Trader Joe's Cajun Style Alfredo Sauce

Whatsfordinnerwhatsfordinnerwhatsfordinnerwhatsfordinnerwhatsfordinnerwhatsfordinnerwhatsfordinnerwhatsfordinner...

Ah, the old familiar refrain, sung daily from the shorter, stinkier faction of my evergrowing family. 

To which I always respond: Hamsters.

Heck, I'd go all Bubba Blue on them, too.  Hamsters are like fruit of the earth. Barbecue, boil, broil, bake, saute. hamster kebobs, creole and gumbo...I could go on and on. Usually it quiets them down. 

Please note: We don't actually eat hamsters here. It's all lighthearted diversion, as well as a subtle shoutout to one of the finest cartoons series to ever grace this earth. 

All that being said, if not some hamster, man, something else is really needed to make Trader Joe's Cajun Style Alfredo Sauce work.

As perhaps the fatal flaw for our dinner and this pertinent review, my lovely bride and I splashed a ladelfull over this new Cajun-inspired pasta sauce on just some plain rigatoni the other night. Kids had marinara so we didn't have to hear complaints of "too spicy." The result was pretty meh. 

With giving the chance to shine all by itself atop just some plain noodles, the sauce doesn't hold up well. There's a bit of cool creaminess, a bit of bite from the cheese...and paprika. Lots and lots of paprika. Paprika is all there is for spice. Paprika is good and all, but the whole spicy sensation defaults to solely that so it all feels a little one note. Sure, the grana padano slips in there too, with its parmesanesque twinge, but in the end, it's not unpleasant but seems a bit incomplete. 

Atop some roasted veggies, though? It's a better experience. Perhaps some of the taste and texture of our broccoli and Brussel sprouts took away just enough of the creaminess so other aspects of the sauce began to emerge, like pepper and  garlic and chili and fennel. Granted, paprika was still the dominant spice force, but at least it wasn't by itself. 

I'd give this another try, but would be sure to grab some chicken or sausage or hamster-stuffed alligator (for the true Cajun experience) or something to mix in with some hearty pasta and veggies. That'd seem more like it. Some sauces are meant to shine, and others meant to throw assists to the meal components, and the TJ's Cajun alfredo seems to be the latter. By its lonesome, though? Pretty meh. We'll both toss it a 3. 

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Cajun Style Alfredo Sauce: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons. 

 

Trader Joe's Fruity Chewy Candy

I'm sure I've mentioned it on this blog before, but I grew up with numerous systemic food and environmental allergies. I was treated for and grew out of the food allergies, for the most part, while my environmental sensitivities still remain. None of the allergies were life-threatening, but my parents forbid me to consume any amount of the offending ingredients, among which were wheat, milk, and sugar. Just think about that. I was a kid who couldn't eat wheat or milk or sugar. The vast majority of meals and snack foods contain at least one of those things, if not all three.

So suffice it to say, it was a big deal to me when my reactions to such foods waned and my parents' resolve to keep me away from the banned substances abated. The first domino to fall was sugar. The world of tooth-rotting candies opened up to me for the first time when I was in my early tweens, and I quickly became a Starburst connoisseur. I'd go through an entire box during the course of a two hour movie, maybe sharing one or two pieces with my friends, reluctantly. I don't eat them nearly as much today, but when I saw Trader Joe's offered their very own store brand knockoff version, I had to try them.

Interesting. I thought I'd easily prefer the Trader Joe's version, but I'm not blown away. There's something odd and unfamiliar about TJ's candies that's hard to reconcile, especially after my decades-long affinity for name brand Starburst.

There are a lot of similarities, ingredients-wise, and also a few differences. Both have "corn syrup" as the number one ingredient. That's something I'd expect from mainstream candy companies, but not necessarily Trader Joe's. At least it's not high fructose corn syrup in either case. The second ingredient in both cases is "sugar," although the TJ's version specifies that it is, in fact, cane sugar. TJ's product employs the use of coconut oil in place of Starburst's hydrogenated palm kernel oil. I guess that's good. We don't want hydrogenated oils if we can help it.

Surprisingly, Starburst lists fruit juices from concentrate higher in their ingredients than Trader Joe's, which does contain "fruit juice" and "vegetable juice" in their "2% or less" section, which specifically serve as "color added." Starburst still uses chemical dyes like Red 40 and Yellow 5 for color, which are apparently somewhat carcinogenic. So...if you want your fruit chews sans cancer, that'd be a reason to reach for Trader Joe's brand.

Taste and texture-wise, I'm still going with the original Starburst over this Trader Joe's Fruity Chewy Candy. Each of the four classic flavors (orange, lemon, strawberry, cherry) is just ever so slightly less scrumptious than their name brand counterparts, and the raspberry flavor included here is even less memorable than any of the above. As an adult, I don't think I'll ever re-purchase this product at TJ's and I'll only ever eat about two Starburst at a time right around Halloween or Easter, so hopefully that's a small enough quantity to avoid death by fruit chews. If those food dyes are going to do me in, the damage was already done decades ago.

Sonia wasn't exactly overwhelmed by these candies, either, but she can't say she prefers Starburst hands down the way I can.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Chocolate & Peanut Butter Joe-Joe's Sandwich Cookies

 

Keep on...with the force, don't stop, don't stop til you get enough....

Classic Michael Jackson song, with extra advice to Luke Skywalker tossed in? Sure, I can roll with that. 

But yeah, there's many forces in the world, and as plain as that statement is, it's even more obvious that chocolate and peanut butter combined is one of them. Is there really any such thing as "getting enough" of that classic confectionary combo? 

In a word, yes, apparently. Because such is the case with Trader Joe's Chocolate & Peanut Butter Joe-Joe's Sandwich Cookies.

Take one of Joe-Joe's usual Oreofied sandwich cookies. He won't mind, and no, the name of the cookie isn't a "Joe-Joe" - that apostrophe in the title name denotes Joe-Joe's ownership of said cookie. I'm not a lawyer but I'm fairly certain a cookie cannot own itself. Anyways, take some peanut butter creme, sandwich between two chocolate wafers, coated in candified peanut butter, and drizzle chocolate atop. Voila. It's peanut butter inside chocolate inside peanut butter inside chocolate. A confection inception worthy of reflection...but it's not perfection.

It's all...just too much. Maybe I'm just getting old and sugar bombs like these don't hold the same appeal unless I'm in the right mood but, maybe, a line has to be drawn somewhere. What's the issue? Hrrmm. It's not the cookie itself - there's absolutely nothing wrong with a good ol' sandwich cookie, especially if it's got a nice creme-y peanut butter tinge. 

Nah, instead, let's go with the peanut butter candy shell. It tastes okay but still seems off - it's not quite the flavor or the texture but maybe somehow a little of both when shellacked over a cookie. There's a difference between regular peanut butter, peanut butter creme, and candy shell style peanut butter, of which of course the coating is the last of and my least favorite out of that trio. Add on top some chocolate drizzle and man...ate one, and had to take a breather afterwards. Had another a few minutes later and that pretty much sank my battleship for the rest of the day. Too sugary. Too rich. Too heavy. Just...too much. 

Maybe on the right day in the right mood these cookies would hit differently but yesterday, when sampled, was not the day. 

A small sleeve of eight cookies cost about $4, so make of that price point what you will. Not awful. And naturally they're awful for you as well. But on the plus side, there's an ampersand in the product name - those are becoming rarer these days. I don't love 'em, but don't hate 'em either. Nothing about them is screaming repurchase or avoid to me, unless my lovely bride has an opinion on them - I totally snuck them when she wasn't looking as payback for eating the whole donut we were gonna share the other day. Don't worry love, there's still some on top of the microwave and no it wasn't the kids - it was me. 

Meh, Let's just go down the middle. 

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Chocolate & Peanut Butter Joe-Joe's Sandwich Cookies: 5 out of 10 Golden Spoons. 

Trader Joe's Portuguese Custard Tarts

Ah, the Portuguese. First they gave us the man o' war, then they gave us Fado music, later Cristiano Ronaldo, and now these custard tarts. That's quite a legacy.

We have a couple of firsts here. The first first is that, at least as far as I can recall, this is the very first Trader Joe's product we've tried that's actually imported from Portugal. Sweet. I had an opportunity to go to Lisbon once, via train out of Madrid, Spain. I opted for Paris instead. Ah, well. Next time.

The second first is that, at least as far as I'm aware, TJ's is actually giving us air fryer heating instructions on the back of the package. About time. Sonia and I have been rocking a Ninja since Christmas time. You know that if Sonia and I, still attempting to live somewhat minimalistically, have jumped on that bandwagon, that it's high time you do too if you haven't already. Air fryers are friggin' awesome. I won't say this is the first Trader Joe's item we've heated in the air fryer, but I will say that it's the first time we're not just guesstimating times and temperatures and are actually following some real printed instructions...so we can blame Trader Joe's if it doesn't turn out all right.

I'm excited. Let's eat some tarts.

After heating, the tarts were just slightly darkened on the top, near where the custard intersects the breading. The smell wasn't very pungent. It was almost like a faint quiche type smell, by virtue of a very similar crust.

They were incredibly crumbly. The tarts seemed to want to fall apart upon taking a single bite out of them. They were almost explosive the way they flaked apart and spread crumbs all over the plate and surrounding tabletop. I wasn't sure whether to try eating them with a fork, pulling the tart from the little aluminum tray bite by bite, or whether I should just yank the whole thing out to attempt eating it by hand. Neither method was particularly successful at minimizing the crumb carnage. These are definitely not something to eat on the road while driving.

The custard was thick and surprisingly not too sweet. It was much more creamy and eggy than anything else. There's a warm, hearty, homemade quality to it. I'm sure if it were ever Americanized, they'd make the custard much sweeter. Not saying I'd prefer it that way, just pointing out that it's much more buttery than sugary.

$2.99 for four tarts. These would be pretty decent for either breakfast or an after-dinner dessert. They're like a little piece of Portugal right in your own air fryer. Four stars from Sonia. Three and a half from me.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Almond Butter Filled Pretzel Nuggets

What is it that can make certain snacks truly bingeworthy?

Let's see...Pringles are light, airy and crispy. Once you pop you can't stop, indeed. Cheese curls are just fun and salty and help unlock a little inner kid. Sour Patch Kids get that citric acid build up that hurts and stings so good.  Combos are more fun because usually my lovely bride and I snack on them on fun car trips, so there's a fun factor there. There's just some things I can't put down.

So what is it with Trader Joe's Almond Butter Filled Pretzel Nuggets?

Sure, peanut butter filled pretzel nuggets have been a thing pretty much since before the flood. I'll admit to liking pb'ed pretzels...but not loving them, despite being a huge aficionado of both respective components. Somehow, most before have been less than a sum of their parts. I can't binge on them even if I tried...

Not here. Nope. I swear, it's different somehow. Obviously it has to be the almond butter somehow...maybe it's just the slight novelty of a different nut butter filling, but it doesn't seem like that's the end of the story here. The almond butter in these newish TJ pretzel nuggz is softer and creamier than most Grade D pb scrapings inside most other snacks. It's just better, with a milder flavor, that accentuates the toasty crispiness of the pretzel shell just differently, with perhaps a lighter touch, than the usual stiff and vaguely possibly stale fillings of others. Instead, this stuff is just a delight...and this coming from a guy who elven times out of ten would choose peanut butter over almond butter as far as taste goes.

Everything else is on point and as expected - good tasty pretzel shell, a nice little touch of salty/sweet interaction, a bite size nuggets perfect for grabbing and popping. And really,  they'rejust downright good, in a wholesome way. My wife, kids and I polished off a whole bag in only about 5 minutes after school earlier this week, and none of us minded and we're already looking forward to popping into the cart again next trip. Tough to beat for the $3.99ish they cost, but be warned: bingeworthy indeed. None of us here can come up with a single complaint at all, and although not mindblowing, these snack nuggets are worthy of some serious recognition.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Almond Butter Filled Pretzel Nuggets: 9.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons
 

Trader Joe's Chips in a Pickle

Can you believe it's been over five years since Trader Joe's debuted their Popcorn in a Pickle? Makes you wonder what took them so long to put the same flavor on a chip. 

Also makes you wonder why we don't capitalize the "i" in "in" in this product title. I just used the word "in" three times in a row in a grammatically-correct sentence. Didn't set out to do that. But it happened. By that same token, why don't we capitalize the "b" in "but" in "Everything but the Bagel"? What style guide are we following here, Trader Joe? AP? Chicago? MLA? Meh, I'm getting off track here.

Where were we? Ah yes, the summer of '15. We'd just had a privacy fence installed around our property in South Jersey and were doing a lot of backyard camping. The world felt young and innocent and the birds in the trees chirped loudly for a sample of our pickle-flavored popcorn. These days the world feels tired and clownish and the birds in the backyard chirp loudly for a taste of our pickle-flavored potato chips. There's just no going back to the life we knew before.

But that's okay, because these are super tasty chips. I like them just a tad more than their corny counterparts. Sonia likes them just a tad less than the popcorn. Make no mistake, we both like the chips a good bit.

They went with kettle-cooked dark russet potatoes here. At first I was thinking maybe a lighter breed of potato might have allowed the dill pickle flavors to shine a little more, but honestly, this version works pretty well. The potatoes bring a good bit of flavor of their own, but it's balanced out by the taste of vinegar and dill.

I mentioned that I couldn't eat a ton of the pickle popcorn because I'd brine out pretty fast. These potato chips are chock full of sea salt, but I don't feel the need to stop eating after just a few. I want to keep shoveling them in my mouth. They're addictive. They flaunt the same sour vibe as a salt & vinegar chip, but the vinegar's not as intense, and there's onion and cane sugar and a few other ingredients that temper the vinegariness in this product.

As an aside, this isn't the first time TJ's has done a pickle potato chip, although those other ones were spicy, and these are not. I'm not sure if this will be a staple in our pantry all the time, but a repeat purchase or two will probably occur. $2.29 for the 6oz, 6 serving bag. Four stars from Sonia. Four and a half from me.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Ajika Georgian Seasoning Blend

 Just a quick hit today, really. Take a look at the new Trader Joe's Ajika Georgian Seasoning Blend. It's all orangey and reddish and dusty looking, right? Looks spicy. Now, if you could, open it up and take a waft - smells spicy too, right? But that's not it - got some garlic in there, a little fenugreek, some coriander, heck, maybe if I'd stop to smell the flowers I'd pick up a little marigold too. Smells goood  with more than just spice going for it. Shake out a little in your hand now and look - little dusty clumps. Good, good. And wet a fingertip and take a small taste...bam! Spice, spice, baby. Chile spice, garlic, coriander, that fenugreek again...lots going on here interplaying with one another. There's a lot going on when taken on by itself...

Which makes it so weird it all disappears when placed on, like, actual food. 

My first encounter with the TJ's ajika was not the encounter discussed up top. Nah, i just went for sprinkling some on some leftover chicken for lunch. Didn't know how to take it, so I proceeded with caution...and tasted nothing. Put on more, and there still wasn't much flavor. A little more and there was the beginning of something, but by then my meal looked nearly encrusted in spice, and still all I got was a little subtle spicy savory taste. Subsequent tastings with food - veggies, on eggs - were much the same. Just nah.

Which made my most recent encounter, prior to writing this, that much more surprising given my first impression, and gives me a little future hope for further implementation. Maybe I'm using this wrong and you can help me out here? I'm thinking that perhaps using it in the cooking process - perhaps on some meat before smoking or veggies before grilling or some stew before, well, stewing - rather than a last minute add on. Good things take time, right?

For now, it's a not bad mix, with some potential, and to be clear, is of Georgia of the former Soviet bloc and not the Georgia that's in the southeastern US. Just be clear...though maybe it'd work on peaches? Hrmmm. Will give a seven for now. 

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Ajika Georgian Seasoning Blend: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons.

Trader Joe's Cocoa Chile Spiced Pecans

Up until the age of 5 or so, I lived less than a block from famous Cocoa Avenue in Hershey, PA, walking distance from Hersheypark. The whole town smelled like cocoa, mostly from a cocoa bean mulch that everybody used in their gardens, but also because of the nearby chocolate factory. Being married to a Latina, I've tried all kinds of things slathered with chile powder or cayenne pepper that I probably wouldn't have otherwise—corn on the cob, mango, pineapple, papaya, hard candy, you name it—just about everything but pecans. So this product should be right up my alley, right? Leave it to Trader José to introduce...whoops! Didn't mean to offend anybody! Leave it to Trader Joe to introduce me to Cocoa Chile Pecans.

These pecans aren't as sticky sweet as I thought they might be. They are "candied" as noted on the bag, but not overly so. I think if they had been much sweeter, the chile wouldn't have shined through quite as much. The cocoa flavor is similar to a rich, earthy dark chocolate. It's not nearly as candy-esque as a typical chocolate coated nut.

The spice level is decent. There's not much kick up front, but it's one of those heats that creeps up on you at the finish. It builds up on your tongue as you gobble pecan after pecan. I'd say the cocoa is more prevalent initially, and it slowly gives way to a warm, throat-tingling cayenne pepper essence. There's also cinnamon listed in the ingredients, but it's barely detectable as an independent flavor by my estimation.

There's a little bit of a cough factor. That is, there's enough cocoa powder, chile powder, and powdered sugar that if I inhale at exactly the wrong moment—probably somewhere between the nut entering my mouth and getting it chomped down a good bit by my teeth—I have to hack a minimal amount of said powders out of my lungs. The cayenne pepper is particularly troubling to my respiratory system. Spice in the lungs is no joke, but I must admit, there's something invigorating about chile pepper in the old alveoli. That would make a great band name. "We are The Spicy Alveoli and we're here to rock!" 

$4.49 isn't super cheap for a product like this, but I can't say it isn't worth the price tag, either.  As long as you aren't hoping for something sticky sweet and don't mind the spice, these are worth a purchase if you ask us. Three and a half stars from yours truly. Cuatro estrellas de mi Sonita.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.