Trader Joe's Puff Dogs

"I want you to review these just for all the Puff Daddy references you could make."

Love ya, sweetie, but Puff Daddy/ P. Diddy wasn't my jam back in the day. I'm familiar enough with the work of Mr Combs, but enough so that I could off a bunch of references in relation to Trader Joe's Puff Dogs? Nah.

I mean, "Puff Dog" does sound like a mid-to-late-'90s rapper. Probably was one, or could have been like a super dup between the aforementioned Diddy and Snoop Dogg.

As the story goes, the only reason we bought these was at the behest of one of the local TJ's employees, who knows who we are and what we do, and we were strongly advised to buy them. Why that is, I'm not sure, as I wasn't there. I personally wouldn't have. I have nothing against a quality hot dog wrapped up in a buttery biscuit type deal, but...it's easy enough to do on your own if the mood hits. Which for us is pretty rare...I don't think I've done this since college. Maybe even before. Aside from micro hors d'ouevres, of course. Those are tasty.

And yeah...that's what these puff dogs taste like. A fully grown hors d'oeuvres. There's nothing special, unique, or all that interesting about them, to be quite honest. I mean, yes, there's quality to be had here - the smoky beef hot dog in all its uncured goodness is rather tasty, admittedly - but, there's not much to be had otherwise. The puff pastry is standard, run of the mill flaky and a little buttery, and that combined with the beef dog do have a little greasy comfort food vibe that would taste even better after a few beers, I'm sure.

But there's nothing else, really. There's no "Trader Joe's-y" twist to them, like an unexpected seasoning or fancy cheese or some other novelty to them. It's tough to even argue a convenience factor, and at a somewhat premium price ($4.99 for five dogs - a buck per pup), you can get more bang for your buck by buying a pack of frankfurters and a tube of crescent rolls seperately and get much the same result.

Plus - this is probably silly - I hate the picture on the front. That yellow stuff hanging off the bitten-off hot dog? Is that supposed to be nacho cheese or day old scrambled egg? Yes, I know, probably mustard as evidenced by the cutesy mustard bottle up top, but still...there's something unsettling about it to me. Especially with the word "buttery" in close proximity. Yes, I'm weird.

Can't nobody hold me down. It might not be all about the Benjamins, but for the mo' money for these, I don't want mo' problems. Come with me or I'll be missing you...ugh, I can't do this any more. Probably not a repeat buy. They're okay, but what they'd best for is what P Diddy was best at: Sampling.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Puff Dogs: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Crunchy Nutty Rice Bites with Quinoa & Cranberries

The little description on the back of the bag states: "When a lack of snacks is what ails you, a handful of Crunchy Nutty Rice Bites with Quinoa & Cranberries is the cure." How appropriate after having just watched A Cure for Wellness last night. What a disturbing film—I mean, genius in many ways, but thoroughly psychologically disturbing. What's even more disturbing is that I can readily identify with characters in such films far more than, say, anything that might be considered a normal family film. 

But if you've seen the movie, you'll know why I was immediately reluctant to consume something that a random quack medicine man claims is a "cure" for what ails me. The cover art, featuring one of the crunchy nutty rice bites levitating supernaturally over a pair of hands and radiating some sort of angelic rays, didn't help the case for these mysterious snacks.

But try them I did, and honestly, I'm not sure if I'm relieved at this point, because these things are so addicting, I'm a little worried there's more to them than their constituent parts listed on the ingredients. I mean, I've tried plenty of crispy ricey snacky things before, and plenty of treats laden with cranberries and quinoa, but none have had quite the same appeal as these sweet, crunchy bites—at least nothing in recent memory.

At first glance, some of the nuggets resemble little square pieces of sushi, with multiple muted colors resting on bite-sized beds of rice. But the similarities to sushi end there, as these rice bites flaunt a brittle crispness and surprising amount of sweetness. Tartness from a generous amount of cranberries tends to shine through in most of the pieces.

There's also a nuttiness in the majority of bites which I'd attribute to the pumpkin seeds before either almonds or cashews, or quinoa for that matter. I mean, there's definitely quinoa in there, but the fact that it's mentioned in the title of the snack seems more of a gimmick than anything else. I guess "pumpkin seeds" or "pepitas" just doesn't get the granola crowd riled up like "quinoa" apparently does.

I'm gonna go with four and a half here. 

According to Sonia, they're kinda like "healthy, dry Rice Krispies Treats." That about sums it up. Four stars from her.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Coconut Cold Brew Coffee Concentrate

"This was obviously made by someone who hates coffee."

That's an actual recent quote from my mom, and in what actual context, I forget. Doesn't matter, I may be adopting it to describe any coffee that I don't like. I'm beginning to realize that I need to have my coffee just the way I like it, or I get cranky. This must be one of those signs that I'm getting older, I guess. File it alongside: Realizing I can play Pearl Jam too loud while in the car by myself. Recognizing the need for supportive walking shoes. Not recognizing anything on the radio except the classic rock station.

Anyways, here's yet another cold brew concoction from our main man here. This time, it's Trader Joe's Coconut Cold Brew Coffee Concentrate. Well, okay. Flavored coffees aren't really my deal, per se - coffee should taste like coffee, ya whippersnapper - but heck I'd give it a try.

I like the idea of cold brew concentrates, mostly because I don't like the idea of paying three or four bucks from a coffee shop every time I want one. But the trouble always seems to be getting the ratio of concentrate to diluent correct - too much of one or the other throws it way off. Seems to be the same case here. I measured, I tried, I recalled my seventh grade chemistry teacher saying to measure the meniscus...still couldn't get it quite right. So there's a part of the problem I'm willing to own.

But the other issue? It's just not very good coffee.

It's the coconut. In theory, it sounds good, but to me, it doesn't jive. The coconut just kinda clanks around, with almost a tinny or metallic taste to it. Ugh. No likey. It's obtrusive. And it's tough to tell for sure, but the coffee almost seems to rely heavily on coconut for flavor, instead of the natural earthy goodness that actual good coffee delivers. If you need to add flavors to make your coffee drinkable, to me, it's just not that good to begin with.

I realize I may be in the minority here. That's okay, fire at will. Sandy absolutely disagrees with me, noting that she liked making hers with sweetened almond milk and ice. I think I took a sip of one of those, and admittedly it was almost passable. A terrible idea, though, is mixing this with something like a  flavored LaCroix...we tried it, it's supposed to be trendy....it also tastes awful.  Sandy would buy again happily, while I'd just as happily mumble about it if it were to reappear. Maybe it's made not by someone who hates coffee, just by someone with a very different opinion than me. Bah. My blog, my score. Get off my lawn.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Coconut Cold Brew Coffee Concentrate: 5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Cold Brew Latte Dessert Bars

Nothing but frozen coffee on a stick. No more, no less. Great if you love coffee—not so much if you're craving something a little more indulgent.

Sure, there's sugar and cream. It's not like they used plain black coffee. But if you were expecting something along the lines of a Fudgsicle with a coffee twist, you're in for some disappointment here.

Just like real coffee is mostly water, so too is this popsicle. And it tastes that way. 

I'm no coffee connoisseur, but if I had to wager what type of coffee is employed here, I'd say it's a lighter roast. It's not even a particularly bold or rich flavor. 

The refreshment factor is potentially pretty high, but again, the indulgence factor is surprisingly low. 40 calories per bar says it all.

Kosher, convenient, and inexpensive ($1.99 for five), this product is great for coffee-lovers who want to get their daily caffeine in a cool new way—and possibly to beat the heat at the same time. 

There's nothing chalky, mocha-y, or nutty here, like another recently-reviewed latte product. If I had to wager which item would be more popular with the coffee-craving crowd, my money would be on these java-sicles.

Predictably, Sonia, who loves coffee, enjoyed these bars more than I did. She does wish they were a little sweeter and perhaps a tad creamier, but she can appreciate them for exactly what they are: simple coffee-flavored refreshment. Three and a half stars from her. 

I'm not a coffee guy at all, but I have to have respect for this product just for its simplicity, refreshment-factor, and potential appeal to true coffee folks. Three stars from me.

Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Organic Cold Brew Mocha Nut Latte

July. Hot hot hot. Or, if in Pennsylvania like me, it's beginning to get humid too. Real humid. Granted, it's not the sweltering unrelenting steam of late July-to-mid-September that feels like a homicidal dishwasher going full tilt with the door cracked open quite yet, but it's coming. You desert people with your dry heat - you're lucky. I've been in 115 degree heat that's been dry and more comfortable than mid-80's and 10000% humidity.

Still need coffee. We've been over this. I don't need to sell you on the idea that cold brew coffee is a great idea for summer months.

So if TJ's comes out with one, I'm gonna try it. So here's Trader Joe's Organic Cold Brew Mocha Nut Latte. Seems to be a break from my normal black brew - not the worst thing in the world, can use some flavor every once in a while, so here's a swig....

....uhhh, what the H-E-double bendi straw is THAT? This isn't coffee. it's not even close. "Brown chalky liquid somewhat resembling coffee" may be a more apt description.

First of all, I didn't see this before sipping, there's liquefied dates in here. As a predominant ingredient, as in, like, right after water. Ugh. Don't get me wrong, I like dates. I've had coffee and dates for breakfast. I like dates with my coffee. I like coffee with my dates. I like going on dates to get coffee. I like drinking coffee to get along with my date, err, I mean, wife. All that being said, I do not need dates in my coffee, especially when it adds this weird chunky pulpy complexion....

...which is only added to by both almond and cashew milk. I have no problem with either individually or mixed together, and prefer over regular cow juice, to be honest, but by themselves they push beverage texture to about its max for me. Inclusion of said dates pushes it over.

There's so much earthy groundlike flavor going on that it's almost easy to overlook the actual coffee aspect. it's there, but not nearly strong enough for my liking. Disclaimer: Usually I drink unadulterated black, so take it for what its worth. There's some vanilla and cinnamon, I guess, and obviously a nutty flavor, but mocha? Not to me. Just weird nutty creamy datey coffeesque stew. Yum. Not.

Not a fan, as you've guessed by now. Sandy enjoys more than I do, but also notes that the chalkchunkpulp issue is a major putoff, enough that despite liking the flavor she stated she will not purchase again. Somehow this warrants a three in her book. Me? Nowhere close to that, and it's not the heat getting to me. It's just not that good, at all. Blah.



Bottom line: Trader Joe's Organic Cold Brew Mocha Nut Latte: 4 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Organic Lemon Ginger Herbal Flavored Water

Ah, tomorrow's the Fourth of July. And there's nothing quite as Murican as lemon-ginger-infused water to celebrate Independence Day. Let's take a look.

Imagine you just consumed a plate of lemon ginger chicken. Now imagine you rinsed off the plate and collected the water from it. Imagine further that you had a temporary lapse in judgement or some kind of heat stroke and decided it would be a good idea if you drank said rinse water. 

Ahh, refreshing right? Depending on the temperature of the water...perhaps. But still a pretty weird taste. Yeah. I'm not feeling it. And I like lemon and ginger just fine. And in case you're wondering, no, this product doesn't taste like chicken. I just couldn't think of any other legitimate reason you might have lemon and ginger on a plate.

The ghost of lemon and ginger present here is just potent enough to ruin the super-neutral taste of plain water, and yet it's not strong nor sweet enough to be any kind of delicious chuggable beverage.

And another thing: the write-up on the packaging claims this product is "Hydration with flare." "Hydration with flare"? Did I somehow miss that this water is flammable? Does the water have a high enough alcohol content to serve it flambé? Or did they mean "flair"? Or is this use of the word "flare" somehow acceptable here? Was the water flavored with road flares?

So if you ask me, just go ahead and skip this hippy dippy nonsense and go drink a tooth-rotting, high fructose corn syrup-laden Coca-Cola tomorrow while you watch those fireworks. One won't kill you. Coke is deliciously American, and this stuff just isn't. Fair comparison? No. Apples and oranges? Sure. I'm fresh out of more appropriate comparisons. This heat's getting to me.

Sonia thinks she'd just rather drink plain old water for refreshment—or maybe even sparkling mineral water. I agree. One star a piece.

Bottom line: 2 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Caramel Ginger Popcorn

"Like Cracker Jack for adults."

Those were the first words out of Sandy's  mouth after her initial sampling of Trader Joe's Caramel Ginger Popcorn. And it is kinda the easy comparison - the known American classic that pretty much anyone has at least a vague idea of what it is. Cheap popcorn, heavily coated in corn syrupy caramel with surprisingly few peanuts and a dumb sticker that sticks less than all the kernels leftover in your teeth.

I mean, who really enjoys Cracker Jack?

All that being said, this Caramel Ginger Popcorn is pretty tasty. With a caveat or two, yes, but still....much better than Cracker Jack.

First off, it's pretty decent popcorn - surprisingly fresh tasting for a bagged product. And the coating of caramelized sugar, while a little uneven and thicker at times, is by-in-large thinner and adds a more-crispy-than-crunchy element. Most bites are more sugary than anything else, but not too over the top.

Of course, there's the ginger though...the further you dig into the bag, the more it's there. Other than an occasional hint here and there, there's not much of it about at first. Midway thru, it's almost an every morsel occurrence. But by the bottom, if you don't like ginger - pick carefully. That's where all the crystallized ginger nuggets reside, bursting with ginger heat ready to singe the tastebuds. It's not entirely unpleasant if you like such things, but if you're ginger adverse, steer away.

Sandy really enjoys it, more than I do. "If it only had cashews, it'd be perfect," she said. I agree that'd be a good little addition, even if it meant slightly sacrificing the $3 price point for the sack. I'd wish there'd be a way for more of the ginger to be evenly distributed so it wasn't feast or famine in that regard. Anyways, as it is, here's an above average score. Now if it only had a really bad baseball sticker in there too...

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Caramel Ginger Popcorn: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Matcha Joe-Joe's

In my ongoing attempts to be a well-rounded human, I repeatedly try things I'm not 100% enthusiastic about at the onset. Once in a while, said things I'm not super enthused about wind up growing on me. Case in point: matcha.

Trader Joe's dessertification of the earthy powdered green tea was a great excuse to give matcha another try. Well, okay, not this candy bar dessertification of green tea. Despite being a fan of white chocolate, that combo still sounds a little weird to me, and I'm glad Russ picked up a bar so I didn't have to.

But matcha in sandwich cookies? That's just weird enough to work. If it worked with coffee, then why wouldn't it work with green tea?

Will the matcha still fight cancer, lower cholesterol, boost immunity, reduce stress, and enhance my metabolism? Somehow, I doubt it. But I'm going to eat these cookies anyway.

Upon first bite, you might not notice the matcha flavor. I mean, it's there, so you might notice it if you're really paying attention, but the vanilla cookies mute the earthy green tea taste to the point where even matcha-haters might be able to stomach this particular iteration of Joe-Joe's.

For matcha lovers—if you want to prove to yourself that these cookies are well-worth their "matcha" moniker—return to your childhood by unscrewing the sandwich cookie and licking the creme center right off the cookie. Bam. It's sweet...but it's unmistakably matcha-y. I admit, it's weird that it works. But it does. Even for me, who, again, isn't super into matcha—it's so sweet that I can't dislike it.

I'm going to surprise even myself here as I toss out three and a half stars. Matcha-liking Sonia will go with four.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.