Trader Joe's Battered Fish Nuggets

Right in the basement below Sandy's job, there's the college campus greasy spoon/student hang out cafe. Every day when I pick her and Baby M up to go home, I must get there right at the time when they're venting out all the deep fryers or something, because man, that tasty greasy aroma just spills out over the whole parking lot and sneaks right up my sniffer. Most of the time, I'll admit it, it smells gooooood, to the point that Sandy and I comment about it at some length as we're packing up the Tucson. You don't have to sell me on the horrors of greasy fast food - I've seen firsthand what it does to my body, and I've worked at McDonald's and gagged near enough grease buckets to know how foul it is behind the scenes -but man, that good greasy aroma? It must hit whatever evolutionary triggers I have left that beckon me towards fat and calories and comfort and whatever else for self-preservation (even though, ironically, it has quite the opposite effect these days).

Fortunately, I can avoid the grease pretty well these days. It's a work in progress, admittedly, but the results so far have been fantastic (about 30 pounds lost this year!). But also fortunately, when the mood hits and I need me a fix, there's good, relatively healthy/not-as-bad options like Trader Joe's Battered Fish Nuggets out there.

These are not your high school cafe's fish squares. I absolutely love the fact that I can bake these in the oven (admittedly, after spraying the sheet with a little PAM, like the directions say to), but they taste like they're straight from the fryer basket. The batter is the thick kind that as it bakes it crisps all up while keeping the middles perfect. A few extra minutes in the oven, and the nugget batter gets even a little extra crunchy. Most importantly, they taste and even feel a little greasy, but the nuggets really aren't all that much. It's a fishy fake out that fools me pretty well. The pesce piece itself is a pretty typical white fish, pollock, which tastes clean and not too fishy, which is appreciated. Even with the aforementioned extra bake time, the outcome was flaky, not-exactly-dry, not-exactly moist nugget innards. Delishy fishy indeed.

I just so happen to think they're darn near perfect. Condimentally speaking, I'm a hot sauce guy, which made a great accompaniment for the fish nuggets, and I can imagine they'd pair well with whatever your sauce of choice is. Plus, at $3.99 for the box, it's a decent value for two dinners for the wife and me. Sandy said she'll give 'em a four, and I'm disappointed she didn't say much else so I can poke some light fun at her as I usually do. Next time, I hope. I'll go 4.5.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Battered Fish Nuggets: 8.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons     

Trader Joe's Black Currant Juice Beverage

I had eaten dried currants long before I tried this beverage. They're very similar to raisins in taste and texture. So I guess in my mind I was expecting this beverage to taste a little like raisin juice. "But raisins are just dried grapes, you airhead," I scolded myself internally. So before partaking of this beverage, I adjusted my flavor-hypothesis accordingly and primed my tongue for something red grape juice-esque. I had also been warned by the check-out girl at TJ's that she cuts her currant juice with a bit of water—so I was expecting it to be strong, too.

But if anything, I would say the taste of this juice is significantly subtler than good old, traditional Welch's 100% Grape Juice. It looks almost identical to red grape juice—perhaps a tad darker. And I've never been one to cut anything with water. I'd rather have half a glass of thick syrupy juice by itself and then chase it with a separate glass of plain water. Which is what I did in this case.

It wasn't so pungent that it blew me away with its tartness or tanginess, but it certainly left a bit of an aftertaste in my mouth. Not a terrible one, but any aftertaste is unwelcome in my book.

However, the overall flavor is quite pleasant. It's a really refreshing and summery flavor somehow. There's an undertone that I would compare to cherry juice or cherry cider. And it's not unlike the flavor of an acaí-based drink or blackberry drink, although all three of those juices are a tad more pungent than this stuff.

The only thing they add to the "juice beverage" is some cane sugar. I think they could have gotten away with just calling it "juice," but you know the true health nuts would have had a conniption if TJ's called it "juice" and then added sugar.

It's not overly sweet by any means. I think if they had gone the purist route and not added any sugar of any kind, it would have turned me off. I think it is what it's supposed to be, just the way they have it...if that makes sense. 

Even so, in the future, I think I'll go for the stronger stuff over this one. But if you're someone who really appreciates lighter, subtler flavors, I could absolutely feature this being a beverage of choice for palates more refined than mine.

I give it 3.5 stars. So does Sonia, who added, "It tastes like a diet drink, almost like a weird Crystal Light flavor."

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Mango Green Tea

I've probably written this before, but green tea is one of those things that can easily go either way for me. Sometimes it's cool and refreshing (or warm and welcoming), but other times, if it's a bit too herbaceous, well, it tastes like a puddle I could've lapped up from my lawn after a storm. Minus the mud. Overall, I can't decide if green tea is something I like or not. It's kinda the same with mangoes, too. Mango products I've reviewed have typically done well on here (like the granola or these candies) but fresh mango? I've tried to like it, but there's just somethng a little off about it that I don't really like, which is odd because pretty much any other fresh fruit gets a free pass. Except bananas. Don't get me started on those.

So, here's Trader Joe's Mango Green Tea. Two things I like to be wishy-washy about combined into one product. Wonderful. You can probably figure where this is headed. One word of advice right off the bat: be sure to shake this pretty well, or it just tastes like some two-toned flat-out nasty juice. I made that mistake once, and once was enough.

What if well-shaken and well-chilled? Hmm. Depends on the context, methinks. Any flavor it has is pretty subtle. To be honest, what I tasted mostly was the pear juice they stuck in as a flavor filler. The green tea portion isn't too potent at all, which is appreciated, while the mango isn't too overpowering. The label says there's 14 grams of sugar per one cup serving, which seems like a ludicrous number, not as much for the nutritional aspect as...I would've guessed 2 or 3 grams, tops, because sugary and sweet are two words I definitely would not use to describe the tea. When chilled, it actually really doesn't like much at all - it kinda has to warm up a bit, and that's when it becomes a bit more flavorful, but not by leaps and bounds.

I said what I said about context because it was a welcome refreshment from our dinner last night. On the advice of several readers, I took our remaining Thai chili lime cashews and some dried green mango and tossed them into TJ's yellow curry sauce (I reviewed the red a while back) with some rice. Deeeeeeeeeeeeelish! But pretty spicy, so having some mango green tea on standby for fire duty was pretty welcome. Other times, though, when I've sipped some just to have a drink, I've come away not so impressed. Sandy's pretty much in the latter category. "Meh. Meh. Mehmehmehmeh. It tastes like nothing," she said. "Meh again." Yeah, that sounds about right to me. With a little more flavor (I'd vote for mango), this would be pretty fabulous. As is, meh resounds within me as well. Split our score as you see fit.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Mango Green Tea: 5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Indian Fare Madras Lentil

If you like veggie chili, I can't imagine you not liking this dish. It's another winner in TJ's "Indian Fare" line. At a mere $1.99, this product's an incredible value in my opinion.

It's tomato-based, with some kidney beans, lentils, and subtle spices. It goes great with rice, and I'm certain it would pair up nicely with Indian naan bread. It's not particularly chunky other than the beans, and unlike other veggie chilis, you won't find big pieces of tomatoes or other vegetables, but the lentils add a welcome heartiness that adequately fills that void.

The box suggests using it as a burrito filling, in case you're going for that "Indi-Mex" vibe. And I think it would work fine in any context you might use plain old American chili, too. You could put it on baked potatoes, create an interesting dish of international chili fries, or make your own Indian-American chili dog.

But at least part of the fun of dishes like this one is experiencing a small taste of another culture. You can be adventurous without breaking the bank at a fancy Indian restaurant. Apparently, Madras Lentil is also known as Dal Makhni, and it's usually "cooked on special occasions," according to the packaging. Click here to take a gander at other Indian-inspired product reviews from the WG@TJ's gang.

Like the Punjab Choley, this product requires no refrigeration, and like the Indian "hot pockets," it can be prepared in the microwave. It is, of course, vegetarian, but not vegan, as it does contain some cream and butter. It's not as hot as I would have liked it to be, but I guess not every Indian dish is supposed to be a spice-fest.

Considering the low cost, the ease of preparation, and the no-maintenance shelf-stability, this is one of the most hassle-free items we've come across at TJ's—or anywhere for that matter. Sonia and I are both impressed. 4 stars from each of us.

To see the prepared product close up, check out our video review on YouTube.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Giotto's Tiramisu Torte

Loyalty. Listening. Attention to detail. A cursory Google search mentions all these qualities as the difference between being merely good, and being great. I can see these when talking about people and their roles and whatnot, but for certain things and inanimate objects, I'll confess I really don't know what the difference is. Like cigars, for example. I know the difference between a bad gas station cigar and a moderate to good one. That's pretty plain to sense. It all depends if you can tell the difference between cardoard and actual tobacco. But the difference between a good cigar and a great cigar? No idea. I know what I like, and that's about it. My choice of adult beverages usually falls in this category as well.

As does tiramisu. Now, I've had tiramisu plenty of times. I'd wager that I've had some not-so-good, some average-to-good, and some absolutely fabulous tiramisu. I haven't too many that look like the ones on the tiramisu Wikipedia page, which I'm sure would fit in the "absofreakydeliciosomazing" category.

So where does Trader Giotto's Tiramisu Torte fall on the spectrum? Well, you can probably figure from my intro where this is going. This particular adaptation certainly purports itself to be fancy. The package proudly proclaims "Handcrafted in Italy" and they slapped Giotto's name on it, after all. It's yet another frozen dessert to thaw out for a few hours in the fridge before consumption. When it came time to slice it up, well, the picture above tells the basic story. There's the thin layer of espresso sponge cake at the bottom, with a thick layer of mascarpone and a solid dusting of cocoa powder on top. The mini choco-bits that float around amidst the mascarpone aren't terribly noticeable, but that's okay as there's plenty enough flavor and richness abounding. There's not too much that I can say about it that differentiates it from most other tiramisu - everything tastes just about right. It's the usual rich, creamy, semi-decadent fare that my tastebuds have come to expect over the years. It does seem to have more cocoa powder than most, which I'll consider a plus. Other than that, there's not a whole lot to say.

It's $6.99 for the whole shebang, which isn't too pricey for this type of deal.  If we were to purchase a slice or two at a restaurant (whch would probably cost like 5 buck each), and this were on our plate, I think both Sandy and I would be reasonably happy. Actually, Sandy liked hers quite a bit. "Ooo, you'll hate this. You shouldn't even bother eating your slice," she said in her usual tone that means "I want your piece, boy." Then, when I dared mention that it was merely "decent" as my first opinion she shook her head, rolled her eyes and I think even growled a little. "You don't like anything, do you?" Well, enough that I went for seconds, based mostly on the fact that the label says a serving is 1/7th of the torte (how you cut something like this into sevenths, I have no clue) and I had only about 1/8th. Sandy gives it a four, while I'll go a smidge lower.

Bottom line: Trader Giotto's Tiramisu Torte: 7.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's 6 Chocolate & 6 Vanilla Coconut Macaroons

Yeesh. It's been one of those weeks. Maybe you can relate. Baby M's been up pretty much all night every night screaming unless she's been held. I guess I'd be the same way if I had a passing tummy bug while (probably) teething and a much-worse-than-usual diaper rash. For a recent three night stretch, I got a total of maybe about 7 hours of sleep, which I'd complain more about except that's more than my poor wife, who also doesn't have the luxury of sitting in a cubicle sipping coffee for a living like I do. Combine that with this being the week that we're beginning to get serious about getting ready to put our little house on the market, so there's a whole list of things to do and stuff to buy from Home Depot. I get lost in there, which only adds to the time. That and work and family in town (great to see you, Aunt Alice et al!) and yeah...I guess we shouldn't be too terribly surprised that Sandy and I forgot we even had these from a shopping trip a couple weeks back, until we decided we needed some sugary motivation for yet another late-night-baby's-maybe-sleeping cleaning rampage. Most normal weeks, we'd be all over these.

So, Trader Joe's 6 Chocolate and 6 Vanilla Coconut Macaroons. No, there's neither six types of chocolate nor six types of vanilla contained in each macaroon. That'd be a record. The macaroons are another one of TJ's frozen sit-and-thaw dessert types which have a little bit of mixed success with us, and honestly, I'm not up on my macaroon maintenance methods and whatnot, so I'm not sure why they're frozen to begin with. Seems to me they'd be shelf-stable enough. Anyways, as a concoction requiring thaw time, the macaroons are finally fit for consumption after forty minutes of sweating it out at room temp. Fortunately, that gave us a set deadline for fiddling with our bedroom laundry again. That part's the worst.

So, finally it was time to scarf them down. And yeah, we did. But to be honest, we weren't too impressed by them. As a helpful guide, the nutrition label states a serving of these consists of one chocolate and one vanilla macaroon....have mercy if you ate two of one flavor, apparently. So that's we each had. I liked the chocolate one a little bit better - they're not exactly straight-up dark chocolate, but the flavor tilts more that way than milk chocolate, for sure. Maybe it was the novelty of probably my first-ever chocolate macaroon. Conversely, Sandy enjoyed the vanilla a little more, which pretty much taste like, well, vanilla. Naturally, each had plenty of shredded coconut, and probably too much sugar, and were fairly soft and texturally pleasing, if still a little chilly. They're certainly rich enough that I was pretty satisfied with stopping at two.  

Sandy and I "playfight" as we call it. We rarely argue, but if there's a point we want to be made to one another, we usually get a little sarcastic, make fun of each other, say whatever it is, make more fun of each other, and usually laugh along the way and work it out. That was kinda our night while cleaning our room (adding in gently throwing a Beanie Baby platypus at each other), so it wasn't surprising that before I had a chance to ask my lovely wife her score, she looked at me and started doing her "Russ impersonation" - namely, making a stupid looking face, lowering her voice and mumbling something. It's surprisingly accurate. In her Russ-voice while making her Russ-face, she mumbled something like "Oh they're okay I guess, they're not bad. I've had better...uhhh...maybe I didn't really like them....uhh, maybe I did...uhhhh, since you know all about macaroons and (stuff), what did you think?" She settled on a 3.5 for them, adding that she likes the plain ones with maraschino cherries you can find at most grocery stores better than these. I'm not swayed one way or the other by them, so right down the middle for me.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's 6 Chocolate & 6 Vanilla Coconut Macaroons: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Banana Chips

As Sonia tore into the bag and began crunching voraciously on these banana chips, she exclaimed "Oh my gosh, these are so good! They're amazing!"

Puzzled at her uncharacteristic enthusiasm, I replied coolly, "They're pretty much like any other banana chips I've ever had."

"Well, I've never had banana chips before. These are brand new to me," she explained.

How someone—a self-proclaimed banana fan nonetheless—can go for 34 years in this country without having a single banana chip, I'm not quite sure. But that's the thing with marriage. Years into the journey, you're still discovering new things about your spouse that surprise you. Admittedly, the surprises tend to have less impact the longer you go—you get the big surprises out of the way in year 1. "You've never had banana chips before?!" carried fewer long-term implications and prompted a much more civilized discussion than "You've got how much credit card debt!?!?" did.

But as usual, I digress. Let's get back to the banana chips. As I implied above, I've had them many times before. Mostly in trail mixes. I'm not a particularly big fan of them by themselves, although they're pretty good just dipped in peanut butter. They're a close relative of Trader Joe's slightly-more-exotic Plantain Chips.

And just in case you're wondering, the ingredients list didn't get cut off in that pic on the right. That's it. That's the whole thing. And that's what we like to see. 4 ingredients total. No hydrogenated oils like the ones I used to eat as a kid.

By the end of the bag, Sonia's enthusiasm for the banana chips waned. I'm pretty sure her initial score would have been a 5. But she downgraded that to a respectable 4. I'm really not a huge fan of banana chips like I said, but considering the simplicity of their ingredients, their convenience, and their snackability, I can't go lower than 3.5.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Blueberry Cultured Coconut Milk

Until I laid eyes on this product, I didn't know you could make yogurt out of coconut milk. But there it is. They don't call it "yogurt," instead it's "cultured coconut milk," but, well...it's essentially yogurt.

It's packaged like yogurt, it looks like yogurt, and it feels like yogurt, too. And honestly, it tastes pretty much like blueberry yogurt infused with coconut. But amazingly, it's completely non-dairy. In fact, it's vegan.

And I've been on a bit of a yogurt kick for a while now. Recently, a Yogurtland location opened up in Delaware County, PA, that we've already made several visits to, and just last week I crowned myself "the world's leading expert on Archer Farms yogurts." I may just do the same with Trader Joe's yogurts, since I have reviewed numerous TJ's yogurt products, however, Russ might also have a legitimate claim on the title as well.

So just trust me when I tell you that this stuff is good. If you like yogurt, you'll like this. That is, unless you have some weird aversion to coconut. In that case, don't even try it. It doesn't gush with coconut flavor—blueberry is definitely the dominant taste, but you can tell that the base is coconut. After all "organic coconut milk" is the number one ingredient. And furthermore, there's an allergy warning: "contains coconut," just in case you hadn't figured that out already.

I like seeing the word "organic" next to some of the main ingredients, including "dried cane syrup." It makes me feel like I'm not polluting my body too much.

Sonia was out and about when I gluttonously inhaled this cup of non-yogurt. So I'll just score it without her...but I'm pretty sure she would have liked it. I'll give it 4 stars on behalf of each of us.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Thai Lime & Chili Cashews

I'll admit it: Sandy and I bought this bag of Trader Joe's Thai Lime & Chili Cashews fully expecting to not like them. I do that sometimes, for the sake of the blog, otherwise we'd never review ca-taste-trophes like the meatloaf muffins or the watered down raccoon p...I mean Name Tag lager. You see, years ago, well before becoming a TJ's regular, I happened to stroll in one day to see what the big fuss was about TJ's, saw these and bought them, gagged on the first handful, and promptly returned them, and didn't really come back to the store 'til a few years later. I had kinda forgotten about them, but then my folks, who've become recent TJ regulars themselves, made the same rookie mistake I did, bought them, hated them, and returned them right away, and made sure I knew about it. I figured it'd be worth the time and obliterated taste buds to revisit this bag o' nuts, if for no other reason to spread the word about their grotesque existence, and maybe indirectly get TJ's to spend their precious shelf space on some other worthy snacky food.  Doing that based off a five year old memory wouldn't be fair, hence our purchase. I think I even talked Sandy into them by saying we'd buy them, be grossed out, return them and then go get ice cream with our returned dollars.

But a funny thing happened: Sandy ripped the bag open, popped one or two in her mouth, and then kept going back for more and more. "Mmmmm," she said, unbelievably to me. "I like 'em." So, I grabbed a few myself.

Surprisingly....they're not bad. Granted, they're hotter than a pair of sweat pants full of barbeque, so their appeal to the general population may be somewhat limited. That "lime" you see in the title? If you were expecting these cashews to be mostly lime flavored with a little Thai spice, or perhaps offer some relief from the heat (like, say, bleu cheese dip for some hot wings), you're about to be very gravely mistaken. The lime is very, very, very subtle. The packaging says it has something to do with the lime leaves it comes from, or something like that. What's not subtle at all is the literal barrage of Thai chili seasoning coming from each and every nut. It's unrelenting. It's liberally dusted over each nut, and by the end of your snack it will not only cover your fingers but also seemingly every bit of your existence. Behold the power of Thai chili, and have water nearby just in case. If you do not absolutely love very spicy Thai food, you stand no chance of liking these whatsoever. Buy carefully.

If I recall correctly, I didn't like them years ago because they were way-off-the-chart-too-spicy, even for me back in my younger days. I phrase it that way, because I used to be able to eat a habenero and not even wince, and these days, on the other side of 30 with a wife, kid, mortgage, full-fledged bald spot and regular chiropractic appointments, anything much more than Frank's Red Hot make me want to take a knee for a spell. So either these have toned down over the years, or there's some part of me wishing desperately to ignore all the radio ads about my supposedly declining testosterone and to hold on to the days of my youth, and for whatever reason this has all subconsciously manifested into a newfound tolerance for a sack full of spicy nuts. Or maybe I just don't want to look like a sissy next to my wife. Not sure. 

They're $6.99 for the pound, which isn't too bad for cashews these days. And while they're not something we'll inhale, or even necessarily buy all that often, they're good enough for the occasional handful. We'll have to finance our next ice cream trip thru different means after all. Sandy does seem to enjoy them a smidge more than me, and I like them to the tune of about three Golden Spoons, so add half of one for her.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Thai Lime & Chili Cashews: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons 

Trader Joe's Chocolate Almond Smooth Non-Dairy Beverage

The plethora of food allergies I suffered from as a child included ones to wheat, sugar, and milk. The cow's milk allergy prompted my parents to feed me goat's milk, soy milk, and occasionally something more obscure like rice milk or almond milk. So I'm no stranger to "alternative" milks. And in recent years, soy milk and almond milk have become more and more popular—almost mainstream. The most ubiquitous brand of almond-based beverages is of course Almond Breeze, put out by parent company Blue Diamond.

And both Sonia and I agree that TJ's Almond Smooth blows Almond Breeze away. That was sort of a pun. Get it? "Blows the breeze away." Because breezes usually do the blowing away... oh never mind.

This is the first flavor of Almond Smooth that we've tried, so we can't really vouch for the others just yet, but we've heard nothing but good things. They also offer a sweetened vanilla flavor and an unsweetened vanilla. The sugariness of the chocolate is perfect. It's not overbearing, but they didn't underdo it either. Likewise, the chocolate flavor blends with and enhances the almond base. It doesn't compete with it, as I've often felt was the case with beverages like Silk Chocolate Soymilk. But then, you never hear about chocolate-covered tofu or anything like that. But there are a few classics that come to mind when you think about chocolate paired up with almonds.

In the past, we've taken looks at other non-dairy milks from Trader Joe's. Just check out our reviews of TJ's Light Coconut Milk and their Vanilla Coconut Milk. So far, this one takes the cake. It's super smooth and highly-drinkable. Click here to see a nice cold glass of it, straight out of the box.

We also got a little crazy and made smoothies with it. We dumped it into the blender with ice cubes, bananas, and peanut butter. And yee-haw, that was friggin' delicious. It was smooth and rich, akin to the legendary Peanut Butter Moo'd smoothie from Jamba Juice.

Sonia went crazy immediately. She was extremely pleased with this product from her first sip. 5 stars from her. I enjoyed it right away, but wasn't completely blown away like she was. After our smoothies, however, I started thinking about the potential and versatility of such a beverage. Furthermore, it's one of, if not the best non-dairy milk I've ever had. So I'd feel like this product were getting robbed of its due if I gave it anything less that 4.5 stars. So it looks like we're going to record this happy box of almond love in the hallowed halls of our Pantheon.

Bottom line: 9.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Crispy Jeju Mandarin Orange Slices

How long does a bag of mandarins or clementines last in your house? Around these parts, not long at all. The wife and I can inhale a two pound bag in literally a day. It must be our completely irrational fear of scurvy. As an aside, we have to save one for Baby M, who loves holding one in her little hands as she tries to impersonate the two of us by trying to cram it into mouth. Like father, like daughter, I guess. Scary thought. She literally held one for hours at school one day until a bigger kid came by, swiped it, and chomped it as Baby M burst into tears. If someone stole my little orange, I'd have much the same reaction.

Anyways, when I see the words "crispy" and "Mandarin orange," my mind automatically inserts the word "chicken." So it's a little jarring to see the full name, Trader Joe's Crispy Jeju Mandarin Orange Slices, and know it's an obviously orangey poultry-free product. In case you whiff on this observation, TJ's conveniently slapped on the phrase "nothing added". No, friends, what's about to go down is a crispy orange slice, in all its crispy orange slice glory, and there's nothing to add or subtract from that.

Except the juiciness, naturally. Texturally and sensorially, the orange slices are kinda bizarre at first. Visually, they look like something you'd find in a potpurri jar. Imagine leaving an orange slice in the desert sun for a week or two, and coming back and finding a withered skin-frame of what used to be a regular mandarin orange slice. That's about what they look like, and kinda what they crunch like, too. Each bit is light, airy, and definitely crispy, like a potato chip but much lighter, like crispy paper, perhaps. It's strange until you get used to it.

What it doesn't lose is taste. Despite the abject absence of any water, the orange slices still maintain a lot of the citrusy acidic bite. Some were even downright tart. Once I got used to the texture and mouthfeel of these lil' buggers, I could begin to really enjoy the taste. Unfortunately, that's also just about when the bag ran out.

The crispy oranges made an interesting little snack for the drive home post-work and shopping/pre-exercise/dinner/baby caretaking evening. Sandy's pretty hyped on the idea of getting them again before having guests over, to try and fool them into thinking we eat potpurri. Other than that, she stated she wasn't sure if she'd buy them again. I think it's because ultimately there isn't much substance to them. That's also my knock aganst 'em, though the edible potpurri shenanigans sound good to me. Sandy says a three. I say they deserve better, just for being willing to be a little weird, so a four from me.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Crispy Jeju Mandarin Orange Slices: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons        

Trader Joe's Gourmet Jelly Beans

The past couple days have been significant double-holidays. In case you weren't paying attention, yesterday was April Fool's Day—not to mention, Holy Monday. And the day before that was Easter—and also, Cesar Chavez's birthday. The whole Cesar Chavez thing is way bigger out in L.A., where we used to live. Heck, they have streets named after him there. And here in Philly, Easter is a bigger deal. Most of the stores are closed, and everyone has family dinners in their fancy spring suits and Easter hats. We saw one lady wearing a two-foot tall Easter bonnet. She was the Mistress of Ceremonies at an Easter egg hunt in a nearby park, and a personal friend of the Easter Bunny himself.

Circa 1983, at the age of 3 and a half, I'm quoted as saying "Look what that rabbit brought me!" in regards to a basket full of goodies that I found on Easter morning. It had some carob bunnies (I was forbidden chocolate in my early years) some small toys, and yes, those timeless Easter classics: jelly beans.

I guess they're sort of shaped like little eggs and that's why it's sort of appropriate to eat them on Easter. But hey, why limit yourself to one Sunday a year? They taste good all the time...that is, unless you're talking about a popcorn-flavored Jelly Belly.

And like Jelly Belly, this mixture of beans from Trader Joe's contains both scrump-dilly-icious flavors...aaand a few not-so-scrump-dilly flavors. Sonia and I especially enjoyed the coconut, grape, and strawberry smoothie flavors, but we were less enthused about licorice and pomegranate. That's not to say those latter flavors are bad, it's just that they don't blend as well when you grab a handful of random beans and shovel them into your mouth all at once. The beans are made with natural flavors, and they're even colored with "fruit & vegetable sources."

Just look at the ingredients list pictured here. They were thinking outside the box with these additives. When's the last time you saw currant, pumpkin, hibiscus, and gardenia extracts listed on the back of a food product?

I felt like these jelly beans were slightly stiffer than other brands—at least when you first start to chew them. It could have just been that they were cold when we ate them, though. I'll have to turn the heat up in the kitchen... Anyway, please comment below if you found the same thing.

All things considered, these were a nice little Easter treat for my wife and me. We enjoyed eating them and trying to identify each of the 18 flavors. We're still not sure if we got every single flavor in our box, but most of the ones we did get were tasty and unique. Click here for a close-up of the beans out of the box. Sonia gives these beans 4 stars. Me too.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Everlasting Organic Fair Trade Free Range Salmon Breakfast Muffins

Well, friends, there's not much more that can be said other than a few years' worth of hard work on this blog has finally paid off. Big Joe (as in THE Big Joe, ruler of the Trader Joe kingdom) has finally noticed us, and has reached out to us in light of our usually positive-if-not-glowing, always-free-for-them publicity we give his company, and has decided to reward us. No, it's not with our dream jobs with the Fearless Flyer. It's not an on-the-house case of two-buck Chuck. No, friends, this is something much, much better.

We've been selected via plume of white smoke at the Monrovia headquarters to be the very first to sample a brand new product and have been allowed to write about it only after some long, late night negotiations. Now, we may have let this go to our heads a little, and so may be a little biased and all when we say this, but it's the best thing we've ever tried from Trader Joe's: TJ's Everlasting Organic Fair Trade Free Range Salmon Breakfast Muffins.

Okay, yeah, that might sound a little...unsettling at first glance. Well, trust us, because as always, we're right, and even if we're not, our opinion counts more than yours anyways. These are amazing. Each bite is like kissing the lips of God. They are lifechanging. You'll never go back to any other breakfast muffin again.

They're a bit difficult to describe though. "What's so difficult to explain about a slab of salmon on an English muffin?" you ask. Well, first off, the salmon is puffed into "culinary foam," via blasts of air from N₂O cartridges. The process not only turns the fish into a fluffy, whipped gourmet treat, but it extends the flavor and shelf life of the product indefinitely, hence the "Everlasting" part of the product's title. Each of the toppings, including cream cheese, lox, and bran flakes, are deconstructed to the molecular level in a top secret particle accelerator, overseen by the very same physicists who rose to fame with their exploits at the Large Hadron Collider in Geneva, Switzerland. Their latest project resulted in the confirmation of the existence of "the deliciousness particle," first theorized in 1985. And each of these muffins abounds with liberal amounts of deliciousness particles—they are delectable indeed.

Even more astonishing than the flavor is what's included in each and every package. To verify that each salmon used is in fact organic, fair trade, free range, happy and otherwise socially well-adjusted at time of harvest, there's a small booklet inside that gives the salmon's entire life story, starting from when their forefather first spawned upriver and up thru their awkward salmon teenage years. Our particular salmon's name was Henry, and he mostly just enjoyed swimming and being in school. One day he aspired to be the right tackle for the Miami Dolphins. Well, Henry, you got yourself a better fate than that. 

Henry's foamed-up form, and those of each and every salmon, rests atop a bed of the finest fair-trade Ecuadorian quinoa, Indian oats, and Chinese amaranth, cooked to golden-brown perfection in an energy-efficient solar oven. And incredibly, the farmer of each of the grains has autographed the packaging and included a statement certifying that he got equitable treatment when he exported his product.

One part of our agreement with Big Joe was, we were not allowed to take pictures of the packaging or actual product, so as to not tip off the competitors too much. However, they didn't say we couldn't try to replicate them using MS Paint, hence the, umm, incredible and nearly authentic reproductions we provided. Speaking of competitors....word on the street is, Whole Foods will be offering a version of these, and though the pricing isn't official, we hear it involves a 15% down payment and two-thirds of your left pinkie. That's a bit steep - Trader Joe's will be selling them for $1.99. 

We're not sure why these are marketed as breakfast muffins. Don't get us wrong, eat one first thing in the morning and automatically the sun shines a little brighter and the birds chirp just a little louder and your stocks are guaranteed to hit an all time high in just a few hours, but these everlasting, shelf stable sandwiches are so amazing, and require no refrigeration or freezing or anything, and actually can be stored in temperatures of up to 194 degrees Fahrenheit without compromising product quality, so buy a whole stash! Keep some in the desk at work, some in the minivan for the kiddos, heck, even stash some under the couch for, you know, one of "those nights." They're appropriate whenever, so don't be shy.

For the culinary and food-science benchmarks that they set, for their unbelievable taste and texture, and for their incredible value, these muffins earn top ratings from all four of us here at WG@TJ's. For the first time ever, we offer a better-than-perfect score.

Bottom line: 20 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Garlic Fries

I have random pictures on my iPhone. Take, for instance, this lovely looking picture of Trader Joe's Garlic Fries. I don't remember taking it. It might have been a few weeks ago when we had them last. It might have been any one of the several times Sandy and I munched down on them over the past couple years. About a year ago at this time, we were eating a lot of fries. Pregnancy and sympathy can certainly do that. While we favored the sweet potato frites, these were a common-enough pick up...I think her watching the Twilight movies and her strong desire to not  have a vampire baby might have had something to do with that. Eh well. Stumbling across the picture was a little bit of providence, as our latest trip to TJ's produced much of the same staples as usual without much of anything new to review, so here we go.

They're not bad. These fries are the type with a little extra batter on them to make them a little extra crispy and greasy even straight from the oven. They're also pretty generously cut. I approve of that. I'd recommend baking them a little longer to make sure they're a little extra crispy, because the garlic goop comes in a little pouch on the side that you swish your fries in a bowl once baked. That leaves the potential for a plateful of limp, very non-crispy fry. That's not good. That brings us to the garlic sauce...it's decidedly very garlicky. You've got to like roasted garlic to like these, because man, it's strong. We've used the whole pouch and have found that the "less is more" approach works better. Also, in retrospect, I wonder if drizzling the garlic oil on the fries then baking for an extra couple minutes might not be a bad approach to try and avoid the inevitability of a few less-than-perfunctory spuds. Anyone try that method?

That biggest gripe I have, though, is if you follow the instructions and pay attention to the labeling, you have to bake the whole bag at once (I guess because of the one pouch of oil), and that's seven servings. Maybe that works well for the seven dwarves, but for just me and the wifey (Baby M's still a bit too young), that's a lot. Granted, I think the serving sizes are small, because, um, well, we can eat the whole bag (not that we should, but we can). There's probably some sort of creative solution that doesn't involve reheating them, because that's gross.  Also, it'd be preferable if it involved not storing the excess oil in my fridge, because knowing us it'd end up going bad and making a nasty piece of Tupperware we'd fight over cleaning up (I always lose those).

To wrap it up, the Trader Joe's garlic fries aren't necessarily fantastic, but they're not terrible either. I'm "borrowing" the packaging picture from a veritable fry expert, French Fry Diary, and their review, while a bit more harsh than ours, isn't too far off the mark either. They're not bad, and they're worth the occasional pick-up, but not much more than that. Split our score as you see fit.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Garlic Fries: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

 

Trader Joe's Organic Creamy Tomato Soup

A couple weeks ago, we reviewed Trader Joe's Organic Tomato and Roasted Red Pepper Soup. In that post, I brooded sufficiently over TJ's discontinuation of their Organic Tomato Bisque, so I shan't do so any more in this post. But man, I really miss that bisque!

I should also point out that a reader mentioned in a comment that Trader Joe's English Cheddar with Caramelized Onions makes a brilliant companion for the aforementioned red pepper soup. I would think this creamy tomato soup would work well with it also. Or try dipping Piccolo Paninis in one of those tasty TJ's soups.

All that being said, I guess you're wondering what this soup is actually like...

Well, it's got the texture of typical creamy tomato soup. Think Campbell's. Or think TJ's Roasted Red Pepper Soup. 'Nuff said.

As for the taste, it's not as good as TJ's Tomato Bisque. But nothing is. Furthermore, Sonia and I both agree that the Roasted Red Pepper Soup has a bit more flavor and uniqueness than this product. But if you're a fan of just plain old, traditional, classic tomato soup, then check it out. It's organic, so that puts it one step ahead of Campbell's, and it doesn't contain anything nasty like high fructose corn syrup, so that puts it two full steps ahead of Campbell's right there. And it tastes like creamy tomato soup. Pure and simple.

I only use Campbell's as an example since it's the archetype for all American soups, the wrapper of which is worthy of Warholian pop-art. It is the standard by which other soups are often measured. That doesn't mean there aren't other brands of healthier tomato soups out there. Amy's comes to mind. And word on the street is that she offers a chunky tomato bisque, comparable to Trader Joe's...I'm'onna check that out!

All in all, we can't complain. But I usually reserve the really high scores for weird stuff with bells and whistles. 4 stars from Sonia. 3 stars from me.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Piccolo Panini

So, I get why Sandy and I picked up the box of Trader Joe's Piccolo Panini a few nights ago. We were both in the mood for an easy dinner, and definitely not in the mood to go grocery shopping, yet we felt compelled by the power of our rumbly tummies and empty fridge. Normally, in this kinda situation, the veggie corn dogs and some Trader tots would be high on our list, but we've had that dinner a few times recently, and wanted something different. For whatever reason, this caught our eye, and for the $3.99 for a box of 16, we figured, why not. One can do much worse for a midweek dinner, I suppose.

But I don't exactly get the point of these overall. Now, I'm not that dumb. These are obviously meant more as a snacky hors d'ouevres than an actual dinner dish. I get that. But even in that regard, that kinda fall a little bit short. It's not that they taste terrible, because they don't. It's kinda of everything else.

For a few small bites, the preparation is kinda silly. You have to take them out of the package, let them thaw out for 20 to 25 minutes, bake them for about 15, then let them sit for a few before eating them, leaving a small window of time before they get cold and not as appetizing. Maybe that doesn't sound that bad. But let's talk about that, with the theoretical happenstance you're making these for a shindig at your house. Perhaps you're much different than my wife and I, but the last few minutes before any guests arrive, we're usually shoving plates, pots and random doodads into the dishwasher and tossing all of our dirty socks down to the basement and out of sight. There's not much time to be spared for panini prep time management, assuming we'd want these on the menu.

Plus, kinda the whole point of a panini, at least to me, is having a big ol' oversized sandwich. The piccolo squares are teeny little bites, maybe two midsized nibbles each square. It just doesn't have the same kind of satisfaction. Maybe that sounds like a silly thing to say, in light of the fact we purchased them, knowing what they are and their size and all, but while eating these, we just became that much more aware of that fact.

Buuuuttttt....they tasted okay enough. The bread got nice and reasonably toasted and crispy on the outside, and while the pesto and red pepper spread were nothing special, they weren't terrible by any means either. They made a good enough side dish for some orzo and peas. The panini bits even made a decent enough leftover lunch, even though the bread got noticeably chewier and denser overnight. But all in all, they're just very much in the middle - nothing that bad or too wonderful to say about them. Sandy's reaction summed it up about perfectly when I asked for her opinion: "Mmmmeeehhhhhhhh...". I interpret that as a three. Mark me down for that too.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Piccolo Panini: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Crunchy Peanut Butter Granola Bars

For those of you who want the bottom line first, I'll just say that if you like Nature Valley Crunchy Peanut Butter Granola Bars, you'll like these.

For those of you who'd like me to entertain you for a couple of minutes, read on.

Ever notice how the Nature Valley commercials always show people eating those granola bars while sitting on a rock next to a crystal lake among pristine mountains and pine trees? The woman takes a bite, closes her eyes, and appears to climax for a moment. In reality, most people are eating these bars in their car on the way to work, and bursts of crumbs are popping off with every bite, soiling nice suits and business slacks, garnering curses with each crunch, causing near-accidents as drivers take their eyes off the road to swipe crumbs off of their laps and onto the floor mat. Drivers know they should just stop eating the bar and finish it in the parking lot, but they just taste so darn good that people can't stop. Yeah, well, these TJ's bars are the same kind of deal.

In the past, we were delighted with TJ's Fiberful Peanut Butter Bars. And the Peanut Butter Oat Bars were pretty tasty, too. Trader Joe has this peanut butter bar thing down pat. Especially when they're really just ripping off companies like Fiber One and Nature Valley. But hey, if it saves me a buck, I won't call you out on your unoriginality, Big Joe.

With two grams of fiber per bar, they're good for the digestive system, not to mention, quite filling too. And five grams of protein is nice for energy and stuff. All in all, a healthy, tasty snack. 3.5 stars from me. 4.5 stars from Sonia.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10

Trader Joe's 100% Whole Wheat Everything Bagel Slims

Back in mid-November, I started a new job. The details of it are quite inconsequential, so I'll skip over them. The highlights: closer to home, less stress, better hours, and more pay. Tough to argue with that combination! Anyways, I split a double cubicle with a guy there who I've gotten to be decent enough buddies with. He's...interesting. I mean that in a good way. I genuinely like him. But like the rest of us, he's got his little things and minor hang ups. For him, it's his bagel. Every day I have eaten lunch with him (which has been most every day after my first week or two there), he's had an asiago cheese bagel (bought day-old and half price from an outstanding local bakery) sandwich with precisely the same amount of sliced lunch meat and cheese on it, with probably the same number of lettuce leaves and jalapeno slices. Every day, without fail. He's funny, too, because he obsesses over his bagels, to the point he claims he can drive by and spot when they're available on the halfprice rack and when they are not, and if they are, he will stop and buy every single one. I don't doubt him one bit.  

Anyways, my bagel of choice is usually an everything bagel. They're far from an everyday thing, but when given the opportunity, I'll bite. When we're shopping, Sandy is usually on the lookout for new and interesting carby creations to use for sandwiches and whatnot, and the sleeker and sexier, the better. She got really excited over some "pocket bread" she saw recently and got, while I tried my best to point out to her it was really just a pita. Not to her, though. "It's pocket bread!" I gave up. Fortunately, when those were gone, we both managed to spy the Trader Joe's 100% Whole Wheat Everything Bagel Slims, and needless to say, we were both on board. The pack of 8 cost something like $3.

 I completely neglected to take a picture of them, but they look about as exciting as they actually sound - round, slim, hole in the middle. You probably could've guessed all that. And you probably could have guessed what they taste like, too - whole wheat, onion, the usual seedy suspects. And further, you probably could have guessed that they resemble something much closer to a slice of bread with all that in it and on it, instead of an actual bagel. Yeah, these kinda are what they are, without too much surprise. They're not bad, but they don't blow me away either. Even when we toasted them up, they still lacked the bite that I knew they wouldn't have but wanted them to anyways, if that makes any sense. The way I figure it, if the Food Network can find all these chefs to make a dessert incorporating stuff like peanut butter, green tea leaves, duck eggs, and Cinnabon icing (or whatever), they should be to find someone with a useful skill like making an actual slim bagel, with the tough egg-brushed skin and chewy middles that an good bagel has, without all the Atkins-cringe-inducing carb crushload. Maybe that person is out there. Heck, maybe it's you. Get to work! 

All that being said...we'd buy them again. They matched every kind of sandwich we made wth them, from tofu parmesan to veggie masala burgers to egg and cheese. They're solid if not spectacular, perhaps an unsung hero in some ways. You need something to help hold your sandwich together, and these do an admirable enough job. Sandy made a satisfied Mmmmm when I asked for her score, so I knew she liked them, and she did, well enough to give them a four. That's a bit high in my book. Here's a 3.5 from me.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's 100% Whole Wheat Everything Bagel Slims: 7.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Coconut Caramel Dark Chocolate Bar

Ah, that checkout counter at TJ's—the display is tailored to ensnare the strongest of men. And the strongest of women. Like my wife Sonia. She has an iron will.

She can place a chocolate bar on the counter in our kitchen and not touch it for weeks. And the thing is, she loves dark chocolate. She walks by it day after day, simply ignoring it. She manages to ignore all manner of goodies. Ice cream in the freezer. Butter cookies on the table. These incredible feats of self-discipline are routine for her.

Me? Not so much. I can usually muster up the willpower not to buy those tempting treats in the first place. But once they're in the kitchen, it's "game over." Sweets and treats in the house taunt me, break my concentration, crush my will, and leave me utterly defeated. Fat—and utterly defeated.

This chocolate bar was no exception to the rule. I knew from experience to expect deliciousness from Trader Joe's products featuring dark chocolate and caramel. In fact, TJ's seems to have mastered all of the dark arts—dark chocolate arts, that is: dark chocolate-covered fruit, dark chocolate-covered mints, dark chocolate-covered cookie butter. You name it, they've done it, and almost always have done it very well.

This bar follows in the footsteps of those other great products. If you're a fan of 70% cacao dark chocolate, caramel, and coconut, you will like this bar. The coconut adds a Mounds-esque tropical element to the confection, and it works pretty well. It looks like they're playing up that whole tropical theme on the wrapper with exotic flowers, flamingos, and such.

The sections of the bar are huge. Ideally, I would think they'd be a tad smaller. And yes, we included a pic of the product out of the wrapping. Just click here to see it.

The balance of flavors is good. The texture is pleasant, and the coconut makes everything a bit more interesting. They even threw some "black Hawaiian sea salt" in the mix. Even the salt has to stick with that tropical theme. Nice touch, TJ's. But I'm still pining for more white chocolate and milk chocolate options from that infamous Trader Joe's checkout display. I know, I know, it's not "good for you" like dark chocolate is, what with all the antioxidants and stuff. But let's go ahead and mix acai berries with white chocolate or something to add the goodness back in. Just an idea. But I guess they're on a roll with the dark chocolate caramel business. I can't really complain.

Sonia gives this candy bar 3.5 stars. I give it 4.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.