Trader Joe's Milk Chocolate Orange

Since we'll be harping on about the joys of Christmas for the next few weeks, let me throw this out there now before it's too late: Happy Hanukkah! Who knew it came so early this year? For our kosher readers: if you can find it, check out the fruit and nut log before the Festival of Lights is over! 

And now, on to my mandatory semantical pondering of the day: shouldn't this product be orange chocolate? I mean it's chocolate that tastes like orange. It's not an actual orange covered in chocolate. Just sayin'. 

Leave it to a Japanese YouTube channel to enlighten me about real chocolate-covered oranges. And leave it to the Germanic peoples of northern Europe to give us Christmas classics like pfeffernüsse, which you can find at Trader Joe's, along with festive American offerings like chocolate peppermint cupcakes and eggnog.

Since I've furnished you with enough snarkiness to last us through December, I won't even mention TJ's advent calendars, although I will say that the chocolates in the one we bought this year taste vastly better than the first one we tried. I think the calendar we used in 2011 might have had chocolate from 2010 or 2009 in it. As much as I appreciate vintage wines, and in some cases aged cheeses, I don't think chocolate works that way.

But that was one of the strengths of this chocolate orange. The chocolate just tasted fresh. The orange flavor helped give it a little extra splash of tartness that tingled the tongue and enhanced the milk chocolate sweetness. Similar to Terry's famous chocolate orange, you must whack this one on the counter to separate the 20 thin slices. In fact, it's so similar to the Terry's oranges I've had, I'm wondering if this is just a re-packaging of Terry's brand...? Don't quote me on that. It's just one of my speculative musings about the secret world of Trader Joe's suppliers. Either way, this is a pretty good product if I can't tell the difference between TJ's brand and the original.

I guess this is something you're supposed to get as a stocking stuffer on Christmas morning. Sonia and I didn't wait. The review wouldn't do you much good after the holidays are over, now would it? Despite Sonia's slight aversion to eating plain chocolate, she managed to muster enough enthusiasm for three and a half stars. I think I'll give it four and a half.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10 stars.
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And yes, that is Yoda in a Santa suit next to the chocolate orange under our Christmas tree.

Trader Joe's Turkey Gobbler Wrap

To start off, it's not like Trader Joe's Turkey Gobbler Wrap is a fairly unique product offering. Out here in Western PA, at Mad Mex restaurants this time of year, you can go get yourself a Gobblerito. I haven't partaken of that, nor I have tried Wawa's* Gobbler sandwich which is similarly boasted about. There's probably a zillion others out and around town right now, as if portable Thanksgiving leftover mashups are the new rage as everyone is finally getting sick of pumpkin-related stuff. To me, it looked like an just-interesting-enough easy lunch alternative to the usual same ol' same ol' TJ's trots out without fail or much variance. Really, as surprisingly good as they are, I don't think I can ever eat one of their tamales again. Too much.

TJ's take on the turkified Thanksgiving tidbits twirled into a tortilla is actually pretty decent. For whatever reason, I didn't have high hopes for it at time of purchase. It's a good sized wrap, certainly not the size of say a burrito from Qdoba (I've ridden in smaller minivans) but more like one that'd be par for the course from the local convenience shop. There was just enough turkey chunkage in each bite to keep me from feeling cheated - a little bit more would've been appreciated but not a dealbreaker. I think I just wanted more because the turkey itself was pretty good - nicely roasted, fresh, not too thick, not too thin. Nicely done. The stuffing was kinda nondescript (think more or less compressed StoveTop and it's close enough) but the dried cranberries....yum. Kinda like Lebowski's rug (warning, definitely NSFW), it tied the whole thing together into a wrap worth eating. Not sure if the cream cheese was really necessary - in fact, I'll say no, though there wan't a lot. The tortilla was replacement level at best, kinda a boring flour one, but not bad either.

However, let's talk about that "festive dipping sauce" mentioned on the label. What's "festive" about a tepid pool of grayish/brownish milky Frankengravy? It is Frankengravy as a quick scan of the ingredients states the sauce has both turkey gravy AND beef gravy in it. What the h-e-double bendi-straw is up with that? It's probably not a mortal sin to mix gravies, but it should be in consideration. Plus, despite that, about the only two things the sauce succeeds in is 1) adding a lot of unnecessary sodium and 2) making the nondescript tortilla soggy and not much else. I liked my wrap better without the sauce than with, but maybe that's just me.

Sandy hasn't tried this, not because she wouldn't, but because I bought just one and ate it all, so tough luck. A quick scan of some comments from our Facebook page reveal a lot of love for the gobbler wrap - Jes, a self proclaimed picky eater, states she loves it, as did pretty much everyone else. Kam, another fan, noted the nutritional info, though - yeah, it's pretty bad. Is it fair I grant this product a four on the behalf of you all? No objections? Fine, a four then. I'm thankful that this was pretty good as is, but it could've been better. Imagine, for example, big bites of turkey with mashed sweet potatoes with brown sugar and pecan crunchies, wrapped up in a wheat or multtgrain tortilla with cranberry dipping sauce. Patent that and make a million bucks. But for $3.99, I could've done worse. I'm going with a 3.5.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Turkey Gobbler Wrap: 7.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons
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* Wawa is an eastern PA/southern New Jersey chain of convenience stores. There's a Pennsylvanian culture war between them in the East and Sheetz here in the western parts. As someone who's lived in both of their prime turfs, I prefer Getgo over both - they make the best breakfast sandwich, pure and simple..

Trader Joe's Pumpkin Soup

This might have been the most pumpkinnish product we've had so far. Not in terms of ginger, allspice, and nutmeg—although "spices" were present in moderation—I'm talking about the actual large orange squash-like vegetable (or is it a fruit?). I felt like I was tasting pumpkin for the first time. And for those of you who've been reading this blog for a while, you'll know that it's definitely not my first time eating a pumpkin product.

This soup had a very natural flavor. Similar to butternut squash soup in terms of taste, this dish was just creamy enough, flavorful enough, and spicy enough to not seem, well...weird. Unlike tomato soup, pea soup, and lentil soup, pumpkin soup was entirely unfamiliar to me up till now. And when I try something brand new to me, my biggest fear isn't really that it will taste bad. If it's simply unpalatable, I'll just steer clear of it next time. I'm most scared that it will taste so strange to me—that the flavor and texture will be so far outside my experience—that I'll somehow be unable to appreciate a perfectly good product because of my own personal shortcomings; my failure to expand my horizons wide enough to incorporate this unfamiliar substance into my realm of appreciation.

Fortunately, neither of those scenarios was the case here. It was just really good soup that happened to taste like pumpkin. And Sonia and I were both appreciative of the fact that it's pre-mixed. There's no digging through the cupboards to find that measuring cup and then wondering whether you should use skim or whole, or whether you can substitute almond milk for cow's milk, or any of that nonsense. The mix was already done, and it just happened to be perfect. Plus, the box was less than $2. 

Our only complaint would be to point out that by itself, the soup is a bit boring. Some crackers or grilled cheese sandwiches are definitely in order if you want to turn this stuff into a meal, but happily, both crackers and grilled cheese complement this product perfectly.

If you're averse to pumpkin or plain, creamy soups, this product ain't for you. But if you're on the fence about trying it, Sonia and I both think you should check it out. Double four's.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Pumpkin Bread Pudding

Because I'm quite certain there's no pumpkin in coconut cashews, and also because I'm pretty sure pumpkin seeds do not constitute a pumpkin product, and also because my last 2 posts have been relatively pumpkin-free, and because my wife and I have suffered from severe pumpkin-withdrawal over the last 2 weeks, and finally, because it's Halloween, I have decided that it's high time to take a look at something pumpkintacular once again.

It's pumpkin-flavored bread pudding. I remember the first time I heard of bread pudding. I was like, "Wait...you mean it's bread and it's pudding?" I was overjoyed. "What's next?" I thought. "Ice cream and cake? Cookie butter and cocoa spread?" It's kinda like that Ford Fusion commercial where they say "I like 'and' better," which is quite obviously a rip-off of the Old Country Buffet commercial where the people visit "The Land of &."

Well, I just visited the Land of Bread and Pudding and Pumpkin, and I'm thinking about transferring my citizenship there. It's pretty awesome. And to add to all of the awesomeness, I must mention that I didn't even turn on the oven to prep this product. I got lazy and used the microwave, even though I've sworn off such barbaric practices in previous posts, even if the instructions list it as a viable heating option. But in this case, it worked pretty well. Our microwave is cheap and old, so it didn't heat completely evenly, but I often wonder if heating the bread pudding in the oven might have dried it out a bit.

Ours was crazy moist, like bread pudding's supposed to be. Both Sonia and I agree that it's actually a bit better served at room temperature rather than warm, despite the instructions contradicting us. Because remember, the WG@TJ's crew is always right. The product tastes bready and custardy, and the whole thing has an air of pumpkin pie. It's just solid enough that you can eat it with your hands or out of a napkin, but it's also melt-in-your-mouth soft, and you could theoretically eat it with a spoon.

This stuff goes great with coffee, it tastes a good bit like pumpkin, and at least in our case, it stayed moist for the whole 12 hours it lasted on the counter under some saran wrap. Sonia gives it 4.5 stars. I give it 4.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10 stars

Trader Joe's The Bagel Spinoza

Benedict de Spinoza was a Portuguese-Dutch philosopher. I'm going to pretend I sort of knew that before I wiki'd it. I only took the intro to philosophy course in college to fulfill my gen ed requirement, and on the final exam I simply regurgitated the limited tidbits they had shoved down my throat over the previous 3 months and somehow wound up with an 'A.' Perhaps it's another result of my philosophical ignorance, but I'm not sure why this man has bagels named after him. My guess is that it's because he was Jewish, and bagels are pseudo-traditional Jewish cuisine. Funfact: Spinoza was later expelled from Judaism because of his controversial ideas about God and the Hebrew Bible.

Who knew that centuries later he would make up for his heresy by offering the world these soft, delicious bagels? They're actually much softer than most bagel brands I've tried. Although, I must say that some of the best bagels I've ever had have been somewhat rigid. Not these. They're fluffy. Good, but fluffy. They're plain, just the way I like 'em. Check out Everything Bagel Slims and Everything Bagel Chips if you're looking for something with a bit more complexity in the flavor department. In this case, though, I think their simplicity is their strength. Nothing but a scrumptious white-bready flavor.

Even though I've made a promise to avoid the topic of pumpkin for a few posts, I must at least mention that these are the bagels we ate with the pumpkin cream cheese. They were a great combo. Recently, a reader mentioned that he was not thrilled with the pumpkin bagels from TJ's, so I must recommend these, coupled with the aforementioned pumpkin cream cheese, as an alternative. But don't worry, that's it for pumpkin...at least for now. I haven't been able to make it back to TJ's lately to be tempted by their plethora of palatable pumpkin products, although my last visit to Target involved the purchase of Pumpkin Harvest Salsa. It's a conspiracy, I tell you.

Sonia says she liked these bagels because they were soft and fresh, but she wonders if maybe we just got a bag that happened to be brand spanking new. The bagels didn't last around our place long enough for us to find out if they got much stiffer over time. She gives them a 4.5. I think they're worthy of 4 stars.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10 stars.

Trader Joe's Pumpkin Cream Cheese Spread

Russ was right. And I look dead sexy in my yoga pants. I might not, however, after I gorge myself on every pumpkintastic item I can get my hands on because I will have gained about 30 pounds by the end of this season. As of Sunday, it's officially fall. And yes, like any red-blooded American man with northwestern Euro-mutt roots, I love me some Oktoberfest beers, but the giggly 21-year-old college girl living inside me loves pumpkin ales just as much. Guess what else she loves?

This pumpkinriffic cream cheese. It's super soft and plenty punkinny for me. It's a nice balance of cream cheese, pumpkin spices, and actual pumpkin. Sonia seems to think it needs more pumpkin flavor. I disagree. It's not pumpkin pie here. Nor is it pumpkin pudding. And along those same lines, one should definitely not eat this stuff straight out of the tub with a spoon, tempting as it may be. It's meant to top a bagel. I actually think the pumpkin-factor is a bit too much when it's spread on

toast. A bagel has enough breadiness—enough substance—to put this pumpkin cream cheese in check, just like regular cream cheese works with a bagel while butter and jelly works with a piece of toast. 

But I will say this: there is something light and fluffy about this cream cheese. It almost feels whipped. It's not as dense as a regular cream cheese if you ask me. When you're knifing it out of the tub, it comes out with ease. There's very little resistance. But the full-bodied flavor is still there somehow. It's a miracle of science. It's a miracle of nature. Just like the pumpkin. And the pumpkin spices. And the drool that now covers my desktop as I sit here and pine for more pumpkin. Stay tuned to WG@TJs for more ridiculous, fictitious, pumpkin-based adjectives like "pumpkinlectable" and nouns like "pumpkinnishness." 

When we made our latest TJ's run, the checkout guy looked at Sonia and I and made a funny face. "I see you've been stricken with the same pumpkin affliction that I have, too." We both just nodded and slobbered all over the counter and grunted out a zombie-esque "Puuuuumpkiiiiin."

I give this pumpkin cream cheese 4.5 stars. Sonia gives it a 4.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Triple Ginger Snaps

Finally over the weekend, it came. You know what I'm talking about. This past weekend in Pittsburgh was the first that offered the cool entrance of fall times, promising to leave behind the heat and humidity of summer. "Get out your hoodies and kick back on the couch with a warm blanket and watch some football, summer will be over soon enough," that cool, refreshing air said.

A lot of people I know, particularly in the usually-yoga pants-wearing crowd, associate this time of year with pumpkin here, pumpkin there, pumpkin everywhere. Not me though. I realize I may be stoned for saying such things, but I'm not a huge pumpkin fan. Pumpkin pie's alright but I'd prefer a good fruit pie like apple or cherry, or the undisputed King of All Pies - my Aunt Brenda's pecan pie, which no one can ever replicate. There's a new bar/grill in the neighborhood that advertises all the pumpkin beers they're getting in - let me know when you get Oktoberfest beers in, please.

To me, though, Trader Joe's Triple Ginger Snaps taste like fall. I realize I may be straddling a fine line here, as ginger is a major ingredient in pumpkin pie and all, but no pumpkin pie has ever had ginger like these cookies, on purpose at least. As the name suggests, there's three types of ginger in here, and no, I'm not talking about nerdy, sturdy, or downright purdy. Fresh and ground ginger provide a good, solid gingery base, but the crystallized ginger really steals the show when you crunch across one - there's a certain momentary chewiness with a little crispiness, too. It's perfect and there's neither too much nor too little. And make no doubt, these wafers are all about ginger - look at the ingredient list, there's nothing in them except pretty much the bare minimum needed to form something like a cookie, then lots and lots of ginger. The resulting flavor is deep and savory, almost bordering on a cinnamony spiciness (but, hey, look, no cinnamon!). They're so good they're intoxicating.

I want to eat these with apple cider. I want to dunk them in milk. As inspired by this gone-but-not-forgotten ice cream, I want to eat them with lemon creme frosting. I want to eat them by the handful. Which I have - if you look closely at the picture, you'll realize I took a picture of an empty container. Whatevs. Although they're available year-round and have been for years (a true, enduring TJ's classic in that regard), I'll always associate these with fall. I think it's because my dad would buy Sweetzels every fall, and while they were an acquired taste for me growing up, I love that my 14-month old daughter seems to like these. I'm not sure if these are the best cookie that TJ's sells (there's some good competition) but it's close enough for me to call them a perfect five. Sandy counters with a measly four. I think she's just mad I ate more of them. For $3.99, dear, you best be assured we're getting these again, and soon.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Triple Ginger Snaps: 9 out of 10 Golden Spoons       

Trader José's Chile & Onion Flour Tortillas

Some things in life just aren't fair. For a pretty benign example, imagine being a Pennsylvania resident (which I am) and going to an out-of-state Trader Joe's (which I have, on numerous occasions) and surveying the vast selections of consumable goods that just aren't available in your local store. It's unfair. I mean, I've been to the Woodmere, OH store on multiple occasions, and each time, I enviously eye them up. It's literally a whole section of the store. Why, as a PA resident, can I not buy the same goodies as a native of the good state of Ohio? Is it antiquated state law? Market demands?  Lingering animosity over the Buckeyes-Nittany Lions rivalry? I don't know, but it's not fair. Somebody get the governor on the phone.

Lest you think I'm talking about beer and wine (for those not in the know, PA does have antiquated state laws not allowing for alcohol sales in most retail channels, including grocery stores, so we're living in roughly the year 1792 here), this time I'm not. Though I did get some on my most recent trip, there's nothing I felt too compelled to review yet. The Stockyard Oatmeal Stout's pretty tasty, the Simple Times lager isn't great but is much better than their other cheapo option, and perhaps once we get in our new house Sandy and I will have the occasion to break out the wine.

But I am talking about the Trader Jose Chile & Onion Flour Tortillas. I first spotted these several years ago there and just had to try them, I loved them, an hoped they'd migrate just a little further east and south to my Pittsburgh home store. When they hadn't, I assumed they got discontinued for whatever reason. But no, they're still up at the Woodmere store, just outside Cleveland, along with other tortilla flavors that we in the 'burgh just don't have. We only have the run-of-the-mill flour and corn variety, with the Habenero and Lime  for an exotic option, which gets old after a while.

If these were regularly available to me, these would be my everyday tortilla. And I eat a lot of tortillas. They're just perfect. Take a good flour tortilla and add in onion and some actually legitimate chile spice, and BAM. They taste good plain, pair wonderfully with my fake chorizo/rice/bean delight I regularly make, and even taste alright and hold up okay after zapping a microwave quesadilla. Tell you what, though: fry them up in a little butter for a stove top quesadilla, and they are a-m-a-z-i-n-g. The tortillas crisp up perfectly, absorb in a little butter, and get all nice and flaky while the flavor just pops then. They're spicy enough to keep me intrigued but probably accessible enough to most flavor palettes. I've tried replicating their exact spice level by tossing in some red pepper flakes into the cheesy portion, but it just doesn't work the same.

These are some seriously good hombres, and they need to find a new home: Pittsburgh. Please come. I may be the bigger fan of these tortillas. Sandy kinda shrugged and said "I like 'em. They're good. I like 'em. Quote that." As you wish. I just wish I didn't finally eat the last one of them the other night after savoring them for a while. I'm giving them a perfect five and guessing for Sandy's score...

Bottom line: Trader Jose's Chile & Onion Flour Tortillas: 9 out of 10 Golden Spoons    

Trader Joe's Dark Chocolate Covered Pretzel Slims

I'm usually not one to toot my own horn too terribly much, but you know what? Today, I am. You see, yesterday was Labor Day, which I celebrated the good ol' fashioned 'merican Way by going to work. Meanwhile, my wife and now officially toddlin' lil' toddler were going to the local waterpark for a fun day of splashing and spraying. It sucks to miss out on those kinda days. Add in that I'm adjusting to a recent promotion with a bunch of added responsibilities at work (stress) plus we're right in the thick of selling our house, got back the inspection report, and there's some stuff our sellers want us to do, and we're waiting to get it nailed down with them before we make an offer on another house, meaning at present time I'm not 100% sure where my family is going to be living in a month (much, much more stress), and yeah, yesterday was a baldspot-inducing day. Sorry about that hideous run-on there, but man it felt good. My normal reaction to stress is 1) sleep more and 2) eat more, especially junk food.

I made an early morning solo run to TJ's yesterday to get some fruit for a Labor Day breakfast our brother was having, and right there, at the checkout, taunting me mercilessly, was his Dark Chocolate Covered Pretzel Slims. So,  I bought 'em, and if I would have devoured them while at work like I wanted to over and over again (it didn't help that our vending machine which conveniently takes fives didn't give me change back after getting a Dr Pepper, shorting me $3.75 to get another snack), Sandy would have never ever known. But, as the loving, sweet, kind, sharing husband I am, I brought them home, seal intact, for the two of us to share after our daughter finally settled down for the night dreaming sweet 'lil toddler dreams.

Anyways, enough about me, let's talk about these choco-tasties. I like 'em. Sandy likes 'em. They're pretty straightforward in every sense. By now, I'd imagine everyone's had a pretzel slim or chip or whatever you'd call it, and has had dark chocolate, and has had a chocolate covered pretzel, and so you can mentally add all those experiences together and imagine roughly what this would taste like, and you'd be pretty darn close. They're as light as something covered in chocolate can be, and crispy, and salty and chocolatey, and highly, highly snackable. It was way too easy to polish off the whole bag within a couple minutes.

It's not to say they're perfect. First, light handling is recommended, unless you enjoy random choco-smears everywhere. Seriously, these are some melty dudes. I'd say so much so that these are probably only a Mama and Daddy treat. Also, while I liked the crispiness of the pretzel slims, it make me wish there was a rod or twist or some sort of full pretzel in all its full pretzel-ly glory just to get some added crunch and girth to it. Lastly, I'm not sure what kinda difference two days really makes when it comes to a snack like this, but I didn't realize until I took the picture that the sell-by date was August 31 and I bought them on September 2. Not a big deal, but, well, there you go.

Sandy agreed the meltiness factor was its huge error. After every bite she had to lick off her fingers so she could continue to hit up Pinterest in search of all sorts of decoration ideas for the house we're eying. Chocolate + keyboard = bad news. The fact she's insistent on no mini-fridges in what she calls the "family playroom" and I call the "man loft" = even worse news. We both agree these are a bigger win than the chocolate chips we had a while ago and not since, as these are a conceivable repeat purchase for the $2.99 they cost. Sandy says a four while I say just a small step behind.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Dark Chocolate Covered Pretzel Slims: 7.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Gluten Free 3 Cheese Pizza

If the label hadn't so boldly stated that this product lacked gluten, I don't think I would have noticed. On the flip side, I wouldn't have noticed that there were three different cheeses if the label hadn't told me so, either. But I've never been able to count cheese types once they've all melted together like that. Nor do I feel that's a skill I need to cultivate.

I really just want the product to taste good, regardless of the number of cheeses. And with 18g of fat per serving, it had darn well better be good, wheat crust or not. Who knew you could substitute grease for gluten? This pizza had a rice and potato-based crust. I'm willing to bet you could make a pizza crust out of quinoa or something, and if you slathered on enough fatty cheese, nobody would notice or care. And both Sonia and I are on the same page that a single person could conceivably eat this entire $5 pizza in one sitting by themselves...that is, unless they check the nutrition information.

I know, I know, pizza's supposed to be a treat. It's supposed to be fattening. But if you take a gander at some of the other pizzas we've reviewed, you'll note that their fat contents tend to be lower than this one's. But enough about that, because I have more good things to say about this product than bad things.

The crust was thin, and it came out crispy. The combination of cheeses was flavorful, but not overbearing. There were plenty of Italian herbs, and they blended seamlessly with the big slices of tomato. I'm not a huge fan of raw tomatoes, but when they're cooked and covered in pizza grease, bring 'em on! There was also a thin layer of tomato sauce that tied the whole thing together pretty well. And again, if you're gluten sensitive, you can eat this product and just pretend you're eating a regular pizza. It doesn't taste or feel like a gluten free option to me.

And because of that, I'm going to give this product 4 stars. Sonia gives it 4.5, stating that she wishes they sold a larger, family-size version of this pizza.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10 stars.

Trader Joe's Uncured Black Forest Bacon

There comes a time when you just have to be honest and come clean. That's me right now. As much as I've tried to delude myself into thinking I'm a vegetarian, as much as I've actually wanted to be a vegetarian, I no longer honestly refer to myself that way. I've tried living a more-or-less meatfree existence the past few months, partially for health reasons (I've dropped close to 40 pounds since January!), but man, meat keep sneaking it's way back in. At first I was okay with still eating fish and shrimp and stuff like that, so much more accurately, I was pescetarian. Then I tried the mantle of "gracious vegeterian", as in, if I'm somewhere for dinner and meat's what's for dinner, I will graciously accept that, I just won't choose to eat it if given the choice. That worked for a bit. Then...well...onwards and forwards and blah diddly blah blah, Sandy and I thought it'd be okay if we purchased a weekly "meat cheat" and since our last one was so severely disappointing, we had to make up for it this time around.

Hence the Trader Joe's Uncured Black Forest Bacon we picked up our last trip. Oh goodness. No picture I could take of the this bacon could truly do it justice. It's thick cut, with much more meat per slice than first glance, and dark and sweet and savory. Being semi-lazy and weary of grease spatter burn circles on my forearms, when making bacon I usually opt for the baking-in-the-over option. Though easier, it's also much easier to overbake and blacken, which is a death knell for many an inferior pork strip. Not so with these guys. Even when they got a little scorched, the crisp and crunch remained in tact, with the full flavor of sweet salty pork, without even a trace of it turning to charcoal. There's some other TJ bacon that I've enjoyed, and perhaps maybe it was more the previously bacon-less existence I led for far too long talking, but man, this was absolutely terrific and well worth the fivespot we dropped on the package.

It was after we cooked up the second go-around that Sandy and I came to the realization that yes, we cannot honestly call ourselves vegetarians. I think we're okay with that. We'll probably still skip it at least a few nights a week, so a little more intentional that just observing a Meatless Monday. I'm just glad we made this decision before heading up to Cleveland and hitting up the Westside Market because man....so much good looking meat there, we packed up a Styrofoam cooler to truck back down to the 'burgh, along with some TJ drinky drinks we'll review soon. Thanks, bacon, for being yummy and keeping us honest. Sandy goes with a four, as do I, plus an extra half-spoon just 'cause.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Uncured Black Forest Bacon: 8.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Peaches & Cream and Mango & Cream Yogurt Cups

Many moons ago, we took a look at Trader Joe's Blueberries & Cream and Vanilla & Cream yogurts. They were both deemed delicious, thick, and among the best-tasting yogurt products that we've ever tried from TJ's. This other yogurt duo has some things in common with the blueberry and vanilla, and a few differences.

Let's start with the commonalities. They're both beautifully-packaged, they're both ultra-thick and creamy, and they both have the word "and" mentioned three times in their product titles, though two out of the three are cleverly disguised as ampersands. They both come in small cups, but are still very filling.

But unlike the blueberry and vanilla combo, this one features two flavors that wind up being a little too similar. Mango really shouldn't taste that much like peach. But in this case, Sonia and I both felt that it did. It's not that we couldn't tell the difference between the two flavors, because we could...but the mango flavor seemed, well, just a little peachy. Also both flavors look the same, too. They're just slightly different variations on this pastel shade of orange...I guess it's tangerine? Or coral? Saffron maybe? Anyway, that's beside the point I guess...the point is, you almost have to look at the picture on the cup to figure out which yogurt you're eating.

Also beside the point is why "peaches" is plural and "mango" is singular. Is it because they used multiple peaches per cup but only one mango? My guess is that they went with "mango," singular, because they didn't know whether to spell the plural with an "e" or not: "mangos" or "mangoes." That zany mango presents quite a conundrum. 

And certainly, mango is the riskier of the two flavors. Peaches and cream is what started the whole "fruit and cream" craze. It's a classic. If you actually get the yogurt to taste vaguely of peaches and/or cream, you pretty much can't go wrong, and they nailed it. It's delicious. But in our opinion, the mango flavor tastes a bit like peaches and cream too. It's not like Trader Joe's doesn't know how to do mango. They've done mango gummies, mango juices, mango chocolates, and mango cereal, among other things. Just type in the keyword "mango" in the search box below the intro to our blog and four pages of mango-related products will pop up. And good or bad, virtually all of those products tasted like mango. But for once, Sonia and I actually wanted more mango flavor. And that's our biggest complaint.

But still, this is a great product overall. If you're looking for a thick, sweet, dessert-like yogurt, look no further. You don't even really have to like mango. You just have to like peaches and cream. Sonia gives this product 4 stars. I give it 3.5.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

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*Since the nutrition information is a little hard to see, here are some of the stats you might be missing: Total Carbs 20g, Fiber 0g, Sugars 17g, Protein 4g.

Trader Joe's Pomegranate & Blueberry Cereal

When it comes to Trader Joe's cereals, we've collectively only found one worthy of the Pantheon so far. And each half of the WG@TJ's team has found at least one offering that we can't wholeheartedly recommend, like the Twigs, Flakes, and Clusters or the Loaded Fruit and Nut Granola. 

This Pomegranate and Blueberry cereal is the only one in recent memory that falls right in the middle of those two categories. I highly recommend you try it if you're into pomegranates and blueberries, but I can't give you my personal guarantee like I might something in our Pantheon.

The flakes are hearty, rigid, and very crunchy—even more than I expected. They're borderline "scrape up the roof of your mouth" style flakes, and they're surprisingly sweet, coated in what I guess is "milled cane sugar." There was a decided lack of blueberries in my box, which is unfortunate, because they were my favorite part of the cereal. They're dried and slightly shriveled, but they taste like lightly-sweetened real blueberries...because that's what they are.

But the most pleasant surprises in the mix were the delicious crunchberry-esque wads of purplishness that I'm guessing are supposed to be pomegranate-flavored. To me, they tasted more like cherry, but either way, they were tasty. And yes, if you read the ingredients list, you'll note that there is both real freeze-dried pomegranate and cherry puree in this cereal. These lavender bunches crunch like clusters of granola, and they're both sweeter and more tart than you'd expect. Plus, unlike the elusive dried blueberries, these fruity chunks were omnipresent in the box.

The cereal stays crunchy until the end of the bowl, and while your milk won't turn super-purple, there are hundreds of flecks of dark blue floating around, and there's just enough sweetness to make it worth reliving your childhood, putting the bowl up to your lips, and chugging it dry.

Sonia gives this cereal 3.5 stars. I give it 4.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Trader Giotto's Bambino Pizza Formaggio

Back when I was a kid in elementary school, one of the highlights of the academic year was participating in the BOOK IT! program, which apparently still exists. It involved reading books for free pizza. Each student got an oversized button with 5 or 6 blank star-shaped spaces. For each book we'd read, we would receive a little star sticker to put on our button. We're not talking Crime and Punishment and Moby Dick, of course. We're talking Amelia Bedelia and Freckle Juice—books we'd be reading anyway, even if there weren't free food involved. 

So we'd read like mad in anticipation of our free personal pan pizza from the local Pizza Hut. On the day of redemption, we'd turn in that button at the pizza counter feeling like kings. The little round pizza would come out steaming hot, and it tasted better than any pizza we had ever had before, because we knew we earned it.

These Bambino pizzas from TJ's remind me of those personal pan pizzas from pizza hut in size, shape, and appearance, but the flavor is a little more grown-up. They taste just like really good Sicilian-style pizza with plenty of Italian herbs and spices in the mix. Although, I must say that unlike the picture on the packaging, you can't really see flecks of green herbs (I guess that's oregano?) all scattered across the tops of the pizzas. You can taste it, but you can't see it.

Each Bambino pizza is about the size of one large slice of pizza, so if you're having this for dinner, you can probably count on each person eating at least two. They come in two individually wrapped packages of two pizzas a piece. I like my crust fairly crispy, so I wound up leaving my pizzas in the oven for a minute or two longer than the instructions called for, but other than that, the baking time was spot on. Like most other frozen pizzas, I simply can't imagine these being half as good if cooked in the microwave.

If you're a fan of Sicilian pizza, check these out. I was really happy with the texture and taste, and I give them 4.5 stars. Sonia will give them a 4.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Organic Strawberry Lemonade

It's tough to type this without it sounding like a out-and-out whiny complaint, but maaaaaan July and August in Pittsburgh are fairly unpleasant. It's all about the humidity. It's atrocious. For the past couple days as I've left for work at about 8 a.m., it's felt like I've left the comfort of my home and stepped straight into a vaporous incarnation of a sponge hot hot and fresh from the dishwasher. Our power went out twice last week for hours, leaving us in a hot sticky mess where the usual standing order for goodnight hugs and baby snuggles were temporarily suspended for sheer survival's sake. Ugh. It's just bad. At the same time, I realize I could live somewhere else that would be prone to tornadoes or wildfires or massive widespread flooding, and my heart goes out to all communities affected by all those recently, especially Prescott, AZ. In the grand scheme,a couple months of hot steamy mugginess in the summer is not a bad truce to have with Mother Nature. I'm just glad for when those times come, God invented air conditioning.

I'm also glad he invented Trader Joe's Organic Strawberry Lemonade for these summer months. At the very least I can say he inspired those who manufacture this delicious concoction, as I believe it is truly the product of inspired divinity.

How can anything possibly taste this impossibly good? It's improbably perfect. Every sip has the proper balance of tart lemony citrus and sweet sugary strawberry that blends together in a smooth, cool, refreshing taste that however temporarily brings it all down a few degrees. And this ain't wimpy stuff, oh no. It's potent and unrelenting in it's powerful tastiness.  I tell you, it's addicting and highly chuggable for those in search of liquid refreshment. Heck, I don't even want to stop there. When I rule the world, or at least the local waterpark, I will replace all water with this lemonade. Can I wade into a wavepool churning and swaying with strawberry lemonade? Can I coast down a long twisty turny waterslide (err, lemonade slide) and splash land at the bottom, face-first mouth-open? Can I grab an innertube and float down a lazy river armed with just a swimsuit, shades, and an extra long straw for the occasional sip? Believe me, if I could, I would. It's so impeccably funktastalicioso that I'll overlook the "black carrot concentrate" added "for color" and wonder how in the h-e-double Bendi straw that works. And it almost goes without saying that add some booze and ice cubes for the adults or freeze it into some popsicles for the kiddos, and you get yourself one cool treat.

Obviously, I'm about as high on the strawberry lemonade as I can be. I think the wife and I have bought it four times thus far this summer, and seeing as that we're currently out, I'm beginning to get the DTs from withdrawal. That's just me, as Sandy's not nearly the aficionado that I am. "Eh, it's just lemonade to me," she says. That's like saying the Beatles were just a pop band or that, for his time and era, Jonathan Taylor Thomas was just another child actor. Sandy continues, "It's not like 'Ermergerd, it's strerberry lermernerde!'" It hurt just typing that, yeesh. She gave it a mere three. I file my five in protest, as this may be one of the best drinks Trader Joe's carries. Better than sweet tea. Better than the Arnold Palmer. Better than the vintage root beer, and way better than this primordial green ooze. Yums all the way around in my little world.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Organic Strawberry Lemonade: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons       

Trader Joe's Sliced Halloumi Cheese

Well, hello there. The past few weeks for the Western PA half of the WGaTJ's team have been, in a word or two, a little nutso. Start with my old laptop dying literally as I pounded out the final words of my last review a few weeks ago. Add in putting on the final touches of getting our house ready to be put on the market (which it finally is!) and driving a little over 2,000 mostly soggy miles in about 8 days for a little vacation up to Vermont and back. Then it was enduring a couple atypically crazy weeks at work and needing some funds to procure a new laptop and....well, yeah it's been a while since posting. Sorry for the lull, but I've found some great little TJ's goodies in the past few weeks, so I'll be making up for that. Thanks, Nathan, for holding down the fort. It's good to be back.

One of those goodies I came across, courtesy of my baby sister (a recent TJ's convert), was Trader Joe's Sliced Halloumi Cheese. My goodness. "A grilling cheese." I've never heard of such a thing. There's grilled cheese, of course. I'm almost 31 years old, and that's still almost a weekly staple. And then there's one of my favorite things, which is melted then crispied cheese, like the slighty burned edges of homemade mac 'n cheese. But a grilling cheese? Can't say I've heard of it.

But maaaaaaaaaan is it good. As you can see, the halloumi in fact grills up and gets a little browned and charred with minimal (if any) melting. By what power of Zeus is such a thing even possible? The Cyprus folks who invented this are pure men/women of genius. It's a very mild tasting cheese, fairly similar to mozzarella, but certainly isn't as soft. It's tougher, heavier and meatier, with a touch of crumbliness to it. Alongside our burgers, cold beers and grilled peppers, onions and eggplant, the halloumi was a perfect part of a terrific dinner we had on an overnight pit stop at my parents' house as we trekked back to Pittsburgh. My sister, who is pastry extraordinaire by day and an excellent all-around chef, says she picks this up quite often for either grilling big hunks of it (like ho we enjoyed it) or frying some up to put in some salad or pasta. I'm thinking that it would be a great match for a dish with sundried tomatoes and fresh herbs. Sis, if you're reading this, leave a comment or two with some of your recommendations.

There's only one sad thing I can say about the halloumi: like too many other good products that most of the TJ's-lovin' world gets to regularly enjoy (ahem, especially those alcohol related ones), it's not freakin' available at the East End Pittsburgh shop I frequent. Believe me, I scoured the otherwise rather expansive cheese selection for it, high and low, and didn't see it. Being a guy, I was too prideful to ask, but this really needs to be available locally, because I'm craving it again. Until then, I must dream sweet, cheesy dreams about a cheese that chars and doesn't melt. As will Sandy. "Mmmm, cheeeeeeeese...." is about all she could say until the expression on her face switched to one of pure, transfixed serenity as she recalled the fond tasty frolics she and the halloumi had together. I'm kinda surpised she gave it only a four. I'm going 4.5.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Sliced Halloumi Cheese: 8.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons  

Trader Joe's Gluten Free Chocolate Cupcakes with Buttercream Frosting

Of all the gluten-free baked goods we've tried so far, I would have to say the Macarons and the Snickerdoodles have been the best.

In the case of the macarons, there's a texture we're not used to eating all the time. It's a uniquely "macaron" or "macaroon" texture. And, personally, I've had way more macarons from TJ's than from anywhere else. But in the case of the snickerdoodles, they approximated a very "normal" texture without using gluten. It's harder to imitate something that's usually made with gluten than it is to just make something different.

So making a gluten free cupcake seems like it should be pretty close to impossible. But I've gotta say, they came incredibly close.

Once again, they nailed the flavor of a chocolate cupcake. I personally liked the frosting, too, although Sonia thinks it was too heavy for her tastes. I must admit, it was thick and very buttery. But it had a nice vanilla taste, and it blended well with the chocolate cake.

The cake part was super-moist. It broke apart in the same way any chocolate cake would, but once you started chewing it, there was just a tiny hint of what I might call "starchiness." It's like portions of the cake crumbs wanted to stick together just a hair more than with a glutenful cupcake that perfectly "melts in your mouth." But that's nitpicking. Really. The effect was very subtle, and if I hadn't already known that these were gluten-free cupcakes, I might not have noticed it. I think it's gotta be the "potato starch" that you can see there in the ingredients list photo, which wound up looking like the culinary equivalent of an American Apparel ad. I washed it all down with a tasty caramel latte, and my tummy was a happy camper. And sure enough, my stomach didn't puff up the way it does when I eat regular cupcakes. I should probably do this gluten-free thing full time. With products like these, I wouldn't feel like I'm giving up the world.

The checkout guy at Trader Joe's exclaimed, "Enjoy the cupcakes. They're excellent!" when I bought them. He's certainly not wrong. Sonia's only complaint was the heaviness of the buttercream, although I was a fan of the icing. And my only complaint is the oh-so-barely-there weirdness of the cake texture. Definitely, if you're eating gluten-free out of necessity, these cupcakes will be your friends.

Sonia gives them 4 stars. I think they're worthy of a 4.5.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Barbeque Popped Potato Chips

Picking up on the success of PopChips, TJ's has, predictably, offered their own version of a "popped" chip. And I must say I'm just as much a fan of Trader Joe's brand as I am the original. They're neither baked nor fried. They're simply popped in a pressure cooker of sorts. The back of the bag says they take potato slices and "apply heat and pressure." The same could be said for the butt of my pants every time I sit down—minus the potato part of course—but that's never generated anything as snacktacular as these little BBQ chips.

The chips are very round and flat, and they're super-crunchable. They're light, airy, and they do taste slightly of actual potatoes. You know, I really wish they would call them POPtato chips. I think that's the proper way to market these fellas. "Poptato Chips." Yep. I will expect my check in the mail, TJ's. You're welcome for the idea.

But the best part about these little guys is their barbecue flavor. It's really tangy, and it mixes well with the potato taste. Somehow it's way better than the taste you would get just by dumping a bunch of barbecue sauce on a baked potato. Just recently, I had the misfortune of sampling a really, really revolting BBQ flavored chip, so these, in contrast, seemed even more tasty than they might have without the Honey Barbecue Ribs Chips as a reference point.

TJ's has done potato chips in the past, but these aren't traditional chips. Plus, these guys won't weigh you down. They're relatively low in fat and calories for a potato chip, and that's something my gut and I are always thankful for.

Sonia was blown away by them, too. 4.5 stars from her. 4.5 stars from me.

Bottom line: 9 out of 10.