Trader Giotto's Bambino Pizza Formaggio

Back when I was a kid in elementary school, one of the highlights of the academic year was participating in the BOOK IT! program, which apparently still exists. It involved reading books for free pizza. Each student got an oversized button with 5 or 6 blank star-shaped spaces. For each book we'd read, we would receive a little star sticker to put on our button. We're not talking Crime and Punishment and Moby Dick, of course. We're talking Amelia Bedelia and Freckle Juice—books we'd be reading anyway, even if there weren't free food involved. 

So we'd read like mad in anticipation of our free personal pan pizza from the local Pizza Hut. On the day of redemption, we'd turn in that button at the pizza counter feeling like kings. The little round pizza would come out steaming hot, and it tasted better than any pizza we had ever had before, because we knew we earned it.

These Bambino pizzas from TJ's remind me of those personal pan pizzas from pizza hut in size, shape, and appearance, but the flavor is a little more grown-up. They taste just like really good Sicilian-style pizza with plenty of Italian herbs and spices in the mix. Although, I must say that unlike the picture on the packaging, you can't really see flecks of green herbs (I guess that's oregano?) all scattered across the tops of the pizzas. You can taste it, but you can't see it.

Each Bambino pizza is about the size of one large slice of pizza, so if you're having this for dinner, you can probably count on each person eating at least two. They come in two individually wrapped packages of two pizzas a piece. I like my crust fairly crispy, so I wound up leaving my pizzas in the oven for a minute or two longer than the instructions called for, but other than that, the baking time was spot on. Like most other frozen pizzas, I simply can't imagine these being half as good if cooked in the microwave.

If you're a fan of Sicilian pizza, check these out. I was really happy with the texture and taste, and I give them 4.5 stars. Sonia will give them a 4.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Organic Strawberry Lemonade

It's tough to type this without it sounding like a out-and-out whiny complaint, but maaaaaan July and August in Pittsburgh are fairly unpleasant. It's all about the humidity. It's atrocious. For the past couple days as I've left for work at about 8 a.m., it's felt like I've left the comfort of my home and stepped straight into a vaporous incarnation of a sponge hot hot and fresh from the dishwasher. Our power went out twice last week for hours, leaving us in a hot sticky mess where the usual standing order for goodnight hugs and baby snuggles were temporarily suspended for sheer survival's sake. Ugh. It's just bad. At the same time, I realize I could live somewhere else that would be prone to tornadoes or wildfires or massive widespread flooding, and my heart goes out to all communities affected by all those recently, especially Prescott, AZ. In the grand scheme,a couple months of hot steamy mugginess in the summer is not a bad truce to have with Mother Nature. I'm just glad for when those times come, God invented air conditioning.

I'm also glad he invented Trader Joe's Organic Strawberry Lemonade for these summer months. At the very least I can say he inspired those who manufacture this delicious concoction, as I believe it is truly the product of inspired divinity.

How can anything possibly taste this impossibly good? It's improbably perfect. Every sip has the proper balance of tart lemony citrus and sweet sugary strawberry that blends together in a smooth, cool, refreshing taste that however temporarily brings it all down a few degrees. And this ain't wimpy stuff, oh no. It's potent and unrelenting in it's powerful tastiness.  I tell you, it's addicting and highly chuggable for those in search of liquid refreshment. Heck, I don't even want to stop there. When I rule the world, or at least the local waterpark, I will replace all water with this lemonade. Can I wade into a wavepool churning and swaying with strawberry lemonade? Can I coast down a long twisty turny waterslide (err, lemonade slide) and splash land at the bottom, face-first mouth-open? Can I grab an innertube and float down a lazy river armed with just a swimsuit, shades, and an extra long straw for the occasional sip? Believe me, if I could, I would. It's so impeccably funktastalicioso that I'll overlook the "black carrot concentrate" added "for color" and wonder how in the h-e-double Bendi straw that works. And it almost goes without saying that add some booze and ice cubes for the adults or freeze it into some popsicles for the kiddos, and you get yourself one cool treat.

Obviously, I'm about as high on the strawberry lemonade as I can be. I think the wife and I have bought it four times thus far this summer, and seeing as that we're currently out, I'm beginning to get the DTs from withdrawal. That's just me, as Sandy's not nearly the aficionado that I am. "Eh, it's just lemonade to me," she says. That's like saying the Beatles were just a pop band or that, for his time and era, Jonathan Taylor Thomas was just another child actor. Sandy continues, "It's not like 'Ermergerd, it's strerberry lermernerde!'" It hurt just typing that, yeesh. She gave it a mere three. I file my five in protest, as this may be one of the best drinks Trader Joe's carries. Better than sweet tea. Better than the Arnold Palmer. Better than the vintage root beer, and way better than this primordial green ooze. Yums all the way around in my little world.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Organic Strawberry Lemonade: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons       

Trader Joe's Petite Seafood Croquettes

With Surimi imitation crab! Oh boy! That's the best imitation crab meat of them all!

Or so I might believe after perusing the cover of this product. I've actually never heard of Surimi until now, but I have known for a while that a lot of times "crab meat" is actually nothing but fake crab meat that's really only dressed-up fish. I just find it funny that TJ's advertises it so boldly on the cover of the product. Well, it does say "seafood croquettes," not "crab croquettes." And really, I think if it were real crab meat, they'd just go ahead and call them "Petite Crab Cakes" or "Mini Crab Cakes." But I do get caught up in the semantics too easily. It's the English major in me.

Let's talk about grub.

These are good. But not quite as good as the Maryland-Style Crab Cakes we reviewed a while back. Maybe that's because...they aren't crab cakes. But they're so similar to crab cakes...they might as well be. You could call them "Fish Cakes," but that would be boring. I guess the best thing

to call them would have been "Imitation Crab Cakes" or "Surimi Cakes." But what marketer would put the word "imitation" in the title of a product? One who's slightly crazier than the one that put "made with surimi imitation crab" immediately below the title of the product.

They're slightly firm on the outside, and significantly softer on the inside. You can taste things like peppers, celery, and cream in the mix. It's actually a good bit like Thanksgiving stuffing...mixed with fish. They're not very spicy, but you can detect a hint of seasoning. All in all, not a bad appetizer, but there are plenty of hors d'oeuvres I'd take over these.

Sonia gives them 3.5 stars, adding, "They were a little too eggy for me, even though I like eggs." I didn't notice the egginess so much, but I give them 3.5 too, because they were snackable enough, but not particularly memorable.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10 stars.

Trader Joe's Gluten Free Joe-Joe's

I'll admit this right up front: I'm most likely the last person in the world who should be reviewing these. I have no gluten sensitivities or any need to be wary of pretty much anything I eat. I'm also not a huge fan of Oreos and sandwich cookies in general - yeah, I mean, I'll eat them, but they all kinda taste the same to me, and if I'm eating a cookie, well, dangit, if it's not homemade I want it be something not so ordinary more times than not. Notable exception: add mint and dip into dark chocolate.

But fear not, I (for once) have a plan. Since I lack the proper gluten-free perspective and a healthy fondness for these kinda cookies, I'm actually going to take a small step aside here for a moment. One of my good friends, Allison, has had to adopt a gluten-free diet for the past several years, and when she, in a little bit of a break from the norm, started raving on Facebook about how tremendously awesome Trader Joe's Gluten Free Joe-Joe's are, well, it got my attention and so I invited Allison to share her thoughts about them.

"In eating gluten free, you generally find good replacements (IF you search around-there is a lot of bad gluten-free food that you have to weed out). Products that are a good substitute, however, are exactly that: a substitute. TJ's gluten free Joe-Joes are the first gluten-free product I have tasted that taste just like the original. They are oh-so chocolaty, and have an amazing texture, reminiscent of Oreos (in my opinion, better, since you can taste the real vanilla bean in the middle). I had my non-gluten-free husband try them, and he loved them as well, guessing that he wouldn't have been able to tell the difference in a blind taste test," she wrote. "I would also add that good chocolate flavor in cookies and cakes (gluten free or not) is hard to do. Many times the chocolate flavor is flat, especially in packaged cookies. These cookies give you a full, robust, chocolate flavor, satisfying any chocolate lover's craving."

Well, there you have it. Sandy and I picked up a box of the regular and the gluten-free guys to compare and contrast. They're pretty close overall but to be honest, we both kinda sided with the the gluten-free ones being a tad bit better despite their nearly identical taste. The gluten-free guys have this particular crunch and "clean crumbliness" to them that make them more fun to munch. Sandy also she said she liked the middles of the gluten free cookies better, but I can't tell the difference. 

There is another difference though, which Allison tipped me off to, but apparently is par for the gluten free course. The box of regular Joe-Joe's cost $2.99 and had 42 cookies, so about 7 cents a cookie. The gluten free ones cost $3.99 (so a third more) and had 28 cookies (so a third less) which computes to about 14 cents a cookie. For another example, regular TJ's mac 'n cheese (yum!) goes for a buck a box, while the far inferior rice/celiac friendly version costs a paper Jefferson. Yeesh. How do you all with gluten sensitivities and a budget do it? Mad respect. And perhaps I'm a bit slow, but I can't think of a great justification for the widely divergent price points, and find all of that to be a wee bit unfair. 

Alrighty, Golden Spoons time. I'm keeping out of this one altogether for two reasons. First, Allison is the leading gluten-free expert I know, so I'm giving her the courtesy of scoring on my behalf. Secondly, if there's anything that over 3.5 years of marriage (and just over 1 year with a delightful daughter!) have taught me, it's that when there's a question of whose opinion matters more, there's not a question after all. Sandy just went "mmmmm" while munching a mouthful and flashed me all five digits. That texture's got a hook on her. Allison agrees. "For really great junk food (that would also make an amazing pie crust) gluten-free or not, I give it a 5." There you have it. All you gluten-free peeps out there, rejoice.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Gluten Free Joe-Joe's: 10 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Lemon Curd

A month or two ago, in the downtown area of our tiny little suburb right outside the City of Brotherly Love, my wife and I found ourselves hunting for some vittles one bright Saturday morning. We settled on a new diner/cafe right on the main street. It was a quaint mom and pop's joint. It reminded us of a little place we used to go in Hollywood called "The Corner." 

Now, my wife Sonia usually eats an hour or two after she gets up, whereas I am in the habit of eating at least a little bit of something immediately upon waking, usually accompanied by a caffeinated energy drink of some kind. That meal, a true break-the-fast is often very small, allowing me to eat a little more a little later and join Sonia when she finally does eat breakfast. Inspired by our good friend Peregrin Took, Sonia and I refer to that latter meal as my "second breakfast."

But second breakfast can't be as big as a normal meal, since it's book-ended by first breakfast and elevensies. So when I searched the menu at this little cafe for a small-ish meal and declined when offered a hashbrown add-on, our waitress of course decided that I must be a cheap SOB and that she would undoubtedly receive little or nothing in the way of a tip. We received little or nothing in the way of service after that, as our waitress strived dutifully to fulfill her own prophecy, but when my meal finally came out (pancakes with lemon curd) everything in the world was right as rain. I was delighted at the tart, tangy, lemoniness of the curd. I was upset that something so delicious would be called "curd." I giggled like a schoolboy as I smeared it 'round my flapjacks. Then I literally licked my platter clean.

Sonia, apparently offended by the streams of yellow drizzle on my face, said to me flatly, "You know they sell that stuff at Trader Joe's."

My eyes widened at the realization that I wouldn't have to go back to this goofy little diner for lemon curd. BUT, would TJ's version taste as good as the poor-service cafe?

In the time that's passed, I have confirmed that YES, TJ's version is every bit as good as the one I had at that diner, and in fact, that the two taste so similar, I'm guessing the cafe's lemon curd "supplier" IS Trader Joe's. 

It's got the consistency and feel of honey, but it's RIDICULOUSLY lemony. It made me want to scream "Lemony Snicket!" like I did when I ate the Lemon Bars. It goes well with pancakes, with toast, with scones, with cookies, or just about anything you want to taste like lemon candy. It's super sour, but also super sweet. I'm in love with it. I don't know if anywhere else sells this stuff in the states, and I'm pretty sure Trader Joe didn't invent the stuff, but I'm going to give TJ's the credit for introducing me to it. 5 big stars from me. 4.5 stars from Sonia.

Bottom line: 9.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Cheddar & Horseradish Flavored Potato Chips

There's a few simple joys in life that I truly love: Cuddling a sleepy baby for a lazy Sunday afternoon nap. Licking off the beaters or wooden spoon while making a cake or homemade cookies. Getting just in front of that dirtbag who doesn't want to let you merge and winning that mutual battle of wills to get to your cubicle 2.3 nanoseconds sooner. These are all great things.

Another I'd add to the list would be when your bag of chips gets down to last itty bitty shards of chippiness, with all the flavor dustings smushed down in and concentrated in a small pocket in the corner of the bag, and simply lifting the bag and pouring straight into your mouth because to reach your hand in would only result in dusty digits turning to sludge that your wife will give you the stinkeye for wiping off on your jeans.

Unfortunately for Trader Joe's Cheddar & Horseradish Flavored Potato Chips, this was an experience I could not enjoy one bit when I indulged the other day after Sandy and I more or less ravaged the rest of the bag throughout the day. The back of the bag says something to the effect of "cheddary with a touch of horseradish." The scribe who penned those words must have done so with a touch of horse....uh, nevermind, family-friendly, SFW website we run here. Every chip I crunched in all its otherwise kettlechip glory I tasted nothing but the horseradish through and through, with all the compulsion of its bitter might. I literally could not taste anything else except a slight smidge of cheddar here and there when my tastebuds pleaded for mercy. "Delightfully flavored" is not the way I'd describe these, unless horseradish is really, and I mean really your thing.  The kicker was that last little refuge of snacktime crumbles - it took me two tries and a large glass of water in the middle to make it happen. Yes, it owned me.  

That might all sound like a negative. I actually don't quite mean it that way. In a sense, I can kinda relate these to salt-and-vinegar chips, not because of flavor similarities (because there's not much) but because of flavor potency. I don't eat chips often but when I do I prefer either regular or barbeque or sour cream and onion or something along that line. There's a time and place for salt-and-vinegar chips, though, for me to occasionally poke at and munch a few then put away. These very horseradishy/not very cheddary guys fit much of that same mold.

I mentioned somewhere up there that these were opened and demolished within a day. Yes, I helped, but Sandy sure did too, and she loved these chips as she's gone around the house humming about them occasionally. Then again, she really likes salt-and-vinegar chips, so maybe there's something to that comparision. She's also made fun of me a couple times for my reaction when polishing off the bag. "Ahhhhhhh! Oooooh! Aaaaaaaaaaaa!" she'll grimace as she stumbles around like a dizzy wide-eyed t-rex in search of liquid salvation. That's fairly spot on, actually, wifey, so good work, keep it up. She's going with a four, while I'll chime in a little lower.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Cheddar & Horseradish Flavored Potato Chips: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Sliced Halloumi Cheese

Well, hello there. The past few weeks for the Western PA half of the WGaTJ's team have been, in a word or two, a little nutso. Start with my old laptop dying literally as I pounded out the final words of my last review a few weeks ago. Add in putting on the final touches of getting our house ready to be put on the market (which it finally is!) and driving a little over 2,000 mostly soggy miles in about 8 days for a little vacation up to Vermont and back. Then it was enduring a couple atypically crazy weeks at work and needing some funds to procure a new laptop and....well, yeah it's been a while since posting. Sorry for the lull, but I've found some great little TJ's goodies in the past few weeks, so I'll be making up for that. Thanks, Nathan, for holding down the fort. It's good to be back.

One of those goodies I came across, courtesy of my baby sister (a recent TJ's convert), was Trader Joe's Sliced Halloumi Cheese. My goodness. "A grilling cheese." I've never heard of such a thing. There's grilled cheese, of course. I'm almost 31 years old, and that's still almost a weekly staple. And then there's one of my favorite things, which is melted then crispied cheese, like the slighty burned edges of homemade mac 'n cheese. But a grilling cheese? Can't say I've heard of it.

But maaaaaaaaaan is it good. As you can see, the halloumi in fact grills up and gets a little browned and charred with minimal (if any) melting. By what power of Zeus is such a thing even possible? The Cyprus folks who invented this are pure men/women of genius. It's a very mild tasting cheese, fairly similar to mozzarella, but certainly isn't as soft. It's tougher, heavier and meatier, with a touch of crumbliness to it. Alongside our burgers, cold beers and grilled peppers, onions and eggplant, the halloumi was a perfect part of a terrific dinner we had on an overnight pit stop at my parents' house as we trekked back to Pittsburgh. My sister, who is pastry extraordinaire by day and an excellent all-around chef, says she picks this up quite often for either grilling big hunks of it (like ho we enjoyed it) or frying some up to put in some salad or pasta. I'm thinking that it would be a great match for a dish with sundried tomatoes and fresh herbs. Sis, if you're reading this, leave a comment or two with some of your recommendations.

There's only one sad thing I can say about the halloumi: like too many other good products that most of the TJ's-lovin' world gets to regularly enjoy (ahem, especially those alcohol related ones), it's not freakin' available at the East End Pittsburgh shop I frequent. Believe me, I scoured the otherwise rather expansive cheese selection for it, high and low, and didn't see it. Being a guy, I was too prideful to ask, but this really needs to be available locally, because I'm craving it again. Until then, I must dream sweet, cheesy dreams about a cheese that chars and doesn't melt. As will Sandy. "Mmmm, cheeeeeeeese...." is about all she could say until the expression on her face switched to one of pure, transfixed serenity as she recalled the fond tasty frolics she and the halloumi had together. I'm kinda surpised she gave it only a four. I'm going 4.5.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Sliced Halloumi Cheese: 8.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons  

Trader Joe's Chocolate Chip Brownie & Oat Bars

Along the same lines as the Peanut Butter and Oat Bars or the Fiberful Granola Bars, these are pre-packaged snack bar thingies that come 6 in a pack. They're filling, chocolatey, and a good size for an in-between meal morsel.

The actual product is pretty moist when you first unwrap it, but it's a texture that instantly makes your mouth dry. If you're the type that loves to drown chocolatey things with milk or a coffee-type beverage, these little bars would probably be alright for breakfast or some similar situation. On the flip side, if you're hiking or walking around in the summer heat, I personally would think these would be the last things you'd want to eat. They cause thirst. And not just thirst, but they leave this sensation in your mouth that begs for something more than water. There's still an aftertaste even after a few swigs of H2O.

Sonia thinks the chocolate tastes a bit like carob in this case, and I agree. It's a "healthy" chocolate taste. It's "oaty." Which, of course, isn't that bad if you're a fan of carob and oats. The icing drizzle on the top of the bars is sweet and tasty, and both Sonia and I wish there were more of it.

All in all, because of this product's heavy, oaty chocolatiness, I think this is more of an autumn/spring pseudo-healthy morning food than an indulgent, refreshing summer afternoon snack. But not bad in a pinch. Just be sure to have some milk or creamy coffee on standby. 

Sonia gives these bars 3.5 stars. I give them 3.

Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Gluten Free Chocolate Cupcakes with Buttercream Frosting

Of all the gluten-free baked goods we've tried so far, I would have to say the Macarons and the Snickerdoodles have been the best.

In the case of the macarons, there's a texture we're not used to eating all the time. It's a uniquely "macaron" or "macaroon" texture. And, personally, I've had way more macarons from TJ's than from anywhere else. But in the case of the snickerdoodles, they approximated a very "normal" texture without using gluten. It's harder to imitate something that's usually made with gluten than it is to just make something different.

So making a gluten free cupcake seems like it should be pretty close to impossible. But I've gotta say, they came incredibly close.

Once again, they nailed the flavor of a chocolate cupcake. I personally liked the frosting, too, although Sonia thinks it was too heavy for her tastes. I must admit, it was thick and very buttery. But it had a nice vanilla taste, and it blended well with the chocolate cake.

The cake part was super-moist. It broke apart in the same way any chocolate cake would, but once you started chewing it, there was just a tiny hint of what I might call "starchiness." It's like portions of the cake crumbs wanted to stick together just a hair more than with a glutenful cupcake that perfectly "melts in your mouth." But that's nitpicking. Really. The effect was very subtle, and if I hadn't already known that these were gluten-free cupcakes, I might not have noticed it. I think it's gotta be the "potato starch" that you can see there in the ingredients list photo, which wound up looking like the culinary equivalent of an American Apparel ad. I washed it all down with a tasty caramel latte, and my tummy was a happy camper. And sure enough, my stomach didn't puff up the way it does when I eat regular cupcakes. I should probably do this gluten-free thing full time. With products like these, I wouldn't feel like I'm giving up the world.

The checkout guy at Trader Joe's exclaimed, "Enjoy the cupcakes. They're excellent!" when I bought them. He's certainly not wrong. Sonia's only complaint was the heaviness of the buttercream, although I was a fan of the icing. And my only complaint is the oh-so-barely-there weirdness of the cake texture. Definitely, if you're eating gluten-free out of necessity, these cupcakes will be your friends.

Sonia gives them 4 stars. I think they're worthy of a 4.5.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Dried Kimchi

I've mentioned my feelings about kimchi in one or two previous posts. It scares me. It's foreign, it's fermented, and it's cabbage. It's just a bit intimidating. 

And it's not just kimchi that terrifies me, but all forms of fermented cabbage, like sauerkraut.

But you can't say I'm not a trooper. I've eaten sauerkraut on hotdogs and with porkchops. I've tried kimchi in fine Asian restaurants, mostly Korean barbecue places. And I've tried multiple different kinds of it. I did appreciate some of the varieties a little more than the traditional cabbage-based one, but none so much that I'd snack on them on any normal occasion. I just can't get into it.

Recently, an excellent article about fermented foods by Ellen Byron went up on the Wall Street Journal site. (If that link takes you to a "Get the Full Story" screen, that means they've placed the article behind their paid subscriber wall). And it really got me thinking. It got me thinking that if a delicious condiment like Sriracha is actually fermented, a fact I was previously unaware of, that maybe I should give this whole kimchi thing another whirl. 

I thought that maybe the dryness of this Trader Joe's product would cut down on the grossness of the kimchi. When it's all wet, I just can't get it out of my mind that it's cabbage being broken down into a liquid slowly by millions of little bacteria. So, after postponing the consumption of the dried kimchi as long as possible, I finally decided to be brave and open the bag. There were dozens of chunks of dried kimchi with a dusting of a powdered version of the traditional red spices you'd find on any regular kimchi. It looked and felt like the bag of kale chips I reviewed a while back. The taste, however, was very different from the kale chips.

Chalk it up to my aversion to kimchi if you must, but I simply can't recommend this stuff like I did that delicious bag of dried kale coated in a weird nacho sauce. This stuff STILL TASTES LIKE ROTTING CABBAGE!

I found it a shade more palatable when I ate it in a bowl of ramen instead of straight out of the bag, but in the former case, it gets wet again. I imagine that the millions of little bacteria responsible for the sourness of the cabbage have been in suspended animation for months, and then when I drop it into my bowl of warm soup, they come to life again like a package of Amazing Live Sea Monkeys and begin swimming about, devouring bits of cabbage and ramen, rushing to establish a culture of their own in my bowl before I can gag them all down and digest them.

My wife Sonia, who generally appreciates regular kimchi, felt like TJ's Dried Kimchi was mostly flavorless. I disagree. I think it tastes sour like authentic rotting cabbage. And I also tasted the spices, which I might have actually enjoyed if they were sprinkled onto, say kale, instead of ... rotting cabbage. Neither Sonia nor I could ever feature ourselves buying this again, but perhaps for slightly different reasons. I can only recommend trying this product if you're a big fan of regular cabbage-based kimchi. I know you kimchi fans are out there, and I wish I could join your ranks. But this is one food I fear I may never fully develop an appreciation for.

Sonia gives it 3 stars. I give it 2.5.

Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Chicken-Less Strips

A few months back, the wife and I decided to become more or less vegetarian, or perhaps more accurately, pescetarians who don't dabble too much with other types of meat. That's not to say we're perfect, like the other night when we were in such a rush to get down to PNC Park for the MLB debut of the next great Pittsburgh Pirates savior AKA Gerrit Cole that we kinda forgot about the whole "we should eat dinner" thing, were dissuaded by obscene concession lines and even more obscene prices ($9 for fries?)   and so were left with Wendy's late night drive thru afterwards. But we're working on it, and our efforts have paid off. I've personally dropped about 30 pounds and 20 points worth of systolic blood pressure (from high normal to perfectly normal) at least in part to our new diet. It's fantastic.

The kinda funny thing is, since beginning this a few months back, I swear we've eaten more fake meat options than we ever ate actual meat before. Maybe it's just how we try to placate our inner carnivore. From old stand-bys to new favorites, TJ's sure has a few worth checking out, and with most if not all being absolutely tasty (even veggie corn dogs, for crying out loud), we bought Trader Joe's Chicken-Less Strips on a recent trip.

And hate to say it, but these poultry fake-outs are the worst we've had from TJ's. It doesn't make them flat-out awful, but they're certainly a disappointment. Sandy and I decided to try them in more or less their purest of forms, which meant sauteed then served in a mixed greens/strawberry/almond salad. Every other bit of our dinner was delectable, but any bite with chicken....ugh. It wasn't quite the flavor, because they tasted like chicken, and indeed lightly seasoned, although I wouldn't label them as "delicious" or "tasty" or "pleasing." It may have been more the texture - it lacked the fleshy goodness of real, authentic chicken and was certainly fake and a little rubbery. Whatever it was that turned these guys, it wasn't good. Actual chicken strips would have made our salad an absolute killer. With these fakers instead, our dinner was much more ho-hum. Sandy even left a small pile on her plate and said "No mas", and instead of helping myself to them, I wasn't too bothered by throwing them away.

We'll be gracious, though. It's entirely conceivable our opinion would have been different if we have chosen to make fajitas or fried rice or some other type of dish that would help hide the flavor and texture deficiencies a little better. So there's some potential there, and while we're not completely enamored, both Sandy and I haven't completely written off the possibility of a repeat purchase. Based on that, and that alone, a score that hovers between "meh" and "not so great" seems fair at this point.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Chicken-less Strips: 4 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Barbeque Popped Potato Chips

Picking up on the success of PopChips, TJ's has, predictably, offered their own version of a "popped" chip. And I must say I'm just as much a fan of Trader Joe's brand as I am the original. They're neither baked nor fried. They're simply popped in a pressure cooker of sorts. The back of the bag says they take potato slices and "apply heat and pressure." The same could be said for the butt of my pants every time I sit down—minus the potato part of course—but that's never generated anything as snacktacular as these little BBQ chips.

The chips are very round and flat, and they're super-crunchable. They're light, airy, and they do taste slightly of actual potatoes. You know, I really wish they would call them POPtato chips. I think that's the proper way to market these fellas. "Poptato Chips." Yep. I will expect my check in the mail, TJ's. You're welcome for the idea.

But the best part about these little guys is their barbecue flavor. It's really tangy, and it mixes well with the potato taste. Somehow it's way better than the taste you would get just by dumping a bunch of barbecue sauce on a baked potato. Just recently, I had the misfortune of sampling a really, really revolting BBQ flavored chip, so these, in contrast, seemed even more tasty than they might have without the Honey Barbecue Ribs Chips as a reference point.

TJ's has done potato chips in the past, but these aren't traditional chips. Plus, these guys won't weigh you down. They're relatively low in fat and calories for a potato chip, and that's something my gut and I are always thankful for.

Sonia was blown away by them, too. 4.5 stars from her. 4.5 stars from me.

Bottom line: 9 out of 10.

Trader Giotto's Lobster Ravioli

The first and foremost thing that drew me to pick up Trader Joe's Lobster Ravioli was their appearance. For whatever reason, I didn't take a great picture (actually, no picture at all) of these big old guys with the crazy red thick red stripes on them. Perhaps I've lived a fairly sheltered life as it relates to stuffed pastas, but I've never seen such a thing as striped ravioli, or if I have, I've haven't remembered, so it doesn't count. These, though...these are loud and proud and not afraid to express their semolina selves to the world. You go, ravioli. Although, it's not like different colored pasta taste all that radically different from regular, so I'm not sure of the practical use. About the only reason I can think of is somehow a game of Ravioli Crush Saga broke out and you need to know which one you can count on wiping out an entire row. A pretty similar game is the one Shelly household obsession right now. Another one, to not the same degree, is "Kitchen Nightmares" on Netflix, and on a recently watched episode, Gordon Ramsey picked up a handful of (you guessed it) red striped lobster ravioli (dried) and unleashed a string of bleeps so superfluous that I'm not even sure what words 90% of the bleeps were bleeped for. It was amazing, and it also shows that having red-striped lobster ravioli is at least some sort of common practice.

The second thing that tempted me into buying them was the thought of tasty, chunky, lobstery, yummy bites wrapped up in some pasta and served with a little sauce. In my mind, that's what lobster ravioli is, though I have no experience to base that on. I should've figured differently, because that's not exactly what's inside. Instead of big ol' lobster chunks, it's probably something that Ramsey would call lobster baby food as it's all mashed and pureed up, and mixed in with all sorts of other stuff. Ours were a tad salty and a wee bit gritty, but overall  pretty decent. I liked the fact that, at least on a flavor and texture basis, they weren't too ricotta-like. There's just enough lobster in each one to be the dominant flavor and gets complemented well with the little shake of mozzarella they had. We served them up with a little vodka sauce, but I'm thinking perhaps a light butter or lemon pepper sauce would've been a better match. Regardless, while not overly impressive, and certainly not as fancy as their appearance initially made me think, the ravioli made a decent enough quick weeknight meal, and was close to worth the $4 we dropped on the sack of 'em.

Sandy also would've preferred bigger chunks of actual lobster in them. Then again, that'd probably jack the price up, but I could be on board for that. Other than that, she didn't have to say, which means about a three, which sounds right about right to me as well.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Lobster Ravioli: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons.

Trader Joe's Blueberry Scones

Apparently scones are not pastries, since they are not made with yeast. I've always been aware that they were British, and that they originally went with "afternoon tea" or perhaps "luncheon" or "elevensies" if you're a hobbit. 

But I was not aware that Scots and Brits often pronounce the word as "skon." Although the common American version with the long "o" sound is also acceptable, according to British dictionaries. Phew! I'm glad I won't have to change the way I pronounce it.

And these Trader Joe's scones are pretty darn American if you ask me. They're glazed, they've got blueberries, and they're satisfyingly sweet. Maybe even a little bit too sweet to be a scone.

They're dense. And they're filling, too. In a good way. They go great with coffee, but I would think their taste is a little too strong to go well with most teas. I could be wrong because I don't drink tea all that often.

But we'll go ahead and call these a success. Now, for your next assignment, Trader Joe, I'd like you to devise a gluten-free scone. Go!

And while you're working on that, we'll go ahead and give this product 4 stars from me and 4 stars from Sonia.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Tropical Fruit Juice in a Box

This stuff looks and tastes kinda like Juicy Juice. It's definitely a step-up from the Pomegranate Lime Juice in a Box that we reviewed in 2012, but it's not quite as amazing as some other juice blends we've taken looks at over the years.

It's very guava-dominant. If they had labeled the drink "guava juice," I think it would have given consumers a little bit more of an idea what they're getting into when they buy this product. However, the main juice present is "pear juice" according to the ingredients list.

In the past, I've stood atop my soapbox and preached the virtues of pear juice to my audience, so I'll spare you another lecture on that subject. But if you missed the original, just click here to partake of my pear madness and peruse a post about one of the most perfect pear products you can purchase. Long story short, pear juice makes a great sweetener. And the drink won't necessarily taste like pear, especially if there are other juices present.

And it's not too sweet, either. It's just right. It's been good for these hot pre-summer days here in southeastern Pennsylvania. Very refreshing.

And I certainly don't have anything against guava. Guava is great. But I think I would have rather had pear be the dominant flavor. That is to say, they should have added nothing but pear juice and just a few drops of other fruit juices to make it interesting. Or pineapple could have been the dominant flavor. Or passionfruit. Or peach.

When it comes right down to it, I guess guava is fairly low on my "fruits that I like list." It's on the list for sure, it's just that there are lots of other fruits that are higher. So I guess my bottom line here is that if you like guava, you'll like this beverage. And how much you like guava will likely determine how much you'll like this Tropical Fruit Juice in a Box. Am I right?

Or am I right? (Leave a comment below and let me know how right you think I am).

And even though it seems inconceivable, if you think I am not right in my Theory of Guava Affinity, you may leave sentiments to that effect in the comments, as well.

Sonia and I give this product double 3.5's.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10 stars.

Trader Ming's Stir Fried Vegetable Rolls

I really wish I read food labels a little more carefully. In fact, there should be more of them. A lot more of them. GMO free? Organic? Fair trade? No antibiotics? Slap it on the label. Conversely, if it's some good ol' ammonium-washed beef or full of wood chips or even worse, straight from the gates of Monsanto, let me know about that, too. I think all of that should be mandatory. Let me know what exactly what I am buying to make an informed purchase. There shouldn't be a controversy about these kinda things.

Although, to be honest, I'd still probably screw things up and buy something I really shouldn't have. Like these Trader Ming's Stir Fried Vegetable Rolls. See, I snatched them on a solo trip, and my eyes inserted the word "egg" before "rolls" and missed the vegan V. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but had I noticed that, I would have turned the package over to read the ingredients to see what all was wrapped up in lieu of the typical egg roll ingredients, would have noticed the word "mushrooms", recalled that my wife absolutely detests all thing fungi, and would have moved on to a different dinner option. But that's not what happened, and all of that didn't dawn on me until about 10:30 at night when I snapped these awful pictures of them after a long day of cubicle jockeying, baby wrestling/juggling and house-working. I kept all that to myself, though, in hopes that if these were good enough as they were, with all the other stuff included, maybe, just maybe, Sandy wouldn't notice. Dinner could conceivably be salvageable if my man Trader Ming could come through as he almost always does.

Welllll....that would be a no. I baked all five rolls in the oven for just over half an hour, so a little past their recommended bake time of about 25 minutes. These needed more time, as while the wrappers were mostly crunchy and crispy and pretty tasty (dead ringer for crunchy lo mein noodles), all the wrapper parts that were touching the baking sheet were soggy and drippy and kinda nasty. That's even with turning them. And for Sandy, the wrapper was pretty much the highlight. One bite in and she grimaced. "Ugh! Nothing but mushrooms!" she said as she dumped out all the innards. Indeed, the insides were pretty much mushrooms and bean sprouts with a couple tofu tidbits all kinda mushed together in some grayish soy saucy substance. For some reason, the TJ Indian Hot Pockets (not their real name) came to mind, not because these rolls and those pouches were overly similar in taste, but because of the nondescript disappointing filling. Even at about 11 at night, when dead tired and hungry enough to consider eating my own shoe with enough hot sauce on hand, they were a major downer.

Must be that I'm a little too opposed to wasting food, as I ate two rolls that night, plus took two for lunch the next day, and ate them despite the rest of the wrapper getting all sogged up, thereby losing the best thing they had going for them. At least Il know not to drop my $3.99 on them again, as I can ensure these will not be a repeat purchase. Sandy's a little more adamant about that - when I mentioned I'd be writing this review, she just made what would be instantly and internationally recognized as a "barf face", made some sort of corresponding sound, and shuddered. And somehow that translates to a one, which must mean she really liked the few crispy bites of just wrapper she had. For me, these no-ovo-uh-ohs shouldn't have been the near disaster they were, but I'll go with a two.

Bottom line: Trader Ming's Stir Fried Vegetable Rolls: 3 out of 10 Golden Spoons      

Trader Joe's Coconut Oil Spray

Since it has long been established that Russ and I are "foodie-hacks," and since there has been a precedent set for a "celebrity guest reviewer" to show up in a post or two, I decided it was high time we found someone respectable enough for the title of "full-fledged foodie" to co-score an item here on our illustrious blog.

Not only the Director of Community at Consmr, she's also the co-founder of Philly's own Federal Donuts and a food writer for numerous publications even more impressive than this blog...please welcome Felicia D'Ambrosio!

At her suggestion, we're taking a look at this coconut-based cooking oil from TJ's. It was cheap, a little under $3 at my local store. It has delicious-looking coconuts on the packaging that make the product look like it could quite possibly be used as an ice cream topping as well as a cooking spray. (I found out the hard way that it should NOT be used as an ice cream topping).

But it does have a slight hint of coconut flavor if you ask me. Felicia found it to be "neutral in flavor," adding, "I haven't noticed much coconut in finished foods, since you are using so little in each spray."

I think she was hinting that if I'm tasting any coconut, that I'm probably using too much. But in true foodie-hack fashion, I slathered the pan with a generous coating of coconut oil, and at least with the first item I made, a stir fry, I could have sworn I tasted just a hint of coconut. The can does mention that it's "mild flavored," and after squirting some directly into my mouth, I did confirm that there is a subtle hint of coconut there. Granted, it's so subtle that spraying the product into your mouth is not a particularly pleasant experience, and it follows that any normal amount of the oil should probably not be tasted in your finished food. When I baked these crab cakes in the oven, I no longer detected any coconut.

But the taste of this product (or lack thereof) isn't the reason for using it. Felicia used it to make veggie burgers, steaks, and she raved about its non-stick properties in regards to baking. She recommends it for its "high heat tolerance on the grill and for baking as a healthier alternative to products like Pam." I did raise an eyebrow when I saw the words "propellant (no chlorofluorocarbons)" on the ingredients list. It's great to know the ozone's safe, but will we be safe? Apparently propellant is in most aerosol-style cooking sprays, so it's probably something that can't easily be avoided. 

But anyway, we were both impressed that actual coconut oil could be used as a replacement for traditional kitchen cooking sprays. Again, Trader Joe's appears to be ahead of the curve in terms of culinary innovation. There are other "health food" brands that make similar products, but they tend to be significantly more expensive than $3 a can. Felicia asks, "How long until big food companies pick up on this coconut cooking spray idea?" 

They're too busy finding new ways to kill us slowly, Felicia.

Ms. D'Ambrosio gives this product 5 out of 5 stars. I'll give it 4.5, docking half a star because part of me still wants it to taste more like coconut.

Bottom line: 9.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Druid Circles

If you went back far enough on my pasty, pale, Anglo-Saxon family tree, like, thousands of years, you would undoubtedly uncover a Druid or two among my ancestors. I've often wondered about their mysterious culture, their pagan celebrations, and their early knowledge of astronomy. Apparently they kicked it oldschool, pranced around Stonehenge gaily, burned wicker effigies, and sacrificed their brethren to Celtic gods, all the while snacking on tasty oatmeal cookies.

While I shall refrain from most of the former activities, I shall happily engage in the latter, because these are some of the best pre-packaged oatmeal cookies I've ever had. They're very moist, they're full of raisins and walnuts, and they fill my mouth with joy. The cookies actually taste like brown sugar, yet the flavors of the grains come through as well. They come in a little bag similar to that of the Sutter's Formula Cookies, and it's got tape that allows you to reseal it repeatedly, although toward the end of the bag, the stickiness kinda wears off.

The cookies taste surprisingly fresh. And not only is the cookie dough part soft and moist, but the raisins themselves taste and feel like they're straight out of a Sunmaid box.

They've got a nice little chunk of your daily fat and saturated fat, especially considering a "serving size" is one cookie. One cookie? This is the part of the blog post where TJ's makes me feel like I have some kind of revolting overeating habit because I had three cookies with my meal—and 45% of my RDA for saturated fat.

Oh well, there's always a catch. Cookies this good can't be good for you. They might have gotten double 5's had we not looked at the nutrition information. As it stands, Sonia and I will each give them 4 stars.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Wheat Free Toaster Waffles

One of the best parts of daddyhood is watching my daughter experience so much of the world for the first time. Heck, sometimes even for the tenth time, it's pretty entertaining. And I'm not even necessarily talking about big, exciting things. It's about the simple stuff, like sitting and playing with some toys, or even just in the grass, or pushing her in the swing. One of our favorite things is each time we go to Target, Sandy and I will have her sit "like a big girl" in the cart and when there's enough space to do so, I'll push her out maybe 5 or 10 feet then run up to catch her. She cracks the biggest smile and giggles every time, like there's nothing else she'd rather be doing in the whole world than goofing off with her daddy as we go get our paper towels. diapers, light bulbs, and perhaps some Archer Farms goodness for dinner. I love that girl, and I'm pretty sure she loves me, too.

If there's one thing I can say without a doubt that she loves, it's got to be toaster waffles. This review is nominally about the Trader Joe's Wheat Free Toaster Waffles, but really, this could be about the multigrain or blueberry variety that are available locally as well. She just happened to pick this box when Sandy and I presented all the options to her our last trip. It's usually too crowded to do our cart tomfoolery there.

For Sandy and I, who nibble on 'em as we feed the waffles to her, they're pretty much like any other freezer waffle. Really, there's not all that much too special about these gridded goodies. But I do like how after a few minutes in the toaster, they consistently get crispy on the inside, and soft and warm on the inside. They make a decent enough little bite whether plain or with perhaps some preserves or maple syrup or peanut butter on them. The gluten-free type is actually pretty good, and tastes a lot like a "regular waffles," and you can't always say that about products and their gluten-free counterparts. Overall, though,, there's not a single thing I can say about the TJ waffles that differentiate them from the ubiquitous Eggo waffles. In fact, I wouldn't be one bit surprised if Eggo made these, and slapped the "Product of Canada" verbiage and failed to mention both the gluten-free and multigrain varieties on their official site just to try and throw me off the scent a little, because heaven forbid if anyone knows who actually makes TJ's-branded products. It's like the world's axis would get tilted a few more degrees or something if we did.

Going back to the waffles, introspectively, the point of this review isn't really to review the waffles, but just to tell you about my baby daughter who loves them so. I refrain most other times from blabbering on about her, so this one time, just deal. So let's talk about her again. She loooooves them. I think if she could eat nothing but waffles and peas and have a little mama milk, she'd be the happiest baby ever. You see how her face lights up and little chubby legs kick in excitement when I get them out of the freezer - it's like she thinks she just hit the mealtime Powerball or something. Yeah, I make a little show of it, from shaking them in the box to wooshing and swooshing one in the air after being toasted to col it down to a baby-okay temp, but once she gets her lil' grubby grippers on them, it's over. I used to be a lot more concerned about tearing them up into little bits, but now she'll just grab a section and double-fist mash it on down. Doesn't matter that she doesn't have teeth yet, she can down an entire one. I asked her for her input, and she said "Ah da bla bla da wa da ahhhh." Interpret that as you will, but I'm sure it's glowingly positive, and so I'm inclined to hold them in much higher regard than I would otherwise.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Wheat Free Toaster Waffles: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons        

Trader Joe's 12 Macarons à la parisienne

It seems there's a current marketing trend that involves vanilla and chocolate items together in the same package, like: TJ's Coconut Macaroons, Archer Farms Cake Balls, and now, these happy little French "macarons." Perhaps they're making a statement about peace among diverse peoples. Like Seinfeld's Black & White Cookie, maybe they're "two races of flavor living side by side in harmony."

However, I'm going to cut that metaphor off right there, for fear of being labeled a vanilla supremacist. Because Sonia (who is not white, by the way) and I both agree that the vanilla macaroons in this box were better than the chocolate ones. Like waaay better.

Sonia, who is inclined to like chocolate more than vanilla under normal circumstances, pointed it out first: the chocolate macaroons' texture was weird. We gave them plenty of time to thaw. We even left one out for an extra half hour at room temperature. Still weird.

They tasted ok. But the chocolate creme centers were chewy. Sonia, who is full-blooded Zapotec Native Mexican-American Indian Hispanic and most definitely not Caucasian, noticed it too. By contrast, the vanilla ones melted in our mouths the same way the Pumpkin Macarons did. The vanilla ones were light, soft, fluffy, and tasted like sweet clouds straight out of heaven.

This guy's a macaroon bigot!

I'm not I swear. Though I am rethinking that racial metaphor at the top of this post.

But try as I may, I just didn't like the chocolate ones. I feel like I'm being generous giving them 3 stars out of 5. Sonia gives them 3.5. Which is still pretty low for her. So the chocolate ones would get a score of 6.5 just by themselves.

The vanilla ones were amazing, though. I feel guilty putting it that way. They just were. Even though Sonia doesn't even like most white people, er, vanilla products, they get 4.5 stars from her. I'll match her score on this one, giving them a rating of 9 by themselves. And we'll average the two scores for our final:

Bottom line: 7.75 out of 10.
------------------------------------
Fun facts about the author:
-Ancestors on both sides of his family fought for the Union in the Civil War.
-He lives with his non-white wife in a highly racially-integrated suburb right outside of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.