Trader Joe's Shortcake Biscuits

As a boy growing up in the 80's, I was into Masters of the Universe and Transformers, as were the vast majority of my male friends. While it wasn't our thing, of course, we were well-aware of Strawberry Shortcake, a favorite among our young female counterparts. Likewise, Sonia, another child of The "Me" Decade, grew up a huge fan of the fruit-themed cartoon. In fact, her childhood bedroom flaunted a Strawberry Shortcake sheet set for a time.

Because of the television show's universality among our age group in particular, I spent most of my childhood—and adolescence, for that matter—associating the term "strawberry shortcake" with a red-headed cartoon character dressed in pink and white, topped with an oversized strawberry-patterned hat, rather than the delicious non-gender-specific dessert that it actually is. I don't think I even tried strawberry shortcake until young adulthood. I mean, it's not like I avoided it on purpose. I just never sought it out. Nowadays, I get a hankerin' every once in a while. Fresh fruit, whipped cream, and shortcake seems a bit lighter and more appropriate as a warm weather dessert than, say, oily, icing-laden birthday cake.

We had these biscuits with Reddi Wip Non-Dairy with Almond Milk and frozen strawberries. All three ingredients were slightly more shelf-stable versions of their traditional equivalents. These shortcake biscuits are exactly what you might assume they are—shortcake, but in biscuit form. They're denser, firmer, and drier than freshly-made shortcake. Sonia said they reminded her of scones. I totally agree. They're like plain scone bread with a lightly-sweet shortbread flavor—almost like hardtack, but significantly more dessert-like and pleasant.

Sonia remarked that she's had biscuits that taste too salty or too much like baking soda. I'm not sure I know exactly what she's talking about, but I agree with her that these pastries are pleasantly free of such flavors. They do blend well with fruit and whipped cream, as the packaging claims. I wouldn't say they're a perfect substitute for freshly made shortbread, but they're adequate for this not-completely-fresh makeshift version of the dessert that we concocted yesterday. 

$2.99 for four biscuits. Four stars from Sonia. Three from me.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Blueberry Muffins

Remember that Seinfeld episode about muffin tops? I scarcely do. It's been a while since I've sat down and watched any TV, let alone any '90s reruns. But I recall there being one about muffin tops...something about Elaine having a bakery that only sold the tops and had a hard time unloading the bottoms or "stumps". Like not even a homeless shelter wanted them. Does that sound about right? The whole point being, of course, that muffins tops are the best part of the muffin. Like most Seinfeld plots, of course it's a fairly preposterous scenario...while still somewhat rooted in a bit of reality 

This vague recollection sprung into my head while munching on a Trader Joe's Blueberry Muffin. Apparently I'm on a muffin kick this month...no matter. Gotta indulge every once in a while.

Definitely, the muffin top here is far superior to the muffin stump. It's probably for no other reason than the little sprinkling of crunchy sugar crystals encrusted up on top. There's not a whole lot of it, not nearly enough to make your teeth hurt, but just enough to help sweeten the whole thing up.

Add in the slightly crispier exterior bite, and maybe a touch extra of lemon zest, and there it is. This is one good muffin top.

The rest? Eh. It's sort of an ordinary blueberry muffin. Which isn't exactly a complaint. I'd be perfectly happy buying a muffin like this at a bakery or coffee shop, or making one of them at home that tasted just like this one. So I like them. But there's not anything too terribly special that puts them apart and above and beyond the competition. I mean, it's just...a muffin. Meh.

And unlike the recently reviewed almond muffins, there's not enough here to keep me full and going for a while, either. It's not an empty 360 calories per serving, but they're not exactly efficient either. I ate one alongside a cup of coffee and was hungry again within two hours.

Average muffins. That's about all. If only the whole thing was as good as the top...oh well. Maybe that Seinfeld episode had a bit more truth than usual to it. Double threes from my lovely bride and me.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Blueberry Muffins: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Joe-Joe's Cookies & Cream Light Ice Cream

Halo Top. Arctic Zero. Enlightened. Even other store brands. Everybody's jumping on the light ice cream band wagon. Shouldn't it be "lite" ice cream, though? The old, formal, traditional spelling is so...heavy, dontcha think?

The idea of diet ice creams pre-dates this latest wave of lite offerings by at least a few decades, but it's as if they just recently realized that they don't have to make these reduced calorie offerings taste disgusting. I guess it's the advent of stevia...? I mean, there's still cane sugar, powdered sugar, cream, and eggs in this concoction—even Joe-Joe's cookies. 

So what's the secret? If it's not painfully apparent already, I'll let you know that I'm no food scientist. Could it be the "steviol glycosides"?? The dextrose? The monk fruit extract?

Wait a minute. What the heck is a monk fruit? And what is its extract doing in my cookies n' cream ice cream?

I may never answer any of these questions in my lifetime, let alone in the next few paragraphs of this review, so let's just move on to what I can tell you about this new product from Trader Joe's...

In short, it's not nearly as disgusting as the diet ice creams that were around decades ago, but it still tastes like diet ice cream.

There's a thick, rich quality to it that I've noticed in some of the other "healthy" ice cream offerings I've tried in the past couple years. I guess it's the milk protein concentrate. It's almost as if they added a protein shake into the ice cream mix. It's a little "pasty" for lack of a better word, but it blends surprisingly well with the flavor of the ice cream and cookies in this particular instance. It's still not a taste I'd ever crave over traditional full-calorie ice cream, although Sonia was even more okay with this "protein powder effect" than I was.

For the most part, the Joe-Joe's are far and few between, and they're little more than crumbs here. We're about half way through the pint at the time of the composition of this review, and there was only one notable exception to that rule so far—there was about a quarter of a full Joe-Joe cookie wedged into the mix near the top of the container. It was nice to have that big slab of cookie, but no amount of Joe-Joe's would ever make this my favorite cookies n' cream ice cream.

If you're into reduced calorie ice creams, I guess this flavor is worth a try. Flavor-wise, it's no replacement for the real thing in my opinion, but it's on par with most other light ice cream offerings on the market right now. $2.99 for a pint isn't a bad price point when compared with other brands. Also, lots of protein here, and only 100 calories per serving. 

Three stars from me. Four from the better half.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Lemon Basil Pasta Salad

Whether you're a cubicle jockey, a work-from-home telecommuter, or a full-time traveling digital nomad—all of which Sonia and I have been—pre-packaged, refrigerated lunches like this one come in very handy most days. "Lemon basil pasta salad" sounds like a refreshing meal for these 90+ degree summer afternoons. Let's see what's going on here, shall we?

What's working: the overall taste is fresh and lemony. We found decent quality greens in our bowl, pristine bowtie pasta, shredded asiago cheese, and a significant amount of basil flavor. There's even a lemon wedge, ready for squeezing. The pre-applied dressing isn't overbearing or intrusive and adds just enough zing to make it interesting.

What's not working: I'd replace half of the pasta with more spinach. That's not something I'd expect from myself normally—craving vegetables over carbs. I guess I'd just rather see this flavor as, you know, a "salad," rather than a "pasta salad." There are plenty of traditional salad options at TJ's if you're with me on that one. I'm just pointing out that this offering is very much about the pasta, despite there being some roughage here, too. There are some peas floating around in the mixture. They don't add a whole lot, if you ask me. They weren't bad, though, either. I'd just rather see some romaine lettuce or more spinach in a dish like this one, personally. Also, when I mixed the salad elements around, I managed to spill some of them onto the counter. It's partly because I'm completely inept when it comes to stirring solid foods around in a small bowl, but it's also partly because the container isn't very rigid and the elements are packed full to the brim. 

Looking at the ingredients, I'm surprised there wasn't more oomph to the overall flavor. Cayenne pepper, chili pepper, chopped garlic, and dijon mustard are generally going to render something with a tad more kick. I wouldn't mind tasting a significantly spicier version of this salad, but it's nothing to complain about as is. I think a spicy rendition might overpower the lemon and basil, and that would be a different flavor entirely.

$4.49 seems a tad steep for what you're getting here. It would be enough for one person for one sitting. In our case, Sonia and I shared it and supplemented with other snacks for our mid-day meal. Do note: there's no little plastic fork included here, so if you're going for a car-lunch, make sure you have a utensil on hand (and probably some napkins). All in all, not a bad choice for a light lunch. Double three and a halfs.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Neapolitan Joe-Joe's Ice Cream

Just about a year ago, Trader Joe's introduced Neapolitan Joe-Joe's cookies. They consist of one chocolate cookie and one vanilla cookie with strawberry filling in between. Unless you twist off one of the cookie portions to eat it separately, you're getting all three flavors in one bite, whether you like it or not. That's what you're getting here, too. There's vanilla and strawberry ice creams, yielding a strawberries n' cream-esque base, plus tons of firm, fudgy chocolate bits. Honestly, the cookie pieces are far and few between, to the point that neither Sonia nor I noticed them at all. We both wish there were significantly less chocolate and significantly more cookies.

The resulting conglomeration of the dual ice creams and chocolate pieces isn't an unpleasant flavor, but it's also not something I'd ever seek out on a regular basis. When I'm in the mood for chocolate, I'm in the mood for chocolate—but it's rare that I'll crave all three flavors at once.

Whenever I think of Neapolitan ice cream, I can't help but remember this classic Homer Simpson clip. He's really into the chocolate, obviously, but perhaps also appreciates the option of vanilla or strawberry if the mood should strike him. Or maybe he's just a lovable idiot. Either way, Neapolitan—or vanilla/chocolate/strawberry, if you prefer—is his go-to ice cream product. At least with the classic Neapolitan, you have the option to eat whichever flavor you prefer, or to mix them in whatever ratio you feel like at the moment.

If I were going to design a Neapolitan ice cream that's a mashup of all three constituent flavors, Trader Joe's-style, I'd throw in massive cookie chunks—maybe even whole Neapolitan Joe-Joe's cookies. I'd mix in real strawberry bits, and I'd keep the base strawberry-vanilla like they have it. I'd swirl in small ribbons of liquid chocolate syrup, and then I'd wave my magic wand and make it organic, non-dairy, fat-free, and I'd import it from Germany for no particular reason. Then I'd wave my magic wand again, discontinue the Neapolitan stuff, and bring back Lemon Triple Gingersnap Ice Cream and Cherry Chocolate Chip Soy Creamy. Also, I'd bring back Trader Joe's Energy Drinks, declare myself emperor of the world, and fly away on an enchanted unicorn. A boy can dream, can't he?

$2.99 for the pint. Three stars a piece on this one.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Organic Beary Tiny Gummies

Mmmm. Beef byproducts—something I always look for in a candy.

Bovine gelatin. At least it's a certified organic bovine gelatin. Am I right? Also, I'll take cow gelatin over pork gelatin any day of the week. At least we've got the potential of being kosher here, too. Plus, it's French beef gelatin. Ooh la la. 

No, seriously. This product is imported from France. I couldn't tell you why it's imported from France. That seems to be the case with quite a few selections at Trader Joe's—they come from Europe or Asia when there's no obvious reason why they couldn't come from the good old US of A. Don't get me wrong, I don't have a big problem with European imports, I'm just waxing philosophical here. But that's probably not why you're reading this review. So let's talk about the candy for a moment.

First impressions: they're tiny, true to their name—like maybe half the size of a normal gummy bear. That just means you have to shovel twice as many into your mouth to get the same flavor impact as you might with traditional gummy bears.

There's a fresh citrusy smell and flavor to all the bears. The ingredients list mentions a bunch of fruit and vegetable juices which are there "for color." I'm pretty sure I can detect slight differences in the flavors, but I guess that's due to the unspecified "natural flavors." There's almost a grapefruit essence I'm tasting here. I kinda like it. These bears are extremely similar to the ones that had a "chocolate pool day" not long ago.

Sonia likes the taste even more than I do in this case. However, we both feel like gummies such as the T's and J's that employ tapioca syrup and corn starch not only taste better, but have a little less of a weirdness factor. Yes, I know most gummies contain gelatin—that's one of the many reasons we don't eat them that often, and one of the many reasons why the T's and J's were my favorite gummies of all time, bar none.

Final observations: there's a grotesque bear on the cover art cannibalizing other smaller bears. The bag has three servings, which could easily be consumed all at once, which, I believe is being demonstrated by said grotesque bear. 99 cents for the bag. 

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

Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Banana & Almond Butter Protein Smoothie Beverage

I used to be in love with smoothies. I had Jamba Juice for dinner at least three or four nights a week when I lived in L.A. While living on the east coast, I missed my Jamba. There was exactly one location in the Philly area, but it wasn't at a convenient location for me.

Since Sonia and I have been traveling, we've found Jamba Juice in the most random locations: Utah, Idaho, and all over Washington State, among others. It's safe to say they have a much greater foothold out west. There still aren't enough locations, though, that we can have it with any regularity. So we're always sampling other brands of juice blends and smoothies.

This selection isn't bad if you're seeking a fast and easy protein source. The taste? It's nothing to write home about. Sonia almost never craves more sweetness, but she did in this instance. Considering "banana" is the first word in the title, I think there could have been a lot more banana flavor. That would have helped with the sweetness factor, as well as the overall taste.

It's really not terrible, either. You can taste a hint of banana flavor and there's definitely almond butter up in the mix, and something very...proteiny? My auto spell check is insisting that "proteiny" isn't a word. But it should be. Because it describes the finish of this beverage perfectly. It must be the "pea protein." Peas are never something I'm looking for in a smoothie. I know, I know. Pea protein is a thing. It's a good way to get protein in just about anything, I guess. I'm just not thrilled to see it here.

They've packed a fair amount of protein, good fat, and calories into a one pint bottle for three bucks. It's filling. It's not going to kill you. But for me to drink something like this with any consistency, it's just gotta taste a liiiiittle bit better than this. There's also a slight notion that "pureed gravel" is an ingredient, as far as the texture goes. I promise you there's no gravel in any form in there, but the back of my throat and tongue attest otherwise. Please note I said "pureed" gravel, not just plain gravel—basically, it's a bit chalky. It's really not that bad. I'm just good at complaining. 

Probably not a repeat purchase for us, but if you're looking for a compact, convenient drinkable lunch or supplement, it'll pass as a protein shake. I'll throw out three stars. Sonia will go half a star higher. 

Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Organic Creamy Cashew Cultured Yogurt Alternative

When I was a kid, my mother was nuts about nuts. She was also a little nutty. She passed her love of nuts on to me, as well as her nuttiness.

Cashews were always among her favorite, so I too developed an affinity for the oddly-shaped tree-borne seeds at an early age.

Significantly thicker than cashew milk and significantly thinner than cashew butter, we find ourselves looking at cashew yogurt. There's a substantial amount of innate cashew flavor here, so I would think an appreciation for, or at least tolerance of, cashews will be in order for this product.

Thinking about what I know of cashew butter, I assumed I'd like the vanilla bean flavor more. Call it confirmation bias, but my instincts were correct. Think of cool, runny cashew butter mixed with real vanilla flavor. It works, at least in my book.

Sonia liked the strawberry flavor a little more. I felt as if vanilla and cashew complemented one another while strawberry and cashew competed, if that makes sense. Sonia just appreciated the fruitiness of the latter and felt that there was a stronger overall flavor. I certainly didn't hate it, but I've never had a craving for a cashew butter and strawberry jelly sandwich ever in my life, and similarly, I doubt I'll ever get it in my mind to seek out strawberry cashew yogurt in the future, but who knows?

$1.69 per cup. This could be a bigger deal for lactose-intolerant people, vegans, or folks that have an aversion to almond or coconut milk yogurts than it is for us. But neither flavor is bad by any means. I'd pick up the vanilla flavor as a snack in the future. Sonia would consider a re-purchase of strawberry. I'll go a half star or so higher on vanilla bean, while Sonia will follow suit on the berry variety, so our scores will offset one another, yielding the same overall mark for both flavors.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Soft Baked Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies

For a grocery store chain that's known for carrying exotic fare and maintaining at least a facade of healthiness, they sure roll out a lot of dang cookies. By a quick count, we've reviewed somewhere in the ballpark of 60 or 70 different types of Trader Joe's brand cookies on this blog alone. 

That's a lot of cookies, the vast majority of which aren't reduced guilt or low calorie or anything like that. If you click that link, it'll show you the results for searching "cookies" on this blog. Apparently some browsers are covering the additional pages of results with a banner ad. I'm looking at you, Google Chrome. Worked fine on Firefox for me. But most of you aren't going to wade through seven pages of cookie reviews spanning the past decade anyway. I wouldn't blame you. 

Because many of these cookie varieties aren't particularly memorable. A few are, but I highly doubt we'll agree on which two or three of those Trader Joe's baked goods we want to take to our desert island and survive on for the rest of our life.

Funfact: the cookie on the packaging is actual size. See pic above.

This particular offering isn't bad, but it's definitely not one of my desert island choices. And, I mean, I LOVE peanut butter. 

You can taste the peanut butter for sure. These are basically typical, everyday peanut butter cookies that happen to be full of chocolate chips. They're a little softer than your average peanut butter cookie, I guess, and perhaps a tad thicker, both of which are pleasant variations on the classic cookie. Still, I would have preferred them to be even softer, chewier. They're kind of crumbly and dry as they are. 

The flavor is fine. There is peanut butter and there is chocolate, but they never really come together in that special way that Reese's seem to. The bread part of the cookie seems oddly dominant, and there's a bit of an aftertaste.

Sonia seemed to like them more than I did, which was unexpected. She'll give these three and a half stars. I give 'em three.

Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Chili Onion Crunch

In my neighborhood growing up, every couple years, PENNDOT would oil and chip all the street tops. It'd drive everyone in my family crazy. For me and my siblings, it was so much harder to bike on, and when your biggest source of income was an after-school paper route for which you needed to bike, it made for the rough juvenile equivalent of a hard day at the office. For my parents, it'd ding up the bottom of the cars and set my dad off on an occasional "this crap is what they do with my taxes??" rant (usually mild around us kids)...but I could tell it was just one more thing to aggravate the living heck out of them. As a parent now myself, I can understand it - one added thing atop of work, family, bills, taxes, whatever else. It'd set me off too.

Wait a minute though...kids delivering newspapers after school? Did I just date myself? I'm only in my mid-thirties I swear.

Anyways, oil and chips...kinda like Trader Joe's Chili Onion Crunch.

No, no, I'm not suggesting this newish product tastes like asphalt. Indeed, it's infinitely more suitable for a potluck rather than a pothole.

Just open it though. There's a huge pool of olive oil at the top. Stir it up, and you can hear all the crunchy tidbits swirling around. Crunchunchunchcrunch. It's absolutely audible, in some sort of edible slurry concoction. Dried onions. Dried garlic. More dried onions. Dried peppers. All literally swimming in oil in still crunchified state.

Needless to say, this is some oily, gritty stuff. I can absolutely see this being a textural stumbling block for some people. Sandy and I plopped some atop some grill-toasted baguette and it worked well as the bread sopped up the oil a bit leaving only the crunchers. Could work tossed in with some veggies or on some grilled chicken or pork, too. But something like eggs? No way, at least not in my book. Gritty eggs. Blecch.

And taste? Ehhh. The chili onion crunch got a little heat, that's for sure. It's more palpable if you get a heavy dose. But really, what the dominant flavor seems to be is the garlic. And it's not necessarily good garlic either, depending on your criteria. Karen, our favorite local TJ's employee, warned it was garlicky but "not in a good way" and I can see what she means. Garlic can either be strong and robust, or kinda "musty" for a lack of better word. This stuff strays towards the garlic stank and not the garlic strength. Any other flavor kinda fills in a little bit to give a little body to lead up towards the heat.

In the end, I think this could be one of those "a little goes a long way" type items. Add a little atop a burger, on some bread, mixed in with some grilled veggies or whatever, but just enough to get a little added flavor, and not enough to turn your dish into an oily, gritty, garlic-stanked dish. We'll use it for sure but I'm not yet convinced it's a repurchase. Set us back about $3 if I recall right.

Four spoons from the Mrs - she loved it more than I did. I'll be nice and give it a 3.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Chili Onion Crunch: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Organic Carrots of Many Colors

The grape carrots are my favorite, followed closely by the lemon carrots and cherry carrots.

I'm just kidding. There's only one flavor here: carrot. Carrot-flavored carrots are all the rage in some modern snacking circles, or so I've heard. This new Trader Joe's product is sure to be a hit with those folks.

For the rest of us, I'm not so sure.

The colors seem like a fun gimmick to get kids to eat more carrots. I know purple carrots exist naturally, and so do orange, yellow, and red. It's not like they added any extra colors here, which is always nice. In fact, they only added sea salt. Nothing else. Plus, they're organic. Unless you're on a salt-free diet, not many complaints can be filed in the "not healthy enough" department.

Texture-wise, they're super crunchy, crispy, brittle. Almost reminiscent of potato chips, they're just ever so slightly more airy...almost poofy in a way. There's a styrofoam quality about them. Sonia thinks they're exceedingly dry—like, unpleasantly devoid of moisture. I think they were kinda going for a dry feel when they decided to dehydrate the carrots, so...yeah. Dry. But that's not a dealbreaker for me.

The taste was less pleasant than the texture for me. And yes, I know what carrots taste like. But something happens to the flavor when they're dehydrated. I feel like that carroty flavor that we've all come to know and tolerate becomes a little more bitter than I'd like it to be. These carrot chips are even more planty and perhaps less sweet than they are in their normal, water-ful form. Also, they don't taste very salty at all. 310mg of sodium in the whole bag. 13% of your RDA. I guess that's not much salt. But it tastes even less salty than I was expecting. 

Sonia thinks they might lose some of their natural sugar when they're dehydrated, and I think she might be right on that one. $2.99 for the single serving bag, which could be stretched to more than one serving if you're sharing the bag with someone else and both of you are only moderately enjoying them and attempting to pawn the remainder of the bag off on the other. We both prefer raw carrots in the end.

Once again, three stars a piece.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Egg Frittata

Our travels have taken us to numerous large casino facilities throughout the American West over the past 6 months. We've probably stayed at a dozen or more since they generally offer free RV parking for a night or two. Many have hotels, restaurants, clubs, gas stations, and convenience stores all owned and operated by the same group of people, often a nation or tribe of Native American Indians. 

These complexes apparently generate a great deal of money, because even the convenience stores are huge, occasionally boasting vaulted ceilings and elaborate decor surrounding typical mini-mart fare like toaster pastries and bags of roasted peanuts.

Prior to purchasing this frittata product at Trader Joe's, but not long ago at all, Sonia wandered into just such a convenience store to discover a display full of fresh-baked pastries, quiches, and frittatas. The frittatas were actually frittata-bread hybrids, with the egg and cheese baked right into a buttery croissant. Anyway, the wifey picked up a couple of them, and we had them for breakfast a few weeks ago. They were absolutely scrumptious. A tad on the greasy side, they were full of flavor and left us both in comfort food heaven.

I might have had frittatas one or two other times in my life. I can't remember any of them vividly. But those Indian casino convenience store frittatas will linger in my memory for years to come. These Trader Joe's frittatas, not so much.

No, it's not fair to compare frozen, microwavable frittatas to fresh-baked ones—even ones baked in a glorified Quickie Mart. But I'm going to do that anyway, since that's my reference point. 

Honestly, the convenience factor here isn't bad. They come frozen, and after a few minutes in the microwave, voila, you've got a couple of frittatas for breakfast or whatever meal you're supposed to eat frittatas. Our major complaint is that they're a little on the bland side. They need some help. Hot sauce is in order here—or some kind of extra seasoning if you're not into hot and spicy foods for breakfast. There's nothing particularly unpleasant about the taste at all, but nothing particularly memorable, either.

The texture is fine. They seemed a bit more bready than just eggs alone usually do, probably due to the whey protein and cornstarch. They're soft and cheesy, but not overly so. I feel like they were in want of a bolder cheese, too. I like swiss okay, but this product might have worked a little better with cheddar. 

$2.99 for two frittatas, which the packaging even admits is only a single serving. There's a lot of saturated fat, cholesterol, and sodium for a product that doesn't really deliver in the flavor department. Probably not a repeat purchase for us, but a decent offering as far as uniqueness and ease of preparation are concerned. 

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Bloody Mary Salsa

Family vacations...am I right?

I'm writing this review about halfway thru a family vacation. And by family I don't mean just me, my wife and our kids...I mean my parents, my siblings, their spouses, and all their kids. there's eighteen of us. It's what we do every other year. It's crazy. It's frustrating. It's fun. It's draining. And ultimately pretty awesome. Really hope to be building some memories here by continuing family traditions.

 And of course we're bringing in our own. As is our own individual family tradition, while on vacation, we seek out the local Trader Joe's (Burlington, VT this occasion). And for our designated night to make dinner we brought in our own tradition which I think I mentioned before, to have a "snacky dinner." Cheese, chips, fruits, veggies, hummus, salsa, etc.

So that's a long way of saying yup, we got Trader Joe's Bloody Mary Salsa to experiment on my entire family on vacation. Wasn't sure how else to start. Sorry, couple beers in. Surely, you understand.

It's a decent salsa, even for those (like me) who aren't well acquainted with actual bloody Marys. There's huge chunks of tomatoes and maybe some peppers, so if smoother salsas are your jam this won't be it. Even then, the rest of the base is somewhat watery enough that calling it thick doesn't seem entirely right.

For the first hit, the salsa is fairly mild, even somewhat sweet. Some in my clan here said there's almost a certain "fake tomato" taste here - perhaps it's a bit too cloying. Or maybe it's even else that happens afterwards - the bitterness of horseradish creeping in, the peppery bite beginning to hit, the pickling spices beginning to tickle in, the spice whacking you from the back end. Still, for an overall taste and feel, it's decent yet lacks a certain oomph. Maybe this is something inherent in bloody Marys, hence the need to pile on with all those crazy...I don't even know what you'd call it all. But you know what I mean.

For a jarred store brand salsa, not fresh made, and all that, it'll do. Not great, not bad. The salsa is definitely a plausible rebuy for the middling $2ish bucks it cost. And middling scores is about all it got from everyone here.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Bloddy Mary Salsa: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Mini Gummy Bears on a Chocolate Pool Day

Years ago, Sonia and I were invited to a game night of sorts at another couple's apartment. The main event of the evening was a competition involving the construction of graham cracker houses, the most creative of which would win a prize. There were four other teams, with our gracious hosts serving as the judges. There were dozens of elements at our disposal: graham crackers, marshmallows, frosting, gumdrops, cookies—pretty much any snack you can think of was present. Most other teams tried to go big—they were aiming to construct the tallest candy towers that gravity would allow. We went a different route.

Our house was a mere two graham cracker widths high. Not impressive at all on the macro scale...but to a family of gummy bears, it was an elegant mansion with all the comforts of a modern home. There was a big puffy couch comprised of full-size marshmallows across from a flat screen HDTV made from a miniature chocolate bar. The yard was full of vanilla icing snow and a few snowmen made of mini marshmallows stacked on one another. The bear children playing in the yard had warm hats made of M&M's bitten in half. There was even a bathroom. Mini marshmallows made a fine porcelain toilet and a nearby bathroom sink. A thin layer of frosting made a mirror. A green gummy bear faced the mirror—I bit off a thin slice of another green gummy bear's face and stuck it on the mirror so it appeared the bear was actually looking at his own reflection. There were even a couple chocolate shavings in the marshmallow toilet to represent...um, bear movements. We made lamps, trees, and shrubbery out of gumdrops and bed sheets out of mini chocolate bar wrappers. Ultimately, we won the competition and went home that night with a $20 Target gift card and a sense of accomplishment and teamwork. Our judges applauded, "You thought of everything!"

Well, almost everything.

Our happy gummy bear family lacked a pool. Until now. Obviously, we don't still have our graham cracker house. In fact, I think the children present consumed the entire thing before we even left our friends' apartment that night. But this gimmicky new item from TJ's would have been the perfect addition to the bear family's backyard.

So...obviously, this is a fun item for the young and the young-at-heart, but how does it taste? It's an odd mix-up of gummy bears and milk and white chocolate. Sonia remarked that the milk chocolate overshadowed the white chocolate, while I was actually surprised I could taste white chocolate at all. The bears add sweet, fruity, citrusy elements to the flavor. It works, at least marginally. I mean, chocolate covered fruit is a thing. Chocolate orange is a thing, right? This isn't a completely foreign concept. I'm honestly surprised how much I do like the flavor here.

Sonia wanted more gummy bears, even though she admitted their texture was a little too firm and chewy in the mix. The chocolate's nice and smooth, and it inevitably melts in your mouth much faster than the gummy bears. I was happy with the chocolate to gummy bear ratio, but I must say breaking the bar apart was frustrating. The bears wanted to hold certain pieces of chocolate together, and as you'd pull the piece off, the bear would stretch a bit and then snap in the manner of a rubber band, sending a crumb or two of chocolate flying off into space...or onto your khaki pants.

It's $1.99 for the bar. I'd rather pay half that for a silly, fun impulse buy like this, but there's an undeniable childlike joy that accompanies opening a package of candy that has illustrations of bears with pool toys on it. If it weren't packaged and presented so cleverly, it would be easier to pan this product for its only partial success in the flavor and texture departments. As it stands, we're looking at about three and a quarter stars each. 

Do note: this product isn't even vegetarian by virtue of pork gelatin in the gummies. I thought that green bear on the packaging looked a little like one of the pigs from Angry Birds...

Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Chewy Marshmallow Bar

Rice Krispies are pretty much a disappointment cereal, right? I've never met anyone who could honestly say they legitimately enjoyed a bowl of them. I know I sure haven't. Sure, sure, there's the snap, crackle and pop thing that's kinda cool...but then what? Within moments you have little, soggy, limp, mushy and basically tasteless tidbits of toasted rice like substance. Even worse, if not rinsed out right after, the cereal gets cemented into your bowl as it dries, which means depending on my stage of life my mom or my wife would yell at me for it. You'd think I'd learn.

Nah, the only legit reason to buy Rice Krispies is to make Rice Krispie treats. Now those are good, and an all time classic. So simple to do. So delicious.

Which, by the way, I'd recommend over buying Trader Joe's Chewy Marshmallow Bar.

Don't get me wrong, I actually enjoyed this new "gotcha, made ya buy" treat from TJ's. If you want one, or just need a quick snack to keep yourself from going hungry or to placate the kiddos mid-shopping trip, there's no reason not to buy it. Homemade ones are better is all I'm saying.

The taste is all there. It's not like there's much to really mess up or experiment with here - it's toasted rice and marshmallows. If somehow you don't know what this combo tastes like, you've lived a very different life than probably 99.9% of people reading this. I've got nothing else to add here.

It's really more in the feel, I think. Most homemade variations are tightly packed, dense chunks, at least in my experience. Not so here. Once out of the package the marshmallow bar gets droopy and bendy, and the overall feel is pretty light. Also, there's full (or close to full) mini marshmallows interspersed throughout the bar. Some might find this texturally challenging. I didn't particularly but I also prefer a firmer treat.

Others have said this confection is much like a "Dream Bar" or something of the sort from Starbucks. Haven't had one - we don't frequent Starbucks as I consider them "emergency caffeination only" - but perhaps one of you can chime in to state how apt that comparison may be. 

It's a $1.49 each for this TJ's chewy bar, which strikes me neither a great deal nor as a ripoff. They're big enough that Sandy and I split one, and our kids split the other without complaint. I'm neither disappointed nor overwhelmed so I'll just say a three while Sandy chimes in with a little higher.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Chewy Marshmallow Bar: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Sweet Corn, Burrata & Basil Ravioli

I must admit I wasn't familiar with burrata cheese prior to trying this fascinating pasta product from Trader Joe's. As is usually, although not always, the case with curious culinary commodities, the lovely Sonia was able to educate me on the subject. It's basically mozzarella and cream. Sounds good, right?

It is good. "Burrata" and "ricotta" not only sound like they should be included in the lyrics to a Jimmy Buffett song together, but they also taste great when paired in a pasta pocket. They're a little sweet, very creamy, and still retain the light, subtle flavors of mozzarella. Throw corn into the mix...and to me, there's a bit of a creamed corn effect.

I've never been a huge fan of creamed corn. It's one of those dishes that doesn't know whether it wants to be a vegetable or a dessert. In general, I love corn in almost any form, but all that sweetness and creaminess seems like it would be better suited with peaches or strawberries. But whatever. That's just a little hang-up of mine. The important question is: does it work here?

Along with the pasta and a little olive oil, yes, the aforementioned "creamed corn effect" is mitigated to a point I can tolerate. It yields a nice, mellow, summery flavor that works just fine without a heavy cream or tomato-based pasta sauce. None of the other flavors completely overshadow the taste of the corn, which is also nice. 

Sonia and I both found the basil flavor to be somewhere between nonexistent and barely detectable. It wasn't really begging for the taste of basil, though, either.

The wifey also expressed her frustration that the filling was popping out of certain ravioli squares. It's possible that their structural integrity was compromised while bouncing around in our RV fridge on the way to our campground. Also, as you might have guessed from the picture, we boiled water over our campfire and heated the ravioli there. Why waste propane when you've got a nice fire going? I don't think it influenced the flavor of the product at all, though. A little woodsmoke wouldn't have hurt the taste, anyway.

$3.49 for the package of two servings. Enough to serve as a main course for both of us. Sonia wants to try it with a white pasta sauce of some kind. I think most pasta sauces would clash with the dish. We'll possibly buy it again just to see who's right.

Three and a half stars a piece.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Sparkling Watermelon Juice

Well, last week's summertime-ish cold drink experiment was a disaster, wasn't it? I mean, caramel spice...for summer? That's not exactly classic and a sure set up for, if not added scrutiny, then failure.

So let's go tried-and-true this week with Trader Joe's Sparkling Watermelon Juice.

Watermelon. The classic shirts off, hose 'em down, seed-spittin' taste of summer from youth. Nothing's better than a cold wedge of watermelon on a hot day. Can't argue that away from me.

And now, here it is...in a can!

Well...sort of.

It's undoubtedly watermelon flavored. Part of me wouldn't be surprised if the juice were the delicious byproduct of previous TJ's watermelon experiments. Wish I had some of that "jerky" still around to see if it'd puff all back to life like one of those sponge dinosaurs...oh well. life is tough.

Still, I'm not the hugest of fans. I guess it's because it's simply just so watermelon and not much else. The packaging states there's "plenty of bubbles" or something to that effect, so there was some hope there'd be some carbonation to help cut through all the sweetness. There's not, as it's more a back-end, scratch your throat on the way down kinda deal. All the watermelon taste is upfront and has a flat feel.

I guess one could pour over some ice, put a spring of rosemary, maybe even splash in some adult spirit, and that'd make a coolish drink, and that'd be good. But for me, I judge the refreshing power of a summer drink based on, "would I reach for this after mowing the lawn?" You know, when all hot and sweaty. And the answer is not really. Given the choice between this beverage or a slive of actual watermelon, I'd go for the real deal.

Of course, if on a picnic or had some other need for a portable hit of watermelon, the TJ's sparklin' stuff makes a much more convenient option, so I won't rule it out completely. Maybe it's just not totally for me.

That would make Sandy pretty happy. She loooooves this. One sip, and she was oohing and smiling as if Lin Manuel Miranda just came in the room. More for her, if she wants to pick this up I'd have no complaints. I love the receipt so need a price check, but I'm thinking it's in the general $3 range, please correct me if needed. I'll be nice and give it a 3 (maybe more for not being funky....looking at you, last week!) whereas Sandy will go a bit higher.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Sparkling Watermelon Juice: 7.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Oat & Greek Yogurt Sandwich Cookies

Blah. More cookies. I think three out of my past five reviews have been of cookies. I mean, all in all, they haven't been bad cookies. In general, Trader Joe's does cookies better than others. But I'm all cookied out right now. 

So why review these cookies today? There are far more fascinating new items on the shelves of Trader Joe's currently.

Allow me to explain...

As I mentioned last week, I have a nasty spring cold that I contracted from my lovely wife—and I can't taste anything at the moment. These cookies were the last thing I remember eating before getting the cold. Also, they're review-worthy, if only for the Greek yogurt gimmick they've got going on.

They vaguely resemble Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pies, but lighter in color, a little fatter, with a slightly smaller diameter. They were soft when I first opened the box—maybe not quite as soft or as oily as a classic oatmeal creme pie, but pliable enough that one would call them "chewy" before he'd call them crispy, crunchy, or even crumbly. Those first couple cookies were excellent. It was warm out at the time, so the filling, too, was super soft and creamy—gooey almost.

Now this was back a week ago. Daytime highs were hitting near 90 degrees in southern Idaho, the sun was out, and even with air conditioning on, a class C RV can get pretty toasty in no time flat. So I made the mistake of putting the cookies in the refrigerator. I thought, hey, we don't want the Greek yogurt to get all rancid in the heat, right? I asked Sonia if that made sense to her, and she informed me that the cookies were most definitely NOT refrigerated in TJ's. I still felt like the heat wouldn't do them any favors.

But since that time, they haven't tasted or felt nearly as fresh. The filling is much better when it's kinda viscous. When it's firm—like straight outta the fridge—it's meh. The cookie part, too, just tastes better at room temperature, though the difference isn't as noticeable. Don't get me wrong, they're still edible. 

Fresh or not, the flavor is sweet, tart, and tangy. There's almost a hint of lemony essence by virtue of the yogurt's tartness, but it doesn't look like there are any lemon ingredients. The cookie parts are moderately sweet, oaty, and satisfying enough. There are notes of honey and vanilla in the mixture, and they work pretty well.

Sonia's taste came back some time between the last review and this one. She likes these cookies at least as much as I do and thinks I'm exaggerating the difference between when the box was first opened and after it emerged from the fridge. Had it been up to her, they would have stayed in the pantry, but she thinks they're tasty either way. 

Even being thoroughly saturated with cookies lately, we still can't hate on these unique Greek imports. Three and a half stars from each of us.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.