Trader Joe's Yuzu Hot Sauce

Who knew about yuzu?

Not me, naturally. C'mon, you expect that by now. And now, as expected, here's the Wikipedia link describing what a yuzu is and how common it is in Japanese and other Asian cuisine that doesn't necessarily cross the ocean so well, at least in the suburban bubble I grew up in.

Didn't stop me from being excited about Trader Joe's Yuzu Hot Sauce. It's Trader Joe's. It's hot sauce.  You know I'm all in.

And...being not acquainted at all with the world of yuzu until now, I'm really hopeful that this was a great intro.

The second the lid lifts, this fierce, aromatic, super citrusy scent wafts up and hits your nostrils like a sniper shot. It'll knock back the unsuspecting. No kidding, it's strong. I can't recall a more fragrant hot sauce in my nearly 30 years of regular consumption.

But...so far it's all citrus. Where's the heat? It's there, in a seamless transition after the upfront citric hint. The first few bites tasted more orange-like, but after a more thorough shaking and resplashing of the sauce over my dinner, it's decidedly more lemony. But regardless, the heat  - it hits. It hurts. And it's pretty stellar how smoothly the possibly divergent senses of sweet, sour and heat flow. It's really something to taste.

Not to say it's perfect. I'm not a huge fan of the consistency - think medium pulp orange juice - and I have my doubts on how it'd work with burgers or steaks. It's more of a pouktry/fish/maybe pork kinda sauce, which isn't bad, but not all purpose either. That's the other point - it's strong enough, and perhaps different enough, that I'm not evenly remotely tempted to supplant my usual other go-to hot sauces.

But it's pretty delish for what it is, and I'm always up for a good culinary experience and education that's willing to meet me where I am. Especially for a fairly affordable price - price check anyone? Sandy picked it up and misplaced the receipt, but she recalled it being right around $3 for the TSA-compliant sized bottle. She's a huge fan of it as well, too. Double fours? Sure, sounds great.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Yuzu Hot Sauce: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Jacques' Vanilla Eclairs with Chocolate Fondant

Why is it that eclairs seem so haughty? Just the name itself rings out with an air of froideur. It's almost as if eclairs are making some kind of assertion that they're the aristocracy of the dessert world. 

E-clair. What's an electronic Clair anyway?

Perhaps it's because we're grumpy that life is beating us up right now: flat tires, broken windshields, collapsed awnings, and lots more issues I'm not even going to touch on this food blog, but neither Sonia nor I were blown away by this dessert.

And we know eclairs. We've had restaurant eclairs, casino eclairs, dollar store eclairs, and even other Trader Joe's eclairs. This selection isn't the worst of the worst by any means, but...well, I think we've been spoiled by those bargain basement eclairs from Dollar Tree. I'm not kidding. Do you know the ones I'm talking about? Dolce Tuscano Mini Custard Filled Iced Eclairs. Six for a buck. Sonia says they're hands down better than this TJ's offering.

I don't know if I'd go that far, but I will admit the Dolce Tuscano brand gives these guys a run for their money. And to be fair, value-wise, TJ's offering is only $2.99 for four servings, and there's at least twice as much eclairage in the box since Jacques' pastries are full-size—but it still doesn't beat sixteen and a half cents per surprisingly-edible mini eclair from the freezer section at Dollar Tree.

These eclairs just didn't stand out. Not one element of them was rave-worthy. I felt the bread was stale. Sonia said it tasted freezer-burnt. The custard wasn't particularly decadent or smooth or creamy. And the "fondant" seemed like run-of-the-mill chocolate icing to me. We tried one at the short end of the suggested thawing interval and then another at the long end, and both results were the same: an edible, but not particularly memorable or outstanding eclair.

We finished the box but probably won't be purchasing these again. Three stars from me. Two and a half from Sonia.

Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10.

Trader Giotto's Oven-Baked Cheese Bites

"You wanna taste something truly amazing?"

I'm not asked that question nearly enough.

But forgive me for being a skeptical when my lovely bride Sandy asked me that the other night while motioning to the half-eaten bag of Trader Gitoo's Oven-Baked Cheese Bites on the shelf. I've heard from other folks that they're pretty tasty little snackers...but truly amazing? I'm in favor of not cheapening our language, so to me, those words should not be carelessly tossed about. These bites better be something else.

"You know when we make, like, real homemade mac 'n cheese and there's those little pieces of slightly burned or crispy cheese? They're just like those. Promise."

Well, that's definitely a good step towards being truly amazing.

Giotto's cheesy tidbits are something else. Yet not. That's the thing: the only ingredient is cheese! Well, technically two cheeses. There's the mysteriously labelled semi-aged cheese (now that sounds like a gamble) and grana padano cheese. Never heard of grana padano? Me neither. I'm a sheltered 'murican.  But apparently it's at least somewhat akin to parmigiano reggiano if you're familiar, a really good parmesan if you're not.

I'm going to presume that it's the grana padano from which the cheese bites derive much of their flavor, because there's a definite strong parmigiano/parmesan vibe to them. Very strong. This isn't quite right, but the words "pleasantly pungent" come to mind. The taste also strays a bit towards salty for me - after a few I really wanted a tall glass of water - but it's a very cheesing and pleasing taste that makes it hard to eat just one.

It also helps that even though oven-baked, there's a crumbly, slightly greasy comfort food vibe. But so crunchy! Very, very crunchy. I'm not sure of the all the science into baking nothing but two types of mysterious cheese into a crunchy shelf stable form without adding anything....but here it is. Sandy said that the crunch form also held up very well when she tossed a handful into her black bean soup at lunch. Crunch retained, no sogginess even after several minutes. Nice.

Sandy loves these. Most times I have to tease her opinion out a little bit for my reviews. Not this time around. "Five. No question. Five. Pantheon worthy." Well...I'm not entirely certain of that. I'd be inclined to go more of a four (that aforementioned saltiness is a bit much) but...apparently in the last six months or so I've spontaneously developed this amplified crunching ability which rattles my wife's eardrums to no end. Like, it's really loud. I don't know, sounds the same to me, but apparently this newly bestowed gift was on full display with these cheese bites. I had to apologize, and part of my retribution, I'll bump another half point. Not sure of cost, but inexpensive enough that Sandy bought two bags without feeling guilty, so not too much. Check 'em out...if you want to try something truly amazing.

Bottom line: Trader Giotto's Oven-Baked Cheese Bites: 9.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Crispy Crunchy Okra

Ah...dry, salty, crunchified plants. America has a love/hate relationship with you, doesn't it? 

Just look at the raging debate in the comments section below our Trader Joe's Kale Chips review. "I loved these!" "I hated these!" "Great review!" "Terrible review!" There's no "These were moderately enjoyable" comments. People are passionate when it comes to their opinion about kale chips. Broccoli florets, too—which I also enjoyed. Heck, I'm a pretty big fan of Trader Joe's Contemplates...Inner Peas for that matter. 
Also see: chiptastic parsnips and beets.

But now, it's okra's turn to get snackified. 

Appropriately, Sonia and I are still meandering around the Dirty South, where okra is a popular ingredient in many local and regional cuisines. Also known as "ladies' fingers," (not to be confused with ladyfingers) each of these plants is about the size of...well, a lady's finger. They're green, full of seeds, and normally somewhat slimy on the inside. But in this case, they're delectably crisp, arid, and brittle.

There are plenty of suggestions for ways to consume these crispy little fellows on the packaging—but I'll be honest, I never got a chance to try them any way other than popping them directly from the bag into my mouth. 

Sonia only had a handful, and that was plenty for her. She said, "They don't taste like anything!" After pressing her for more details, she mentioned that she thought they tasted like green beans, but even more bland. I can understand the comparison to green beans, but I think their flavor is slightly more squash-like than that. Plus, they're salty, and the tiny bit of rice bran oil gives them flavor as well.

I didn't enjoy them quite as much as the kale chips or the broccoli florets, but I did like them and would consider purchasing them again. At $1.99 a bag, they're the least expensive of the three, and they pack plenty of vitamins, protein, and fiber along with their salty snackability. I give them four solid stars. Sonia can't give more than two. It's a definite thumbs-up from me, thumbs-down from her. Fair enough.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Soft Licorice Twists

I hold these truths to be self-evident; that not all licorices are created equal.

There's the common licorice currency of Twizzlers. Chances are, it's the first brand you think of when you think licorice. But...c'mon. You even been satisfied by a Twizzler? No? Me neither. Those chewy, mostly flavorless wax sticks always made better straws than snacks, IMHO. Then there's the mystery plastic baggies at candy stores - could be decent stuff, could be (speaking from personal experience) harsh, salty, impossible to chew hard rubber nuggets.

So when Trader Joe's introduces not one but two new sacks o' licorice - Trader Joe's Soft Strawberry Licorice Twists and Trader Joe's Soft Black Licorice Twists - it's worth the ol' college try.

Naturally, they're both pretty similar in appearance and texture. It's a medium single cable style, cut up in roughly one inch sections. The chew feels a lot like, well, Twizzler Pull 'n Peels, except in singular strand form. That's been the sweet spot for licorice squish, personally - harder is too much a struggle, any softer feels too mushy. So, both bags got that going for them.

For flavor, though, there's a decided difference, that's more than black and red. Both Sandy and I preferred the black. It's a very mild, pleasant flavor, with a decent amount of anise, like a good black licorice should. It's enough to get the point of the flavor across without being offensive to the masses. Even if you're not a fan of black jelly beans, like my wife, it's an agreeable taste. The strawberry though? Not as good. The tart edge of strawberry comes across but doesn't have enough sweetness to really back up and fully develop it. It's only a halfway flavor, if you know what I mean.

Regardless of flavor differences, I like the lack of preservatives, the natural coloring, and the fact that even after sitting out opened overnight, each bite I just partook off was just as soft as when the seal was first cracked. And the price was pretty agreeable too: a half pound of decent candy for $2.49. Didn't have the little kiddos try it, it might still be a little chewy for lil chompers. It won't be an every time purchase by any stretch, but as long as these are on TJ's shelves, Twizzlers will never be on mine.

Bottom lines: Trader Joe's Soft Black Licorice Twists: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons and Trader Joe's Soft Strawberry Licorice Twists: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons.

Trader Joe's Mini Greek Spirals with Leeks and Feta Cheese

Many of you have probably heard of the Norway Spiral. In the minds of the very sober and scientific-minded, it was obviously an interdimensional portal of some kind, ushering otherworldly beings onto our planet to initiate the apocalypse. That point isn't really up for debate. The apocalypse is just a bit behind schedule due to some unforeseen political circumstances and a few mathematical errors and omissions in the Mayan calendar. 

Then several years later, we learned of a Greek Spiral, whose purpose was quite obviously to usher five different cheeses into our reality, and to disappoint Russ and Sandy, thus temporarily distracting them from their true purpose and role in saving humanity from the aforementioned apocalypse.

Similarly, Sonia and I have recently been made aware of a swarm of smaller Greek spirals featuring only two cheeses, but containing leeks as well. These leaky leek spirals leaked Greek grease cheekily onto streaky sheets in our oven, but the final product was not particularly greasy in my opinion—at least not when compared to other similar Greek phyllo dough-based products.

The true purpose of this miniature Greek spiral swarm has not yet been uncovered as of the date of this food review's publication. 

It may have something to do with the leek's "unique combination of flavonoids and sulfur-containing nutrients" healing this food reviewer from his current ailment, which may, in turn, be fueling some more-imaginitive-than-usual musings about this fairly run-of-the-mill Trader Joe's pastry.

The dough is somewhat flaky and soft. The filling isn't particularly cheesy, but there's a mild feta-esque flavor present. And the onion-ish hints of the leek are most definitely in there, too. It's not an overbearing flavor—it's subtle, like all the truly great powers in the universe tend to be.

Three and a half interdimensional portals out of five from me. Three and a half from Sonia.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Golden Spiced Milk Chocolate Bar

"Candy World! Dada, let's go play Candy World!"

Every night, right before bedtime, that's about all I hear from my four year old. She means CandyLand, of course. But Candy World sounds much more fun, doesn't it?

I think so. I think I'd like to live in an actual Candy World, like some Wonkified version of reality where everything, on a whim, could be candy. Sounds great. Love candy. Love chocolate. Love Trader Joe's, too. So if TJ's comes out with a chocolate bar, no matter how large, goofy, imitative of a classic, or potentially combustible, I gotta try it.

All that does not mean I have to love the new Trader Joe's Golden Spiced Milk Chocolate Bar.

This is not my first go-around with a TJ's spiced chocolate product. Admittedly, this new particular bar is a fair amount more successful than those caramels. But it shares some of the same pitfalls. Namely, ginger and chocolate are two flavors that need to be carefully combined for optimization. With this bar, toss in a healthy dose of cardamom, too. And I mean healthy. It's the first thing I smelled when I opened the wrapper, like Hershey-fied potpurri.

And honestly, it's kinda how it tasted, too.

The ginger and cardamom weren't overpowering per se, as I could still taste the milk chocolate enough to determine it was of fairly good quality. But the other spices - curry? Pepper? Heck, even the coconut? Nope, nada, none, except for a small bite I had that seemed particularly salty. None of that "warming" that the label speaks of on the front. The crisped quinoa did add a nice little gritty bite, a la crisped rice but a bit smaller, but in the end, I wasn't that happy with the bar.

Honestly, this chocolate bar may have been trying to do a little bit too much, but ended up not really excelling at anything in particular. It's okay, not great...perhaps I lack the proper sophistication to truly appreciate it and should stick to my Butterfingers like the plebe I am. Sandy enjoyed more than I did, noting her affinity for anything with cardamom. Still, even she could offer it only a lackluster three.

Eh well, just as I remind my four year old when we play Candy World, you can't win them all.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Golden Spiced Milk Chocolate Bar: 5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Korma Fish Curry

A handful of you might remember that not all that long ago, Sonia and I had been living without a microwave. We purposely neglected to replace it mainly to see how we’d do without it. But now that we’re living in our RV and traveling, we are now, once again, endowed with the ability to irradiate our foods from frozen to ready-to-eat in a matter of minutes—when we’re hooked up to shore power, at least. Oh, how I’ve missed you, nuked foods. May our romance blossom once again. For our reunion date, you prepared a delish fish dish for me. How sweet of you, Samsung MC1015BB.

This blog has explored quite a few different frozen, microwavable Indian products over the years. In my opinion, this is one of, if not the most consistent line of products Trader Joe’s has to offer. No, they can’t compete with a really good, authentic Indian restaurant, but considering the price and convenience, I’ve never found anything that compares.

This dish was no different. It’s the same basmati rice we’ve been seeing with most of these Indian meals. And of course, TJ’s curry is pretty consistently good. And the fish? Well, that was the wild card. Some TJ’s fish is spot on, and some…not so much.

But here we had a delicious white fish with a great taste and texture. Swai? It was soft, but not mushy, and it blended quite well with the thick, spicy curry. The packaging made the fish look like two or three “sticks,” for lack of a better term, but we got a large, triangular filet instead. If anything, it was more fish than I expected, just based on the picture on the box.

There’s a surprising amount of heat here, too, which Sonia and I both appreciated. The curry is potent, yet sweet, smooth, and coconutty. All three elements worked beautifully together, and we devoured our entrees quickly, wishing we had purchased another box or two to enjoy another day.

At $3.49 per single-serving package, it’s one of the pricier microwaveable Indian products at TJ’s, but it’s worth it if you ask Sonia or I. Four stars a piece.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Truffle Mac & Cheese

Truffles. Not the candy kind. The fungi kind. They fancy.  Super fancy. I mean, they can cost hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars for a pound of them...but as far as I am concerned, they're just hoity-toity mushrooms. That *might* because I don't have much experience with them. See: that aforementioned price.

But mac 'n cheese? Please. I got two kids under the age of four: we live on that stuff. I know mac 'n cheese. So do you. So, when high class fungus meets everyday toddler fare, what do you get?

You get Trader Joe's Truffle Mac & Cheese.

Welll....not quite. Let's start with the noodles. Ain't no elbows around yeah. Nah, it's cavatappi. Yeah, it does kinda taste the same...but not really. It's heavier, sturdier, bitier, firmer, and all around just, well, more fancy. These particular noodles are definitely more towards al dente too, which is perfect.

And cheese. Ain't no weird orange powder packets here. It's a blend of five cheeses -  gouda, sharp cheddar, asiago, parmesan, and romano. All primo cheese, and unlike other five cheese concoctions, I can actually taste all five - the smokiness of the gouda, the sharpness of the cheddar, the impeccable tastiness of asiago, the mildness of the other two. Which is fairly impressive, because with my first visual impression, it looked like a watery mess, but after stirring and letting it set for a minute after nuking, the sauce settled into a decently thick creamy base. Not like your Italian grandma's, but it'll do for a frozen entree. The crimini mushrooms added a little touch of fungus among us, which I didn't mind one bit - Sandy however avoided. More for me.

So for the truffles...it comes to us in form of "truffle extract" as the last ingredient. There's more rice starch and salt in here than any actual truffle substance. Is that like a drop or two...at most? I don't know. But, in perhaps a mind trick in trying to convince myself that this is some fancyish fare, there does seem to a little extra oomph to the cheese sauce that is otherwise unexplained. Perhaps it's some of that semi-mysterious umami  potency that truffles are purported to have.

In short: a good dish. It just may be the best frozen mac n cheese I've ever had. I just wish it came in the two separate white ramekin-type deals that are pictured on the front, instead of the typical black plastic microwave tray, because, you know, fancy. Regardless, you can feel free to raise your pinkie with this one, folks. And it won't raise your budget at only a few bucks ($3 or $4), so go truffle hunting...and dig in.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Truffle Mac & Cheese: 8.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Crunchy Cinnamon Squares Cereal

"Cinnamon Toast Crunch Light." Or "Diet Cinnamon Toast Crunch." Take your pick. That's what this is. I mean, sure, there's still a good bit of sugar and calories here—in fact, calories per serving is identical in both cereals. The TJ's version will save you from about a half a gram of fat, but it's basically the same concept as the classic name-brand cereal from General Mills, except Trader Joe's specifies "cane sugar" rather than the slightly more vague "sugar" in GM's version.

Taste-wise, though, this offering doesn't offer quite as much flavor as actual Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I was expecting a much greater difference in the ingredients and nutrition information just based on the taste of this product. It's not a bad flavor. It's just not as pleasant as the classic cereal in the opinions of both Sonia and me.

Like classic CTC, both wheat and rice flour are used in the flakes, and the texture is pretty similar as a result, although I feel like TJ's version might be ever-so-slightly less dense.

Sonia noted that the particles of cinnamon detach from the flakes and distribute themselves throughout the milk and around the perimeter of the bowl. This might have something to do with the perceived flavor discrepancy. Does General Mills know the secret to stably fusing cinnamon particles to cereal flakes? Has Trader Joe's research and development team simply missed this fundamental principle of cinnamon particle physics? 

Is this Trader Joe's cereal just the General Mills cereal in disguise, and all perceived differences and discrepancies are simply in our heads?  Are our taste buds just messed up? Are we being too critical of this cereal? Are you being too critical of our review of this cereal?

The answers to these questions may never surface on this blog, but one thing's for sure—both this cereal and classic Cinnamon Toast Crunch pair up well with a nice ruby port.

Three stars from Sonia, three from me as well. (Just as a reference point, we'd give Cinnamon Toast Crunch four stars a piece.)

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Buenalba with Paprika Cheese

Well, somehow, we all made it to 2017. 2016 was kinda a doozy of a year, wasn't it? As far as anything I had some semblance of control over, it was good...but you can't exactly blame the sentiment behind things like this fairly believable fake move trailer. And if you're someone who's pretty glad to leave 2016 behind, just remember to take what's good and keep moving forward. It's all we can do.

Like...*scrambles for an example*...a ha! Trader Joe's Buenalba with Paprika Cheese! Sandy just picked this up, on the second day of 2017, yet this particular cheese was Trader Joe's spotlight cheese way back in October 2016. And, like Betty White, fortunately it has survived into the new year.

Coming to us from the exotic stomping grounds of Don Quixote (La Mancha, Spain), TJ's buenalba cheese with paprika is raw milk based, from both goats and sheep. I've had other cheeses of similar origins, and have a wide variety of experiences from soft and mild to bordering on what I'd call "viscerally pungent." Definitely place this on the milder, not wilder, side of that spectrum. It's soft yet a little waxy, with a fair amount of creaminess after a few bites that still leaves a little graininess. Almost like bleu cheese, but a little different. That makes for a pretty interesting bite, in my opinion, and one I had to try a couple times to try and get the hang of.

The vibrant orange hue, along with the promise of paprika, makes for a pretty spicy looking appearance. Let me assure you: not the case. It's smoked "sweet paprika" (whatever that means) which, honestly, I didn't notice at first, it's so mild. And, this is gonna sound a little weird maybe, but...instead of tasting it, I more felt it. yes, I felt the paprika. There was this soft, gentle warming I felt after maybe my second bite had gone down the hatch that really, on a decently cold winter night, was very welcome.

Sandy and I enjoyed our bites by their lonesome, without an accompaniment. We're not enough into the pinkie-raising crowd to be able to suggest a good wine pairing, but you're into that kinda thing, you're probably smart enough to not take whatever some goofball TJ's blog would say about it anyways. For $10.99 a pound, it's a pretty decent cheese to take a flier on if you haven't yet. It certainly won't be the worst cheese you eat this year.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Buenalba with Paprika Cheese: 7.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Instant Coffee Packets

As I've confessed many times, I'm not exactly a coffee connoisseur. Or even a coffee appreciator. But when it's twenty cents a cup for my daily dose of caffeination, I say "Bring on the java!"

Sonia's fine with this light roast too, because it's not only cheap, it's also ridiculously convenient to just pour the packet into hot water. There are no troubling mishaps with sugar bowls full of ants, annoying blunders with creamers that have been sitting in the fridge too long, or problematic incidents with unrinsed French presses. Just good, cheap coffee, ideal for travel.

I give this product a respectable three and a half stars. Sonia will throw out four on this one.



Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Almond Butter Granola

So here it is...the week between Christmas and New Year's. In my family's case, it's the week between Christmas with our own little family and Sandy's mom, and Christmas with my side of the family, which is celebrated with coffee by the tankard and food and treats out the wazoo. Not that I'm opposed...because I'm not...but by now I'm entering into about the fourth straight week of my kitchen shelves overflowing with cookies, and my refrigerator being stuffed with cakes and miscellaneous treats. With coworkers buying us pizza and homemade treats. With going out to restaurants like one of my local favorites when we're downtown seeing the holiday sights or out with friends. And soon in my sights is another weekend go-around with family and All. That. Food.

Needless to say, I've gotten a wee bit pudgier. Those 10 p.m. solo mega cookie fests do catch up after a bit.

Guess I oughtta try and eat healthier for a bit to return to normal....so granola! Granola is a great thing. Crunchy and sweet like a cookie, but healthier. Still not all that wonderful, but it's a step back towards the good side, and with that in mind, I picked up Trader Joe's Almond Butter Granola.

A couple years back, I was big into almond butter as a Paleo-friendly peanut butter option. I've eaten a lot of it, so I know what it should taste like, and could when paired with typical rolled oat granola...but it's not there. Not even remotely. Well, okay, sure, there is an almondesque taste to the TJ's granola...but I'm thinking that's mainly due to the actual almond pieces in there, smattered about in usual style and ratio. There might be some almond butter mixed in with the mysterious brown rice syrup that serves as the epoxy for the big, crunchtacular bites...but mostly, I taste plain granola with a little extra nuttiness.

For what it is, it's decent granola, but it could be better. A lot better. More almonds. More almond flavor. Maybe somehow incorporating the roasted, creamy goodness of decent almond butter. But this granola definitely fell a little short of expectations. I'll eat it, for sure, as work desk drawer snack standby, but I look at it more as hunger void filler, not a treat I'll be eagerly anticipating every day. Given all the junk i've had recently, though, that's probably a good thing.

Flying solo on this review. Solid crunch, okay taste, not almond buttery enough. This has "meh" written all over it. So "meh" it is.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Almond Butter Granola: 5.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Strawberry Champagne Truffles

These truffles are astoundingly good.

Set aside their lofty-ish price ($4.49 for about 15 pieces), their pink, floofy, girly packaging, and the fact that white chocolate just isn't as trendy or as "good-for-you" as antioxidant-rich dark chocolate—and you might be able to appreciate them for what they truly are: a festive, top-shelf candy product with a sweet, balanced flavor infused with strawberry, and an amazingly-inviting texture that will have you straining not to eat the whole box in a matter of minutes. They're perfect for any special occasion, be it Christmas, New Year's, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Boxing Day, Festivus, your birthday, or next Friday night.

Even Sonia—not a white chocolate person at all—was so enthralled by the flavor of this product that she was inspired to make another short video review. She gives the product an enthusiastic four and a half stars. Same here.

Interested in the nutrition facts? Jump to about 0:40 in the video.

Happy holidays, everybody!



Bottom line: 9 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Presents The Crispy Crunchy Mochi Rice Nuggets

Ever hear of the Mochi Rice Nuggets?

Man....they rock.

No, not like the band on the packaging of Trader Joe's Presents The Crispy Crunchy Mochi Rice Nuggets. I mean, that's a pretty ridiculous name...though I wouldn't be surprised if a band named that actually existed. There's bands with names like Neutral Milk Hotel, after all. I kinda would want to hear this nugget band though. I bet they could do a killer rendition of "Billie Jean" - you see that bassist with the 'stache and mane? He'd rock that bassline. And I will reward mega Internet points to anyone who can translate what the word bubbles are saying - I assume it's Japanese, because the nuggets are a Japanese product. But you tell me.

Nor are these particular rice nuggets particularly rock-like. Rocks, like stones (and not the Stones). Sandy and I neglected to get a pic of them out of the package, but they do closely resemble the non-cartoony aspects of the bag front - bite sized chunks of rice-type substance. Made from the same kind of glutinous rice paste as most other mochi, these mochi nuggets are crispified and fried. in a way - and this is meant as a compliment - they're more spongelike then the last product I reviewed, its name notwithstanding. Except instead of chewy, it's decidedly more crispy and crunchy while still retaining a slightly springy feel. Add in a little greasy comfort, and it's addictive.

The first time I bit into a nugget, the taste immediately reminded me of something familiar....something distinctive....something I haven't had in a long time. But I couldn't figure out what it was. Crispy, a little oily, definitely salty, with a grain kinda feel to it...ah, there it is. Bugles. Yes, the mochi rice nuggets taste almost just like Bugles, except in a form you can't easily stick on the end of your finger. And yes, I know Bugles are corn based, while these are rice...but the taste is very similar, and it's not just me saying it. One of Sandy's friends tried a few, and unpromptedly said the exact same thing. It's like each nugget was a handful of Bugles that got compacted down into a snackable cube-esque form.

It is worth mentioning that the nuggets are not labeled as gluten-free - according to the back, there's a chance of cross contamination with wheat. And also, of all things...mackerel. I don't even know how to say anything more than that. But there could be mackerel in your mochi. Seems perhaps some quality assurance could be better enforced at the factory, hmm?

I like the nuggets quite a bit. So does Sandy, and our kids too. I'm really hoping these become a thing with some different flavors and varieties coming out. Black pepper would be killer. So would garlic and herb, or even something like cinnamon and sugar. As is, though, the nuggets seem like they'd pair with almost anything, so there's some versatility. At $2.99, they'll be staple in our house for sure.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Presents The Crispy Crunchy Mochi Rice Nuggets: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Josephsbrau Winter Brew

Another Princeton run? Nope. Sonia and I are in the South. And it's way easier to buy beer down here. Back in the Keystone State, you had to go to a specialized beer distributor to get your hands on cervezas. Our part of the Garden State wasn't much easier. No grocery stores carried the stuff—not even the happy Hawaiian-shirt-clad helpers at TJ's could sell you suds in South Jersey. Even Wilmington, DE was similarly prohibitionist. 

But my old stomping ground of Wilmington, NC had an especially alluring wooden shelf well-stocked with Trader Joe's brand bottles, including a "mix-a-six" option, where customers could try up to six different craft beers in one cardboard case, paying à la carte prices for each bottle—most of which were in the ballpark of one dollar each. Merry Christmas to me.

I guess Trader Joe's worked out a great deal with Gordon Biersch—they're mass producing all of the Josephsbrau label beers for TJ's stores. When I used to visit the Gordon Biersch restaurant chain during my time in L.A., I'd refer to it as "Gordon Beer-ish." As in, "That Gordon. He's such a beer-ish fellow, isn't he?" 

Quite beer-ish indeed, it turns out.

This brew was the first one out of the fridge. 7.5% alcohol content, seasonally-appropriate, and a sleek, handsome label? Seemed like the logical choice. 

Now keep in mind, I've only broadened my horizons to dark beers in the past few years. But in that short amount of time, I've discovered what I like and what I don't like, and this beer was somewhere in the middle.

It's got a nice deep brown color, and it pours with a small amount of suds on top. There's a molasses-esque sweetness about it, but it's still dark, malty, and very subtly spicy. It's not super thick or heavy the way some dark beers can be—I'm not a fan of drinking motor oil.

I still don't have my cicerone certification yet, but I'm working on it. When tasting new beers, I always make up my own mind about how I feel about them first, but I like to check BeerAdvocate after the fact to see just how far off I am from, you know...people who actually know what they're talking about. Seems these pseudo-beer-experts liked this brew a bit more than I did in general, but user "HopsAreDaMan" in particular summed up my feelings about this beer when he said, "...although I would happily drink this beer if offered to me, I would not seek it out."

Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Sponge Candy

Candy. It's everywhere, at all times, but especially this time of year. Parties. Stuck inside cookies, which are also everywhere. As small, easy to give gifts. In little thematic ceramic dishes with elves and penguins on them, and if you're lucky, that elf is riding a penguin. Just earlier today, as an unexpected gift, I got a one pound box of chocolates thumped on my desk. "Merry Christmas" it said, courtesy of one of my company's field reps. Could be worse: she's wasn't the one who dropped the remnants of a 4.4 pound monstrosity off at the company table (umm, that'd be me). It's always within reach, it's the holidays, you're supposed to indulge...

...and I'm getting tired of it. Candied out. That's not to say I won't eat more, because I know I will, but man, the end needs to be in sight. Please tell me it is.

So, to be honest, I wasn't exactly anxious to try out Trader Joe's Sponge Candy. Yes, it's a thing, although I've never heard of it before. Don't judge me, I'm just sheltered. But the name kinda conjures up a kitchen sponge covered in chocolate....no thanks. Now a name like honeycomb toffee, I could go with that.

Regardless, does this TJ's candied sponge variant belong in your holiday candy plans?

Ehhhhh....maybe. I took a couple bites, and maybe I'm candyworn and jaded, but it's not that great. Not bad either. Inside the box there's a plastic baggie all filled with various sized chunks ranging from a mousey morsel to a two or three biter. Inside, they're all much the same: a thin coat of reasonably decent milk chocolate, and a light, airy, crispy yet rigid chunk of toffee-like substance. The sponge candy. It's an apt name, seeing as all the little air pockets and layers do visually resemble a sponge. The texture is kinda interesting - think maltball mixed with a wafer, except much lighter - but it's neither compelling nor offputting. The taste itself is, as I said, fairly toffee-esque except a little scaled back. It does make a neat little bite, but after one or two, I've had enough.

Both Sandy and I aren't swayed much one way or another. At least I can say I've eaten sponge candy and no, it has nothing to with Spongebob. A couple bites, and a shrug each. Cost only $3.49 for the package, so seems reasonable enough, in case you really actually needed any more candy. You probably don't. But there's a chance you'll like this stuff anyways.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Sponge Candy: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Oatmeal Cranberry Dunkers with White Fudge Drizzle

I don't remember how much we paid for this tub of delight, but I'm pretty sure it was under five bucks. And considering the high volume of merry little cookies they jammed into this one transparent package, I'd definitely add it to our list of "Best TJ's Items That Come In Plastic Tubs."

Sonia thinks they taste "like something Grandma might make around the holidays." There is definitely something homey about them—a very wholesome oatmeal flavor.

But they're optimized for dunking—which means they're super crispy, crunchy, and firm, and they maintain their structural integrity even after being submerged in piping hot coffee or hot chocolate. 

They soften somewhat after being dunked, and their texture becomes even more pleasant. The oatmeal gets supple and warm, and the drizzle melts into something akin to fresh creamy icing from a bakery. I didn't mind these cookies by themselves, but even I, as someone who's definitely not in love with coffee, preferred them with a little java rather than plain. I haven't tried it yet, but I'd bet they're pretty decent with just a glass of plain old milk.

I wish the cranberry flavor were just a little more potent. It's there, but not very pronounced. And I'd also like to add: HOORAY for white chocolate/fudge! Call me unsophisticated or whatever, but these just wouldn't be as good with dark or milk chocolate drizzle. 

Sonia and I will both go with four stars on this one.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Dark Chocolate Commendation Bar

Years ago, in enough time passed that I can't recall what traces of logic I employed in deciding to do so, I invested about $5 at Bed, Bath, and Beyond on a universal TV remote. Not bad in the right circumstances, right? Well...this wasn't just any TV remote. The thing was freakin ginormous. Absurdly large. I don't recall the exact dimensions, but it was at least six inces wide, over a foot long (probably longer, and at least an inch thick. Each button was big enough that I could danced on top of them. Tom Hanks playing "Chopsticks" in the movie Big style, every time I wanted to change the channel. It took up half our coffee table. I guess I thought it was funny or cool or ironic or just dumb enough...I mean, it worked, but the novelty factor quickly wore off, and I ended up pitching it. I'm pretty sure Sandy shook her hood the entire time we had it, wondering what the h-e-double bendistraw I was thinking.

I forgot all about that until we bought Trader Joe's Dark Chocolate Commendation Bar.

Don't rush to get too judgy. I suppose it's possible that Sandy and I could eat two kilograms of chocolate all by ourselves. Then again, it's also possible that I am the king of France. Possible? Yes. Probable? No freakin' way. But we hostd our annual holiday Cookie Potluck over this past weekend, and I figured, let's drop the $14.99 on it, we'll have enough guests, it'll be a cool thing to have on our table. In a pinch, we could use it as our table.

My pics don't do it justice. It's...just really ridiculously big. Should have really busted out the measuring tape, or found a VW Bug to use as a size reference. Couple feet long, About a foot wide. Over an inch thick. That pic over there? That's just half. It's way too unwieldy to even bust off a piece with your hands. I'm not sure I wanted to risk busting a kitchen knife. What you really need is a rock chisel, or a large sanitized flathead screwdriver and a mallet. With a complete lack of better options, I ended using the prong from our knife block to randomly stab and chip off some pieces.

Unless you're making an actual house out of gingerbread and you need shingles, there's no practical use for a bar this big. I totally get the appeal - larger than life chocolate bar, anti-Zoolander by its very existence - but once the novelty wears off, it's just chocolate. A lot of chocolate. Dos kilos. Whispering that in a Spanish accent makes it sound even more intimidating.

Apart from the size issues, it's pretty decent chocolate, though. Earthy, bittersweet, but with a hint of creaminess - those Belgians got chocolate down to a science. It's not earth-shattering by any stretch, but good and solid, and I guess if I had to eat 4.4 pounds of something, there'd be far worse options out there.

Dat size tho....it's too big. Over the course of several hours, me and a few dozen of our party guests chiseled away not even a quarter of the bar. If it weren't as thick, it'd go down easier. Personally, for a still really huge bar, I'd make it the same length and width but make it half as thick, and charge something like $8 or $9 for it. That's still an outstanding value, and makes it more likely the whole bar would be consumed. Both Sandy and I like it, but considered returning it just because there's too much left. I ended up taking it into work where we'll use it as emergency rations in case we all get snowed in.

Maybe there are some practical options for something this large. Maybe there's some really fun ones. Those are up to you letting us know in the comments below. Darn good chocolate, too darn big. Caveat emptor. I have no idea how to accurately and fairly grade this, but something around a "not bad" sounds right, all things considered.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Dark Chocolate Commendation Bar: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

The Nosh Show: Trader Joe's Gift Ideas

We were guests on another episode of The Nosh Show. Since it’s gift giving season, we shared our favorite Trader Joe’s gift ideas.

See the show notes by clicking here.

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