Trader Joe's Peel Away Fruit Leather Buttons

Discs. Circles. Roundels. Wheels. Planes with circumferences that are equidistant from their centers.

I don't know that "buttons" would be the first word I'd choose to describe these. It seems to me the word "buttons" indicates something with just a little more depth or girth than just circular sheets of fruit snacky material. But it does say fruit leather—not fruit snacks or fruit chunks or fruit slabs—which would suggest something thin. I guess I was just hoping for something slightly thicker than paper thin. But they're that thin. 

They seem optimized not for eating but rather adhering to one's teeth like whitening strips—except in this case, they're oranging strips. Each button is just a little tease of flavor. I guess you could peel a bunch of them off at once and wad them all together for a single larger bite—something you could really sink your teeth into with a bigger blast of fruit taste. Fifty-nine cents seems like a great deal for a pack of eight fruit snacks, but there's very little actual food in there. Half an ounce net weight. You get what you pay for. And a good bit of what you're paying for is packaging.

In addition to the cute outer wrapper, there are two long sheets of wax paper, one on either side of the discs. When it comes out of the pack, Sonia thinks it resembles... well, what do you think it resembles? I think it looks like a roll of Trader Joe's stickers—the kind they keep at the checkout counters at TJ's stores. 

Flavor-wise, they taste like natural fruit roll-up type deals. You can taste each of the constituent flavors. Mango, strawberry-mango, and grape-mango. Mango is my favorite in this case. It's the purity of the taste. There's no identity crisis like with the other two offerings.

I think grape-mango works a little better than strawberry-mango, but that's just me. I think the mango overshadows the strawberry flavor a little bit, but the grape-mango has just enough red grape potency to hang in there. None of the flavors are unappealing at all. They're just kinda random. Trader Joe's is flirting with mango mania once again.

I guess these would be pretty decent between-meal pick-me-ups or lunch box fillers, and they taste okay, too. But in the end, I'd rather just have those old fruit wraps we used to get all the time.

Three stars a piece from Sonia and me on this one.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Corn, Pea, Bean & Quinoa Crisps

Alright, let's get real for a minute. Reality check.

I strongly dislike reviewing items like Trader Joe's Corn, Pea, Bean & Quinoa Crisps. For real, I do. Won't say "hate" but it borders on it for sure.

Why in the world would that be?

It's not that these crisps taste bad. No, not at all. I swear each main component - green peas, yellow peas, corn, black beans, quinoa - can be tasted individually and yet as part of a bigger whole, like some conglomerated leguminous amalgam in bite-sized six-sided form. Some crisps seem to feature some ingredients more than others, as some have scarcely any peas, others are pocketed with them everywhere like teenaged acne. There's definitely a heavy earthy vibe too, and these buggers are oddly filling. I mean, think of all the fiber.

Texturewise, they work too. If you're familiar with PopChips, these are along the same lines as there's an airy, munchy, popcorn chip feel to them. These TJ crisps do seem a little denser - again, consider the fiber - but there's that sensation of light snacking that suddenly gets kinda heavy pretty quick. Of note, the quinoa doesn't stand out much as agrain, in case you were thinking it might be crispy toasted quinoa on here - there's not. And overall it's more of a baked/airpooped feel than fried, as there's not too much grease while having a certain dryness to them.

So why the dislike of reviewing such an item? It's hard to make everyone happy. Products like these toe a certain line. It's almost like a John Travolta/Nick Cage-esque "Faceoff" scenario - is it healthy masquerading as junky, or junky actually being healthy? Do they switch back and forth? In truth, as usual, it's probably somewhere in the middle - but some of y'all have pretty strong opinions and if I dare not agree with you - ooooh boy.

And then there's the salt.

Listen, I love all of you. I do, really. Well, okay, that's mostly true. But love requires honesty, right? Honestly I can't get people who complain about things being too salty when they're not really all that salty. That's just people being salty, not a product. For my day job, I read cardiac patient's medical notes all day, and I can't tell youm how many times a day I read "patient urged to reduce salt intake." I know salt is bad, you don't need to me. I try to limit myself.

But I know some of y'all will claim these are too salty. I know you will. Yet...they aren't salty. At all. Sure, there's salt in them, but an identical sized serving of Cheerios or Joe's O's has just as much if not more sodium. No one ever complains about salty breakfast cereal. but review chips, even those fairly low in sodium by chip standard? Salt, salt, salt. Hissss.

All that being said, good chips, and good for a change up from normal tortilla chips. They'd be awesome with salsa and even better with a little guac - wish I had some here to pair up. Good chips at only like $3 for the bag, and good enough for some double 4's.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Corn, Pea, Bean & Quinoa Crisps: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Vegan Jackfruit Cakes

Jackfruit. Where do I start? 

My history with jackfruit involves reading about it a couple times on the interwebs—including this insightful piece from a Trader Joe's review blog you might have heard of. I considered buying that curry dish myself after reading Mr. Shelly's post, but wound up going with something else that wanted reviewing. 

In the same way it resembles pulled pork in the last offering, visually, it greatly resembles the crab in a classic crab cake. Even the cutting open of these cakes approximates that of a crab cake. However, flavor-wise, it's much more "planty" than crabby. And the texture is a bit stringier and stiffer than crab meat. It's not unpleasant. It's just not a crab cake. Not by a long shot. No amount of crab seasonings would make me mistake this dish for an actual crab cake.

There's a moderate paprika-driven warming sensation at the back of the throat after consuming a few bites of these plant pucks, but honestly, even the spices here don't approximate the spice mix of true crab cakes. I've had potato chips that taste more like crab cakes than these things.

My initial instinct was to slap these puppies in between a couple slices of bread, top them with cheese, ketchup, and mustard, and treat them as jackfruit veggie burger patties. We were lacking pretty much all of those other elements at the time I prepared these, so I simply finished my serving in the manner of a vegan crab cake, but I still think the veggie burger route would work way better than pretending they're a substitute for crab cakes in this or any other parallel reality.

By themselves, they're not particularly flavorful, but they're not an abomination, either. There's a unique subtleness to the taste. For a vegan, these might be a viable choice to add to your regular meal rotation. I might still be an omnivore technically, but I'm always happy to find meatless products that are also free of soy.

I tried the cakes both oven-baked (preferred method) and in the skillet. I liked the skillet better because olive oil helps the taste a bit, but the oven method might yield a slightly more authentic texture.

Sonia and I are on the same page here. They're not bad, but they're no substitute for a good crab cake. As a pescatarian, even Sonia will enjoy one of those every so often. 3.5 stars x 2.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Candy Coated Chocolate Peanuts

Some TJ's trips are just about perfect.

Last week, I had literally a five minute window to run in and track down the new sunflower butter cups in case Nathan didn't snag them for a review. Spoiler: he did. I ain't mad, bro, you were spot on.

I went right inside...and first thing I saw: BAM. The cups, right on a checkout display. Cheap for only 99 cents! I grabbed eight...you know...for science. Even the sweet uplifting and very situationally appropriate anthem of the ages came right on the store radio. Of course I'm talking about Belinda Carlisle's "Heaven is a Place on Earth". Got waved over to the nearest and empitest checkout line, struck up a nice convo as usual with the cashier, happened to mention my love of anything tangentially related to chocolate and peanut butter...

...and got these apparently brand new Trader Joe's Candy Coated Chocolate Peanuts for exactly $free.99. That's right, on the house, as a gift from said cashier, because apparently I can be somewhat likeable in real life, at least occasionally. Score.

So I got to enjoy the sunflower cups without the pressure of the review and focus my critical tongue squarely on these newish nutty M&M knockoffs. Really, there's not much more that can be said. There's only so many ways to get a peanut, coat it in milk chocolate, and put a candy shell on it, right? This isn't a novel concept in the least.

Basically, yes, but these TJ's nutty buddies taste at least a little different than the tried and true American classic. There's almost a little more freshness here, with the chocolate tasting perhaps a bit brighter, if that makes sense. It's probably just a little more sugar, but the chocolate here strikes me as being of a slightly better quality. Maybe it's just the TJ's label messing with me - I think most of their chocolate products as being a notch or two above - but I swear it's different and by that I definitely mean tastier.

There's a few other small differences, to be sure. Like no artificial coloring! That's also welcome. Why use some Red 40 when some good ol' beet or cabbage juice can do the trick instead? It's almost like eating salad then too, right? Right?

I enjoyed the chocolate peanut candies for sure, and would buy again for a quick little snacky if the need so arose. I'd probably go for those sunflower seed cups first, but for a consolation prize and a little unexpected bonus, these are a sure thing. My only wish is there'd be some sort of little twist on them somehow, like an added flavor or something kinda funky...oh well.  Just 99 cents for a generous two serving bag, or if you're selfish like me, one big serving that you don't share with your wife. Gonna double my score and make it up to her for sure.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Candy Coated Chocolate Peanuts: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Dark Chocolate Sunflower Seed Butter Cups

Obviously not a direct imitation of Reese's, these sunny yellow butter cups from Trader Joe's still beg comparison to the king of all chocolate-nut butter combos.

Texture-wise, they're nearly identical, but with perhaps slightly firmer chocolate and slightly thinner nut butter. Any discrepancies are negligible. Everybody might've guessed that. And everybody would probably be right.

It's the flavor that's so delightfully different—and yet not so different that it tastes like something odd, unfamiliar, or unpleasant in any way.  

Years ago, we looked at sunflower seed butter just by itself. I was a big fan. Still am, though I can't say we've purchased it regularly since that review. I described that flavor as "mild, slightly earthy, nutty, and smooth" back then, and that description still stands as far as the filling in these cups is concerned. It's also moderately sweet.

The dark chocolate is pretty typical for Trader Joe's candy-esque fare that we've seen throughout the years. It's rich and full of cocoa flavor and blends pretty well with sunflower seed butter. The overall effect is satisfying and delicious, and there's this vague notion that you're eating something just a little more sophisticated, exotic, and adventurous than a classic Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. 

If you're thinking these might be a "healthy alternative" to traditional peanut butter cups, I'm not saying you're wrong, since TJ's ingredients seem to lack preservatives and artificial stuff, plus there might be more antioxidants in the chocolate here—but fat and calorie-wise, the numbers are comparable. You're still not eating diet food with these sunflower seed butter cups. And that's perfectly okay, particularly if you're only consuming them in moderation...right?

Since peanuts are one of the eight most common food allergens, this product might be a dream come true for those with sensitivities to peanuts. Also see: Justin's Almond Butter Cups. We've tried those from Target, and they're pretty good, but they're usually something like three times the price of this Trader Joe's offering. At 99 cents, it's hard to walk past the checkout stand without considering grabbing a pack or two.

I say give 'em a whirl. Four stars a piece from Sonia and me.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Pancake Bread

Currently, my kids are obsessed with the movie The Greatest Showman. It's the music, I think, as evidenced by them commanding Alexa to play the soundtrack essentially nonstop. It's a good movie - I've always been a Hugh Jackman fan (who isn't?) and as much as ten-years-ago me would mock current me for saying it, Zac Efron got some talent. If you're not familiar, it's the story of PT Barnum and how he built his circus empire. One of his tricks: kinda massaging the truth a little, to kinda hoodwink the paying customer a little. Like, for instance, having the "world's tallest man" already be an abnormally tall guy, but then putting him on stilts. Or having the "world's largest man" shove a few pillows under his clothes for a little dramatic effect. In a way, it's kinda an innocent playful deception, which most people knew but were willing to be lured in any way by the show and spectacle of it.

All this brings me to Trader Joe's Pancake Bread.

In a world full of carbo-crossovers, most involving pretzels or crosissants (but never pretzels AND croissants - c'mon now!), we now have this. Pancakes and bread, together, in perfect harmony, right? How did it take so long for this to be a thing?

Be honest though. Close your eyes. Forget the label that says "pancake bread." Take a taste. Does it really taste like pancakes? Really? Be honest.

To me, nah. Blindfolded, I'd say it tastes more like a soft cinnamon bread than anything else. All the crumblies on top is more brown sugar, etc than anything else. To be fair, there is a maple essence as well. It's soft and crumbly and a little moist and definitely, and not more rugged or dense like a banana bread. The bread makes an excellent snack, a quick breakfast, would be delicios warmed or eaten straight from the container...but it's more bread than a pancake.

Slap the name "Pancake Bread" on it....okay, now that it's been suggested, I can see it.

Of course, if it were to be named "Soft Cinnamon Maple Bread", while being more apt a descriptor, that's not nearly as exciting. I mean, it'd take me years to buy it probably. But embellish the truth a smidge in some backroom marketing meeting, call it pancake bread - voila! Take the world by storm!

This is why I don't work in marketing.

For the record, Sandy disagrees with me. "It tastes just like a pancake with a lot of syrup kinda drenched in," she said. It should be noted that she enjoys her pancakes with a small puddle of syrup on the side which she daintily dips her pancake bites in, so she'd know what a syrup-logged pancake would actually taste and feel like is beyond me. Other online reviews I've seen claim the TJ's pancake bread tastes just like a buttermilk pancake. I can see where it's all coming from, but it's overstating the facts in my lonesome, sure to be unpopular opinion.

Regardless, the pancakesque loaf is delicious and kinda intoxicating in its carby-comfort ways. I love it. I just wish it were more honest with itself. If Hugh Jackman PT Barnum can, so can this bread, right? My only downvote is for the slight deception of purported pure pancakeyness.  Matching fours from the wife and me.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Pancake Bread: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Fruit & Nut (& Other Stuff) Crisps

Petrified fruitcake slices.

Not the most flattering of descriptions, I know. But that's what I'm going with here as the opening line of this review. If you think there's any way you could ever be into Grammy's old-fashioned fruitcake—particularly a specimen from, I don't know, the 1920's?—left on a shelf to harden and crustify into a nearly rock-like state, yet paradoxically retain a fair amount of freshness flavor-wise, then read on. If that's something you don't think could ever work or that you would never ever try, then there's not a whole lot of hope you'll like this product, in my estimation.

I used the term "rock-like" above. I won't take it back just yet, but I'll elaborate. Rocks are extremely hard, obviously, but when broken into very thin pieces, in the manner of slate rock, for example, they're also quite frangible. Same with these crisps. They're not unlike bagel chips, texture-wise, but they're darn solid. Brittle. They shatter in your mouth. Their explosive kinetic energy can, however, be tempered with cheese. We did indeed enjoy them with a nice chevre, and not only was their flavor enhanced, but their intense oral fragmentalization was considerably mitigated.

In the taste department, they're impressive. I mean, that is, if you like fruitcake. These are fruit crisps—fruit and nut (and other stuff) crisps—to be exact. We don't see parentheses a lot in the titles of Trader Joe's products. I'm not sure how I feel about the use of parentheses in general, let alone in the title of a product or film or album or work of art. But I digress. Let's just be thankful they can't get away with using that trick in the ingredients list just yet.

Ingredients: Fruit, nuts, (other stuff).

Although, isn't that what it feels like when they put "other natural flavors" at the end of the list? Just to be clear, they did not do that here, but I see it far too often on various products. Again with the digression...

I was saying the taste of this product is nutty, fruity, slightly sweet, and it flaunts a rich bready flavor, as well. As mentioned above, it blends perfectly with chevre. TJ's also recommends serving the crisps with brie or cured meats on the packaging. We can't vouch for those, but I'd imagine they'd work just fine, too.

If snacking on nutty, fruity glass shards sounds appealing, put your favorite oral healthcare specialist on speed dial and dig in.

Maybe I'm exaggerating about the texture.

Am I exaggerating about the texture?

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

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Joe-Joe's Slims

"Hey are you gonna make a Fatboy Slim reference in your review?"

"Wha..who?...Fatboy Slim? Jeez, now that's a name from forever ago. What brought him up?"

"Well Pageflip* says 20 years ago he had the number one hit and you're reviewing the Joe-Joe's Slims so maybe I thought..."

"Ah okay, I thought maybe you were poking fun at me again, like I'm the fat boy who wants to be slim again."

"Ha, that's true too. Stop eating all the damn cookies then."

Actual real conversation this evening between my wife and me. Well, close enough. I don't know what app she was looking at but Pageflip sounded right in my head, but then again so do Spacebook and MyFace.

Well, here we are. Trader Joe's Joe-Joe's Slims. Unlike the actual product, that name is kinda mouthful. It's like Trader Joe's³ Slims. That's a litte more streamlined if not confusing for the non-math savvy crowd.

Take a basic Joe-Joe, or your basic Oreoesque sandwich cookie. Make a thin version. Voila. It's an idea that's been done and around for a while. Some people seem to love slim thin cookies. I'm more indifferent. I want something big and crunchy to really bite into, instead of something wispy and snappy.

That's kinda the experience here with the TJ's slims. There's not enough cookie wafer to really develop that more enjoyable (to me) experience of a standard issue cookie. It's almost more cracker than cookie in a way. The sandwich creme doesn't suffer as much, even there's less of it. In some ways the creme even stands out a little more. My guess is the ratio got wacked with the slender crisps serving as the base or not, which is definitely not a complaint.

But yeah, the classic sandwich cookie, except thin. Twist apart and scrape out the creme. Dunk them in a glass of milk. Eat a couple and be good. Eat a few more and console yourself with the fact that two of these maybe equals one regular cookie. Eat the whole box over a course of a week (like I did because NO ONE ELSE WAS TOUCHING THEM) and draw the ire of your spouse. It's all good. You don't need to be skankin' like a Rockefeller and pretend to be all classy with them. Not sure if I have to celebrate these cookies, but I'll praise them like I should with a solid not bad.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Joe-Joe Slims: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons