Trader Joe's Furikake Japanese Multi-Purpose Seasoning

Over the years on the blog, I've referred to myself as an amateur-foodie hack on occasion. If memory serves me right, Nathan's the one who coined the phrase. I'm gonna take this opportunity to rebrand it, at least for my lovely bride and I, and say that instead of being actual foodies, we're really just eaters.

What's that mean?

If it's good, we'll eat it. Even if it's not "the best" or most acclaimed or authentic or true. Sure, we'll give that consideration and all, but at the end of the day, it's taste over everything else. Is Hattie B's the best, most authentic Nashville hot chicken joint in Tennessee? Nah, probably not....but danged if I don't still dream of them on occasion. To make a musical metaphor, is Imagine Dragons the best band around? Nah, far from it, but I can enjoy at least some of their catchy fun songs - "Zero" for instance, from Wreck-It Ralph 2 soundtrack. Yeah, we'll go to depths for our guilty pleasures. 

And (un)luckily for you, if it's a TJ's item I ate and have strong enough opinion on, you'll read about it here. Coming soon: another buddy and I are soon launching an Aldi's review site, so my goal of grocery world judging domination shall ever so slightly increase, muhahaha.

Sorry for the long windup for Trader Joe's Furikake Japanese Multi-Purpose Seasoning. But it's a great example of this. Do I know even the slightest thing, really, about furikake? Nope. I don't even know how to pronounce it - furry cake (can rewrite some really awful Twenty One Pilots lyrics, like our Facebook caption)? Foo-ree-kah-kay? Glad we're not doing the TJ's podcast at this time so you'd hear me butcher it as our producer buddy Marvo would slap his forehead in the background. We had such a long awkward conversation about how to pronounce "sriracha

But...I bought it at Trader Joe's. Cost only a few bucks. Looked like worth the shot. So I'm gonna go home and eat it. I'm an eater.

For such a fairly simply blend, there's a few different stages to the flavor which make this Japanese-inspired seasoning interesting. I think that's the right way to describe it instead of "complex" or "multi-leveled" as, if ingested just as a lonesome pinch or two, there's at first this funky seaweed taste, like straight up "whatever I just ingested was definitely floating in the ocean" type flavor, followed closely by toasted sesame and finally a good heavy dose of salt. Not sure if "savory" or "umami" really quite apply - more salty than anything - but it's a fun little mix...

So good to eat, but on what? Whatever, just go for it. I put some on some roasted green beans last night - much milder, but delicious. Eggs? Sure thing. I don't think it'd be much of a stretch to recommend on rice or fish or most sushi variants. Chicken? Heck yeah. Sandy dumped some atop her ramen noodles the other day, just to class them up a touch, and she's been raving about that since.

That is the one point: The furikake is mild enough that food flavor can overpower it and diminish it to little more than salt. Maybe that's why the pour opening is so huge - you can fit a penny through it - and a recommended serving is so much. I don't think I've come close to using that amount over several tastings.

Regardless, we'll eat it and try it on lots of different stuff. We're eaters now, ya know. If it tastes good, which I think the furikake would be on a high number of things, we'll do it.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Furikake Japanese Multi-Purpose Seasoning: 8.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's French Onion Soup Bites

Baby Yoda. I just have to start off this post with a lead-in about Baby Yoda. I'm warning you right now, I don't have a decent segue into the food review part of this blog post, but I still have to find a way to work him in here. 

You see, Sonia and I just binge-watched The Mandalorian. It's darn good—all the production value of a Star Wars film in a one hour television show format. And for those of you who aren't aware, there's a character called "The Child" that looks just like, you guessed it: a baby version of Yoda. Of course, it can't be the actual Yoda, because he's dead by this point in the Star Wars timeline, so it must be another member of Yoda's unnamed race. Yes, we're geeks. 

But that's not the point. The point is that he's absurdly cute. Just Google him if you don't know what I'm talking about. I'm already on high alert trying to curb my lovely bride's inclination to accumulate all things Baby Yoda. I found a Trader Joe's-themed Baby Yoda tweet last week. It doesn't even make sense. He never drinks wine on the show. In fact, all he consumes are frogs. I feel like that might be my cue to tie in the French part of this product somehow, but nah. We won't go there today.

I will point out, however, that like fresh swamp frogs, these appetizers are slimy. I guess "greasy" would be a more accurate word—but they're so liquidy in the middle that it almost feels like a dollop of actual soup surrounded by some crusty bread. The onions and cheese are slick, silky, and slippery. The bread part ranges from soft and crumbly to crispy and crusty. The overall mouthfeel is a little too gelatinous for my taste.

The flavor, on the other hand, is very nice. You can taste lightly sweet caramelized onions, swiss cheese, and rich buttery bread. Trader Joe's French Onion Soup Bites are salty, savory, and oh-so-onionny—and we're both big fans of onions. There's a "vegetable base" listed on the ingredients, and I want to say you can taste that, too. There's a vegetable soup essence to the flavor that works seamlessly with the taste of the onions and cheese.

I found it difficult to remove the apps from the oven-safe tray without mangling them beyond recognition. The photo included here represents my three least-disfigured specimens.

$4.49 for 12 appetizers. In the end we'll both give a thumbs up to the taste and a meh to the texture of these French-inspired hors d'oeuvres. Three and a half stars a piece.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Black Bean Dip

As a parent, one of the rules I have is "don't yuck someone else's yum." It's only polite, and encourages my kids to try new things. And naturally as a corollary, my kids aren't allowed to tell someone else they're not gonna like something, because, again, encouraging boldness and discovery. If you try, you're halfway to triump, and if you sigh, you're halfway to silence. So c'mon c'mon.

Obscure Rustic Overtones anyone? Anyone? One of the best concerts I've ever been to, like 20 years ago....I'm old.

Anyways, naturally, I'm guilty of breaking this rule on occasion, and most recently with my youngest who was making a beeline for Trader Joe's Black Bean Dip.

It was in best of intentions, even though I hadn't tried it yet. Look: jalapenos. Serranos. Even habaneros. This has got to be spicy, and I've seen my kids ingest anything with a hint of spice before...I didn't want to deal with it.

She tried it anyways, and come to find out, not only did she love it, there was nothing for me to worry about.

Listen: this black bean dip isn't spicy. At all. It's calm and surprisingly mild. Even the black beans at like Qdoba are way spicier. No heat, and no real flavor except cool black beans. Beans is all it is, it tastes. Sure, with a little work, there's a little sublety at play here - the smallest touch of heat, a smidge of garlic and whatnot - but no, not spicy. At all. None.

That's my major takeaway. My lovely bride thinks it has more flavor than I - it's possible, I've been scorching myself with the case of TJ's bomba sauce I procured recently - but she has another quibble. It's not really a "dip" per se. We broke so many chips trying to scoop out just a little. The dip is full of entire beans, with some smushed up as a paste-type deal to hold it all together.

More flavor, and perhaps a rebranding to "bean taco filler" or something hopefully more appetizing sounding than that would work. Really I could see this stuff working great as a base for tacos or filling up inside a quesadilla as a protein source. That would better use of its consistancy and allow for flavor optimization, so all problems solved.

In the end, I'm neither yucking nor yumming but more meh-ing. Same with my lovely bride. Double threes.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Black Bean Dip: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's One Potato Two Potato

Nothing like a little comfort food to get you through the coldest parts of winter. Potatoes and cheese? How could Trader Joe's One Potato Two Potato go wrong?

One Potato, Two Potato,

From the Trader Joe's,

Three potato, four potato,

See how that cheese flows.

Five potato, six potato,

It's a hearty dish.

Sev'n potato, eight potato, 

Scrumptious and delish.

As usual, there are heating instructions for the microwave and the conventional oven included on the packaging. I opted for the latter, as I was feeling less lazy than usual—kicking off the new year practicing good habits and all that. The directions simply state: "remove packaging," but don't specify if the tray that contains the dish is "ovenable," a term that Trader Joe's preparation instructions have employed in the past. I made the assumption that it was indeed ovenable, and as evidenced by the fact that the tray did not burst into flames while baking at 350° for nearly an hour, I concluded that I did make the correct choice. Also, had it not been for the tray, the veggies and cheese would have spread out all over the baking sheet and perhaps gotten a little too toasty.

What's working here: lots of big, chunky veggies, tasty and evenly-distributed cheese, a crispy, crusty outer layer, and an overall salty, savory taste, perfect for a winter side dish. The potato chunks and the places where the cheese browned a little around the edges are by far my favorite elements in this side dish.

What's not working here: too many sweet potatoes, which at first I took for carrot chunks. Oddly, they bugged me more than the mushrooms. Even though I've never been a fan of 'shrooms, there simply weren't enough of them to bother me here. Sonia actually wished there were more of them. 

The sweet potato chunks were plentiful and enormous. They should have called this Trader Joe's One Sweet Potato Two Sweet Potato, although I'm not aware of any nursery rhymes that involve counting sweet potatoes. I normally don't mind sweet potatoes at all, particularly if they're well-baked. However, I feel like the ones in this selection had an odd texture—almost spongy—and the chunks were simply too big. There was a lot more sweet potato than regular potato by my reckoning. So...I wouldn't have minded more regular potatoes, peas instead of mushrooms, and thicker, gooier cheese.

Still, despite one or two distinct weaknesses, this potato platter is a winner in my book. The overall effect doesn't suffer much from the overabundance of sweet potato—there are still some tasty bites to be had. $3.99 for four servings. 

Sonia's likes and dislikes were a little different than mine, but we'll still both arrive at the same respectable score for Trader Joe's One Potato Two Potato: 4 out of 5 stars a piece. 

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Peanut and Crispy Noodle Salad Kit

Supposedly the whole point of a salad is to eat something light and healthy, right? Get a nice array of yummy, nutritious veggies in your system, like all those leafy greens your PCP is always telling you about. Salads are great. Salads are fun.

But the whole point of a salad isn't being healthy.

Nah, you're talking to a guy who lives in Pittsburgh, and you see what we do to salads here? That's a tame one.

Right, it's what goes on top that counts. Know anybody that actually really enjoys just eating plain romaine? Nah. I ate raw naked spinach for a while and you should have seen all the looks I got...and to be clear, it was the spinach that was laid bare, not myself. Nobody wants to see that.

Here's a perfect example: Trader Joe's Peanut and Crispy Noodle Salad Kit. Sounds great. Sounds...I don't know, as enticing as a salad can get? TJ's even emphasizes the fix-in's as the selling point in the name, which is a good thing if you look at the components.

I mean, just look. The whole base of the salad is the 100% routine, boring , generic cabbage/romaine/carrot mix that I swear makes up 95% of salads. It's like a stock photo come to life. Booooor-ing. Nothing wrong with it per se, except it is what it is which is all it's ever gonna be. Snooze.

So how can liven it up? Chopped peanuts? Well, okay...except those are kinda boring too. Nothing wrong, but nothing right. It's like a rerun watched too many times.

But then....crispy rice noodles! And peanut and lime dressing! Maybe there will be something worth writing home about here.

First off: the noodles. For some reason I expected chow mein type noodles, which was a completely flawed assumption on many levels. Instead, these are light, airy, tiny, airpopped Styrofoam-ish rice noodles that are remarkably crispy and crunchy for their size. There's not much taste to them by themselves, so naturally they absorb the flavor of whatever they're nearby, which really oughtta be...

The dressing. Almost every salad comes to the dressing. This peanut-lime take is pretty darn tasty. My lovely bride wanted to drench every inch of her salad with it and guzzle the rest from the packet...fortunately I stopped her. We've made similar sauces at home with peanut butter and soy sauce, but there's more here. Some different spices, and the Thai lime leaves are a real nice touch. I'm sold. It's another dressing that needs to be sold by itself, and there needs to be more of it in the salad if only we didn't have to squabble over the last few drips.

Pretty decent salad overall. Sandy and I had it as a lighter dinner the other night and were both pretty happy. It's not a bad deal at $3.99 and if you're looking for a new salad mix in this New Year, it might be tough to top this.

 Bottom line: Trader Joe's Peanut and Crispy Noodle Salad Kit: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's I Dream of Chocolate Cake

I made a New Year's resolution to eat way more chocolate cake in 2020, and by golly, I'm off to a good start. On New Year's Day, as I surveyed my frosty surroundings, I made the clutch decision to pull this Trader Joe's I Dream of Chocolate Cake out of our little freezer, thaw it, and eat it for lunch. Not after lunch, but for lunch. Sonia and I make our own hours, work from wherever we please, and gosh darnit if we want cake for lunch, we have it. Our actual resolution was about living life on our own terms, a la #fulltimetravel. Just kidding. I don't make New Year's resolutions. They're silly.

No, but seriously though if 2017 and 2018 were the worst years of my adult life, then 2019 was probably the best. We spent the year across 16 different states, saw a dozen national parks, monuments, and historical sites, and visited friends and family we haven't seen in years. I don't know what this year holds, or even if we'll be traveling, but I have a feeling it's going to be pretty special. For Sonia and me, that all starts with throwing caution and tradition to the wind—and doing things like eating chocolate cake for lunch on New Year's Day. Eat your heart out, pork and sauerkraut.

At this point I must confess that the whole chocolate on chocolate on chocolate thing isn't really my cup of tea in general, unless I have some kind of specific craving. I like chocolate cake as much as the next guy, but it takes something special to really wow me. I can't say this particular specimen completely blew me away, but it's pretty tasty nonetheless, not to mention uber-convenient. 

When I first tried the cake, I don't think it was fully thawed. The top layer in particular was reminiscent of chocolate ice cream, slightly melted. Even in subsequent servings, there was a creaminess there that still vaguely reminded me of chocolate ice cream rather than a typical chocolate frosting for a cake. It was extremely moist, including the inner cakey parts, almost to the point that it felt like pudding. It was dense, rich, and flavorful, and it tasted remarkably fresh for something so recently frozen.

$6.99 is reasonable for Trader Joe's I Dream of Chocolate Cake, I guess. There's enough cake in the box to provide dessert to a large family or a small party. It says six servings, but you could stretch it to more since it's so filling. Sonia gives it four stars. Chocoholics will like this even more than I do, and would probably score it very highly. I'll give it a thumbs up in the end, and about three and a half stars.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Vanilla Overnight Oats

As I sit here in the early morning hours of New Years Eve 2019, eating some Trader Joe's Vanilla Overnight Oats, I can't help but think about life a little bit.

It's kinda like oatmeal, isn't it?

Sometimes it's pretty good, other times it can be a lot better. You gotta take your lumps and move on. Sometimes it's better to stir it up a little, other times it's best to let it be and wait.

And to relate a little further to these new(ish) overnight oats...it's definitely a little nutty, but overall sweet. It's perishable, so take proper care. And sometimes there's no shame in taking the easy, convenient route to get through whatever lies ahead of you, as long as you're prepared ahead of time.

Okay, enough of the life coaching....it's not like I'm some Ralph Marston-esque guru. I'm just a 37 year old dude who ate some oatmeal, dangit, and I stayed in my own bed last night, not at a Holiday Express. Let's talk oatmeal.

This particular overnight oats seems really heavy on the almond flavor, coming from the almond milk/beverage the oats were soaked in. If you're not an almond fan, keep away...but at least it's good almond flavor. If I had some actual nuts to sprinkle in, I would just to mix it up a bit. There's also a decent amount of vanilla to really sweeten up everything, too. No added sugar needed, and that comes from a sugar junkie. There is a bit of a sticky sweet aftertaste that lingers on, which abates quickly with a little coffee or fruit.

It was surprising to see dates on the ingredient list, because they're imperceptible in pretty much every way. I don't taste them and I don't feel them. Of course, as in real life, dates can be really sneaky...let's move on, please.

As one would expect, the TJ overnight oats are a bit cold and somewhat lumpy but not in a gross way. I'm not smart enough to know if it's okay to heat them up, as the package gave no microwave instructions. I don't see why not except for maybe moving the oats to a microwave safe dish.

Not bad for $1.99. The oats are decent enough quality and there's a lot of convenience here, which always comes at a premium. I'm not sure I'd stock up on them personally, but for my lovely bride and I, it probably wouldn't be bad to have a couple around for one of our trademark crazy mornings on the run. That's just life, all rolled up and ready to go, and it's not bad.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Vanilla Overnight Oats: 7.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Cultured Coconut Milk Nog

If you want super creamy eggnog without the dairy, this product is for you. I know there's almond nog, but this stuff is great for folks that want something a lot thicker—a snack rather than a beverage.

Sonia thought Trader Joe's Cultured Coconut Nog tasted more like coconut and less like nog. I felt the opposite. It's definitely a bit coconutty, but then again coconut yogurt tends to be that way. I was surprised how forward the nog spices were in this instance.

We've tried at least one other kind of cultured coconut from Trader Joe's, and all in all, I liked that blueberry flavor better. But this one isn't bad, and it's seasonal, festive, and noggy as it wants to be. The little coconut wearing a scarf is a nice touch on the packaging. I always wonder who does these illustrations. You'd think there would be animation studio execs busting down the doors of TJ's creative department trying to hire these folks to make the next Charlie Brown Christmas, but with coconuts wearing winter clothing instead of Peanuts characters. 

Anyway, Trader Joe's Cultured Coconut Nog is thicker than any drinkable nog, very much flaunting the texture of normal yogurt. It looks just like regular yogurt, too, with just a few flecks of nutmeg and cinnamon floating around in the mixture. Flavor-wise, it's a little unusual to taste coconut and "eggnog" side by side like this, but it's not disagreeable at all—a very pleasant pairing, by my estimation. I'm surprised cultured coconut "yogurts" aren't more popular, considering how ubiquitous milk allergies and lactose intolerance seem to be.

This $1.49 nog-gurt kinda grew on me by the end of the cup, but as a self-proclaimed nog connoisseur, I'm a tough grader. Three and a half stars from me. Sonia liked it at first bite. Four stars from her.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.