Trader Joe's Teeny Tiny Potatoes

If you're one of the longer-tenured loyal readers of this blog, you may have noticed that we don't exactly feature a lot of produce reviews. It's not because we're anti-vegetable or anything (well, at least not since college), but for me at least, there's a couple pretty basic reasons. First, as much as I hate to say it, the one section at Trader Joe's that has disappointed me on the most consistent basis is the "fresh" fruits and vegetables. I have picked up more than my share of half-rotten clementines and veggies that turn to mush if you don't eat them the same day at TJ's. I'm not alone in this - one recent article listing what NOT to get at TJ's ranked produce the number one thing to avoid at TJ's (even ahead of the sushi) and I agree with every reason, though not every product, listed there. Another thing is, I've had enough satisfactory experiences with a bag of apples or an ear or two of corn from there, but they're kinda tough to review. I mean, I can write a break-up letter to a box of peanut brittle or imagine a heavyweight battle between competing soy sausage brands, but how do you review something like a green pepper in any depth? It's so much easier to write about a bottle of carrot juice than a bag of baby carrots.

Interestingly to me at least, potatoes aren't considered either fruits or vegetables, but instead some sort of plant classification called a "tuber." That kinda sounds like a vague seventh grade insult, to call something a tuber. It all has to do with some hoity-toity botanical hairsplitting which really, I don't get. All I know is, potatoes count as produce, and in general they sure are tasty, and that's good enough for me to consider this our first produce review on this blog.

If you like potatoes, you'll like these. If you don't, well, you probably wouldn't buy them anyways. TJ's Teeny Tiny Potatoes are just that - a one pound mesh bag of dozens of little potato runts. Nothing wrong with them, they're just small. I tried to see if these are a mini potato breed or just dug up at a real young age, but couldn't seem to find any definitive answers, and with over 5,000 types of potatoes in the world, I didn't want to sort through each type. It seems a little less tragic to think of them as just a small potato as opposed to being harvested and eaten before it had a chance to live and thrive as a full-blown Russet, so I'm going with that, a sub-race of rooted goodness if you will.

One of our favorite ways to cook them up is in a foil pack with some butter, herbs and spices right on the grill. There's two major advantages that the Teeny Tiny Potatoes have here over their much larger cousins. First, you don't have to chop them all up - just pocket them in and let them sizzle for a while. Each is small enough to be able to soak in the butter that with enough fire time, each get cooked through easily. And for me, one of the parts of the potatoes that I like the best is the outer skin, and with these, each bite is surrounded by tasty potato epidermis. Mmmm. Granted, with all the skin intact, these potato munchkins tend to inwardly insulate pretty darn well, so as a word of caution that I grant from much experience, give these a few minutes to cool down before you sink your chompers into them. Your tongue will thank you. I've also used these for simple tasty home fries by quickly chopping them in half. Short of doing anything too ridiculous like trying to slice them into mini fries or wrapping each in foil for uber small baked potatoes to top with itsy bitsy bacon slices, I'd imagine that pretty much any way you like a potato, these would work well as substitute for a regular sized spud. It's tough to exactly tell, but they seem to be more of a golden variety, which is more than alright by us.

Both Sandy and I enjoy them quite a bit. In fact, with me recently working on (and nearly completing) a small raised vegetable bed for our front yard, we're hopeful that a few of the remaining ones will spawn the next generation of dwarflings if we toss them in the dirt and let nature go at it. And I can say with absolute certainty that this is the one TJ's produce product that has never let me down, whether in overall quality or shelf life. Other than that, we just like us some potatoes. "Mmm carbs! I love carbs!" as Sandy eloquently exclaimed when I asked for her opinion. She gave them a five, and I figure that includes some extra credit for these being so cute and adorable. For me, I like them just fine, and don't have too many of the same qualms as I have with other miniature foods, but in the end I don't know how much credit I can give Trader Joe's for not screwing up a small sack of spuds ... eh, 3.5? Sure, why not?

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons.

Trader Joe's Parmesan Pastry Pups

Cute li'l pups. Happily, they're made with beef, not puppy meat. I've met a few people in my day who've been like, "Who cares? I'd eat dog meat. It's just another animal!"

Mmm, yeah, OK, but no. First of all, I've heard that dog meat is really disgusting, and secondly, I believe that God in His infinite wisdom put each species of animal on this earth for a specific purpose. Dogs are so clearly meant to be man's best friend. Chickens, cows, or horses, though useful, will never catch your frisbee and bring it back to you. And, they lack the individual personality that dogs seem to possess. Horses are for transportation, racing, and riding, chickens make yummy eggs, and cows give great milk...and beef cattle, of course, yield delicious beef products such as these all beef pastry pup franks.

So let's take a look at this product in terms of its three constituent parts: the parmesan, the pastry, and the pup. First up, parmesan. What parmesan? Neither Sonia nor I detected much parmesan. There was some slight tang to the food, but it didn't strike me as being particularly parmesan-y. Not a bad flavor, just not so much like the parmesan cheese I'm used to.

Next, the pastry portion: good stuff here. It was flakey, crispy on the outside, soft on the inside. It's just what I'd want in an oven-baked pastry puff bread-blanket. Not excessively greasy, and not too dry, either.

Finally, the pup: I liked it. Good, old-fashioned red meat mini hot dogs. They come out of the oven piping hot in 25 minutes, and they're flavorful beef, not pork. Pork supposedly has higher levels of bacteria, and for that reason, it is said to be worse than beef, health-wise. I'm rarely in the mood for hot dogs these days, but when I am, this is what I want them to taste like. Hot diggity dog.

Sonia was a pretty big fan too, and she eats even less red meat than I do. Though not as exotic as some of the offerings at TJ's, these pups make great hors d'oeuvres, and they're kind of a classic snack-food. If you're not so adventurous with your eating, these little guys are a pretty safe bet, even for kids. Other than a lack of parmesan, there are few surprises with TJ's Parmesan Pastry Pups. They're just a high-end version of pigs in a blanket...or in this case, I guess they'd be "cows in a blanket."

Sonia gives them a 4. I give them a 3.5. Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Omega Orange Carrot Juice

Here it is, right at the start of another month, and thus another fresh opportunity for the Pittsburgh home office of the WG@TJ's team to reassess our overall healthiness patterns and nutritional choices. Okay, it's probably not an every month kinda deal, but it's cyclical enough, and Sandy's got it on her mind, which means she's making sure it's on my mind, too. By "sure", I mean "very sure." For the whole month of June, we're going to be tracking everything we eat, estimate all our calories, focus on working out, and trying to start living our way into a more wholesome lifestyle. Or so we say, check back with us in a couple weeks. I suppose it's kind of a natural time to do so, with Sandy resuming her training for her next half-marathon after kicking some tail a couple weeks ago at the Pittsburgh half, and with me embarking on my two day, 135-mile bike ride to benefit the National MS Society* in just a few days. That and we want to be sure we're in tip-top bathing suit shape if we ever make a beach run to the pristine shorelines of Lake Erie. Or something like that.

With that in mind, Sandy and I promptly ran to Trader Joe's to find the healthiest non-swampy-looking juice we could ... Wait, that's not how that goes. Truth is, we bought the Omega Orange Carrot Juice sometime in the undetermined past, had it on the bottom shelf of the pantry for who knows how long until Sandy decided to try it a week or two ago (probably because the other drinking options were beer, milk, and water at our house), stuck it in the fridge, and I finally got my gumption sufficiently upped to give it a try because I was thirsty and the other options were milk and water.

Yeah, I'll admit it, I was a little apprehensive to give it a try. I understand what the typical run-of-the-mill sugary fruity juices are - they're delicious. Veggie juices and those that throw words like "Omega" in their name call to mind that ploppy chunky off-colored stuff produced by the Jack LaLanne Power Juicer. Please tell me how ramming through then drinking a whole cucumber gets anyone ready for a day of aimless posing around the senior center. I don't get it.

Anyways, TJ's has themselves another winner with this juice. It's not just legitimately surprisingly good, it's tasty enough to pass itself off as being unhealthy. The juice is actually a blend of four juices - carrot, orange, apple and pineapple - with the different qualites of each shining through in smooth, smooth fashion. The nose of the flavor hints at the citrusy qualities, while midway through it transitions seamlessly to a less acidic, more base-like flavor (a la apple juice) and finishes with a silky cinnamony flourish which I can only assume is the carrot segment of this tasty potion. If this sounds unusual, it's because it is - I'm never had anything that tastes quite like it. Want proof of how good this tastes? Take a look at what they sneak in - omega fish oils from sardines and anchovies, tilapia gelatin (now that's cringe-inducing). There's not one hint of it. Granted, I don't know if those fishy components are supposed to taste, well, fishy, but this particular juice easily incorporates and covers over them in a concoction so flavorsome it had me fooled, and that's not easy.

It's not just the taste that I appreciate, but also its smoothness. There's a pretty heady amount of sediment in the bottle until you shake it out, but once you do, there's no pulp or clumps or amebic blobs to gag on. It's just smooth, free-flowing, glorious juice. As for its healthiness, well, I assume it's pretty good for you based on what the label says and hearing a thing or two about omega fatty acids here and there, but really, I'm not an expert. Relative to most juices at least, I'll go ahead and say it is. Keep in mind, this is coming from the guy who on the first day of spouse-mandated food intake monitoring thought it'd be an okay idea to get a steak, egg and cheese breakfast wrap from the local convenience store. I specifically custom-ordered it from the touch screen to have them add lettuce, tomatoes, green peppers and jalapeños - that makes it kinda like a salad, right? Right? And the tortilla was whole wheat too ...

Anyways, I've been thoroughly enjoying a small cup of the juice while typing this review. Note to my wife: Sorry, dear, I forgot to pour it into a measuring cup first, but I'm being good and not gulping it down like I could very easily be tempted to, I'll track it, don't worry. Sandy's a fan of it, just not nearly as much as I am. She gave it only a three, saying she liked the cinnamony aspect to the overall flavor. I asked her what could be better, and she blinked once or twice and said "Meh." I'm not exactly sure how to interpret that. Anyways, a three is way too low in my book. I'll go ahead and give 4.5, if for no other reason than to make sure it is listed among one of TJ's "really darn good" items on this blog. Because really darn good is exactly what it is.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Blackberry Crush

It's hard to admit it, but I was wrong.

I was wrong about the blackberry. No, not the smartphone (I'm still not a fan of those crash-prone glitch-machines).

In a previous post about blackberry preserves, I not only demonstrated a decided lack of knowledge in the jams/jellies/preserves/fruit spread department, but I think I may have maligned the often misunderstood, dark, raspberry-like fruit known as the blackberry.

To the blackberries of the world, I apologize profusely. I mentioned in that previous post that I had overestimated you, but it seems, quite to the contrary, that you are more than I could ever hope for in a berry.

You see, the blackberry is apparently a really good team-player. In this beverage, we see a dynamic fruit trio: apple, white grape, and blackberry. Move over, pineapple/orange/banana. The apple and white grape juices give the beverage a nice, smooth sweetness. Then the blackberry puree adds an incredible, rich, full, tart flavor. This is what I wanted those blackberry preserves to taste like. I don't recommend putting this stuff on toast, however, I totally thought about it. It is a little bit thicker than the average juice, but not to the point that it loses any refreshing gulpability. It's very good. There's an almost earthy quality to it, but it's still sweet.

I really don't have any complaints. There were little particles of blackberry in the drink, but you'll get that with any real fruit puree. It makes it feel authentic. Reminds you that you're drinking real fruit and not some over-processed fake stuff.

This one is definitely getting a slot on our regularly-purchased Trader Joe's beverage roster. Sonia liked it too. She gives it a 4.5. So do I. Bottom line: 9 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Dixie Peach

Fun fact: California produces 65% of the peaches in the US. But there are peach orchards all over the place. Even my hometown of Chambersburg, Pennsylvania has a reputation for excellent peaches. See here. But I guess there's something romantic about those Southern peaches. Georgia is "The Peach State" after all. They even have a peach on their license plate. South Carolina is one of the biggest peach producers in the country, too. At any rate, TJ's decided that their peach nectar beverage would be called Dixie Peach. Away, away, away down south in Dixie.

It's actually a mixture of juices with peach and apple purees. Once, on a mission trip to the Dominican Republic, I had a peach nectar drink (Nectar de Melocotón) that was very similar. I've been looking for a peach beverage like it in the US ever since. There's a brand called Kern's that sells cans of peach juice, but they're definitely not as good. So my search continued...Thanks to TJ's, my search has now come to an end. Now, if only someone would sell pear nectar or something like it here, I'd be a happy camper.

The Dixie Peach is very smooth and thick. If you only like really watery, thin juices, you might get freaked out a little. It's plenty sweet, and although there's a mixture of fruit juices and purees, the overall flavor is decidedly peachy. Sonia wasn't a huge fan at first, but she says it really grew on her after drinking some more of it. She likes it best with tons of ice. It does seem like the colder it's served, the better it tastes for some reason. And a little bit of melted ice helps to thin it out a bit.

The sweet beverage fiend (that's me) gives it a 4 out of 5. Sonia gives it a 3.5. Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Rice Pudding

Rice pudding is apparently a very popular dish worldwide. According to this Wikipedia article, different versions of the dessert evolved independently of one another in virtually every region on Earth. I guess you've gotta figure that any civilization that has rice, milk, and sugar is eventually gonna throw those three ingredients in a bowl together and see what happens.

Somehow, I managed to grow up in a rice pudding vacuum. I don't think I had even heard of it until I was in my teens. At first, it sounded revolting to me; rice is simply not a dessert food. But then, I grew older and more adventurous, and after eating raw fish, sauteed grasshoppers, and Chinese food that only cost a dollar, rice pudding suddenly seemed tame to me.

When I first tried it, it was presented to me by Latino-folk as "Arroz con Leche," leading me to believe that the dish was, in fact, Mexican. And, it is...but it's also Indian, Thai, German, Danish, and/or a whole host of other nationalities. The Pennsylvania Dutch did a pretty good job of bringing all good German foods to central PA, but if they did bring some kind of rice pudding, it certainly didn't end up at the local markets in my hometown.

Anyway, for all you gringos out there: Arroz con Leche = rice with milk. What an inventive name. That's why "horchata" never caught on in this country: poor marketing. You ask somebody what horchata is and they'll tell you it's "Mexican rice water." Mexican rice water? People drink that? Yuck! I picture a nasty soapy-gray liquid that comes as a byproduct of rinsing a strainer of rice with tap water in the sink.

But have you had horchata? It's delicious! People should answer the question "what is horchata?" with "It's the sexy Latin Cinnamon-Sugar Beverage, mi amigo!" Then you'd see horchata flowing from every restaurant soda fountain in the U.S.

Anyway, my point is that "rice pudding," though not totally appetizing to white bread Americans, is much better than "rice with milk." Now, let's move on to more important matters, such as the weird old-timey photo on the container...

It's a vintage pic of two young ladies sharing a secret of some kind. Judging by the expression on the first girl's face, it's a very scandalous secret. I'm not sure why something like that should make us hungry or make the food more appetizing, but apparently it gets the buyer's attention. Interesting choice of packaging. Maybe the one girl is telling the other the true origin of the product within the container.

Oh yeah, all that and I haven't really mentioned anything about the taste of the food yet...It's really good! My only complaint is that it could use a dash of cinnamon. There's just the right amount of rice and just the right amount of sweet milky stuff...it's very yummy.

I give it a 4.5. Sonia's score is slightly lower, probably because she grew up on the good homemade stuff, but she still gives it a 4. Not too shabby. Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Veggie Sticks Potato Snacks

When I hear the term "veggie sticks," I think of narrow little slivers of carrots and celery arranged on a circular platter around a pool of creamy ranch dipping sauce. That's not what these are, if you couldn't tell from the pic. These are crunchable doodle-puffs of snack-tastic potato-matter.

From the first bite, they seemed familiar somehow...like a long-lost friend who had just returned from adventures abroad...like a wayward relative that came back to his father's house with a strange foreign accent, a prodigal son of the pantry if you will...there was just a certain 'je ne sais quoi' about them...who are you, veggie sticks? Haven't I met you before? In another life perhaps...on a distant shoreline, did I partake of your salty goodness under a Pacific sunset marked by the sound of crashing waves and the crispy-crunches of your bite-sized bits?

No. No, you are new to me...but you remind me of someone...you remind me of...who is it now? OH! YOU TOTALLY remind me of the unmistakable flavor of McDonald's French fries...with the texture of cheese-puffs. Seriously. McDonald's fries. It's gotta be the sunflower/safflower oil.

When I told Sonia about my McDonald's French fry epiphany, she went "Oh! Really? You think they taste like that?" Then I had her try one again, and told her to think about McDonald's French fries. Then she went, "Eh, I guess I can see what you're talking about..."

So apparently I'm more or less alone in my assessment that they taste just like McDonald's French fries. Mind you, the texture is much different. The texture is that of a generic, yet not necessarily low-quality cheese-puff/cheese-doodle/cheesy-poof thing.

I tried hard to tell if there was a difference among the three varieties; orangish-red, yellowish-white, and green. I thought maybe they were tomato-flavored, potato-flavored, and spinach-flavored, respectively, however, I was unable to discern any variation in taste. Just three different colors of McDonald's fries.

We tried them with a little lemon juice. Good. And they would have been KILLER with some Trader Joe's Jalapeño Pepper Hot Sauce, but alas, we did not have any. I almost tried them with a little packet of McDonald's fancy ketchup, but then I thought that might be a bit weird. I docked a point because we were kind of wanting to dress them up a bit, however, we polished off the bag within 24 hours of getting it back from TJ's. That usually indicates a successful product. Sonia agrees.

Sonia and I both give them a 4. Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader José's Hot Chipotle Salsa

Finally, a hot salsa that's actually kinda hot. The little chile-meter on this baby is mostly full. Plus, it tastes like actual chipotle chile peppers. It's not quite as hot as chipotle peppers by themselves—if you've ever had one, you know that they're pretty spicy—but I think it's darn close. However, like all of their other salsas, Sonia thought this one lacked heat, too. I think it's a step in the right direction, though. I'm pretty sure this is the spiciest TJ's salsa we've had so far.

I wasn't aware of this before, but chipotles are actually a dried, smoked variant of the jalapeño. See here. Somehow, they seem much spicier than a regular jalapeño to me. But what do I know? Soy solo un gringo loco.

Most products they slap a "chipotle" label on here don't really taste that much like the real thing. I'm happy with the flavor of this salsa. Authentico. The label claims it has a "slightly smoky taste," and it's not lying.

Fat free. And in theory, it'll raise your metabolism. Burn baby, burn. Try it with the Super Seeded Chips or the Soy and Flaxseed Chips.

Sonia and I each give it a 4. Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Breakfast Scramble of Eggs, Potatoes, and Onions

OK, so let's honor Cinco de Mayo (I know we're a day late... make that Seis de Mayo) with a special product. I know what you're thinking: "This product isn't Mexican!" No, it certainly isn't. But here's a fun fact for you: Cinco de Mayo isn't the Mexican Independence Day. That's September 16.

Cinco de Mayo celebrates the Mexican victory at the Battle of Puebla, the day the French were driven out of Mexico. And, Cinco de Mayo is more widely celebrated in the U.S. than it is in Mexico. Kind of like St. Patty's day, it's really just another American excuse to have a couple cervezas. So on that note, we're going to take a look at a French product—since this very well could have been Mexican cuisine had the French been victorious on May 5, 1862.

Trader Joe's Breakfast Scramble proudly declares that it's a product of France. There's an official-looking seal right on the cover with a fleur-de-lis in the middle. I guess TJ's wasn't worried about all those folks that eat freedom fries instead of French fries and boycott France every chance they get. Bill O'Reilly would not be pleased.

And yet again, I must ask this question of Trader Joe: why go to the trouble to create a French character, Trader Jacques, if you're not going to use him for all of your French products? Maybe they decided they'd only use him with the more pretentious French products, such as the Ham and Cheese Croissant Sandwiches.

This product is similar to an omelette, but the ingredients aren't all folded inside the egg. They are, as the title indicates, scrambled together. It just struck me the other day that omelettes are French, too. "Omelette." It's a very French-sounding word. I guess I just always associated the dish with American cuisine, like Denny's or down-on-the-farm home cooking, perhaps served up by someone named Trader Jim-Bob.

At any rate, this stuff is pretty tasty. There's a bit of greasiness and saltiness, but not too much. It's just enough to make you feel like you're not eating something that was very recently frozen. The microwaveability of this scramble is astouding, really. If you put it on a plate, you could very easily pass it off as freshly cooked. There's a great balance of the three main ingredients, and the heating instructions are ultra-simple.

No major complaints. No big surprises. Just a good microwaveable international breakfast.

Sonia gives it a 4. I give it a 4.5. Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Heart of Darkness Mango Passion Fruit Blend

This beverage was apparently inspired by the Joseph Conrad novella by the same name. Weird to name a beverage after any literary work, let alone one so bleak as "Heart of Darkness." Though I'm a fan of the film adaptation, "Apocalypse Now," it still hardly makes me want to partake of a drink derived from such a dark work of fiction.

And if there were any doubts as to whether they were alluding to Joseph Conrad's story, the artwork on the bottle depicts a ferry boat in the middle of a wide river, surrounded by thick jungle on both sides.

Although the film version takes place in Southeast Asia, the original story is set in the Congo, and I guess the title of the drink is to make us think of deep African jungles which, I suppose, are where the best mangos and passionfruits come from.

So, with a mental picture of some safari dude plucking mangos from a tree in a dense, humid rainforest in my head, I proceeded to read the label only to find that apple juice and white grape juice were the main ingredients. Hmmm. The mental picture quickly evaporated, but I remembered the last Trader Joe's mango beverage we tried, and I thought that the apples and grapes might actually be welcome, familiar flavors - and I was right.

Unlike Trader Joe's Organic Mango Nectar, this juice blend is highly chuggable and refreshing, but it still tastes like mango. It's much thinner than the mango nectar. I think the apple and grape juices simply serve to sweeten the blend. Mango is definitely more potent than any of the other flavors in here, but not overwhelmingly so. To tell you the truth, I can never taste passionfruit in anything. I'm not even sure it really has that much flavor. I think it's a marketing ploy. People see "passionfruit," they think "passion." Sex sells... you see what I'm getting at.

Anyway, whether you think of it as a sexy summer treat or a bleak ride through the Congan jungle, I think you'll like it. It's a very nice balance of sweetness and real mango taste. Yum.

Sonia gives it a 4. Me too. Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Apocryphal Pita and Roasted Garlic Hummus

Trader Joe's sure is a little funny sometimes with their marketing and branding, if you haven't noticed.

It goes beyond their creation of different character names depending on the product inspiration and their pretty uneven utilization, which I find endlessly fascinating for whatever reason. Why are only some Chinese products Trader Ming but not others? Is Thai Joe a one-trick pony? Who determines this? And some of the product names...some are pretty long-winded and over the top, no doubt. The illustrations on some packages are kinda weird, too. I think it all adds to the allure of the place and the shopping experience. For me, I find a certain level of entertainment in it all.

I had another reminder of this when Sandy and I started poking around the first aisle of the local shop in search of a good snack to share for the week. TJ's has a great selection of different chips and salsas which we've inventoried and digested a fair amount of, but we found ourselves wanting something kinda different for a change. The bread shelves are the first ones to smack your eyeballs when wandering in where we go, so we figured that'd be a good enough place to look.

Hey, look, we found ourselves some pitas! But not just any pitas. Trader Joe's is only too happy to tell us they're apocryphal, too! Sounds fancy, but what's that mean? I'm usually not too much of one to use a big fancy word when a diminutive one will do, so I have to admit, I had to look it up to remember what it meant. Apparently, it means "of questionable origin." Hmm. Way to go, TJ's, in making us feel confident about this purchase of ours. I don't really expect a bag of pitas I get in the middle of Pittsburgh to be exactly the same as the ones from a Turkish street vendor (in some ways those could be more questionable ...) but at least keep the facade in play, please. I kinda liked the picture of the guy in monkish garb apparently training for some Middle Eastern World's Strongest Man competition, though, and despite the lack of the letter s, there are, in fact, a plural amount present per sellable unit.

They're decent too. Made out of 100% whole wheat so I guess they fit the bill healthwise if your tummy can bear that. A little flaky, a little doughy, sturdy, a little chewy, and definitely pretty tasty, though kinda unremarkable overall. I think that's about the best you can expect from a pita. They're not to be the star, but instead the stage for whatever tasty creation you're prepping to cram on in. So, sensing this was an incomplete tide-me-over tidbit, we peered across the aisle and saw ...

Hummus! I don't think I've ever bought hummus before, though I've been known to eat in mass quantity when I spy it on a snack table somewhere. It is one high quality foodstuff on which to mooch. The Roasted Garlic Hummus resonated with me as not quite being the best I've ever had, but far from the worst (there was this Wal-Mart stuff one time ...). I recall it being smooth and creamy without too much of the graininess some hummus can have (I don't mind that, but I can do without). I guess I was a little disappointed with the overall taste, as it's not as garlicky as I would've hoped. When I want something that predominantly features garlic, I want it to be potent enough to fend off any vampires and bubonic plague viruses lurking anywhere in the tri-state region. The only exception to that is when my grandmother made garlic bread ... she's been known to go just a little overboard. Anyways, I've never roasted a stinking rose bulb on the barby in the back, but if I did, I'd imagine it tasting stronger than this (despite the lid saying mild), and not nearly as sweet. Yes, sweet. Sandy said she thought the sweetness more came from the pita when combined with the hummus, and though that may have accentuated it, I could taste it when I tried some of the hummus by itself. Garlic is supposed to be vigorous enough to render your breath downright offensive for a spell, not leave you pondering its sweetness. Overall, it's agreeable enough, I'd say, but it's not quite what I expected.

Anyways, the pitas and hummus made for some pretty decent, easy snacks for us, and worked quite well for a couple quick-bite-on-the-way-out-the-door scenarios. I think Sandy enjoyed it a little bit more than I did, though, mostly because she seemed to like the hummus a tad or two more than me. That's her, ever the gracious one. I didn't exactly get her rankings for these, and know it's not always the wisest to presume it's okay to speak for one's spouse, but I'll give it a shot and try to represent her opinions and thought process as fairly and accurately as possible. I'll go first and grant a four for the pitas and a 3.5 for the hummus. Pretty fair grade for some pretty fair chow. For Sandy, the pitas aren't bad, pretty yummy, she likes them and the hummus is really yummy, not yucky like it coulda been and about the only way it could be better would be if it were pink and sparkly and came packaged with a free penguin or puppy or a puppy and a penguin and baseball tickets. Or something pretty close to that ... I'm wagering that's a matching four for the pitas and a 4.5 for the hummus.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons for both the Apocryphal Pita and the Roasted Garlic Hummus

Hey .... c'mon now ... don't forget about this!!! Seriously, please.

Trader Giotto's Grated Parmesan & Romano Cheese

Next up in our "We really need to make a TJ's run" series: grated parmesan cheese.

This stuff always enhances pizza. In pizza places, it's usually right next to the big red pepper flakes in a glass shaker with a shiny aluminum screw-on top with little holes. It's one of our top two favorite pizza-related condiments. It's also good for pasta. And our good buddy Trader Giotto hooked it up with not just parmesan cheese, but another Italian classic: Romano cheese. Booyah!

As the container directs, one must sprinkle this cheese with gusto onto his or her food. A lack of gusto may diqualify you from further use of this product. Mama Mia.

The dispenser has one of those twisty-turny tops where you can choose to put the little holes over the opening in the top of the container if you want to gently sprinkle the product onto your pizza, or you can choose the huge gaping hole if you want to just dump a giant pile of cheese on your food.

I might also mention that this is imported cheese. Really. That's what the container says. Why can't we make a decent parmesan cheese here in the US? I don't know. Maybe the flavor is enhanced in transit somewhere between here and the cheese's unspecified origin, which of course we are led to believe is Italy. At any rate, it is tasty.

But really, what can you do to make a parmesan cheese better than any other run-of-the-mill parmesan cheese? Add Romano. That's what TJ's did. It's that kind of out-of-the-box thinking that puts TJ's versions ahead of any other brand. Good job. We like it. Double 4's.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Paneer Tikka Masala

So, my last review got me thinking about the whole classes of vegetarianism thing, and like any good, curious fellow in this age and time, I went straight to the infallible, omnipotent source of all knowledge readily available on the interwebs ... yup, Wikipedia (Nathan sure got our unspoken WGATJ creed right). Turns out there's a lot of denominations within vegetarianism, enough to make my head spin. There's the vegans, who are pretty simple to understand - no animal product of any type. Raw vegans take it a step further - only raw, uncooked fruits, veggies, nuts, seeds, etc. Fruitarians go even more out on a limb and eat only such things that when harvested don't "harm" the plant (some of them don't even eat seeds because it "kills" future plants), but it's unclear to me if they can cook stuff or not ... maybe once it's fallen off the tree, do with it what you will? Going back towards the center, there's all the vegetarian classifications like pescetarianism, which allows for seafood, pollo-pescetarianism (seafood, poultry and white meat ... basically, Sandy's diet except the occasional burger), and so on. I kinda get all that, but then start seeing stuff like ovo vegetarianism (eggs okay, dairy not) and lacto-vegetarianism (dairy okay, eggs not), and think of all the label reading and care those following these diets must undergo to make sure they're not accidentally eating something that violates the tenets of their chosen food gospel ... I mean, I'm kinda just used to sticking whatever tastes good in my mouth and going with it. I'd like to try to pay some more attention to what I'm eating, maybe. Seems more purposeful somehow.

So let's start with this, Trader Joe's Paneer Tikka Masala. Okay, let's take a look at it ... I see cheese, rice, sauce and spices ... that's four of my major food groups right there that are good for me in moderation. Off to a good start. No meat ... no eggs ... hey, even gluten-free (like some other fine TJ treats) ... but it does have cheese. So this is lacto-vegetarian, then, right? Well, yes, but only because paneer (that's the cheese) isn't produced with rennet, an animal-byproduct enzyme that does something or other to pretty much every other cheese in the world. Apparently those lacto-vegetarians aren't down with that (also, no gelatin is given the green light ... c'mon, no Jello?). With all that and no eggs to boot, I can imagine it being tough to follow that kind of diet.

I'm sure it'd be easier if everything tasted this good.

Contrary to the picture on the box, the tikka masala comes in a compartmentalized plastic tray with the rice on one side, the cheesy saucy chunks on the other, with some plastic film on top that you poke a couple breathing holes in before nuking for about four minutes to heat on up from its normative frozen state. When taken out and film peeled away, the sweet-'n-spicy aroma will definitely draw the attention of your white bread coworkers, like mine who stare in wonder at my French press every morning while I make my coffee. It smells delicious and intoxicating and once the fragrance hit my olfactory receptors, my immediate thought was, game on. I tackled the paneer side first. The paneer comes in little tiny cubey chunks bathing in reddish-orangish creamy tomato sauce. I scooped up a couple and took them in, and was immediately pretty happy. The cheese bits were okay, nothing too special, kind of like the lovechild of tofu and soft, mild mozzarella in both taste and texture. But the sauce ... dare I say majestic? It was a little sweet and definitely creamy (enough to make me think there might be coconut milk involved - nope), light, and has a good little kick to it, too. The turmeric really stands out to me, at least. Though not exactly the same, it reminded me of some good Thai curries I've had. It definitely tastes warm and I could feel my taste buds dancing around when I slathered them with tasty spoonful after tasty spoonful. Really, really good - I wish TJ's or someone would bottle it, and I'd be tempted to put it on just about anything. The spinach rice was decent, too, but not all that noteworthy. Except when the sauce mingled its way on over, that is.

I'm a fan of this, and judging by the beeline Sandy makes for this when perusing the freezer section, she is too. Considering the first two ingredients are tomatoes and onions (two of her least favorite foods), that speaks volumes to its overall goodness. Sandy said she has to refrain herself from picking up the tray and licking out every last bit of the sauce every time she has it for lunch. I scraped out every trace I could with my spoon and wiped some more out with my finger when no one was looking. Just so good. Not sure how it stacks up overall compared to the chicken variation of the dish, but I was pretty well pleased.

The only truly negative thing I'd say about the dish is, although the paneer isn't all that spectacular, it's good enough that I wish there were more of it. I'm guesstimating there were maybe a dozen minute chunks of it in my lunch. Sandy echoed the sentiment and said she'd be lucky if she had that many. Because of the paucity of cheesy chunks I'd say it might be slightly overpriced at $2.99 but you can certainly spend a lot more on something else and not get something quite this good for a workplace lunch.

The two of us are pretty solidly in agreement that overall, this is one pretty darn worthwhile lunchtime pick up, especially if you enjoy Indian food. That sauce .... mmm. We love it enough to both grade the whole dish a sturdy four out of five, and award it a regular spot in our work lunch rotation.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons
p.s - Don't forget about our contest ... please don't let Nathan win!

Trader Joe's Red Chili Pepper

Well, it's been a hot minute since our last TJ's run, as you may have guessed by the seemingly trivial nature of today's product review. But hey, it's a Trader Joe's brand food product...and we do have a category dedicated to condiments, thus it meets all the necessary criteria and we shall review it. I thought about skipping another day. Russ picked up my slack last week, and even on days when there's no new entry, we're still getting some hits. We're still providing extensive info about TJ's foods with our impressive backlog of reviews and suggestions...

But no, that's not good enough. Today, I decided there would be a new review. I scoured the kitchen for a product that I had been overlooking. I rummaged through the cupboards searching...seeking...hunting for something to review. I remembered our unspoken creed:

"We are husbands and sons, and wives and daughters (Russ and I aren't wives or daughters so much, but Sandy and Sonia, while not official bloggers, totally help us out with this site), who everyday go about our lives with keen taste buds, discerning palates, and a limited knowledge of the culinary arts which is often supplemented by Google searches and visits to Wikipedia. And neither faulty internet connections, nor computer crashes, nor busy schedules, nor gloom of dissheveled kitchen, nor the winds of change in the stockroom at the local Trader Joe's, nor a nation divided by ridiculous partisan politics, will stay us from the swift completion of our somewhat regular 3-5 blog entries per week. Usually."

And those inspiring words rose up in my heart, just as I triumphantly grasped this bottle of TJ's Red Chili Pepper and resolved to blog, blog, wholeheartedly blog!

Anyway, these pepper flakes are OK I guess.

Actually, I'm just joking. They're really quite good. I mean...I remember being at one of the original, oldschool freestanding Pizza Hut's back in the 1980's. I got my free grease-laden personal pan cheese pizza for reading some Amelia Bedelia and Berenstain Bears through the "Book It!" program. The pizza was the best thing I had ever tasted. And when I dumped some of the big red pepper flakes from that sparkly glass shaker on top of my pizza pie, it tasted even better. Sure, my tongue burned and my eyes watered, but I was too happy to care.

Well, these flakes are a throwback to those Pizza Hut pepper flakes from the 80's. I suppose they still serve big red pepper flakes at Pizza Hut, but I haven't been there in forever, and I know if I would return, it wouldn't be as good as it was back then and I'd be disappointed.

Furthermore, the sleek black and gold label on the TJ's version bestows words of deep wisdom, such as "Crushed Red Peppers are hot and should be used with discretion." The same font they used on that Spanish treasure map in "The Goonies" boasts that this Red Chili Pepper is part of the "Spices of the World" collection...not to be missed by any world traveler or Trader Joe's aficianado.

Delicious. Exotic. Worldly. Adventurous. Try some.

Sonia gives it a 4. I give it a 4.5. 

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10. Really darn good.

Trader Joe's Veggie Sausage Patties

So a few posts ago I shared a little about giving up meat for Lent, and Trader Joe's has already really pleasantly surprised me with their soy meat products, so when they had their Veggie Sausage Patties at the sample station a week or so ago, it made for a natural pick up. It also led Sandy to think a little, like "Okay, we like Trader Joe's goods overall, but how do they compare against rival brands?" So this post, I'm going to do something a little different than the usual.

< insert Michael Buffer >

Ladies and gentlemen, today you are about to witness history, the first head-to-head heavyweight championship of frozen vegetable sausage patties. The Soysage Showdown. One brand, known throughout the land, the undisputed champion. The challenger, an underdog, with a devoted following, its quality known to its devotees. Only one can prevail. Are ... you ... ready?

I said .... are .... you .... ready ....

LLLLLLLLLLLLet's get ready to crrrrrrrrrrrrrrumble!!

< /end Michael Buffer >

Ringside Introductions: In the left corner, the defending world champion, in the green box, from Battle Creek, Michigan, weighing in at 228 grams, costing $3.39, it's MorningStar Farms' Original Sausage Patties! (applause)

On the right, the plucky underdog challenger, in the white and light blue box, from Monrovia, California, weighing in at 227 grams, costing $3.29, it's Trader Joe's Veggie Sausage Patties! (mild smattering of hand claps)

Round One: First Impressions: The picture on the Morningstar box shows a serving suggestion of just tossing them on a plate. Also, one singular serving is clearly and consistently referred to as a "pattie." Hrmm. Trader Joe's shows them on top of some awesome looking openfaced sandwich with tomatoes and spinach and some sort of cheese/dressing. I get hungry just looking at it. And they call it a patty. I like the fonts they use better, too. Judges' decision: Trader Joe's

Round Two: Nutrition: M'star has less fat and more protein. That's good. TJ's has less calories and sodium. Also good. But in wondering what all has to be done to a scoopful of beans to make them meat-like, I began to look at the ingredients. TJ's has something called carboxymethycellulose in it, and carrageenan in it. Don't know what those do, and don't want to. I can pronounce everything else in it though. M'star though has tasty stuff like tripolyphosphate, hexametaphosphate, disodium inosinate, and loads of other stuff the spell check underlines in a red squiggly. So, this could be wrong but, my thoughts ... Judges' decision: Trader Joe's

Round Three: Appearance and Preparation: The patties of both brands are roughly the same size (M'star maybe a little thicker, TJ's maybe a little larger circumference). Both are strangely fairly not-that-cold when taken out of the freezer. The M'star patties look browned and ready to eat, except frozen, whereas TJ's has more of an icy sheen that quickly cooks off. M'star looks a little "meatier" where as TJ's looks a little ... I don't know ... indistinct? I'll go with that. Preparation of both is pretty identical, and sizzle up within a couple minutes, smelling sausage-y enough in the process. Judges' decision: MorningStar Farms

Round Four: Texture: Okay, for both, not bad, but not nearly as good as the real thing. I think I may have slightly overcooked them (not necessarily a bad thing) so the outsides of both got a little browned and crisped up. The insides ... eh. M'star is definitely meatier in texture, but it strikes me as akin to a well-done burger made of slighty chunky firm mush. Which is more or less what it was. TJ's didn't have as much of a meaty bite (definitely more towards the mush end of the spectrum, this makes it sound worse than it was, but don't know how else to describe it) and was more greasy, though not over-abundantly so. Both were decent enough in their own way. Judges' decision: MorningStar Farms

Final Round: Taste: This is always what it comes down to, isn't it? For me, at least, it is. M'star definitely decided to go the well-done burger route and make a meaty, kinda smokey, solid, but kinda plain tasting patty, er, "pattie." TJ's starts off tasting roughly the same, but mid-bite there's like this savory inflection that introduces itself to the flavor that makes it taste more authentically sausage-like. Mind you, it doesn't taste just like it, but a reasonable facsimile for a bunch of beans. I think it's the extra 1.5 gram of fat that the TJ's has to give it just a little more greasy breakfast meat essence. First time we chomped down, Sandy and I made "Soysage Egg McMuffins" and thought the TJ's was the winner, hands-down. I resampled both tonight with my dinner, and realized the taste was closer than originally thought. They're both good, but in their own distinct way. Depends what you like more. For Sandy and I, the choice was still simple. Judges' decision: Trader Joe's

Winner, and new world champion, by judges' decision .... Trader Joe's!!!

Post-Fight Wrap Up: Again, I was pretty surprised with the quality of a soy-meat Trader Joe product. Maybe it was the lack of real meat playing with my mind, but while enjoying the sausage patties, it wasn't as easy to recall I wasn't chomping my way through the real deal. MorningStar, while decent, was too unsausage-like despite its meatier appearance and texture to have the same effect. I think even if I sampled both in a blindfolded taste test, I'd choose the Trader Joe's. Sandy usually isn't too big of a sausage fan, but she legitimately liked the TJ's more than the MorningStar as well. "It just tastes better," she said. "If you told me we'd make some muffin sandwiches with the MorningStar patties, I wouldn't be like 'Bllllllllaaaaaahhhhhherrrrrrggggggahhhhhhhhhh' but I'd be happier with the TJ's." I wish I took a picture of the face she made while making that noise I cannot hope to ever replicate. She said if she were grading both brands, she'd give MorningStar a three ("solid, okay, but not great") but give the Trader Joe's a whopping five out of five. "Savory. Mmmm." Well, I wouldn't quite give it a five, but I recognize its goodness and understand it cannot ever be as good as the real thing. I can appreciate it for it is, though. It's the closest I've tasted, and definitely closer than MorningStar. I'm only grading the TJ's ...

Bottom line: 9 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's 100% Kauai Coffee Beans

If it's alright with you folks, I'll review the coffee that is produced by percolating hot water through these coffee beans, rather than the coffee beans themselves, as I have never eaten the beans au naturale, and I imagine you don't intend to either.

Well, at first glance, you can be pretty certain this stuff's from Hawaii. I'm sure they wanted to dress each can in its own button-down Hawaiian luau style shirt, but decided that would unnecessarily raise the cost of the product. So instead, they just covered the label with stereotypical Hawaiian flowers, palm trees in the background against a lovely orange Hawaiian sunset. Legend has it this beautiful cove is where some of the writers of "Lost" hid after the final episode aired to avoid the wrath of disgruntled fans, furious about that cop-out ending to the series.

Kauai is indeed the northernmost of the Hawaiian Islands, and they apparently grow the best coffee beans there...on the "leeward" side of the island. To save you from Googling "leeward definition," like I had to, I'll go ahead and let you know that "leeward" is a nautical term meaning "the direction in which the wind is blowing."

The can boasts that these medium-roasted beans are "aromatic, earthy, and sweet," and that's exactly what they are - or rather, what the coffee derived from these beans is. I'm not used to coffee being so bold, and yet so sweet. There's usually an unpleasant bitterness that I need to cover up with cream and sugar in any "bold" coffee. Not so with this magical island blend. I imagine the beans were grown and harvested by the Menehune's themselves - that's part of what gives the coffee such unusual properties...oh, no wait...it's the volcanic soil, according to the can. But of course, Trader Joe's can't claim publicly that they're exploiting the Menehune's. So it's probably both. Both volcanic soil and magic from the Menehune's. The Menehune's were on that episode of "Full House" where Danny Tanner took the whole fam to Hawaii; that's how I know about them. Man, that show ended way better than "Lost" did. I'm really bitter about "Lost." That whole debacle really tainted my feelings about Hawaii.

But, thankfully, this coffee is among the things that are restoring my opinion of our great 50th state. Remembering that episode of "Full House" didn't hurt either.

Anyway, the coffee is good. 4 from me. 4 from Sonia. Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Organic Lowfat Yogurt Wildberry Probiotic Smoothie

If you're a fan of Dannon's "Frusion," you'll probably like Trader Joe's Yogurt Smoothies. They taste great, they're very smooth, made with real fruit and yogurt. Unlike Dannon's, these are organic and contain probiotics.

All yogurt has "yogurt cultures," which, I understand, help your digestive system. Their little yogurt civilization travels from its container into your gastrointestinal areas, where they set up shop helping you digest other foods and regulating the flow of foods into the intestines...or something like that.

Probiotics go one step further. They are helpful, microscopic little dudes that usually get added to the already helpful yogurt cultures, and they all work together to achieve gastrointestinal regularity. If the normal yogurt cultures are the army and navy, these little probiotic fellows are the marines. I don't think any microorganisms are sophisticated enough to have an air force yet.

Anyway, I'm not a biologist or a doctor, so please disregard the two previous paragraphs completely. Unless you're a doctor and you would like to correct my silly probiotic analogy, in which case, you may do so in the form of a comment below. I never took many biology or medical classes in school because I was far too squeamish. I would have fainted at the first discussion of blood-borne pathogens or communicable diseases. The hypochondriac in me would have immediately began drawing similarities between said diseases and the symptoms of my last cold, and it would have made me quite miserable and paranoid.

On the downside, Trader Joe's Organic Lowfat Yogurt Wildberry Probiotic Smoothies are not ultra-filling like the cream yogurts and the bottles are incredibly small. I could easily polish off all four drinks in one sitting. They are one or two gulps-worth a piece. Somehow my wife can draw out the consumption of these things for 20 minutes or so, but that's really not saying much. I once saw her - and I am not exaggerating at all - take two entire days to drink a single can of diet soda. She carried it with her sometimes, she'd put it in the fridge, then take it back out...then she'd have it on her desk. I must've asked her if she was done with the can like half a dozen times, and she would say "no." Apparently, she enjoys flat soda as much or more than fresh soda. But anyway, my point is that if you're a really, really slow drinker, you can nurse these probiotic smoothies for a few minutes max. They're very small and not very filling, and they're not dirt-cheap, either. We payed something like $3.79 for the 4-pack.

We also tried the strawberry version. It's good, too, but Sonia and I agree that Wildberry is ever so slightly better, though.

In review, TJ's yogurt smoothies are delicious and good-for-you, but there's not enough in the bottle. Sonia gives them a 4.5. I would have been tempted to give them a 5 if the serving size were bigger. 4 from me. Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Frosted Maple & Brown Sugar Shredded Bite Size Wheats

There's certain things parents always say to kids when growing up. Eat your vegetables. Do your homework. Stop hitting your sister. My parents weren't an exception. There was a common mantra growing up that either my mom or dad said every morning and every night right before bed; "Brush your teeth, wash your face, comb your hair." Good advice for the morning, for sure. But at night? I'm definitely an advocate of brushing twice a day and I'd tack on the addendum to see the dentist twice a year ... in not following the second part of the rule for, oh, seven years or so I currently have three root canals going on. Blah. And washing your face twice a day, well, I guess look good all day and don't dirty your pillow at night, so that's sound enough advice. But combing your hair ... right before bed? Isn't that pointless? I mean, your hair gets messed up all night usually, and even if it somehow remains perfunctory til the rooster crows, you'd have it comb it all over again in the morning before going off to school or wherever. I can only guess that my folks' rationale was if the Bogeyman was going to get you, you might as well look good.

One sensible thing my parental units succeeded in instilling in me was the importance of a good breakfast, y'know, the "most important meal of the day." In an ideal world, I'd have eggs and bacon and pancakes and hashbrowns and coffee and orange juice every morning. As amazing that'd be, Sandy's not waking up at 6 a.m. every day to make that for me, and I'm not either. During the week, that's leaves me vacuuming down a bowl of cereal as quickly as possible before luring the dog into a crate with a cookie, grabbing lunch, manbag, and keys and speeding off to my cubicle.

That leaves me with the idea that whatever cereal I'm going to shove down my throat, I need to like it and it's got to keep me going until lunch. If it's healthy, well, all the better.

Enter Trader Joe's Frosted Maple & Brown Sugar Shredded Bite Size Wheats. Dang, that is one long name. But as a counter-acting dang, this stuff is pretty dang decent. The name pretty well sums them up. The biscuits themselves are good, bite-sized chunks of shredded wheat that are crispy from first bite to last. I especially like the last few in the milk puddle - soggy on the outside, crunchy in the middle. And they're definitely wholesome in the wheatiest of ways. And the frosting is pretty jim-dandy too. Taking a glimpse at it, it's definitely light brown with a couple different shades for the maple and brown sugar, like a mini work of art. The maple is the prevailing taste, but the brown sugar makes a great undertone taste, which is how come it tastes so good. I personally love the taste of this stuff as it indulges my kidlike sugar jonesing and my adult sensibilities.

But how full does it keep me? I'm going to employ what I call the "10 a.m. test" in gauging this; namely, how hungry am I at 10 a.m. after chowing down a bowlful at landspeed record time at 7 a.m.? Most cereals fail this test miserably, and in fact seem to make me hungrier than I would be skipping breakfast altogether. As for this, well ... it does better than most. I was able to fend off a coworker's very aggressive offering of a doughnut this morning because I wasn't hungry enough for it. Other days (I'd say about half the time), I get some moderate pangs, but haven't felt an out-and-out rumbly in the tumbly, which is commonplace with other bowled breakfast bounty. I'd say it passes well because I'm deciding to grade on a curve.

According to Sandy, I like this too much. Out of the latest box, she's gotten only a handful or two, mostly because she prefers other breakfast cereal to pack along (that and she's lucky enough to have a breakfast option provided for her at work ... ah, the perks of being a topnotch early childhood educator. Don't you dare call it daycare). Sandy's had some opportunity to fully enjoy the mini-wheats, and she has here and there, but said she didn't feel like she could give it an informed grade other than to say "it's maple-y." Something about me hogging it too much or something. Probably at least partially true. Anyways, I'll pull out the old trick of doubling my grade sans the wifey score ... I feel a little extra insecure when doing this, the weight of responsibility and all .... eh, screw it, eight and a half, which I think is about as high I can rank any cereal. This has been and will be a regular in the pantry rotation.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Soy & Flaxseed Tortilla Chips

Yellow corn, soy, and flaxseeds make up these chips. They're a structurally-sound, crunchy breed of chip. They taste a little different than regular yellow corn chips, but the taste is not so foreign that you won't be able to appreciate them on your first try. They're a little bit more massive than regular chips, which makes them highly dippable. And I do tend to either choose flavored chips, or chips that work particularly well with salsa or queso of some kind. These chips fall into the latter category, although if you're one who appreciates tortilla chips by themselves with no fixins or sauces, I'm sure these would be a fine choice for you, as they possess a nice salty, nutty quality you might expect from the 3 aforementioned main ingredients.

The bag boasts that the chips are a good source of protein, omega 3 fatty acids, and fiber. All in all, they're a nice balance of wholesome grains, crunchy snackability, and good-for-you bonuses. Our dip of choice for these chips was Trader Joe's Taco Seasoned Beef, Bean, & Cheese Dip with salsa and sour cream.

The beef wasn't as prominent as I was hoping. While eating the dip, I was really only aware of beans, cheese, and some sour cream. The salsa and beef kind of failed to push through the mishmash of other ingredients. The flavor could have been bolder, especially for a product with "taco seasoned" in its title. It was slightly bland in a way, but certainly not terrible.

This particular chip & dip combo worked pretty well, since lesser chips may well have buckled under the weight of the multi-layer dip. Any flavored chips might have clashed with the taste of the dip...and since the dip was slightly wanting in the flavor department, it's conceivable that a flavored chip would have completely overshadowed the taste of the dip...which in my opinion, completely defeats the purpose of using a dip or salsa in the first place.

In conclusion, Trader Joe's Soy & Flaxseed Tortilla Chips are a lovely, crunchable, multi-grain experience. Sonia gives them a 4. I concur. Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Taco Seasoned Beef, Bean, & Cheese Dip is not the flavor-extravaganza I had hoped for, but its subtle taste and textures are enough to garner modest 3.5's from both Sonia and I. Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Cherry Cider

There's nothing like a sticky sweet, nectar-like beverage on a warm spring day after a nice round of tennis. Green Plant Beverage? Please. You can keep your algae-juice or whatever it is. The 13-year-old trapped inside this 31-year-old's body wants a sugar-shockin' rush of yummy red liquid confection.

And that's exactly what this is, unfortunately for those of you who thought this was actually cherry cider. As we discussed in an earlier post about a different cider, this kind of drink should be "tangy and brown." Now, I'm not sure how the color is on your computer monitor, nor am I certain that my camera was properly color-balanced, but the liquid in the glass is definitely red. It's a deep red, approaching brown, but it is not brown. The packaging, too, hints that the drink within is bold red. And the beverage's subtle tartness is overshadowed by its Juicy Juice-like sweetness.

I think the color red has come to be a symbol of classic sweet drinks. Coke cans are red. Everybody knows red Kool-Aid is the best Kool-Aid. When the makers of Mountain Dew decided their green beverage too greatly resembled a health drink, they introduced Code Red to make sure everybody knew they stood for rapid tooth decay and higher rates of diabetes death.

This cherry-flavored beverage is, thankfully, very natural. They didn't dump cups of high-fructose corn syrup into it. It's actually just apple, cherry, plum, and pineapple juices from concentrate.

My only complaint about this product is its incredibly misleading name. It is not cider. This is Trader Joe's version of Code Red, sans the carbonation and artificial nonsense. It's totally for kids...and for old dudes like me that like to drink kids' beverages. After drinking a glass, there's a syrupy reside on the tongue that lingers for a while. Not sure how I feel about that...

Sonia shocked me almost as much as the candied-kick of the drink when she gave it a 4. I expected her to say it was too sweet. I give it a 4 as well, docking a point because it's not really what it says it is. But overall, it's a highly-chuggable, refreshing treat. If you like Juicy Juice, you'll want to check this stuff out.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.