There's a few different ways to prepare wings. Grilling, smoking, deep frying...those are all valid methods. Baking though? And from frozen? Listen, if you're willing to sacrifice some quality on the altar of convenience...well, sure, I guess. After all, it is still a chicken wing, but you can expect a little soft mush instead of firm bite with crispy skin.
Such is the shortfall of Trader Joe's Hot & Spicy Chicken Wings Sections. Convenient? Heck yes. Just need a few minutes in the oven to warm up these fully-cooked frozen fowl fragments. But, if you desire the usual feel of a good wing, or need more spice than the usually toned down variety made for mass consumption, these won't quite hit the spot. Spend the little extra time to get some fresh wings, make your own hot sauce concoction, and go for it.
All that being said, for what they, these aren't a bad bunch of wings. There was about an even ration of wings to drumsticks, and all were meaty enough, with just enough heat to keep me interested but still well below my admittedly high threshhold. There were about 15 in there, and cost maybe $5 or $6, so a good value. Still, if you're hankering for some truly great wings, you're better off somewhere else.
Bottom line: Trader Joe's Hot & Spicy Chicken Wing Sections: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons
I'd say "just like Mom used to make," except my mom never did much cooking due to chronic illness. Incidentally, the date I'm composing this blog post is the one year anniversary of my mother's memorial service.
I don't mean to be a Debbie Downer, but the past couple weeks have been one of those stretches in life that calls for some home-cooked (or at least home-cooked-esque) chicken soup for the body as well as the kind for the soul—just in time for my annual spring cold, too. We bought this soup before my little bug set in, and it's almost like my body got sick on purpose just so it could be soothed by this kettle-cooked container of chicken cheer.
I'm not sure about the logic of using a plastic tub for this product, as opposed to a can or a glass jar of some kind. I'm not complaining. It just seems unusual to me, especially since they're going for that home-cooked angle. At any rate, it's unique. As you open the packaging, little globs of chicken stock stick to the plastic safety seal under the lid in a rather unappetizing way. But once you get past that, what lies beneath seems much more inviting.
At first glance, the soup looks nice and chunky. There are decent-sized pieces of both white and dark meat chicken—and not like weird disc-shaped pieces or perfect cubes either, as one may find in other "chunky" soups. These little angular pieces of chicken look like shapes that might have actually been carved by human hands. Or maybe TJ's is employing robots that can realistically imitate the beautifully imperfect slashes and slices you might find in a cauldron of homemade soup. Either way, I like it. Also, there are plenty of carrot, parsnip, celery, and onion bits, too—with an emphasis on the carrots.
The broth is nice and sea-salty, but not overly so. It's flavorful, and it blends well with the other ingredients, although it could almost stand alone as a soup just by itself. A delicate medley of herbs, including garlic, parsley, pepper, thyme, and bay leaves, rounds out the taste of this impressive down-home delicacy. I wouldn't have minded a little more chicken in the soup, but honestly, compared to any other chicken soup I've ever had, this product delivers at least as much of the palatable poultry. So no complaints here. Four and a half stars from me. Four and a half from Sonia, who adds, "This is like really good deli soup." She's not wrong.
Being an adult is great. I mean, aside from bills and responsibilities and stuff. But otherwise, it's a pretty good deal. You get to whatever you want whenever you want, and in a childhood dream come true for me, you can eat whatever you want when you want. Want to eat three breakfasts a day? Go for it. Pizza for breakfast, tacos for lunch, ice cream for dinner? Why not? I mean, your cardiologist may disagree, and it'd be prudent to mix in a salad, but that's not what I mean. I mean: you can do that if you want to. No one can stop you. That, to me, is awesome.
So, conceivably, you can have cookies for breakfast. But maybe to feel better about it, we can call them something else. The little lies we tell ourselves to get through, I guess, or maybe, if we're spotted crushing cookies down the cram hole by the stray child , we can say, "Oh these aren't cookies. These are Trader Joe's Blueberry Breakfast Biscuits."
Yup. "Biscuits" is what they're going with here. Bwahahaha. No way. These things are cookies through and through. I mean, they're even sold right alongside all the other cookies, and not in the energy/breakfast bar area.
These cookiesbiscuits morning-minded munchers are pretty tasty, though. For its basic concept, think of a more granular oblong graham cracker, and thant's fairly close in both taste and texture. There's a little something extra, though, and it's not the blueberries. Vaguely familiar, tip of tongue, couldn't quite place it till scanning the ingredients - rye flakes. There's a pretty hefty dose - not enough to be offensive or anything, but it definitely adds a blueberr-rye dimension. The berries themselves are of the typical dried variety, and intermittently and unevenly sprinkled through out - some wafers were sans berries, others where blue enough from berries to look almost like a flattened Smurf.
As you can probably see, these are some fragile biscuits too. I did nothing to those pictured except the normal rigors of a morning commute to my desk, and I got left with a pile of pieces. So, they're probably not the best for on the go, like while driving, unless you don't mind brushing a dusting of vaguely greasy crumbs off your shirt.
And don't count on them for a full breakfast. A good morning snack, or part of a healthy breakfast, with some yogurt perhaps? Sure. The biscuits were a welcome addition to my usual apple and coffee workweek breakfast, but despite all that fiber, I was still hungry for lunch not all that much later than usual.
Anyways, the wife and both like them, as do our kiddos when we let them have a munch. Save the morning cookies for the adults, kids. For only about $3 or $4 for a fivepack each with four in there, it's not a bad deal, either. These aren't my favorite things ever, but they're good enough to warrant a repeat purchase already, and I'd love to see these expanded into different flavors..like, say, cherry? Sounds delish to me. Matching 3.5s.
Bottom line: Trader Joe's Blueberry Breakfast Biscuits: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons
Pittsburgh: home of many great innovations. Jeeps. Implantable defibrillators. Alright, about to drop a big one: Polio vaccine. WHOOMP. I'm pretty sure that's exactly what Jonas Salk exclaimed right when he whipped that up at a University of Pittsburgh lab back in the '50s.
But there's another one, which I'm sure you've taken for granted, that if you have small kids and a kitchen/housecleaner supply you're almost sure to have, but have taken for granted. Failing that, you almost assuredly recognize it from your youth: the Mr. Yuk sticker. Alerting kids all over the nation about stuff you shouldn't drink/ingest since the 1970s.
At this point, with that build up, you're probably bracing for a blistering review of Trader Joe's Moroccan Style Mint Tea. Truth be told, after first sip, I was so so tempted to go there. I almost dug out a Mr Yuk from the depths of the sticker drawer just to place on the bottle for a photo op...
...but then I kept drinking it. First it was under the guise of "trying to understand the flavor." It's, well, somewhat foreign to my palette. This kettle-brewed concoction has a green tea base, with a little mint blended in, with an odd twist of citrusy lime. And, in a spirit of restraint I suppose, there's not a lot of extra sweetness, so it's all in this subdued, mellow blend, with each element seemingly in competition to be the least offensive.
Upon first sip, the tea tastes all discombobulated and not cohesive, without any dominat flavor taking the reins of tying the beverage all together. It's just too mellow, but without the potential "refreshing after mowing the lawn" vibe I desire out of a summery themed drink. But it began coming together a little more each sip, especially on a longer draw.
All that to say, the Moroccan mint tea remains a likely candidate for return. I like the idea behind this brew, but the execution is just a little too off. I can't see myself happily drinking a whole bottle anytime soon, especially when there's a plethora of other tasty drinks at TJ's right in the 3 dollar range. And Sandy? No, not at all. She outright deplores this, which is odd, because usually mint teas are right up her alley. "I think it's because of the lime," she said. "It throws it all off." I can buy that argument. Anyways, for the first time I can recall, she's going with a flat-out ZERO here. Wow. Zero. Nil. Nada. Mr Yuk. I'm going to compensate somewhat with my score, because I do not wish to condemn the tea to the realm of blahhh, so I'll give it a 2.5.
Bottom line: Trader Joe's Moroccan Style Mint Tea: 2.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons
Compacted trash? LOL. I can see where Marvo is coming from, but I don't think these look that bad. They're just a bunch of smooshed-together ingredients, crushed into a bar shape, similar to the fruit + fruit bars we've seen in the past—except these have lots of seeds and nuts, not just fruits.
Texture-wise, they're exactly what you'd expect: a granola-esque, chewy vibe, with a little extra grittiness from the chia seeds. They're not tough in any way, but neither are they smooth. The dried fruit serves as a virtual "glue" binding the other ingredients together with its natural stickiness. I mean, I guess the organic syrups help in that department, too. There's plenty of sticky stuff holding these bars together—they're definitely not going to fall apart in your hands, yet they're not super sticky to the touch, either. All in all, they feel pretty pleasant, particularly if you're into granola bars.
And they're shockingly tasty. I'm still not even sure where all that flavor's coming from. There are a lot of "healthy" sugars and sweeteners in there: organic brown rice syrup, organic agave syrup, and organic cane sugar. For someone with a sweet tooth like me, these bars hit the spot pretty well, despite having a bunch of hippie ingredients tossed into the mix. And don't get me wrong, I like most hippie ingredients just fine, but coming from a generation that grew up thinking of chia as nothing more than the "fur" on a weird, ceramic animal you'd put in your kitchen windowsill, it's still a bit strange to be eating snacks with chia seeds as the main attraction. But interestingly enough, the chia pet people have joined the club and are now marketing chia as something healthy to eat, as well as the head of spiky green hair on a ceramic SpongeBob SquarePants.
My main complaint about these is that they're a little on the small side. Granted, they're extraordinarily filling for their size, but I still wouldn't have minded a bit more material per bar. Four stars from me. Four from Sonia, who thinks that the texture is a little weird, but loved the flavor so much, she almost went with four and a half.
After being traumatized by seeing an open jar of Bacon Jamand Sid Crosby's face in the same blog post on Wednesday, I decided to give myself a day off to recover.
During my down time, I finished up our Sriracha Tuna Salad. It's not exactly comfort food, but tuna salad is nice and familiar, plus there's a bit of that international flair I love—in the form of tasty, Thai-inspired sriracha sauce. Although, both Sonia and I don't think it tasted a whole lot like sriracha. I mean, we could tell there was a tangy hot sauce up in the mix, but somehow it tasted a little different than the sriracha we've come to know and love.
And of course, there's mayo and some chopped up veggies. The whole thing was a tad on the liquidy side if you ask me, but it was still passably crunchy and full of good-quality tuna fish. And just as I expected, there was only a hint of heat—Sonia and I were both pining for more. We would have added some extra sriracha of our own, but we were fresh out. At 8 oz, the package is slightly less than the size of two cans of tuna. With a price point of $3.99 per tub, it's not outrageous, but we'll probably opt to make our own tuna salad and add our own customized amount of sriracha in the future, rather than make this a repeat purchase. Double threes here. Bottom line: 6 out of 10. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Nate's Notes: We would have had a brand new podcast episode up for you today, but I apparently blundered the mic settings during recording, thus rendering it unusable. So apologies to anyone who was looking forward to that. We'll hopefully have a new episode up in a week or so.)
Meringue and hockey? That sounds soo...I don't know...sophisticated and international and all. That might be Nathan and Sonia, but that's not me at all. Meringue pies are okay and all, as is hockey...but they just don't get me going. I'll take their word that the lemon tart is as good as advertised, and you two enjoy your hockey, though them being Capitals fans, and me in Pittsburgh, I just have to ask those Ovechkin lovers a little question.
Since its debut about a week or so ago, Trader Joe's Uncured Bacon Jam is getting pretty Internet famous. I've seen the buzz at fever pitch on a lot of different social media pages all proclaiming love for these porky preserves, and as a bacon addict service to you all, I knew I had to try it for myself.
I'll admit, the visual introduction is kinda, well...take a look. It's bacon in spreadable form - what else can be expected? Good thing it can be easily concealed inside, say, a grilled cheese with smoked gouda, which is exactly how Sandy and I partook for the first time.
Imagine really good pulled pork. That's approximately how this jar o' jam tastes. Except..it's bacony bits instead of porky strands. The bacon chunks don't terribly stand out and instead get a little lost in the sauce, which is my only minor complaint. If I'm eating bacon, I want to know it's there. So, in short, it's heavy on the barbecue sauce aspects, which makes a nice change-up from other bacon jams I've had which were heavy on the bacon flavor. There's some tang and a small smidge of inoffensive heat, with a little smoke...and "vegetarian flavor."
Yes. You read that right. There's "vegetarian flavor" in this here bacon jam. I really have no idea what that means - I mean, like, flavored with/by vegetarians? Were the pigs fed an all-veggie diet? What if one of them ate a bug? Are there...*gasp*....vegetables potentially diluting my perfectly good bacon?
Silliness aside, this made our grilled cheeses an extra-delish lunch, and I'd imagine this pairing well on a burger, or with chicken, or in other sandwiches...but not a PB&J. Sandy and I, umm, tried that as a joke, and it wasn't too great then.
It's $4.49 for the jar, so if this seems like it might be your kinda thing, trust me, it is. It's bacon. God bless America. Bottom line: Trader Joe's Uncured Bacon Jam: 8.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons
To me, few things in life are as exciting as the start of the NHL playoffs. (Go Caps!) But new lemon-flavored TJ's products just might be on that short list—because the store has an excellent track record in that department. And as is the case with professional ice hockey, you're bound to run into a French name or two in the world of TJ's fine desserts. Bonjour, Jacques!
There's a layer of sweet and sour lemony goodness right at the heart of this pastry. It's tart and tangy and has pretty much everything lemonophiles are looking for. The crust is buttery and thin and adds a bit of firmness to the otherwise airy dessert. It's so good, if anything, I wish there were more of it.
In the past, Sonia has complained about meringue getting in the way of her enjoyment of similar pies and tartes on the basis that it's "too eggy." Not here. The meringue is a very neutral, lightly-sweet whipped topping—the literal icing on the cake...er, pie...er, tarte. Also, it's lightly toasted around the edges, as seen in the photo to the right.
Sonia also raved about the presentation of this product, pointing out the perfect little peaks of meringue all evenly-spaced on the top of the pie. Although, in our box, about a third of the meringue came off of the pie and stuck to the plastic lid when we removed it. It was simple enough to scrape it off and re-apply it to the tarte, but still should be noted in case you're buying this for the dessert table at some uber-formal event or something.
All in all, this is another lemony win for TJ's. It's definitely something Sonia and I could see ourselves purchasing again. $5.49 for four servings. Not super cheap, but worth it. Four and a half stars from Sonia, four from me.
Much like hockey, reggae, and amateur competitive facial hair cultivation, there's a lot that I *want* to like about Trader Joe's Cranberry Coconut Snacking Crackers....but I just can't. Sorry.
It's probably unfair, but the wheat snack crackers I compare all others to are Wheat thins - light, crispy, irresistibly munchy. That's kinda the standard. Well, these wheaty wafers are wanting in comparison. They're much denser, and heavier, without that nice requisite crunch, and they somehow dry up the entire inside of my digestive system. Literally, after just three or few, I'm coughing up crumbs everywhere.
These crackers do taste somewhat okay, though. Aside from the textural shortcomings, there's nothing all that wrong with the actual cracker itself. I can see but not taste the coconut flakes, mostly because it's too subtle a flavor compared to the wheaty base, the raisins and cranberries (nothing much to say about them)...or the sesame seeds. Umm, who invited those to the party? While not completely unwelcome, it's an odd add-on to say the least.
I think it says something that in a household of three carb-crazed adults and two kiddos who will happily devour anything that can reasonably be called a "cracker" that we still have over half the modest sized bag of them remaining after a few weeks now. I think there's potential - I bet a good piece of chevre could put in quite the assist - but neither Sandy nor I particularly enjoy them. We'd love to, but it just ain't there. Matching twos. Bottom line: Trader Joe's Cranberry Coconut Snacking Crackers: 4 out of 10 Golden Spoons
Chocolate nerds. That's a good way to describe these. But they're not sweet milk chocolate nerds. They're rich and dark. From the moment you open the bag, there's a heavy dark chocolatey, almost coffee-esque aroma that hits you. And they taste like that, too.
Sonia likes their crunchiness and is eager to try them in baked goods. She thinks they'd make a great additive to pancakes or muffins. I totally agree. They'd also make an excellent ice cream topping. I think they'd be perfect for making plain vanilla a little more exciting, but you chocoholics might want to try the whole chocolate on chocolate thing.
They're also good just straight out of the bag—maybe for a nice little shot of caffeine and sugar to top off your lunch. Resealable bag, $1.99. Many of you know I'm not really a dark chocolate guy, but I'll easily muster three and a half stars for this little novelty. Sonia will throw out four this time.
Sonia has a few quirky allergies that come and go mysteriously. One is to mushrooms. Although, that particular sensitivity didn't apply when it came to the Portobello Mushroom Fries. Another one of her fun "come and go" allergies involves certain kinds of shellfish. Maybe. We've figured out she's okay with crab and lobster. But she usually plays it safe with things like clams, oysters, and scallops...except when my dad orders the fried oysters and she takes a couple bites. Maybe she's grown out of the allergy and maybe she's not as sensitive when the food is prepared a certain way. Who knows? But it took some convincing to get her to try this paella. She finally agreed, but only on the condition that I take all the mussels out of her portion.
That was just fine by me, because I really liked these mussels. They came out nice and soft, but not too chewy. The "calamares" were by far the chewiest ingredient in our bag. I've had squid before that was not this chewy, but really, it wasn't horrendous—just a tad more rubbery than I would have preferred. The rest of the textures were wonderful and blended together seamlessly.
South Jersey is full of fresh seafood, but I haven't seen many places around here that offer any kind of paella. In fact, the only other time in my life that I've had proper paella was in Spain. There was a quaint sidewalk cafe in Madrid where I tried this "national dish" of España. It was a while back, but honestly, I remember not being impressed. It was much soupier than Trader Joe's offering, the vegetables were stringy, and I felt it lacked flavor. They might have given me a bad batch on purpose, though. They didn't seem fond of non-Spanish speakers there. <Sigh.> Six and a half years into a marriage to someone whose first language is Spanish, and I'm still trying to learn it.
But back to the paella. It's good. It's complex, flavorful, and not-at-all-fishy. Seafoody? Yes. Fishy? No. I'm not sure how authentic it is, but I certainly prefer it to the only other paella I've ever had. Ironically, this selection is a "product of France," not Spain, according to the bag. Eh, close enough, I guess. Four stars from me. Three and a half from my better half.
Pizza night! It's definitely a thing at our house. Probably yours too. Used to order takeout/delivery...but after a while, paying a premium for waiting 45 minutes for someone to deliver a mediocre lukewarm pie when your stomach is growling and kiddos are howling gets old. Time to make your own.
Well, you could go the old TJ's doughball route (not a bad one, we've done it plenty)...or make it even easier and a lot less messy with Trader Giotto's Brand Pizza Crust. This is our new go-to. They're prebaked and ready to top with whatever you fancy, and just a few minutes in the oven - BOOM. Pizza.
Now, there's other premade pizza crusts out there - but these are the best I've had yet. The outer edges and corners get all crispy and crackery-crunchy while the middles maintain a lot of chewy breadiness. There's that light, pleasant carby flavor that carries through as well, although it doesn't shine through as much with red sauce. Sandy and I have made a white pizza with a little extra olive oil and garlic, with chicken and veggies on it on a few occasions, and the outcome is legitimate restaurant quality for a fraction of the price.
The two pack runs maybe $3 at the most and is definitely worth trying out for your next pizza night. Thumbs up all around our family.
Bottom line: Trader Giotto's Brand Pizza Crust: 9 out of 10 Golden Spoons
Well, readers, gotta admit: all of us at WGaTJ's are a little disappointed. You see, in years past right around this time, we've been privileged to be part of the taste test process for new, interesting, exotic products before they hit store shelves. It's sorta like the once a year bone that Big Joe throws us for hosting one of the Internet's biggest rolling Trader Joe's lovefests.
But not this year. No particular reason why. Just...nothing. Maybe there's still some fallout from last year's sampling which just didn't quite meet final quality standards for some reason - what a crappy excuse. Eh well.
So, instead, we're going to branch out and give something a try that first came back to Trader Joe's shelves a few months back: Trader Joe's Cotton Kitchen Towels. They're sold in a three-pack for like $5.99, which seems to be a pretty decent value. But, really, we're confused here. Literally, there's no instructions or descriptions or anything, so it's like TJ's is selling these 100% cotton towels with the assumption that we're supposed to know exactly what to do with them.
I mean, how in the the heck are you supposed to eat them?
No preparation instructions at all, so we're just winging it here, trying to take some clues. Seeing that the towels are apparently shelf-stable and not frozen, refrigerated, canned, or packaged, we first tried them as is, just what I presume would be "raw." Bleh. Literally, no taste - with the red coloring I was hoping for at least a hint of strawberry or sriracha or bacon or something. Instead, it's just this bland, fibrous, tough cloth-type sheet that is impossible to bite through.
Giving TJ's the benefit of the doubt, we began thinking just maybe we're doing wrong here. So, with the lack of guidance, here began the experiments. We tried microwaving - just warmed it up, slightly, but otherwise identical to our first taste. We thought maybe boiling them would do the trick and soften them up - it certainly made the towels hot, wet and steamy, but the only thing that got any softer out of it was my beard. The smoke alarms made it unbearable to bake them for more than a couple minutes, and we had a nice little chat with the fire chief after trying to grill them...really, at a loss here.
I thought maybe we got a bad batch (it can happen) so on our next TJ's trip, I asked one of the crew members for a sample and some advice of how to properly prepare a kitchen towel. Much like the blank stare and head shake from the fire chief, the look we got was kinda discouraging and not entirely helpful.
Fortunately, these towels do seem to have a decent absorptive property to them. It's been a struggle over the years to scrape off every last bit of some tasty sauce or whatever from a bowl or plate - well, fortunately, these flat fiber sheets are flexible enough that I can wipe off most any dish and it'll pick up all those flavors. And apparently this is a process that can repeated over and over again, because these towels do so seem pretty durable, and there's just not any process we can find that make these towels digestible seem possible. So, there's that.
But, fortunately, I'm not alone. The Rodgers picked up this product about the same time we did. They went about the preparations a little differently, but found the towels similarly perplexing and disappointing. Here's a short video review chronicling their experience:
As you can see, we gotta go thumbs down across the board. From all of us here at What's Good At Trader Joe's: Zeroes.
Bottom line: Trader Joe's Cotton Kitchen Towels: 0 out of 10 Golden Spoons
From my childhood, I have what my lovely bride interprets as a bad habit on major holidays: namely, not really eat anything until the big dinner itself. You see, it's not a bad strategy when "holiday dinner" is at about 1 p.m. or so, so skipping breakfast isn't that huge of a deal, and come meal time, you have plenty enough room in your belly to eat your fill, and to be too full for dinner. Totally works because that's how I grew up. But on her side of the family, Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners and the like are more towards the evening (5 p.m. or so), making this strategery much tougher to employ. Not to say I haven't tried...but every holiday with a later big meal, I get the speech: "You're not going to starve yourself all day until dinner time! You're gonna eat something! Set a good example for the kids!" and so on.
And so it was this past weekend out here in the 'burgh. Easter dinner, our house, 5 p.m. Got home from church, she started launching it yet again...blahblahblah...yes dear, alright dear, I ran 5.5 miles that morning so kinda hungry anyways...
...and then she pulled out Trader Ming's Kung Pao Tempura Cauliflower from the freezer. Game, set, match. Stop twisting my arm already, this looks good!
As the name implies, what we have here is a bag of frozen lightly breaded cauliflower florets with some spicy kung pao sauce to stir them all around in. The camera somehow ate the picture we took of the finished product, but the picture on the bag is a more than apt depiction of the vibrant veggie vittles inside. Except...most of the blossoms are freaking huge. Ginormous, probably a whole serving itself. That's not entirely a bad thing, but they do present a textural variant that can be difficult to account for in preparation. Naturally, the stemmy sections retains more crunch and stiff fibrous feel, while the actual "trees" sections are kinda all over the place. Some were done roughly right, with a good bite, while others seemed smooshy and almost creamy due to being just way too soft. If they were smaller, I'd think it'd be easier to prepare them in a more even manner. It didn't inhabit us too much, but I could see it being a potential issue for some.
As for the sauce, I didn't care much for it straight up (yes, I tried it). It seemed a bit too cloyingly soy sauce-y, with a little tang of pineapple juice and a tickle of heat poking out. However, once on the slightly crispy/greasy cauliflower, a lot of the soy tendencies mellowed out, while the spice amped itself a smidge. By the end of my bowlful, the heat definitely kicked up several notches from where it started. The breading itself is barely worth mention, except to say it was a fairly adequate medium between the sauce and veggie.
Overall, this particular Trader Ming's offering is a go...I'd feel slightly better recommending it if it cost $3.99 or so instead of $4.99...but chances are it'll be a repeat purchase for when the vaguely Asian food/don't feel like paying for takeout bug hits (which is often enough). Sandy offers up a four whereas I'll slide in a little lower.
Bottom line: Trader Ming's Kung Pao Tempura Cauliflower: 7.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons
Talk about subtle flavors! This might have the subtlest taste of any TJ's product I've ever tried. The smell of this product is at least twice as strong as its actual flavor on the tongue.
Now I'm down with oil and vinegar dressings, or most any kind of vinaigrette or what have you, but this stuff...I'm not sure where the balsamic part of it is. Or the honey part. Or the thyme part. It's basically just olive oil if you ask me—and maybe not even the most flavorful olive oil I've ever had. It's pretty bland, pure and simple. Sonia and I thought "Hmmm, maybe all the flavors are on the bottom. Maybe we didn't shake the container enough." But even after ample agitation, the trace amounts of balsamic we dredged up from the bottom of the bottle barely produced anything more tangy or tasty than the first few drab drizzles.
It's been a while since Sonia and I busted out a thoroughly negative review, and I always cringe when I have to do this, because negativity typically begets negativity. There are defenders for just about every one of TJ's products, so it tends to be safer to either just stick to stuff we like, or to downplay our negative feelings in some cases.
If you look back through the past year or so on this blog, the "Meh," "Not So Great," and "Blahhh" categories have been dominated by Russ. He's a braver man than I am. It's not that I've lied to you about Sonia's and my scores, it's just that we've tended to review products we have neutral or positive feelings for, and we've tried to do the whole "silver lining" thing when we can. But every once in a while, we just can't. This is one of the worst salad dressings I've ever had. And to top it all off, there are 21 grams of flavorless fat per serving!
Sonia adds, "I am really disappointed. I definitely won't buy it again." On a slightly brighter note, she liked the texture of it. One and a half stars from her. One star from me. Unfortunately, there's an even MORE negative review than this one on the imminent horizon. You might not see it on here tomorrow, but definitely before the end of the week. Stay tuned if you love drama. Bottom line: 2.5 out of 10.
It could be the psychoactive opiates talking, but these muffins are really darn good. Lemontastic. And Greek yogurtastic, too. Alternatively, yogurrific, if you like.
Greek yogurt is taking over everything: spinach dips, guacamoles, and well...yogurts. That Greek yogurt is so hot right now. And with good reason. It usually tastes pretty good, it's relatively low in fat, and not least of all, it's being promoted by Uncle Jesse. But if history has taught us anything, it's that eventually the Greek yogurt empire will collapse and be replaced with...Roman yogurt, or something like that. So let's all enjoy this golden Greek yogurt renaissance while we can.
First of all, the Greek yogurt makes these things moist and dense. Creamy, almost. The texture is pretty amazing. These muffins really feel more like cupcakes because of the Greek yogurt. There are tons of poppy seeds, too, which add even more complexity to the already-pleasant mouthfeel.
Taste-wise, my first and only complaint is that they could be slightly more lemony. I love me somelemon. But there's still a decent amount of lemoniness—ahem,lemonosity, if you will—at least enough for normal folks and non-lemonophiles. Plus, you can taste Greek yogurt. It's that slightly sour, tangy taste you've come to know and love. In a way, I think the Greek yogurt flavor tones down the lemon flavor somehow, even though they're both sour-ish kinds of flavors. But don't worry, there's plenty of sweet, sweet cane sugar in there, too, to balance out all that tartness.
Among Sonia, her associates, myself, and a couple TJ's employees, we have yet to meet anyone who doesn't like these. But I'm sure some dissenting opinions are out there. We welcome your comments, lemon-lovers and lemon-haters alike...Double fours from Sonia and me.
Foods that are supposed to be black: Well, there's not many. The seared outside of my steak. Black jelly beans (my favorite). Black olives. Black mission figs. And that's about all I can come up with. Oh, Oreos.
But foods that aren't: Much easier. The inside of my steak. Toast. Eggs. Milk. Easter ham. And the list could go on and on....
...and at some point, it would probably involve pasta. Black pasta? That's, well, unusual, and sounds like some sort of joke gone wrong.
Until now. There's Trader Joe's Organic Black Bean Rotini, made only out of black bean flour. I wasn't even aware that black bean flour was a thing, but well, I've been wrong before.
Spoiler alert: These spirally noodles taste 100% identical to black beans. I mean, perhaps a little beanier, in some ways, because there's probably some magical ratio of 10 beans to each one noodle. But there's no mistaking the taste, these are very strictly black beans in pasta form...by what kind of wizardry is that even possible? What a crazy world we live in.
If you take a look at the picture we snapped of them, you can probably imagine the texture a little bit as well. Probably the first thing I noticed is these noodles were noticeably drier than most of their somewhat distant semolina brethren. This wasn't just on the surface, where they didn't seem to retain moistness as well as regular noodles, but also carried through in the bite, contributing to a grainier, perhaps slightly chewier mouthfeel. Which makes sense - I mean, it's beans in some sort of condensed form - and with that expectation in mind, it wasn't completely unwelcome. But I can understand it being a little offsetting for some.
Eating them straight, I didn't particularly care for them...but black beans to me are more of an accompaniment dish instead of main feature. So instead, we made them up for some taco pasta which was a great idea - the flavor played perfectly into the rest of the dish. Which brings up a good point - I'm not entirely sure I'd eat these noodles straight up with some marinara or whatever else traditional pasta flavors, just because they are too strongly beany.
Sandy and I enjoyed them and will probably pick them up again, but these legumey linguinis probably won't be our new normal. There was just a little bit too much resistance from the kiddos about these, partially because our 3.5 year old M was disappointed to find out they weren't chocolate like she so desperately hoped for. Anyways, we're both hovering around a 3, but I'll toss in some bonus pointage for novelty and innovation.
Bottom line: Trader Joe's Organic Black Bean Rotini: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons
Fish sticks have never been terribly exciting—especially when you start tacking phrases like "reduced fat" on to the title of the product. I mean, sure, one might argue that fish filets,croquettes, and nuggets aren't much better. But to me, they seem a little more "Trader Joe-esque" than just plain old fish sticks do. But I must admit, these aren't bad.
The texture of these depended greatly on their time in the oven. One slightly under-baked batch came out soft and delicate, another spent some extra time in the oven and came out crispy—almost crunchy. So it's pretty easy to tailor these sticks to your specific taste. The fish was fairly consistently flaky and white, with very few weird, dark spots and irregularities, as I've seen with some other brands of fish sticks.
There's a nice, subtle fish flavor here. The breading is indeed light and only lends a whisper of carby goodness to the tender pollock. Overall, though, I thought the product was a little too bland to be eaten sans condiments. Lacking authentictartar sauce, we whipped up a makeshift batch using Miracle Whip and relish. We applied it sparingly to our fish sticks and found that it worked pretty well. With a salad and some juice, they made a pleasantly satisfying dinner for Sonia and I one evening last week, and there were still enough left over for lunch the next day. There's no reinvention of the wheel here. These are solid, palatable fish sticks—even if they are a tad boring. Four stars from Sonia, three from me.
Wait...what? How is the vernal equinox now upon us? 2016 just started!
On the plus side, that means it's almost April and with it comes baseball season.
On the other...that means the demise of Trader Joe's English Ale Cheddar Cheese with Mustard is on deck. So, ya better step up to the plate soon so take a swing at TJ's spotlight cheese of the month.
Enough of the cheesy baseball puns. This cheddar is downright delish. Made with a splash or two of Old Speckled Hen and a dash or three of mustard spices, this otherwise fairly mild, creamy cheddar packs a lot of earthy goodness into every bite. It's sophisticated enough that I wanted to eat each cube pinkie-out style, yet accessible to the point that my kids would devour the whole chunk "Summer of George" style if I'd let them. The cheddar paired well with our Irish bangers the other week, but made great snacking/lunch-munching aside some turkey or pretzels. And yes, it did make me consider drinking a beer, just perhaps not Old Speckled Hen because I'm not my mom.
Sold in various size chunks at $8.99 a pound. Get it while you can.
Bottom line: Trader Joe's English Ale Cheddar Cheese with Mustard: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons
Editor's note: Here's another guest post from my talented, witty, extremely attractive, and all around awesome wife. Yes, I outkicked my coverage. Anyways, here's a simple recipe using all TJ's ingredients for one heckuva great snack! Addictive.
One of our favorite stories here is If You Give a Mouse a Cookie by Laura Numeroff. M likes to read it fairly often. If you aren't familiar, it's about giving a mouse a cookie and all the things that will happen if you do (he'll want some milk, a napkin, a hair cut...it goes on and on, until he asks for another cookie.) We'll, if you give a preschooler a snack, she'll ask for some milk to go with it. And if she asks for milk to go with it, she'll probably have to go to the bathroom while you're trying to get two kids through a grocery store at nap time. When she gets done with the bathroom, she will notice the papers lining the hallway and ask what they are. When she learns that they're recipes, she'll ask if she can make something. When you find something that she would actually have a chance of eating, you will have to go back through the grocery store to gather all the ingredients. Once you have all the ingredients, you will go home for lunch. After eating lunch, the preschooler will ask for a glass of milk, and chances are, she will want a snack to go with it...
...And that is how we ended up making Cookie Butter Buddies (or puppy-chow.) I don't know if your Trader Joe's has recipes hanging up by the restrooms, but ours has a ton, and there are a lot of good looking things to make! We picked this recipe because it was something fairly simple and kid friendly and approved.
1 package TJ's Mini Milk Chocolate Peanut Butter Cups
1 box Puffins Cereal (Original, Cinnamon or Peanut Butter)
1-2 cups TJ's Organic Powdered Sugar (seasonal)
1/2 cup TJ's Chocolate Sunflower Seed Drops
Mmm, doesn't that look good?
First, melt about 8 tablespoons of butter (I chose Kerrygold because I love it, and would pretty much eat it if it were socially acceptable to walk around eating sticks of butter), the cup of cookie butter, I didn't actually measure this though, I just scooped out about half a jar, and the box of Milk Chocolate Mini Peanut Butter Cups, together in the microwave, in about 30 second intervals, until melted all together. In a large bowl, dump out the box of Puffins (M chose peanut butter, but I bet the cinnamon would taste great!) and pour on the chocolate mixture. Stir to coat. This was probably M's favorite part..."Stir! Stir! Stir!" she happily chanted while mixing it all up, leaving me for the "expert touch."
Add in about 2 cups of powdered sugar. I started with one cup, and added from there, until your cereal is coated.
Wimbly's dinner...our our dessert?
Spread it onto baking sheets so that it can cool and harden a bit. It looked so much like dog food when I did this, that it was easy to see where it gets the name puppy-chow.
Once it's set you can put it back into a bowl or into a large ziplock bag, add more powdered sugar, and stir or shake to cover it all. Add in a handful of the chocolate covered sunflower seeds and you've got a cookiebuttery, crunchy, tasty, and very, very, sweet treat.
The consensus at our how was that it was pretty good, except from M, who wanted some random left over Christmas candy instead. We ended up sending a little over half into Russ's work and kept a bowl here, which we ended up taking it to church to share because it was still too much. All and all? It was a super simple, quick snack, very kid friendly, and could probably be adapted to be nut free (you could probably leave out the pb cups and use a different kind of Puffin and just use chocolate and cookie butter to make it nut free)
So, our first cooking with a TJ's recipe gets 8 Golden Spoons.
Oh yeah, if you eat this, you'll probably want a glass of milk to go with it...
A long time ago, Sonia and I checked out the chocolate chip equivalent of these and were fairly impressed. The cookie base is pretty much the same animal here. It's crispy and crunchy, as the name would imply. I do prefer soft cookies, but as crispy cookies go, these are top-shelf. I'm sure it's much more difficult to make a gluten-free soft cookie, anyway.
Flavor-wise, there's a nice sweet butteriness to the cookie. If you're taking modest bites, not every bite has a chunk of ginger, but the ones that do have a lot of ginger. Sonia wishes it were more evenly distributed. I totally agree. I'd prefer ginger bits to ginger chunks—which, incidentally, have nothing to do with fat redheads. Also, never ever Google "fat redheads."
The zesty, spicy zing of the ginger isn't quite as potent as that of some other products we've seen in the past, such as the Ginger, Almond & Cashew Cereal, but it's still strong enough to get your attention. In this instance, though, we both think the ginger flavor blends pretty well with the rice flour base.
As the front of the packaging suggests, there is a supple "melt in your mouth" quality about these baked goodies that's very pleasant for the gluten-sensitive and non-gluten-sensitive alike. As far as scores go, it looks like another four stars from Sonia and another three and a half stars from me.
