Trader Joe's Chicken Shawarma Bowl

Since this isn't the first shawarma product we've reviewed from Trader Joe's, I've given my spiel about chicken shawarma already. See: Trader Joe's Shawarma Chicken Thighs and Trader Joe's Shawarma Chicken Flatbread Wrap.

I found both of those products fell just shy of the mark for two completely different reasons, but neither was terrible, either. Roro's set the bar pretty high as my reference point for chicken shawarma. Trader Joe's has yet to offer anything truly outstanding in my book. But if they release 30 shawarma products this year, then you can bet I'll try all 30 and review them right here on this blog.

At any rate, I opted to heat this little bowl in the big bakey box rather than the microwave. It involves 40 minutes in the conventional oven, as compared to just five minutes when nuked. There's an arctic blast in effect as I compose this review, and we can use every Btu of heat we can get in the house right now.

In addition to shawarma chicken, we've got basmati rice, veggies, and a garlic sauce. None of the elements were particularly flavorful, nor did they approximate genuine Middle Eastern cuisine. Real shawarma bursts with the bright taste of yogurt and citrus, while this meat was dull and bland. The creamy garlic sauce was similar to the delightful Trader Joe's Garlic Spread Dip, but it wasn't quite as thick or delicious, and predictably, there wasn't nearly enough of it.

The chicken and rice was fine, texture-wise, though part of the appeal of real shawarma is the very thinly-sliced, nearly shredded format of the chicken, rather than bite-sized cubes. Also, I found the tomato pieces to be too large and squishy. I'm not a huge fan of raw tomato, though I'm usually okay when they're cooked like this. The spinach and peppers were hardly noticeable.

To call this a shawarma "fail" might be too strong a word. I'll call it another "missed opportunity." $3.99 for the single serving meal. Product of Canada..? Interesting. Stick to maple syrup, you Canucks. Two and a half stars from me. Three stars from the beautiful wifey on Trader Joe's Chicken Shawarma Bowl.

Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Almond Chipotle Dip

I thought there was about a zero percent chance this stuff would even be edible. I've tried enough vegan dips, cheeses, condiments, and sauces in my day to know it's rare if those types of products are worth a single provisional purchase, let alone the times when they're actually good and could potentially become a household staple or replace something made with dairy. Here's the one exception I can think of off the top of my head: Trader Joe's Vegan Tzatziki Dip.

I'm equally impressed with this product. I thought it would taste like rancid almond butter with a few spices tossed into the mix. Nope. In fact, the almond butter base doesn't really interfere with the chipotle flavor at all somehow. It's only faintly nutty. The main essence of the dip is a spicy, tangy, zippy chipotle. It's slightly garlicky and smoky, but not over the top on either count. There's a hint of onions and black pepper, but it's mostly just chipotle flavor—in this case coming from a chipotle pepper powder.

Oddly, it's a bit thinner than almond butter. I'd say it's even thinner than most dairy-based chipotle dips I've had, but it still coats quite well. It also works fine that way because it packs quite a punch even if you use very little—it's only moderately spicy yet very flavorful.

We used it in place of cheese with nachos, as a taco sauce, a dip for chips, and a glaze for chicken. It even worked with veggies like carrots and broccoli. I'm surprised how versatile it proved to be.

$3.49 for the tub. Vegan. Would buy again. Four stars from me. Three and a half from Sonia for Trader Joe's Almond Chipotle Dip.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Empanadas de Ropa Vieja

So...I speak a little Spanish, but I'm not so confident to be 100% sure I'm translating everything I read or hear correctly. Glancing at the title of this product, I thought it meant something along the lines of "hand pies made of old clothes." Well that's obviously wrong, I thought. So I asked my wife, fluent in español, where I'd gone wrong. "No, that's correct," she explained.

She'd heard of the dish before but didn't grow up eating it. Apparently, it's more of a Caribbean and Central American thing than a Mexican thing. Her Cuban co-worker, very familiar with the traditional meal, explained that there's a legend that an old homeless man with no food began tearing up his own clothes in lieu of meat and heating them on the stove and they magically turned into beef—hence the name. Thanks, Julio, for that anecdote.

But enough about the name. How does this offering from Trader Joe's taste? Shoot. It's REALLY good. I'm surprised I haven't heard more buzz about this product. Both the wifey and I found it muy delicioso.

Nine minutes in the air fryer had these puppies piping hot and crispy golden brown on the outside. Pretty sure the traditional dish is made with actual bread rather than cassava—a root vegetable—but this product didn't suffer at all for the substitution. It's not the first empanada with cassava crust we've seen from TJ's. It lends a faintly nutty flavor to the "breading" part of the empanada.

The filling is soft, flavorful shredded beef with tomato, onion, and bell pepper. It just melts in your mouth. There's a spice blend including garlic, salt, oregano, and coriander that rounds out the taste perfectly.

I could have sworn there was a layer of mashed potatoes just inside the crust, but I think it was just more cassava. It made the meat pie feel even more like comfort food. So, so good.

The beautiful wifey and I plowed through the pack in a single sitting for lunch. We'd absolutely buy it again. About $6 for eight mini empanadas. Restaurant-quality appetizers. Four and a half stars a piece for Trader Joe's Empanadas de Ropa Vieja.

Bottom line: 9 out of 10.