Trader Joe's Pumpkin Chai Spice Loaf

There may come a day when I stop reviewing pumpkin spice products. To be honest, I wouldn't be completely heartbroken if that fateful day arrived soon. But before that happens—before I stop reviewing TJ's profound plethora of pumpkin products—two things will have to happen: Trader Joe's will have to stop releasing new pumpkin products OR I'll have to hit a looong streak of pumpkin nastiness, AND Americans will have to stop Googling "trader joes pumpkin spice" in such enormous numbers. Once those things come to pass, I shall hang up my hat as this blog's designated pumpkin and pumpkin spice reviewer extraordinaire.

However, this product did not help towards that end—that is, it's pretty friggin' tasty. Now I certainly don't have anything against Maple Sugar Candy, but before you pumpkin agnostics go declaring maple sugar the new pumpkin spice, you'll have to try pumpkin chai. Several readers tipped us off that this dessert was indeed worth a gander, and they were definitely not wrong.

I always thought pumpkin spices and chai spices were remarkably similar. And together, they're even better than they are separately. The cream cheese-based icing is where most of the chai flavor resides, and it's undoubtedly the sweetest and most decadent part of the product. It's absurdly delicious. Good thing they don't sell the icing in a can by itself. If they did, there'd be a widespread frosting-abuse epidemic, and people would be checking themselves in to clinics and joining twelve-step programs en masse.

The bread's not too shabby either. It's nice and soft. A bit crumby perhaps, but moist enough that the crumbs and chunks can be reassembled by mashing them with a fork before shoveling them into your mouth. Together with the icing, it's a delectable blend of sweetness and spiciness.

At $4.99 per loaf, it's not the cheapest pumpkin product we've tried this year. But in my opinion, it's worth every penny. It's perfect for dessert, but I must admit I've had it for breakfast on at least one occasion—easier to justify those calories in the morning, you know.

Four and a half stars from me. Four from Sonia.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Maple Sugar Candy

"Ugh! Why does it have to be pumpkin spice everything!?!?!"

Believe it or not, that wasn't me who uttered that the other morning. No, it was M, my four year old, when I gave her the rundown of her breakfast options. Pumpkin O's. Pumpkin poptarts. Or a pumpkin muffin (not those, but close enough). Quite obviously, Sandy had done the last grocery shopping trip.

I have rarely been prouder as a papa.

Maple. It's one of the great flavors of fall, and it's so underrated. I think it's because all too many people equate "maple" as the "breakfast syrup" you see on shelves year round. Ummm....no. Real, authentic maple has a little of a premium attached to it because it's not the most efficient treat to make, but in my opinion, God and nature has made no finer natural, rich and sugary, divinely inspired nectar than unadulterated maple.

So it stands to reason that Trader Joe's Maple Sugar Candy ought to be knock-out-of-park good. In case you haven't read "Little House In the Big Woods" 37 times like my wife and don't have the maple sugaring chapter(s) memorized, maple sugar is derived from boiling sap past the syrup point to where nearly all the liquid is dried up, leaving clumps of natural sugar solids. It's firm enough to be able to mold into different shapes, in this case little cute leaves.

This small bites are pretty representative of the maple sugar candy genre. There's a slightly firm crystallized feel that quickly melts away into smooth-yet-granuley, buttery soft spread. Enjoy that. Let it linger for a while, and run your tongue all over and slather up every last bit...mmmm....maple....these are treats meant to be enjoyed and savored. As I am one prone to gulp down most anything without much thought, Sandy probably is going to check my temperature after that statement. But it's true.

These candies are deeply rich, superbly maple, and easily satisfy with just one or two, despite their small size. I mean, they're only seven grams each...but only five of those grams are sugar...what's the other two, tree magic? I don't know.

Pair with a hot beverage. Sneak some on an autumn treat tray. Hide some away for yourself when you need a "me" moment.

The small sleeve of four cost $1.99 near the checkouts, which, all things considered, isn't a horrible price to pay. We enjoyed them as a family after-dinner treat and no one had any complaints, and the only one of us to give a less than perfect score was B, my not-quite-two year old, who was probably only trying to be her characteristically silly, difficult self. Really, no complaints, Take a seat, pumpkin spice.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Maple Sugar Candy: 9 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Pumpkin Spice Almond Beverage

From the moment Sonia saw this product on Instagram, she was swooning. On her next TJ's run, she searched high and low, but could not find this enigmatic beverage in our favorite Marlton, New Jersey store. She asked an employee if they had it hidden in the stockroom or if they'd be getting a shipment of it soon. The Trader Joe's employee was friendly and polite, as they almost always are, but he replied something along the lines of, "No, people on the east coast don't like gross stuff like that." Actually, his reply wasn't anything like that. However, he did say it was only available on the west coast. We'd heard that before. Remember the Parsnip Chips?

In that case, we just waited like a week, and voila, they were suddenly available on the east coast as well. In talking with Russ, we discovered that just several days after we were told this product was only available on the west coast, it was suddenly available in Pittsburgh. Now unless there was some pretty significant seismic activity that somehow eluded the evening news and shifted The Steel City 2500 miles closer to the Pacific Ocean, there's absolutely no way you could say Pittsburgh is on the west coast. So Sonia still had hope.

Sure enough, a day or two later, this beverage popped up on shelves here in Jersey. Sonia snagged a carton, and soon we were both sipping pumpkin spice flavored almond milk. A happy ending, right? Well...

Sonia and I haven't disagreed this strongly on a product in quite a while. She enjoyed it thoroughly. I did not. You all know I'm down with pumpkin and pumpkin spice stuff for a limited time each year between mid-September and late December, right? And I've always liked plain or vanilla almond milk just fine. But this stuff didn't quite work for me somehow. It's not nearly as sweet and sugary as it needs to be to succeed as a desserty kind of drink. Yet it's not simple and nutty like the regular stuff.

At first, you can taste the pumpkin spices in spades. For a moment, it's almost enjoyable. But then, as the flavor rolls over your tongue, there's a bit of a weird chemical kind of vibe. And I'm not a huge fan of the slight aftertaste, either. The texture is fine—very similar to other almond beverages—but possibly a little bit thicker in this case. To me, the overall essence of this product is that of an unsweetened pumpkin spice coffee creamer, not designed to be a stand-alone beverage. But that's just me.

Sonia thinks it's silky, smooth, and just about right in every way. She likes the flavor just fine and is happy to chug the beverage straight out of the carton, although she does concede that it makes sense to use it as a coffee creamer even more than a drink all by itself. Four stars from her.

Two from me.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Sacha Inchi Seeds

I'm not really sure how to pronounce the words "sacha inchi." Even less sure how to pronounce the scientific name for this particular plant: plukenetia volubis, which apparently approximates Latin for "cross between starfruit and green pepper with somewhat hairy leaves" according to good ol' Wikipedia. I kinda had to stop reading after that part of the leaves.

But I did read just long enough to learn the seeds of the sacha inchi plants can be referred to also as things like "Incan peanuts." Okay, I can get around that, thank you...doesn't explain how this bag of Trader Joe's Sacha Inchi Seeds came from Thailand, but I'll just roll with it.

I'll admit I never heard of these before, and so while feeling brave enough to try them, I'll admit feeling a bit apprehensive too. I mean, these seeds are huge! Bigger than a shelled peanut, or at least any I'm familiar with. They smell like peanuts, though. And taste like peanuts, and crunch like roasted peanuts...with a healthy mix of balsa wood for good measure. You know, what they make those flimsy wooden toy airplanes out of.

That sounds like an insult, but really, it's not. It's just the only way I can think of describing them. They're lighter and munchier, and kinda crispier in a way, than a peanut, which one would expect from a seed, I guess...yet so much else about them is so nutty that it makes nuts the easier comparative. There's an earthy, roasty taste, accented by a respectful dose of sea salt, with a somewhat muted munch. The center of the seed is hollow which wasn't entirely expected and it definitely affects the bite, though how is tough to quantify.

And...there's an aftertaste. This is going to make me sound crazy, I'm sure, but when I mentioned it to not just Sandy but also a coworker or two, they understood: there's a vague fishy flavor. It's light and not unpleasant, but it's almost like a briny aspect one could expect from a slab of fish is somehow present, too. As I ate more, or quickly chased a handful of seeds with a drink of water, that sensation diminished. Could be taste bud acclimation, Could be me coming to my senses. Not sure which way to say, but there you have it.

This sack a' sacha seeds cost no more than few bucks and is a welcome addition to my work snack drawer. The protein and fiber in there make a good little boast to hold me over til lunch or dinner. There's also some superfood powers ascribed to these particular seeds, so take what you will from that. I'm happy just to have them as is for a snack. Just don't ask me to pronounce it.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Sacha Inchi Seeds: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons 

Trader Joe's Pumpkin Spice Brooklyn Babka

Let's say my review of the Chocolate Brooklyn Babka was Episode IV, A New Hope: an unfamiliar genre of food at TJ's; a baked good by which to measure all others of its kind. Well then, logically, Mr. Shelly's look at the Mango Brooklyn Babka was The Empire Strikes Back, with mango playing the role of Lando Calrissian. At first, both mango and Lando seem super cool. But then, you realize you don't want to spend a ton of time with them, particularly when they betray you to Darth Vader and/or spoil your summer TJ's runs with ridiculous amounts of mango-infused nonsense. But in the end, Lando turns out to be okay and joins the rebellion, just as certain mango products are very welcome, despite having to keep your guard up just a little bit whenever you're around them.

So that leads us to this product: Pumpkin Spice Brooklyn Babka. If we're sticking with our Star Wars metaphors, then we've arrived, inexorably, at The Return of the Jedi. Can you guess what role "pumpkin spice" plays here? 

That's right. Ewoks.

Super divisive, either love 'em or hate 'em, overly cutesy, give their fans the warm fuzzies, some might say unnecessary, yet as they stand, an integral part of the season/story.

If you don't like Ewoks, they'll ruin Episode VI for you. If you don't like pumpkin spice, it'll probably ruin this babka in a similar fashion. I embrace both for what they are, although, even I have my limits. There's just no justifying those god-awful pumpkin caramels or The Battle for Endor. 

But back to the babka. I looked up what kinds of babkas exist in normal New York bakeries, and pretty consistently, chocolate and cinnamon were the only flavors to come up in the articles I found. Neither mango nor pumpkin spice were mentioned. Ever. But hey, this isn't a bakery in Boro Park, this is Trader Joe's. They can do what they want. But I would like to ask them: why wouldn't you want to make a Cookie Butter Brooklyn Babka? Not such a far cry from cinnamon, I would think. But what do I know?

On a podcast episode long ago, Russ mentioned the lightness and airiness of the mango babka (just like Cloud City). Sonia and I were perplexed, as the chocolate variety was quite dense, rich, and heavy. Now we know what he was talking about, as the bread within this pumpkin spice version, too, is nice and light. Fluffy almost. The top of the babka is the exception to the airiness. It's thicker, heavier, and more flavorful than the rest of the product, and both Sonia and I agree it's our favorite part.

There's a fair amount of pumpkin spice flavor throughout. Sonia says she tastes an abundance of allspice in particular. She wishes there were a little less of it. I have a hard time identifying individual pumpkin spice flavors, but I do notice a slightly-more-pungent-than-usual pumpkin spice flavor that's just a little unappealing. It also leaves a slight aftertaste. That must be what she's talking about.

All in all, the flavor's about what you'd expect for a pumpkin spice pastry. The texture is pleasant and inviting. Personally, I'd put this on par with the chocolate babka, score-wise. If I wanted something rich and heavy, I'd grab the chocolate kind. If I wanted something light and fall-ish, I'd grab this one. Either way, these babkas will obliterate your munchies like a massive battle station with enough firepower to destroy an entire planet.

Three and a half Death Stars from me. Four from Sonia.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Roasted Tomatillo & Mango Salsa

Ya know, in retrospect, it was probably unfair of me to say I was done with any Trader Joe's new fangled mango products. Truth was, as probably all of the rest of you, I was just sick of them, and poor Nathan had to pick up the blog slack, which in true Rodgers fashion, was done admirably.

But now, it's *sigh* pumpkin spice season. Unless there's some flashy irresistible bang-up product that I just can't resist (unlikely, but possible), I'm probably leaving all that alone, so if there's a new mango product I could possibly be interested in, I think I oughtta pick it up.

Actually, I have no idea if Trader Joe's Roasted Tomatillo & Mango Salsa is new or not. October doesn't exactly scream "Fruit Salsa Appreciation Month," so it seems weird to think it's new...but then again, I hadn't seen it. Maybe I just had my anti-mango horse blinders on. You tell me.

Would've been a shame to miss out on it. This salsa is mighty fine. There's a lot of sweetness, seemingly more from roasted tomatillo than anything else. And heat. lots of heat. Look at the ingredients - there' ghost pepper in here, which gives off a lot of spice, more than otherwise anticipated from appearances.

In what seems to be a strange step of salsa science, there's also corn and black beans tossed in the mix. I'm not really sure why that is...they're not exactly unwelcome, but it's not like any flavor gets added by them.

Maybe it's just to hide the mangoes.

I mean, there are mangoes in here...some decent sized pieces...but unless you happen to bite square into one, and pay some attention to it, it's easy to miss. With all of those aforementioned factors - roasty tomatillo sweetness, spicy heat, added texture of beans and corn - it's kinda easy to skip over the fact that there's mangoes involved. Even after repeated tastings, I'm not sure if I want to say that they're approaching indetectability or if they inconspicuously tie it all together.

Regardless of whichever answer, I'll come back for more and more. It's pretty fantastic salsa, which i found paired exceptionally well with some multigrain tortilla chips. Sandy's a huge fan because of the heat and absence of tomatoes, and as for me, I like the experimental feel to it - it's an odd hodge-podge that in the end works rather well. Double fours.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Roasted Tomatillo & Mango Salsa: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Sticky Pumpkin Cake with Hard Sauce

When I first read the title of this product, I assumed the "hard sauce" was referring to some sort of a solid sauce—like that Magic Shell stuff that you put on ice cream. And since ice cream is featured so prominently on the cover photo, I then wondered if maybe they stuck some ice cream in the box. I mean, this product comes from the frozen section, so it wouldn't have been outside the realm of possibility to cram a pouch or cup of vanilla ice cream in there somehow. Then, of course, I saw the little caption that says "...just a serving suggestion" and realized there was no ice cream. I frowned and mentioned it to Sonia. She, too, felt deceived by the artistic rendering of an à la mode dessert on the packaging. I was then further frustrated when I realized the "hard" part of the sauce was, in fact, dark rum, rather than a substance that shifted states of matter from a sticky syrupy liquid to a solid candy shell in a matter of minutes or seconds, right before my eyes.

After consoling one another about the tragic absence of ice cream from the box, as well as the equally disappointing presence of hard liquor in lieu of Magic Shell, we pulled ourselves together and proceeded with the preparation of our dessert. We flipped the package over and discovered that the only heating instructions provided involve a 1200 watt microwave. Now it's been pointed out many times on this blog that I'm quite adept at using the microwave for my culinary endeavors, while my skills with an oven or stove-top have generally lagged behind those of my peers. However, it should be mentioned at this juncture that Sonia and I have actually done without a microwave for the past three or four months. We have our own reasons for not purchasing a replacement microwave right now, but mainly, we just wanted to see if we could do without it. And surprisingly, neither of us have missed it very much. That is, until the day we went to heat up this sticky pumpkin cake.

At wit's end after the triple dose of first-world problems dished out by this syrupy, seasonal Trader Joe's pastry, I frantically searched the interwebs for a ray of hope concerning a viable alternate heating method. Thanks to the magic of Google, I quickly stumbled upon a thread on Chowhound involving some other poor microwaveless fool and his Trader Joe's Sticky Toffee Pudding, a wintery cousin of this autumnal pumpkin dish. (Sonia and I actually reviewed that one last year, and we should have remembered that it was to be heated only in the microwave, but now we're in our late thirties, our memories simply aren't what they used to be.) Long story short, I modified the advice given in the Chowhound thread and floated the pumpkin cake (yes, it floats!) in a large lidded pot on the stove-top, boiling the water all around it, thus steaming it, heating it, and yet maintaining a level of moisture that could never be achieved in the oven or regular stove-top pan.

At any rate, it worked quite well, and wow, I guess I should get to my thoughts on the actual food product before this review goes over a thousand words and you still don't know what we think of this product. It's good. There's definitely some pumpkin spice flavor, but it's blended in with heavy notes of the above-mentioned dark rum and caramel. The syrup is rich, lavishly sweet, and super smooth. The pecan pieces are a nice touch, and they add not only nuttiness to the taste, but a bit of crunch to the texture. 

It's really a delicious dessert, but we do have a few reservations. I'm sure it would be even better with vanilla ice cream to balance out the heaviness of the rum-caramel. And it would probably be even better with more pecans, too. If you're hugely into pumpkin spice products, this might be something you'll want to pick up, but if you're on the fence or if pumpkin spice and rum just isn't your thing, you're better off waiting until December and picking up the sticky toffee pudding. Despite our affinity for all things pumpkin, we both enjoyed that one just a little bit more, although this one's nothing to complain about by any means.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Grainless Granola

Some of our longer tenured readers may recall me prattling on and on a couple years ago about the Paleo diet I was doing. Not really wanting to rehash it all in detail, so for the uninitiated, here's the TL;DR version: For years I was severely overweight before starting a exercise and Paleo diet regime that resulted in me losing 100 pounds. It's been nearly a year and a half since I hit that century mark, and I've kept but a small handful of those pounds off thus far. And while I don't follow a Paleo diet too strictly any more, I still dabble with it here and there when given the choice, and so it's still kinda part of my ongoing weight loss maintenance program.

It's somewhat late to the party, but here's Trader Joe's Grainless Granola. Kinda wonder what took TJ's so long. A couple years ago when being discontinued in local Targets, I bought every last sackful of Renola in the greater Pittsburgh region. So, I'm pretty familiar with these kinda caveman-friendly mixes of fruits, nuts and seeds, although I still can't figure out why they're referred to as a "granola."

It's a good mix overall...but a bit odd. There's no real crunch or crispiness or anything. Instead, it seems as if perhaps the moisture of the dates permeated the nuts (cashews and walnuts) and seeds (sunflower and pumpkin) so almost everything is a soft, slightly smushy, uniform texture. That's not necessary a bad thing, but it cuts down on the snacky factor of it, and could present issues for those wishing to sprinkle some on top of some yogurt or oatmeal. The dates and dried bananas seemed to clump a tad bit, too, so if that's not your thing, beware.

Also, you gotta like cinnamon. A lot. This stuff has a massive dose of cinnamon that'll smack your nostrils when the bag opens and be present in every bite. It's not enough to override any the individual components, thank goodness, because there's plenty of "as-is" natural flavor in the granola. There's also a small smattering of vanilla, but it's not as even or present as the cinnamon, which is fine.

A few small handfuls filled the hunger hole for a good amount of time. I kept a bag at my work desk for a few days and happily munched, and wasn't 'til I was throwing out the bag that I noticed that it said to keep refrigerated after opening....umm, why? Nothing perishable in there. Someone please explain.

Anyways, the sack cost $3.99 which is about right for a snack mix of this nature. You could probably make your own for a little less, but, well, convenience. It's what separates us from the cavemen.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Grainless Granola: 7.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons.

Trader Joe's Ghosts & Bats

Well now that October's here, I think it's high time we reviewed these seasonally-appropriate, Halloween-themed snacks: ghosts and bats. Albino bats, apparently. In fact, the "bats" in this bag are nothing more than ghosts with wings. Both shapes represent fittingly ethereal characters—light, airy, and barely there.

And that's kind of how I'd describe the taste of these potato-based snacks: extremely subtle. They're like baked potato chips or crisps, but without any added flavors. "Salt" can be found on the ingredients list, but these are among the least salty chips I've ever had. It's not necessarily a bad thing. Especially around Halloween, when candy and chocolate are everywhere, a break from the fat and calories can be quite welcome.

On the other hand, if I had to pick one type of low-calorie chip to eat for the rest of my life, Ghosts & Bats would definitely not be my first choice. I like chips with a little seasoning at least—maybe some barbecue flavor or sour cream taste. That's not to say you couldn't dress these up a bit yourself. In fact, Sonia said they remind her of "duros de harina" or "duritos," a Mexican wheat-based snack, often served spritzed with lemon or lime juice and chili powder. 

So we tried these chips with a few drops of lemon and a dash of chili, and sure enough, it made them significantly more interesting. The theme suddenly changed from Halloween to Dia de los Muertos—but they're basically the same holiday, minus the part where Mexican folk leave meals in the cemetery for their dearly departed family members.

The crispiness of these ghostly chips is pleasant. There's a delicate crunch to them that's far more interesting than their flavor, in my opinion. They are prone to staleness, however. We kept our bag shut with a rubber band we had laying around in the kitchen, and after just a few days, the chips were noticeably more...styrofoam-like, for lack of a better word.

In summary, these chips are fun and crispy, but they lack a certain something in the flavor department. Three stars from me. Three and a half from Sonia.

Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Boffo! Bar

"Boffo."

It's an adjective that means "extremely good or successful" according to Merriam Webster. It can also be used as a noun meaning simply "a success" according to my top Google results.

What I can't find is anyone who actually uses this word anymore, and I'm not going to start. At least it has a more positive connotation to its name than another, similar candy bar, that's perhaps a tad more famous and ubiquitous, named after a verb that means to "derisively sneer or laugh" at someone or something. Maybe it's not itself when it's hungry.

Well, alright, alright...what's the difference between a Trader Joe's Boffo! Bar and a Snickers? Hrmm...peanuts, caramel and nougat enrobed in milk chocolate. Could describe either adequately. Well, they're different...hugely different...and definitively, absolutely not the same, and Boffo!s (Boffos!?) are not pulled from the reject pile at the Mars factory...

Don't believe me? Fact check: Boffo!s weigh 1.8 ounces, as opposed to Snickers weighing 1.86, and as a result, have 10 less calories. So ha!

Well, okay...there are other differences which admittedly the wife and I wouldn't have picked up on if we hadn't eaten half a Boffo! and half a Snickers back to back, because, you know, science. Take a gander at the two dissected candy bars I put up a pic of: first one is the Boffo!, followed by the Snickers. The Boffo!, though smaller, has a chunkier feel to it than a Snickers, and whereas, to me, Snickers seem to rely more on peanuts and caramel with nougat playing second fiddle, it's the opposite for the Boffo! The nougat of a Boffo! comprises more of the innards, with a lighter, drier, and "foamier" feel to it, with only a faint ribbon of caramel up top, and it's decidedly lighter in the nuts department (sorry, had to *snicker* at that). On the whole Boffo! bar there were maybe six or seven peanut pieces, which seems lacking given the standard out there. But that nougat though - tasty stuff. The Boffo! chocolate also seems a tad more on the dark side, though still not dark chocolate by any stretch.

Repeat buy? Maybe. There's a time and place for an easily accessible, quick appetite smusher that sometimes involves the TJ checkout line. But compared to other of TJ's fine candy bar selections, this one is decidedly more utility than luxury. And I'm not a huge Snickers-type guy either...I mean, I'll be shameless when taking the "daddy tax" out of my kids' trick-or-treat bags, but there's plenty others I'd reach for first. Like Butterfingers...Anyways, it's 99 cents which seems to be the going rate for candy bars these days. Nothing too strong to say one way or another - not TJ's strongest performance, but nothing to make too much jest of, either. Check the nutritional stats here.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Boffo! Bar: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Pumpkin Vinaigrette

Since you all know my blogging buddy Russ is a huge fan of pumpkin products, as well as salad dressings, of course I had to race to the local TJ's to purchase this product and beat him to the review. But here I sit, dumbfounded by this enigmatic dressing. Of all the hundreds of foods, beverages, and condiments we've reviewed these past six years, this might be one of the hardest to describe, as far as taste is concerned. We've seen every kind of pumpkin product, as well as plenty of salad dressings, but for some reason this one was hard to pin down for me. I couldn't even tell if I really liked it or not. But like a brave li'l foodie-hack, I'll attempt to tackle it anyway. Here goes nothing.

Okay, so the first thing that jumped out at both Sonia and I was that this dressing is surprisingly sweet. Like sweet is probably the first word either of us would use to describe it. It's not sweet like you'd use it as an ice cream topping kind of sweet. It's just sweet for the world of salad dressings. It doesn't taste at all like pumpkin pie or pumpkin spice—there's no cinnamon, nutmeg, clove, or allspice. And none of those spices would work here, so they're not missed. It does, however, taste like pumpkin, as pumpkin puree is the main ingredient. It has a squash-like essence. I guess that's because pumpkin is a type of squash. Sonia thought it tasted more like butternut squash than pumpkin, but I think I might have picked out the pumpkin flavor even if this had been a blind taste-test. But I'm probably overestimating my taste buds. My brain can't see a bright orange label with the word "PUMPKIN" written on it and taste anything other than pumpkin. I'm highly suggestible like that.

But beyond the pumpkin is where the flavor gets really complex. There's olive oil, dijon mustard, white wine, and turmeric in this stuff. And wow, it's like there's a fall festival in my mouth and everyone's invited. Yet I wouldn't say the flavor is super intense—it's just...complicated. It's not completely unlike other vinaigrettes, there's just more going on here.

Texture-wise, it's oily and somewhat thick. Toward the beginning of the bottle, there were little yellowish globs of what I can only assume would be pumpkin puree. None of said yellow globs were around by the time we snapped the above photo. But you can still get a vague idea about the product's viscosity, hydraulic stability, and other physical properties from the pic. And yes, I like a little salad with my chick peas. I call it the "garbanzaganza."

All I can say is, if you're into pumpkin, dressing, and consider yourself an adventurous eater, this stuff's worth checking out. And hey, if you're not into it, Trader Joe's has an excellent return policy. What's there to lose? Sonia gives it four stars. I think it's a little too weird for four stars, but I am glad we tried it. I'll be nice and give it three and a half.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Shrimp Soft Tacos

Another week, another shot to grind my gears about something. Made my annual autumnal rant last week about pumpkin spice. Man, that felt good to get out. This week's target? Food trucks. By in large, I think they're dumb. I get that in some scenarios they may be a way of life...but man. Stand around forever in line just to overpay for one item, have to wait around forever in another line if you want anything else, all from some typically greasy grungy kitchen on wheels. No thanks. Here in the 'burgh, the whole food truck craze has really hit in the past few years. We're kinda slow on a lot of trends - can't wave a Terrible Towel without hitting a mullet or three - but in the past two or three years, any kind of community event anywhere, it's food truck bonanza! And everyone gets so excited! FOOD! FROM A TRUCK! WITH WHEELS! STAND AROUND ON ASPHALT AND EAT FOOD! WOW!

No thanks.

I bring this up in relation to Trader Joe's Shrimp Soft Tacos because on the official TJ's website, there's a whole thing about taco trucks when they start talking these tacos. Blah. That may be a way to entice a lot of potential eaters, but not me...but then again. it's a shrimp taco, so twist my arm.

I'm not going to say these are the best shrimp tacos ever, because they aren't. Far from it. But, I will say these are the best microwavable shrimp tacos that cost less than $1.25 each I've ever had. A three pack cost only $3.69, so keep that in mind with all I am about to say.

Though the taco filling looks nothing like what's depicted on the package, it's still plenty flavorful. There's a spicy heat radiating on nearly every bite, much more than anticipated - there's some potent jalapenos lurking in that salsa verde. Lots of black pepper bite, too. I wish a little more lime flavor were present to cut through the heat some - lime juice is listed as an ingredient - but something like a little lime basil would be killer on these tacos. Once done nuking, the soft 'n mild cotija cheese is kinda indistinguishable from everything else, which isn't necessarily a bad thing.

Surprisingly, there's plenty ample filling too. One could reasonably expect that a perceived premium taco stuffer could be shorted here, but it's not - not skimpy on the shrimpy. Each taco had at least two to three firm, fresh(ish) bites of shrimp in there. You're not getting cheated here.

As for the corn tortillas...meh. Listen, they do the job. Each taco is actually double-tortilla'd, which is probably the right call - if left with just one, it'd be too soggy and potentially messy. That being said, for a corn tortilla, they're not awful, but not particularly memorable either. I'm spoiled by the handmade ones from two trips to the mountainsides of Mexico, and it's an unfair comparision, but one I hold every other corn tortilla to. I would have preferred flour ones.

Really, not too many complaints. The tacos could really use some vegetation if you have some on hand, just to freshen them up a little bit. Some lettuce or tomatoes or avocado would be a welcome addition if I had any one hand. A little dollop of sour cream would be nice, too, especially to help dampen the spice. Both Sandy and I could totally justify picking up the shrimp soft tacos again, and, heck, probably will for a quick, easy, and somewhat different lunch. No food truck required.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Shrimp Soft Tacos: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons.     

Trader Joe's Pumpkin Soup Crackers

This is one of those TJ's products with a tricky name. It's not hard to pronounce or anything, but when I look at the box, my immediate assumption is that these are pumpkin-flavored crackers optimized for crumbling and throwing into a big bowl of piping hot soup. And I'm not saying they're not good for that purpose, but what the name actually means, according to the little write-up on the packaging, is that Trader Joe's took the taste of pumpkin soup and infused these crackers with it. Interesting.

It hasn't been all that long since we've had pumpkin soup from Trader Joe's. Sonia has made at least one repeat purchase of that soup since our review of it three years ago—I'm fairly certain we had a carton of it last year. Or was it two years ago already? Gosh, it sucks being old. Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that we both remember the soup being fairly pumpkinny. Despite the presence of pumpkin puree, these crackers, in our opinion, are not.

But they do taste "harvesty," if that makes any sense. There is the slightest essence of something squash-ish—undoubtedly due to the pumpkin puree. But more notable is the pleasant blend of herbs and spices, including salt, onion powder, and brown sugar. It's this blend of flavors that gives the crackers their "soupy" vibe. The taste is not unlike a homemade broth, but in a solid form. Sonia thinks they're reminiscent of original flavor SunChips.

Texture-wise, they're nice and crunchy. They taste and feel like they're made of rice and oats, which they are—and yes, they're gluten-free. If you were inclined to eat them in soup, they'd probably go best with something like chili or tomato soup, rather than lighter, clear-broth soups.

If you're avoiding the whole sweet pumpkin pie spice thing, but still want something autumnal, these might be what you're looking for. They didn't blow us away, flavor-wise, but there's a unique heartiness to them that's worth a looksee if you're after something subtle and herby. Three and a half stars from each of us.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Organic Ginger Zinger

"Put your pears on the stairs!"

"Stomp and roar, out the door!"

"Put your sidewalk on the fidewalk!"

Yes...rhyming is all the rage these days with my four year old daughter. It's going on for weeks, nonstop. Most of our conversations sound like the classic Princess Bride talk between Inigo and Fezzik....sometimes with actual words, and as you can see, sometimes not. It's what we do, usually with a giggle...and a wiggle!

I'm fairly glad that I won't have to explain that the words "ginger" and "zinger" don't precisely rhyme, despite looking pretty similar. That "g" at the start of the second syllable is troublesome, isn't it? Close, but not enough. No rhyme, at any time.

But I ought to attempt to explain to all you fine folks how Trader Joe's Organic Ginger Zinger tastes, so here goes. Best way I can explain is, think of a bell curve, with one end designated for lemonade and the other for a mild ginger beer. Your tongue "rides" this curve as you taste this particular drinky concoction. At the foothills, there's the sugary sweetness of the lemonade, but when one would expect the tart bite to kick in, there's the intermingling of the ginger. This mix gets stronger, and just when the flavor you think would apex, it descends once more, this time more towards the ginger, with the very tail end leaving a meek, inoffensive ginger burn.

And that's pretty much it.

One end, a little lemonade, on the other, a little ginger beer, and in the middle between those two points there's a whole lot of not much. Well, sugar and water, yes, but really...nothing there. A little carbonation would have helped carry any flavor through, I think, because really, this kinda reminded me of flat soda. On the plus side, when I mixed a little rum in there, that middle ground picked up fairly well with a more solid base in there.

TJ's has proven how delectable ginger and lemon can be before. It's too bad the results can't be duplicated in beverage form here. Sigh. If this were still the hot depths of summer instead of slowly turning towards hoodie weather here in the Northeast, I might be a little more forgiving and use some words like "light" and "refreshing"...but not to be rude, I'm not in the mood. At $3.49 a quart, no need to rush it to your fort, but might be worth a shot...that's all I got.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Organic Ginger Zinger: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Quasar Bar

I've always loved the stars, space, and science-fiction. During my time at Penn State, I took as many astronomy classes as I could without declaring an astronomy minor—mainly because doing so would have added a boatload of math classes to my curriculum. I was never terrible at math, but I didn't really enjoy it either. So I took classes about archaeoastronomy (the study of archaeology and ancient cultures as they related to the stars and constellations) and the probability of life elsewhere in the universe. Incidentally, PSU has been in astronomy news recently, as one of its astronomers came up with the theory that the unusual drops in light levels coming from "Tabby's Star" might be due to "alien megastructures." I think that particular astronomer may have jumped the gun on announcing the potential existence of extraterrestrials, but hey, you never know.

My personal theory about those strange dimming patterns from star KIC 8462852: a swarm of Trader Joe's Quasar Bars en route to Earth...and BREAKING: the first wave has just arrived. Thanks to reader Ryan B. for the heads up on these TJ's brand "Milky Way" bars (who curiously has an alien featured in her Facebook profile pic).

If you like Milky Way bars, you'll most likely enjoy Quasars. They're extremely similar, with just a few key differences. TJ's offering is a little more salty, so there's a bit of that "salted caramel" effect. And it's coated with dark chocolate, rather than milk chocolate, so it's just a tad less sweet. There's still whipped chocolate on the inside, as well as caramel and nougat—so still plenty of goodies for those of you with sweet tooths...er, sweet teeth?

It's got the classic, soft, nougaty vibe that we've all come to know and love, as well as a cool astronomical name, all for just 99 cents. And it's yet another bone thrown to the dark chocolate crowd, but there's plenty of sweet stuff in there too, so you won't hear me complaining on this one. I think I'll give this delectable candy bar four shooting stars. Sonia will go with four and a half.

If you're interested in knowing what a quasar actually is, I'll just point you in the direction of this article. It's a fascinating subject, but not one I'll elaborate on here on our adventurous food blog...because it would take up way too much space...and I still wouldn't be able to explain it adequately.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Half Moon Cookies

I've already mentioned Seinfeld's Black and White Cookie on this blog once long ago. "Two races of flavor living side by side in harmony." But it really needs to be brought up again. Because this product essentially IS the Black & White Cookie. TJ's offering doesn't look quite as large as traditional B&W's, but other than that, they're remarkably similar in appearance.

Apparently very popular among New York's Jewish population, these cookies have been a mainstay at NYC bakeries for many generations. Trader Joe's went with "Half Moon" here, perhaps to deliberately avoid the stereotypes that go along with "Black & White Cookie," however, according to this article, penned by someone far more familiar with the history of these fun pastries than I am, a "Half Moon Cookie" is a devil's food cookie iced with chocolate and vanilla frostings. Cookies with a soft vanilla dough, such as these, are most definitely Black & White Cookies. The author of that article goes so far as to call people who refer to Black & White Cookies as Half Moon Cookies "philistines," and he points out that Black & White Cookies should be more accurately referred to as "Apartheid Cookies," which I found quite amusing, but that's neither here nor there in terms of this product review.

What is important is that these particular Trader Joe's brand cookies really aren't much to get excited about. I enjoyed the softness of the cookie part—and I liked that it wasn't too sweet. But I found both the chocolate and vanilla fondants to be somewhat disappointing. Each side featured a vague vanilla or chocolate flavor, respectively, but neither was a taste I was eager to return to. The fondants were far more firm than the cookie itself, and in a way, I felt like they ruined the nice texture of the doughy part. Sonia felt the same way. If anything, she was even more bored by these than I was, flavor-wise.

There's nothing particularly unappetizing about them, either. We snacked on them from time to time and didn't find it very hard to get through the package, but we weren't exactly fighting over who got the last one. In the end, they're just not particularly memorable.

Two and a half stars from Sonia. Three from me.

Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Apple Pie Cheddar Cheese

There's a part of me that would like to take this opportunity to make my annual anti-pumpkin spice rant. It's that time of year, as Nathan started out last week, and as one Facebook fan put it, time for "white girls (to) rejoice!", and as we were quick to add, also white guys comfortable with their masculinity. What a little of sprinkling of nutmeg, cinnamon and cloves has to do with given personal identity characteristics, I don't know, but...I'm not a fan. The "pumpkin spice everything" trend is far too ubiquitous, far too obnoxious, far too usurping of many other great fall flavors. It takes something rather special to really impress me in the pumpkin spice regard, so it's possible, but far too many items fall short. Pumpkin spice latte? I've rather have nutmegged toilet water, thank you.

On the other hand...apples. Apple crisp. Apple cider. Applesauce. Apple pie. Now that's something to get behind. Especially apple pie, cuz I'm 'murican, dangit. Forget any other political attack ad going on right now, if an ad came out that a politician didn't like apple pie, they'd lose my vote. Now, I've heard that adding a slice of cheddar cheese to apple pie makes it even better...I've never tried. Either it's my mom's or sister's apple pie, which is absolutely perfect as is, or if I'm need of dairy sidekick, I'd choose vanilla ice cream.

So Trader Joe's Apple Pie Cheddar Cheese is my first foray into crossing these two flavor streams. I know, I probably haven't lived...sorry. Same for Sandy. At least we were both super eager to give a chunk a whirl, even with its slightly-high-for-TJ's price of $10 a pound.

It's...interesting, to say the least. First of all, it's pretty strongly applicious. How can one up the applicity factor of an average apple? Boil in apple cider! Infuise more apple! Stat! I can't quite tell the type of apple used, but I'd guess something in the MacIntosh-type range - strong, yet not overly sweet nor tart. There's also enough presence for the typical pie spices like cinnamon and nutmeg that give it a pie-like vibe. The little tidbits of dried apple add a little taste and textural variant. Nothing wrong on the apple front.

I guess where it gets a little weird is the cheese. In of itself, it's a decent cheddar - soft, mild, not overly sharp, but rather salty. Must be that sodium that, to me, creates a little flavor friction. Salt and apples don't go together all that well, IMHO. I mean, it's not awful...I kinda like the creaminess of the cheese paired with the apples - but the salt, instead of accentuating the overall flavor, kinda muddies it up instead.

Also, if it's apple pie cheese, where's the pie crust tidbits? There's none, and that coulda been fun. I guess "apple pie cheddar" sounds nicer than "fancy applesauce cheddar." Meh.

We're kinda split here - not terrific, not awful, and certainly more successful than previous TJ cheddar mash-ups. Sandy's not entirely sure of what to make of it, except she'll reserve further judgment until trying out a grilled cheese with it. She went right down the middle with a 2.5. It's worthy of higher marks than that in my book, but I can't get over the salt - a few small bites left me in want of a tall glass of water. Heck, I'd even drink a pumpkin spice latte if it were close by just to help. I can't go higher than 3.5.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Apple Pie Cheddar Cheese: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Chocolate Chai & Almond Bar

No, I didn't crop the picture a little too close or accidentally leave out a letter in this product title. I also had to correct Sandy a couple times too, despite her usually being a stickler about such things. The state forest near her alma mater of Clarion University is Cook Forest, and if you call it Cook's...*guh*. Shudder. Brace yourself.

So when she started calling this product Trader Joe's Chocolate Chai & Almond Bark, I had to give it to her back. "Look! There's no 'k'! It's just a bar! C'mon! Jeez! Get with it! Ugh!"

Turnaround is fair play. It can also put a damper on the one night of the week that the mom-in-law's out of the house, after the kids go to bed, when you get to have some quality adult time doing adult things...like drinking beer and playing mancala.

Anyways, no "k." It's just bar. Doesn't matter that it looks like a bark, eats like a bark, barks like a bark...it's just Trader Joe's Chocolate Chai & Almond Bar. Bars can be square, I guess.

Dang tasty bar. Just look at how gorgeous it is - a thick, milk chocolate base, with some darker chocolate marbled up on top, with full roasted almond nestled in fairly amply - very few bites without. By myself, I wouldn't have thought of infusing chai tea with chocolate - but it definitely works here, in a way I can't quite explain. It's there, and very present, but as pleasant accompaniment and not a dominant flavor. It's well balanced with the milder milk chocolate, while still accentuated by the dark, with the almond adding a roasted earthy bite. Well done.

And as I said, it's thick. Thicker than a normal chocolate bar, for sure. Sometimes, chocolate with this kinda girth can be hard to gnaw through, but that's not the case. Our teeth glided through each bite, with the only interruption being one of those tasty nuts. A tougher bite would have killed any goodwill with this bar, so thank goodness TJ's got this right.

Sandy and I gulped down the whole bar over a few games, with the last bite being wagered on who won a particular round...I lost :(. She's the one who found it on a solo shopping trip and couldn't recall the price...$3? $4? Whatever it was, it's worth it. Will definitely buy again...and again.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Chocolate Chai & Almond Bar: 8.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons