpkin and its affiliated spices in order to appreciate these.

But by the same token, these aren't as exciting as some of the other pumpkin products we've seen recently. There's a lot of novelty value plus a huge weirdness factor with products like Pumpkin Pie Mochi. For me, that's a good thing. Here, we just have pumpkin cookies—admittedly, very decent pumpkin cookies—being served to us as "dessert squares." Fun and festive and perfect for fall, this offering is another fine Pumpkin Joe's purchase, but for me personally, they will probably pale in comparison to some of the more peculiar products in the pleasantly palatable pumpkin pasture.

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

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Wild King Salmon Jerky

At about 46:20 of Let's Talk TJ's! Podcast Episode 6, there's a fairly entertaining discourse about the Wild Salmon Jerky Russ reviewed last year. Near the end of that conversation, I volunteered to be the What's Good at Trader Joe's guinea pig for "Salmon Jerky version 2.0." I try to be a man of my word, so yesterday morning I shelled out the $5.49 for the small three ounce bag and "took one for the team," all in the name of intrepid food blogging. 

This uncommon jerky is a new product that no longer uses chum salmon as the primary ingredient, but instead employs the use of regal, fresh, Alaskan king salmon. Some have speculated that chum salmon was also sometimes referred to as "dog salmon" because Alaskan native peoples would only feed it to their sled dogs. Others claim the nickname came from the fish's canine-esque mandibles and many teeth. Either way, it's a fact that chum salmon are commercially undesirable, and so king salmon are a big step in the right direction. And best of all, they're still "wild," or "free range," like the salmon in those fictional breakfast muffins.

But still, this product is amazingly fishy. I mean, it's almost completely made of fish, so I don't know exactly what I was expecting. I guess I was thinking that the jerkifying process would make it significantly less fishy. But no. Still quite fishy. And to add to the fishiness, you can actually see where the scales were on the salmon chunks (see pic). So yeah. Fishy.

Good thing I like fish. My dogs do, too. No matter where in the house I opened this package of salmon jerky, the dogs smelled it immediately and were at my heels, begging for scraps. I mean, sure, they do that for everything, but they seemed especially enthused about this product—probably because of the fairly pungent fishy smell. I'm pretty sure if they were going to score this product, it would get 10 stars. But unfortunately, the humans in the house weren't quite as wowed.

However, I must admit the quality of the "meat" itself is pretty good. There's a nice smoky, spicy, sweet flavor to it. And it does taste like salmon—certainly not the best salmon I've ever had, but not the worst salmon I've ever had either. The texture is pretty close to traditional jerky, although this salmon stuff has a tendency to flake off in little angular chunks, similar to the way a normal fish fillet would. It's also more oily than any other jerky I've had lately. You'll pine for moist towelettes after handling it.

Even if you're a huge fan of the taste and texture, it's a little on the pricey side. I can't see this ever becoming a regular purchase in our house. It's not terrible, though. I'm just glad I'm not the one who tried the version with chum in it. 3 stars from me. Sonia was initially overwhelmed by the fishy smell, but got over it quickly. She gives this product 3.5 stars, and insists that it tastes somewhat like bacon. I'm not sure where she's getting that from. Silly Sonia.

Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10.

Josephsbrau Plznr

Ah, Princeton, NJ. Once known as an Ivy League town, prided on top-notch schooling and producing some of the nation's elite scholars, engineers, educators, and financiers, has become known to my wife and I as a fun place to go geocaching, and more importantly, Trader Joe's Beverage Central—as it is apparently known to quite a few here in the Mid-Atlantic region, including the Pittsburgh-based Shellys (who don't actually drive 5 1/2 hours JUST to buy Trader Joe's brand alcoholic beverages—they apparently have family in the area). I understand those liberal New Yorkers have quite a few options when it comes to Trader Joe's brand libations, but those of us in South Jersey, Delaware, and the Quaker State have one heck of a time procuring the stuff. It's a little over an hour's drive for us, so we only go when we have other reasons to be in the area. But recently, business took us to Tiger territory...and we found a fascinating brew or two.

And so, it's time for a beer review. In 685 posts on this blog, this is only the fourth post dedicated to actual alcoholic beer, and the first featuring Trader Joe's Josephsbrau label. Five years back, Sonia and I took a look at TJ's Corona Light knockoff and found it to be a pretty decent imitation of the original. On that particular shopping excursion, there had been no full-calorie Corona-esque beers available, and their selection (at least at that location in Los Angeles) was vastly inferior to the selection we find currently at suds-friendly TJ's locations here on the East Coast. And fortunately for me, as my taste in beers has migrated from mass-produced lagers to more interesting craft brews over the last five years, so, apparently, has Trader Joe's selection moved in the same direction.

I'm far from a beer expert, but I know enough about pilsners and beer in general to know that, despite the claims made on the can itself, Miller Lite is NOT a "fine pilsner beer." Just like a brew Russ reviewed many moons ago, pilsners are originally from the Bohemia region of the Czech Republic. As I learned on Wikipedia, they were made with soft water, pale malts, noble hops, and bottom-fermenting yeasts. 

Similar to other pilsners I've had, this beer poured a light straw-ish color with a fairly small head of foam. With an average alcohol content (5.4% ABV) the flavor was bready more than malty and there was a sharp bitterness to it. It left a slightly bitter aftertaste, too. It was well-carbonated, but not overly so. If you've been reading this blog a while, you know I LOVE fizzy beverages.

Another interesting note about this product is the peculiar spelling of "pilsner." There are plenty of other acceptable ways to spell the word, but this is the first I've seen "PLZNR." TraderJoes.com claims it's simply because the beer is unique, but I'm wondering if, similar to the band "Chvrches," it has to do with search engine optimization? Both the band and the beer are "not bad" in my humble opinion, but I'd say the unique spellings are strokes of marketing genius. Sonia agrees about the beer, but no so much about the weird spellings.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.