Trader Joe's Sour Gummies T's & J's

Ah, Sour Patch Kids. The American standard for tooth-rotting, roof-of-mouth-irritating, zero nutritional value, sugary, soury sweetness—an institution nearly as deeply-rooted in our junk food culture as Coke or McDonald's. As a boy, I'd go through a box of them during the course of a two hour movie at the theater. (Needless to say the local dentist made a fortune off of me). I remember my mouth watering as I'd tear open the packaging. Sour Patch Kids—the paradigm of sour gummy candy on Earth. Until now.

Sweetened with cane sugar and natural fruit flavors, Trader Joe's has offered us these "T's" and "J's" as their answer to the classic sour gummy candy. And it's a stellar effort, in my humble opinion. TJ's has done gummy candy before, and we've reviewed it here at least twice. But this product is truly my favorite. I don't just mean from TJ's...and I don't just mean sour gummy candy. I think this is the best gummy candy I've ever had. Strong words, indeed.

Let's start with the texture. The candy is nice and soft. If anything, I'd say it's just a hint softer and more pliable than your traditional Sour Patch Kid or sour gummy worm. Each piece is coated in the familiar "sour sugar" that graces the exterior of most classic sour gummies. It falls off just as easily—and it still irritates the roof of my mouth, although maybe not quite as much as other sour gummies...? That might just be because I didn't eat the whole bag in one sitting as I did in years past. The letters are nice and flexible, long and thin. If you're so inclined to suck on the candy and get that super tart start and then a sweet finish, I swear that since there's a bit of increased surface area on each gummy, that they dissolve faster and deliver more taste than your traditional Sour Patch Kids, which are basically just oblong slabs vaguely molded to resemble weird little zombie children. All that to say that I think these candies are optimized for maximum flavor-delivery from a geometry standpoint...amiright? Russ isn't convinced.

Flavor-wise, they taste more natural than most sour gummies. That might not be saying much, but there was always a weird glaze and aftertaste that would hang around in my mouth long after the box of Sour Patch was gone.  Also, TJ's choice of flavors is a bit more refined than your average pack of sour gummies: tangerine, grapefruit, lemon, and lime. It took me a while to figure out which flavor matched with which color. I figured out that the deep reddish color must be grapefruit. I think they were going for a ruby red vibe. The orange-ish color is tangerine. The colors of the lemon and lime flavors are nearly indistinguishable from one another, but I think one has a delicate green hue you can detect in certain light.

I really have no complaints about this candy. Sonia loved them too. There's even a resealable bag to keep them fresh (which does help one avoid the temptation to consume the entire bag all at once). If I were comparing this to Cookie Butter Ice Cream or Chicken Tikka Masala, I might not hold them in such high esteem. But I'm comparing them to every other gummy candy I've ever had, so I can't deny them a near-perfect score. Sonia agrees. 4.5 stars from each of us.

Bottom line: 9 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Quinoa Cowboy Veggie Burgers

Thanks to the Hawaiian-themed grocery store called Trader Joe's, vegetarian cowboys are now a thing. What vegetarianism and cowboys have to do with the overall tropical island theme of the store, I'm not quite certain. But we've seen at least one other vegetarian cowboy-themed product, not to mention candy fit for cowboys and cowgirls, too. 

I guess there's something earthy about cowboys—and there's something earthy about vegetarians and vegans as well. TJ's is just tying that all together for us. Or maybe they're aiming to challenge that stereotype of vegetarians being weaker than meat-eaters (I don't subscribe to that notion, by the way) by uniting it with the rugged machismo of the old western frontier. Regardless of all that, I'm fairly certain that more urban-dwelling hipsters will wind up eating this product than actual cattle-ropin' cowboys, if only because there aren't many TJ's in the middle of cattle country.

Yet still, it's an amazing product. It's like a spicy black bean burger with chunky salsa cooked right into the "meat." It's not really one of those fake meat burgers that's desperately trying to taste like beef, so if it's a true burger you're craving, I say look elsewhere. But if you're adventurous and wanting something new, I'd encourage you to check this out. It takes the whole veggie burger thing one step further in terms of taste and texture. Not only is there quinoa mixed in with the black bean base, but there are chunks of peppers, corn, and whole black beans in the mix. It's a complex, hearty flavor with a slightly spicy southwestern vibe. I ate mine with a slice of asiago cheese and it blended perfectly. I mused about which condiments, if any, to throw on, and decided to eat it plain in the end. I'm a big fan of ketchup and mustard on almost anything that calls itself a burger, but in this case, I'd add a bit of extra hot salsa, if anything—but that's just my opinion.

We cooked ours on the stovetop in a tiny pool of olive oil. It came out firmer and crispier on the outside than on the inside, and overall, the product was a bit soft. If not held together by a bun, it might have fallen apart very easily. There's more substance in the peppers, corn, and beans than in the base of the burger itself—but still, I can't complain, since the aforementioned chunky ingredients were plentiful throughout.

All in all, it's not a great approximation of an actual beef hamburger, particularly in the texture department, but a delicious vegetarian lunch or dinner nonetheless. At $3.69 for four patties, it's a good value also. I'm always on the lookout for something unique and new, and this burger didn't disappoint. All you rugged vegetarian cowboys, saddle up!

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Gluten Free Whole Grain Bread

As I sit here composing this blog post, I am, rather hypocritically, eating a non-gluten-free slice of pizza. And although I was diagnosed with a low-level wheat allergy as a child, I have never been instructed to follow a gluten-free diet, and I don't suffer from celiac disease or any other condition that would necessitate a gluten-free diet, at least as far as I know. 

Yet I can feel my stomach puffing up slightly, causing mild discomfort, as I consume my early dinner. Weirdly, both Sonia and I experience this phenomenon when we eat glutenful grains and traditional wheat-based products. Not so when we eat gluten-free.

So why don't we eat gluten-free all the time, you ask—aside from the need to review glutentastic products every once in a while? Habit, mostly. Cost is also a factor. You can buy traditional whole wheat bread for just over a buck, but this loaf of gluten-free goodness, for example, will run you about $4.50. It won't break the bank, but unless it's absolutely necessary, it's hard for me to justify spending four and a half times as much for essentially the same product.

But to be fair, it's NOT the same product—particularly for those of you who eat gluten-free out of absolute necessity. I'm sure for you guys, a couple of bucks is a small price to pay to enjoy sliced sandwich bread—something the rest of us take for granted each and every day. And I would say this gluten-free bread is the closest we've had to actual wheat-based white sandwich bread to date. Both look similar, toast well, and make great sandwiches. Taste-wise, I think I actually prefer this gluten free bread. It has a great nutty essence about it that you won't get from cheap old Sunbeam or what have you—toasting it brings out this nuttiness even more. It's somewhat similar to a multigrain artisan bread in terms of flavor, but not quite as complex.

Texture-wise, it's definitely stiffer than traditional white sandwich bread, but not at all unpleasant. Sonia states that it's "fluffier" than millet bread or brown rice bread, which in her opinion, makes this product superior. I'll admit that the texture of this bread is closer to that of traditional bread, but I've always enjoyed the thickness and firmness of millet and brown rice toast.

This bread is great for making sandwiches, with butter and fruit spread, or even just by itself. We've got no major complaints about the taste or texture, and we love eating stuff that doesn't make us feel all bloated and weird. I'm sure celiac, IBD, and Crohn's sufferers have their favorite stand-by sandwich breads already—like Udi's and such. For all I know, this may be a repackaging of some third party's brand that many of you have already tried. But if you're on a gluten-free diet and shopping at TJ's, Sonia and I both think this bread is worth a whirl. As the back of the packaging points out, the best thing since sliced bread...is gluten free sliced bread. Four stars a piece.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Sriracha Sauce

Kinda disappointingly, there's no great or even interesting story behind why the famed Huy Fong brand of sriracha sauce is also called "rooster sauce." it's just because they have a rooster on the bottle. Why? Who knows. Why is there a lemur on one of my favorite teas? Does it matter? probably not. But here's a cool tidbit I found: Huy Fong sells over 20 million bottles of sriracha sauce every year. Their advertising budget: $0. Sweet, spicy profit. Cha-ching!

So, there's no rooster on Trader Joe's Sriracha Sauce. Can't call it rooster sauce then. But there's a dragon, so...dragon sauce? I don't know. Sounds kinda lame. But better than an alternate name for rooster sauce that I'd rather not type out for fear of sounding too crude. We try to be family friendly here.

Anyways, the animal decoration of choice isn't the only difference between the typical and the TJ's version. First things first, there's the consistency. Not that sriracha is generally all that chunky, but there's a micro-chunkiness to it, in some ways. Not TJ's. It's as smooooooooth as a freshly greased Justin Timberlake. No glop. No plop. It just squeezes right out of the bottle when provoked and doesn't even make that awful gassy sound that make me hate squeeze bottles. I'm not sure if the textural difference is an overall plus or minus, but the lack of fart noises when trying to enjoy my dinner is an absolute plus.

Then there's also the taste. Maybe I've dabbled too much in the sriracha-derived condiment world to remember what sriracha actually, truly tastes like in an unadulterated state, but...this stuff tastes sweet. Like, really sweet. Don't get me wrong, there's a good chili wallop that can be sinus-clearing worthy but...I taste a lot of sugar too. With sugar being a key ingredient in fermentation, and fermentation being one of the main steps for sriracha production, I'm thinking that perhaps there's something different going on here, but I can't quite figure it out what it exactly would be. Maybe it's a fume-free process - the factory neighbors would be grateful. Don't know.

Still, there's enough here to like overall. I've paired the sriracha with grilled chicken wings, eggs, sweet potatoes...all with good results. Sandy mixed some up with soy sauce, garlic, brown sugar, and probably another ingredient or two for a shrimp and broccoli stir fry the other night that was deeeeeeelicious. Good taste, with good flavor profile, just a little extra sweet with the heat. I will add that the following day after ingestion, there have been some mild digestive side effects that I will not elaborate on (yet again in fear of sounding crude). I will instead invite you to listen to this classic tune by Johnny Cash. Anyways, for no more than a coupe bucks for the bottle, this sriracha was a good buy which will be repeated.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Sriracha Sauce: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons.

Trader Joe's Cocoa Dusted Truffles with Toffee Bits

With a couple exceptions here or there, as a rule I don't write or talk too much about my kiddos on here. No particular reason why, except maybe I'm eternally grateful that my mom 'n dad didn't detail all my little kid foibles for all the world to know when I was wee lad. Well, today I'll let you in on a few little verbal treats that my older daughter, M, has laid on me recently. Keep in mind, she's still a couple months away from turning three. When I told her it was time to go brush her teeth: "Maybe you can go brush yo' teef by yo'self and I go hide." When I told her that she was going to wear tights on one particular day despite her protests but could wear pants the next: "Well maybe I will go pee-pee in my tights today so I can wear pants today." One last one, from when I said she would be a good mama one day because of how good care she took of her little sister (Baby B, just a few months old): "No I don't want to be a mama, cuz soon I will turn into a boy and then I will be Daniel Tiger!"

Seriously, that girl.

It was her cute toddler persistence that led us to buy these Trader Joe's Cocoa Dusted Truffles with toffee Bits. Every shopping trip we let her pick out a treat. I can only presume the packaging caught her eyes as she exclaimed "Oooooh I want that one! Pwease?" Of course, she can't read yet, so it might have contained sardines for all she knew. We asked her if she knew what it was. "No, but I like it already!" Well, okay, little love.

Turns out she knows how to pick them. These truffles were quite the hit over several nights at our house. In all, they're pretty basic: a milk chocolate candy shell with a cocoa coating, with rich choco-filling with a little hint of toffee here and there. I apologize for neglecting to take a picture of the actual candy, but for an adult they're pretty much bite sized - for M they were big enough for a multitude of nibbles and face smears. Eh, whatever. They certainly pack a pretty good chocolate wallop, especially with the filling. If the coating were dark chocolate (my general preference) instead of milk, these morsels would probably be too rich to truly enjoy. As they are, we were all usually happy enough to stop at one, maybe two for an after dinner treat.

Still, there's something missing: the toffee. It just wasn't all that present, and more of it would be a welcome addition for helping add a little more flavor depth and textural difference. When I happened across a crumble of it here and there, man, was it good - could just use more of it.

M, though? Loved them. They were her choice for an after-dinner treat every night we had them - "Can we have the treat I picked at Trader Joe's?" she'd ask in the sweetest way. For a little added parental bonus, these truffles were an awesome eat-your-dinner motivator. When asked after explaining to her the point scale, she gave these truffles an earnest five. Could be because that's also her favorite number. Eh, I'll take it. When asked what she liked about them, she exclaimed "Because they taste like blueberries! Hahahaha!" Err, well, okay then. Sandy and I enjoyed them too, just need some more toffee. Still, not a bad treat at all.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Cocoa Dusted Truffles with Toffee Bits: 8.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's South African Inspired Biltong Beef Jerky

Conceivably, there's any number of ways to start off a review regarding beef jerky, so let's do something a little unexpected here: respect for vegetarians. No, seriously, I mean it. Can't speak for all vegetarians, for their any number of reasons for deciding to eschew meat, but for me, who's dabbled in it: it's tough. At least was for me. I've given meat up for a length of time during Lent, and for also about a six month period a couple years back (primarily for weight loss reasons - I was a big boy), but it's just kept bringing me back. Fortunately, I've figured out a way that works for me to incorporate mucho carne* into my diet and still lose considerable weight - namely, Paleo. I get the arguments for a plant-based diet and I know that going Paleo, in careless application,  can mean too much meat overall, looking at it realistically from an evolutionary standpoint, but...I needed to find something that worked for me to get me healthier, which primarily for me means losing a lot of weight (I've lost about seventy since last August). Vegetarianism was great, in a lot of ways, but in the end wasn't for me. Paleo, despite forgoing lots of former favorites like cheese and bread (oh grilled cheese, how I miss you - if you're in/near the 'burgh, check out this place), does. If you're on a similar journey, I hope you find what works for you and you stick to it - lots of hard work but it's so, so worth it.

All this to say: palatable portable protein is a must for my busy schedule. I don't get it often, but I love good quality jerky, so when Trader Joe's debuts some South African Inspired Biltong Beef Jerky, I gotta give it a try.

This isn't quite like most jerkies I've had. Instead of indiscriminate chunks or (shudder) Slim Jim style, the beef for the biltong is cut into neat little strips. The write up on the back says it's from the rump, cut following the grain of the muscle. I'm not all that up on my cuts of meat to know if that's different than most jerky, but I will say this style is noticeably tougher and chewier than most. There's also not nearly as much fat as would be expected from bovine posterior,not that jerky has all that much usually anyways, resulting in lean, tough meat that will get your teeth working to get through. Almost more venison like in some ways. This is a plus - while I can easily overdose on other jerky, this was too much to eat more than couple strands at a time.

The seasoning's a bit different, too. Instead of being marinated in a bath of whatever with little to nothing on the exterior, each piece of the biltong is liberally coated with a thick dusting of spices - lots of pepper and garlic, and yes, salt. To my recollection, the seasoning tasted pretty similar to what's on the South African potato chips, but it seemed deeper and fuller with its beefy base.

As with most jerky I try, I had my work buddy, Alan, give it a try too. Now, he's actually been to southern Africa and has stated he lived on biltong and Coca-Cola for about three weeks, so I'll trust his opinion more than mine. "Hrmm," he said, giving the first bite a chew. "The texture's just about perfectly right, but the seasoning...." He looked on the back of the bag. "I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that where I was, there wasn't Worcestershire sauce. Or apple cider vinegar." Probably true. "Not bad, just needs some bloodborne pathogens and the occasional maggot, and it'd be somewhat close enough to what I got from the market in Africa. But it's been a while."

Well, he liked it, I like it, heck, even the wife (usually ambivalent about things like beef jerky) liked it too. "Heck, whenever you'll buy it, I'll eat it," she said, which is about as ringing an endorsement I could expect from her. Like most TJ jerkies, the biltong was in the roughly $6 range for the quarter-pound package. It won't be an everytime pickup, but this will definitely be in the work snack rotation going forward.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's South African Inspired Biltong Beef Jerky: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons 
----------------------------------------
* Sorta. Still learning the whole "portion control" thing - have gotten much better, but still.

Trader Joe's Tropical Mango Pineapple Salsa

One of the perks of my moonlight gig as one of the nation's foremast amateur-hack foodie reviewers of all-things-Trader-Joe's is getting to hear from friends, family and colleagues about whatever they've tried from TJ's. I get some of my best tips this way. In particular, I love hearing from recent Trader Joe's converts too - heck, anything they can get excited about, I figure it's worthwhile. The store hooked me with fake meat, of all things, so I'm willing to try most anything that gets a newbie's heartstrings.

Except...Trader Joe's Tropical Mango Pineapple Salsa. Chrissy, one of my supervisors at my real job, came up to me a few weeks back after visiting the new North Hills Pittsburgh TJ's all worked up about this particular dip. Unlike almost anything else she says (promise, Chrissy!), I kinda let this go in one ear, bounce off something hard, and go back out. I have theories for this: Was still working on the first cup of coffee. Heard "mango pineapple" which somehow translated to "peach" in my head (not a fan of the TJ's brand). Not a fan of fruity salsas in general anyways. Like my usual go-to too much to deviate too far off course. Had to get those TPS reports done before taking the printer out to the field with a baseball bat. You know how it is.

Alas, it ended up in my cart the other day anyways, courtesy of the wife. No tomatoes equals a winner in her book right off the bat, and she wanted a little "something different" to go with some chips, veggies, and sausages for dinner. Fine, I said. Sigh. Fine.

Man, was I wrong.

Listen, I'm not gonna say this is the best salsa I've ever had. But, coming from a guy who doesn't like fruity salsa, this stuff is freaking delish. Fo' reals. It's thick and chunky but soft and plenty goopy from the agave syrup base, which had me apprehensive at first. I mean, that's a lot of fruit to begin with, and add in a sugary base? I thought it'd taste like candy salsa. Nawww. There's plenty to balance out all the sweetness - good bite from cilantro, some onion pungency, good jalapeno spice - that it all works out really well. There's a lot of the sweet upfront but plenty of spice with hangtime, if you know what I mean.

Still, it seems to me that the agave syrup was a bit much, but that being said, I can't offer a viable alternative at the moment. There's just a smidge too much sugar in there that coats everything, but the rest is so good, and so fresh tasting, that I can't mount too much complaint. You'll find this for $2.99 in the refrigerated section, not with the jarred variety, and tastes like it'll be a constant companion for summery snacking. Chrissy, the boss lady, loves this stuff enough to give it a five, with only the small caveat she wished there was a little less onion but everything else was "perfectly balanced." My other boss lady, I mean my wife, states more or less the same giving it a four. My score would nestle itself somewhere in there as well, so with some fuzzy math, we're gonna call it almost Pantheon worthy.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Tropical Mango Pineapple Salsa: 9 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Soft & Juicy Mandarins

So, everyone has their own little pet irrational fears, right? I sure do. My big one is being buried alive. No idea where that one comes from...but just imagine the horror. No. Not going there. This scene from Kill Bill alternately inspires and scares the living bejeezus out of me. When I've shuffled off this mortal coil (or, aheam, appeared to have enough), cremate me, please. I wish to take no chances.

To a much lesser (though perhaps more realistic) extent: Scurvy. Not that I have a great grasp of what it actually is. But it just sounds so...unpleasant. And it can be deadly. Or maybe just mostly deadly, just enough for everyone to think you've crossed over to the other side, have your burial, just for you to wake up...ugh, there I go again.

Anyways, scurvy adversion must be high on my priority list, because I love me some citrus, especially mandarins and clementines and all sorts of goodies chock full of Vitamin C. At family meals where clementines are present (like a holiday brunch), it's not uncommon for me to chow down at least four while wondering how many more I can sneak without my mom or sister-in-law giving me the stinkeye. It's practically tradition at this point.

Here's another great way to enjoy them: Trader Joe's Soft & Juicy Mandarins. No peeling. No sticky fingers. No random juice puddles, and the chances of a stragglin' seed are pretty slim. No potentially offensive odors (I have a coworker who has a reaction to even the smell of oranges). Just soft, juicy, ultra sweet mandarin sections.

Each piece, though dried and tissue-y feeling on the outside, still has a fair amount of squish inside. It's not like the firm flesh of a fresh fruit, of course, but that nice dried feel, like a dried apricot. With a little imagination, like a big, soft jelly bean or so I told myself eating them over the past week or so while the coworkers were passing around the Jelly Bellies. A lot of the natural flavor comes through, too - so sweet and tart, like a fresh segment - despite the added sugar that I somehow missed in the initial version of this post. Ugh. Why do that to some perfectly good fruit? Or add sulfur to preserve? I'd prefer neither to be there, but the end result (unlike these abominations) is tasty enough that I don't wish to create a huge fuss about it either. Edit, note, and move on.

Anyways, it defintiely takes some restraint for me to not eat the whole bag over the course of just a shift or two at work. It's an easy reachable munchie that's pretty darn healthy, for a good price too (about $3). The soft 'n juicy mandarins are tentatively joining my usual work snack rotation - oh, if not for the added sugar... Sandy likes 'em quite a bit too just for their kinda-candy-but-not vibe and quick bite pick me up value.She gives them a four, while I have to slide in a little lower.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Soft & Juicy Mandarins: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's To the Power of Seven Organic Juice Blend

Has it really been five long months since our last beverage review? It's high time we checked out some of TJ's luscious new liquids. I'm gonna skip a lengthy list of links to our favorite drinks and just direct you here: our "beverages" label (always available, for your convenience, in the right side bar). By my quick count, it looks like we've collectively reviewed 70+ beverages right here on this blog. With only a handful of exceptions, I would venture to say TJ's brand juices generally receive favorable reviews from us, with their price tag often being the biggest reason we don't make repeat purchases.

But you get what you pay for. This juice blend is no exception. $4 for 33.8 ounces isn't the highest cost:juice ratio we've ever seen, but this is darn close to the best-tasting, highest quality juice I've ever had. Every one of the seven juices is certified organic: everything from the good old-fashioned grape juice to the intriguing "purple carrot" juice.

Most juice blends like this wind up tasting like some variety of Juicy Juice or an Ocean Spray concoction that I've already had. Not this. It tastes unique to my tongue. I assume, like many other products, that there's a third party that produces this blend and most likely markets it under some different label in other stores, but I couldn't tell you who that is (Perhaps some kind reader will enlighten us in the comments).

It's refreshing, sweet, and fruity, but not syrupy. If I had to nail down one predominant flavor, I guess I'd say cherry, but it's much more complex than the other cherry juice products we've seen from TJ's. One can't readily taste the carrot juice, in the manner of a V8 Splash beverage—don't get me wrong, I think the vegetable juices in those V8 blends work, I just think they blend a little more seamlessly in this case.

 

The texture is medium-thin, smooth, and not at all pulpy or gritty. It's not from concentrate. Even the deep dark red color is beautiful and mesmerizing like a fine wine. There's minimal residue and aftertaste, and it goes down nice and easy. Sonia gives it four stars. I'm giving it four and a half—and an enthusiastic thumbs up.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Baconesque White Cheddar Popcorn

Here's a recent realization: Trader Joe's is as bad as Target. You know what I mean. You go to Target for some toiletries, some cleaning stuff, and maybe a snack, and instead you walk out with an extra hundred dollars worth of stuff you never intended to buy - that cute kids outfit, the clearance rack finds, the hey-look-this-is-on-sale junk. Happens to us over and over again. There's so no such thing as going to Target for just one or two things, there's at least a couple extra things that will somehow sneak into your cart.

Same way with TJ's. Case in point: I made a quick stop there on Thursday morning last week to simply get some cheesecake bites for my wife's work function that night, and a bag of apples for me. That's it, I said, nothing else. When our shopping list at TJ's is the shortest is when we tend to get the most stuff, somehow, and I was going to stick just those two things, but wait a second....

How can I pass up Trader Joe's Baconesque White Cheddar Popcorn? Look at that awesome packaging! And it contains bacon! Or at least bacon-like substance! And it's popcorn! If Sandy knew I passed this up, boy oh boy, would I be in trouble, right? Fortunately, at $1.99, it's a pretty mild splurge.

And darn it, is it one worthwhile one. Sandy and I cracked this open in the car, and in the less than 10 minutes we spent in transit between TJ's and her work, early in the morning, we ate half the dang bag. No lie. It was kinda strange, though - when we first ripped the bag open and gave it a whiff, hoping to partake in a deep olfactory experience of all that is "baconesque" - we were met with little to nothing. Instead it smelled just like regular white cheddar popcorn, which is a yummy smell, however, by definition is baconly barren. But once we popped in our mouths, that's where the bacon experience began. Granted, it didn't taste exactly like some bacon right off the griddle (it's impossible to replicate that), but it had a lot of the same essence - the smokiness, the saltiness, a little mesquite. Combine that with the white cheddar (typical of the genre) and it makes an intoxicatingly good flavor combo that's balanced out. I for one really enjoyed how the smokiness cut through the cheesiness and added depth to the flavor profile. Although a serving contains a lot of salt, I'm kind of surprised each bite didn't taste saltier than it did, as it didn't taste like sodium overloadium. Each kernel was appropriately fluffy and firm, without too many (if any) widows.

My goodness. This is such a brilliant snack idea - why did this take so long? And it's easy too. About the only better idea than bacon popcorn would be something like popcorn bacon - hey, they have popcorn shrimp and popcorn chicken, why not an easily assessable and mobile munchable bacon? I suppose bacon jerky could fill that void, which if you can stand the heat, TJ's has a ridiculously delicious one. Hmm...maybe if there's a way to get actual bacon in here...I digress.

The bacon flavoring does one heckuva bang up job. And the bonus is - the deeper into the bag you get, the more baconlicious it gets. Trust me, the last handful I dumped straight from the bag into my mouth was close to pure heaven, and it'd be worth all sorts of domestic unrest for me to get it. If a Partially Popped Popcorn version comes out, hypertension, here I come. The Baconesque will be one of those danger purchases for us regardless - it'd take a miracle for a bag to last more than few hours around here, and to put that in perspective, we've had those cookie butter cheesecake bites haf finished in our freezer for over a week now. This is some seriously good, borderline Pantheon-worthy popcorn. Proceed at you own risk.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Baconesque White Cheddar Popcorn: 9 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Partially Popped Popcorn

"Oooooh these are going to be trouble," Sandy said the other night when we finally ripped the bag of Trader Joe's Partially Popped Popcorn open. "You know this is gonna be good."

No doubt, wifey. Few things beat out popcorn made on a stove top, but one thing that can, at least for her, is the all the leftover little kernels that didn't quite pop in time. The "widows," as I've heard some people call them. For me, I find them a little too hard and crunchy to truly enjoy. It also might be that I'm too mindful of the dollars I've invested in my mouth to keep it semi-functional and toothache free. I like the idea, though, and the Partially Popped Popcorn packaging promised them to be "easier on the jaw," so these were a must buy on our last trip, along with that new-fangled cookie butter confection all you kids are raving about.

Now, I'd have no idea how to even make such an item possible, but fortunately, Trader Joe's provides a patent number and Google provides the rest. Here's Patent US7579036. If I'm reading this correctly, the corn kernel gets soaked to a certain moisture point before popping. The result? The patented popping protocol produces palatable partially popped popcorn precisely perfect for perfunctory party or proper peaceful powwow pickings. Phew.

By that, I mean, these are some seriously snackable suckers. It's been a while since I've had a bad case of trigger food syndrome, but these brought it back. First, the crunch and texture. They're much unlike the Peruvian corn we reviewed a few months back (think: mummified maize), but instead hold very true to the kernel. Yet, there's the edge taken off, and what's more, while still very crunchy, the inside has a softer fluff to it. I was going to use the analogy of perhaps a twice-baked potato, but I don't think I can pull that together too coherently. So, instead, imagine if, at the very nanosecond of popping, as that kernel precisely at the very start of the abrupt phase change from crunchy seed-type-thing to fluffy, glorious popcorn....the whole process just stops. It's frozen in time. Like a note from Clarence Clemon's saxophone, it's pushed right to the very verge of bursting wide open but instead, somehow, it keeps entirely contained.


There is some white dusty glaze on the outside, visually and texturally reminiscent of the stuff on Muddy Buddies, except it's salty and buttery instead of sugary. It's not quite "move theater style" flavor, but is still very salty and buttery and comfort-foody like that. It leaves a slight greasiness on your fingertips, but not as much as a handful of chips, so don't let its appearance sway you.

Sandy loves these. Her only complaint? She wishes they would come in different flavors. "Cheese!" she says. "These just need some cheese and they'd be perfect!" I personally would love a little cinnamon/sugar combo, or perhaps some caramel. Maybe we can compromise and ask for a Chicago-style mixed bag - we have no such qualms as our eastern counterparts. Still, for a measly $2.49, we may have found a new favorite salty snack at TJ's. Until they put cookie butter on it, at least. Matching 4.5s.



Bottom line: Trader Joe's Partially Popped Popcorn: 9 out of 10 Golden Spoons   

  

Trader Joe's Kettle Popped Sweet & Salty Popcorn Chips

Trader Joe's Kettle Popped Sweet and Salty Popcorn Chips, Whole Grain with Chia Seeds, Flax Seeds, Whole Quinoa, Sunflower Seeds.

That's the entire title of this product. It's like a paragraph by itself. I mean, not technically. I just mean it's really long. In a way, it's all you need to know about this product, and it's all printed right there on the front of the bag. If you like all that stuff, you'll like this product. But I guess the point of a food review is to tell you whether WE liked these popcorn chips or not.

And the answer is YES, we did. I REALLY like the ingredients list. Nothing I can't pronounce. Nothing I needed to Google. 

They're low in fat, salty and sweet, just like the bag says. Plus, TJ's has found another creative way to stick quinoa in our junk food. But as "junk food" goes, these chips are fairly low-guilt. Even the sodium isn't excessive. And as far as Sonia and I can tell, the taste doesn't suffer at all.

Not sure who the supplier is for this product, but like most TJ's items, it undoubtedly comes from a third party. Regardless, I think this type of product is what attracted me to TJ's in the first place: stuff that effectively curbs the munchies with significantly less bad stuff than traditional snacks. I mean, I LOVE the cookie butter stuff like most of you, but those treats just can't be everyday snacks unless you workout like a madman or are cool with weighing 300 pounds.

These popcorn chips have a nice light flavor that lets the natural grains through, but it has just enough cane sugar that it tastes indulgent and satisfies the sweet tooth. The flavor is more complex than other popcorn chips I've tried because of all the "ancient grain" type ingredients. The texture is crispy, crunchy, and just about perfect. $1.99 for a bag is a pretty reasonable price point, too, if you ask me.

Sonia was an even bigger fan than I was—she really digs the whole sweet and salty thing and thinks these chips nailed it. Four and a half stars from her. Four from me.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Crispy Green Curry Shrimp Gyoza

You readers are so smart. S-m-r-t. No, seriously. I'm going to pick up just a recent example: The one who pointed out that the "enzymes" in Trader Joe's Super Burrito! probably included L-Cysteine, which is from animal sources and -gulp- can be derived from human hair -ewwww - therefore not making the burrito a vegetarian or vegan product, despite it going out of the way to include vegan mayo. That's an unsettling sentence for me to type. Yuck. Now every time I see the word "enzymes" on an ingredient list I'm going to think of the first half of this Family Guy scene.

Here's a cheerier example: A couple weeks back I reviewed those Thai Shrimp Gyoza, thinking there were some new hot item, and being pretty disappointed in their lack of taste and flair. Another one of you was pretty quick to point out that I probably really had these Trader Joe's Crispy Green Curry Shrimp Gyoza  in mind, and a quick consultation of the "What's New" shelf and display at the store and even quicker comparison of package colors (green vs. yellow) showed that yes, once again, you all are right. Thanks as always!

And these gyoza are absolutely what I wanted when I got those other ones. Like Cher, if I could turn back time...These are the real deal. There's very little to not like about these crispy dumplin's. First, the wrapper. Even though we just baked these (as is even the preferred prep method, you can also microwave, but why?), the wonton wrapper got very crispy despite its thinness, while still holding the innards and stuffing all together with very few leakages. It was rather impressive, actually, and although my waistline likes the fact we didn't deep fry them, well, my tongue would have loved to tried. Must be that palm oil they're pre-cooked in...ohh..I'll let that slide, yet again. I know, I know. 

It's not just the outside that lived up to the "crispy" billing. The insides were too. Oh, no, it wasn't the shrimp - that was yet another example of superior TJ firm, fresh, nongritty, nonsalty, yummy shrimp. Didn't even notice the "shrimp paste" unlike previous times. Nope, it was the veggies in there too, which were predominantly carrots and kale. Those too were fresh and firm, with a little crunch, offering a great mouthfeel-y counterbalance. And then there were all the great flavors that Thai food can offer, especially in curries - the sweet coconut, the bite of some lime, the heat off some spices. They may err slightly on the spicy side, so if you prefer milder, these may be a little strong.

The only real complaint that either Sandy or I had was we would have loved an included packet of dipping sauce. Just a little extra somethin'-somethin' to dunk these gyoza in would have been an absolute killer, and given that my choices on hand were Frank's Red Hot or my new favorite BBQ sauce, I think we might the right decision to forgo any condiments. Something like a currylicious dipping sauce, though? Man, my mouth waters. In our minds, this is a tremendous pick-up for the roughly four bucks for a spicy seafood pick-me-up that approaches restaurant quality for a fraction of the price. Matching fours.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Crispy Green Curry Shrimp Gyoza: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Coconut Strips

In their tradition of excellent coconut products like Pancakes, Creamer, and Cooking Spray, Trader Joe's has offered us an inexpensive bag of snackable little sticks...er, strips. They're very similar to the "Coconut Chips" we checked out long ago, and they taste about the same too, except these puppies are thicker, firmer, and a tad more chewy. In fact, they're surprisingly tough in my opinion, and for that reason, I think the chips were a superior product. 

Sonia disagrees, stating that these slivers remind her a lot of sugar candy, but slightly more healthy. There are only three ingredients, the first two being coconut and cane sugar. So far, so good. But that third and final ingredient, sulfur dioxide, prompted a little Google research. I found statements ranging from "It's harmless" to "It will kill you" and everything in between. The general consensus, though, seemed to be "It depends on the dosage," which isn't particularly comforting, considering we don't really know the exact dosage we're getting in a small bag of coconut strips. I'm going to go ahead and assume there are only trace amounts of it present, because (A) I'm an optimist and (B) I'm still alive. Apparently, they need this delicious-sounding sulfur dioxide to keep the product fresh, as it is shipped all the way from Thailand. Not exactly "going local," but that's a whole 'nother can of worms... Just think of it like this: you're getting a sweet, exotic snack from half way around the world for less than $2. There's that characteristic optimism of mine again.

In summary, if sweet, firm, French fry-shaped coconut meat sounds tasty to you, check these out. Here's a little run-and-gun video review so you can see the product up close. Not sure why we even did one for this, other than it was an excuse to capture the beautiful snow, or maybe that "video whiz" comment from Russ went straight to my head—although I'm pretty sure the Shelly fam would do at least as well on camera as we do.

4.5 stars from Sonia. 3.5 stars from me.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Dulce de Leche

Trader Joe's is in the business of selling exotic caramels. And we're in the business of reviewing them. Some time ago, Russ and Sandy checked out the Fleur de Sel Sauce. It's French for "flower of salt." And this Latin American-inspired treat is Spanish for "sweet of milk." Do all foreign caramels have goofy translations? Do the Japanese offer a delectable topping called "All Your Base Are Belong To Us Sauce"? If so, I'd like to try it. FYI, "Pumpkin Caramel Sauce" is 'Murican for "don't feel guilty you just bought a jar of pure sugar because there's a vegetable in the title."

This sauce is thick and creamy. Even after warming it in the microwave for 10 or 15 seconds, it maintains its heavy yet smooth consistency. It reminds Sonia of a uniquely-Mexican treat called "cajeta," another foreign word which lends itself to several colorful translations. It's caramelly, sweet, and blends perfectly with vanilla ice cream, similar to TJ's other jars of sauce.

Sonia liked this the best of any topping-type confection we've seen from TJ's to date. She gives it a surprisingly high 4.5 stars. I don't think it's head and shoulders above any of the other caramel products we've sampled, but I certainly didn't mind eating it, and I can tell it's a quality product. 3.5 stars from me. If you're into thick, creamy caramel, you can't go wrong with this stuff.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Fireworks Chocolate Bar

As a self-professed non-fan of dark chocolate, some of you are probably starting to wonder why we review it so much. Well, the main reason is for you, our loyal readers. Many of you are curious about TJ's products, and it has become our momentous duty to try them on your behalf. When a product is Spotted on Shelves by Marvo and friends, and brought to our attention via Twitter by an account called Strange Snacks, as well as posted on our Facebook page by reader Janice, then you can be sure it's a treat worth trying. (Thanks to all of you for the heads up!)

And boy are we glad we did. Just for the novelty factor alone, this $2 candy bar is worth a purchase. Guys, I'm telling you, get your sweetheart one for V-Day. It's unique, spicy, and hot, just like your little ladyfriend. It's full of crackling pop-rocks-type candy and cayenne pepper. The dark chocolate is pretty standard other than that, but it blends so seamlessly with the weirdness of the crackling and the spices that it's still a must-try in our books. 

The "pop-rocks" don't really taste like candy, they just provide a popping, crackling sensation. They sound and feel like mini-fireworks in your mouth. The "attack" of the bar is heavy on the popping, yet the "finish" is when you feel the heat. It's an experience that's hard to describe in words—one that's sure to evoke some "Oohs!" and "Aahs!" I won't prattle on too much about it since Sonia and I took the opportunity to bust out another video review. But I'll give you our final scores: 4 stars from me. 4.5 from Sonia. The taste is definitely better than most dark chocolate, in my opinion, primarily because of the cayenne pepper—but the base is still dark chocolate, to be sure.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Cookie Butter Sandwich Cookies

The United States Government defines Schedule I narcotic substances as those with high abuse or addiction potential, with no medical use and severe safety concerns. You know which ones those are. I think it's time we propose a new entry to the list: Cookie butter. If it's as addicting as crack, maybe it's time we start treating it like that.

Yeah, I said it. Listen: You know what it tastes like. You know it's addicting. There's no question about it. You know what you did that one night with that jarful and a spoon - have no shame, we've all been there. I know I have. And I know what it's done to me - listen, as tasty as it is, it sure as heck ain't spinach you're ingesting there. Scroll down and look at the picture of the nutritional information if you dare. Too much cookie butter, with all its palm-oily ways, will kill you. Just how bad is palm oil? It can even make broccoli unhealthy. That's crazy. Aside from the momentary seconds that speculoos graces your taste buds and tickles them in the gingery-cinnamony way that only it can, there's absolutely nothing beneficial about cookie butter, yet it seems as a human race we can't get enough of it. Just search the terms "cookie butter" on this blog and you'll see all of its incarnations - this stuff is super popular.

So, naturally, we now have Trader Joe's Cookie Butter Sandwich Cookies. Let's see...make cookies, grind them into butter, make filling for another cookie. Another stroke of genius, and another move towards total world domination by those speciously speculoosy Belgians. Of course Trader Joe's would bring these aboard - I fully expect Cookie Butter Two Buck Chuck by this time next week.

Not gonna lie: these are darn good cookies. Those buttery shortbread cookie twins are light and crispy and simply melt in your mouth. My goodness. I thought those Danish cookies a few weeks back were pretty good for a commercial cookie - oh, they were, but these are a whole 'nother level. These just crumble with perfection from start to finish.

How good are those actual wafers? As good as cookie butter is (and I know I am veering towards heresy here), the cookies themselves are by far the star of the show here. It's not even close.

Maybe I'm just used to the whole "cookie butter" thing and have grown jaded by its inherent awesomeness, I don't know. I mean, the speculoos certainly blends in for a smooth bite and full, rich flavor experience which is really satisfying, and I don't have any real complaints about the cookies. Maybe my body is trying to convince my brain it's not that good, so I don't need to go eat four more right this moment, so as to not further derail my diet.

Anyways, I bought two boxes of these, one for home for me and the wife, and the other for my neighbors at my cubicle farm - $3.99 for some collegial happiness on a crap-hit-the-fan week is a small price to pay. The votes amongst my coworkers were nearly unanimously for perfection, with comments ranging from "better than anything from a bakery" to "best thing I've had since the last time you bought me cookie butter" to a mysterious "mama's baby loves shortening" - maybe I'm a dealer who just gave them all their first hit for free. As for me and the wife, while we both like them, we're not as overly glowing, for reasons we just can't put our thumbs on. I figure the coworkers say a 4.5 overall (one said she flat-out didn't like them at all, though could not elaborate*) and Sandy and I average out to a 4, so that's what we're going with here. Score too low? Send us some love in the comments below!

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Cookie Butter Sandwich Cookies: 8.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons       
------------------------------------------------------------------------
* This is the same woman who thinks bacon should be relegated to "breakfast only" status, so take her opinion accordingly. :)