Trader Joe's Organic Cold Brewed Hibiscus Tea & Lemonade Beverage

It's starting to warm up in the southwest, and folks down here will be needing refreshment soon. Whether you'll be mowing lawns like I'm accustomed to, or tilling gravel like they do down here, you'll be craving a cold beverage of some kind. So let me give it to you straight: if you're into drinking flowers, this hibiscus tea lemonade hybrid is pretty darn refreshing.

Although, if you want to get into semantics, I must admit no part of this screams "lemonade" to me. There's just a hint of sweetness, but the lemon element tastes more like plain lemon juice to me. That's not necessarily a bad thing. I do enjoy sweet beverages historically, but not-so-sweet, subtle flavors definitely have their place—and this product embodies that sophisticated, understated ideal perfectly.

There's a surprising amount of sediment on the bottom of the bottle. I'm not even sure what it is: little pieces of hibiscus flowers? It does say "shake well before using" on the label. Whenever I can see visible bits of sediment, I always worry that the beverage will have a gritty texture, but this selection didn't at all—light and smooth all the way.

I'm on record on this blog stating that I don't like hibiscus that much. And it's still not my favorite, but I must say it didn't bother me as much in this case as it has in previous incarnations. I think the sourness of the lemon juice helps balance out the "plantiness" of the flowers.

Since readers have scolded me when I score something that I generally have an aversion to, such as hibiscus, I'll let Sonia do all the rating here. She likes hibiscus just fine, and she gives this drink four stars. So I'll just double her score. If you want to know what I would have given this product: a three, maybe three and a half. Hibiscus still just isn't my thing. I'll take flavored sparkling water over this kind of beverage if I want something unsweet, and I'll reach for a fruit juice blend if I want something a little more sugary. 

If I were hella thirsty, though, you better bet I'd down this bottle in seconds.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Organic Chocolate Chip Cookies

My poor wife.

Sandy had just finished a long day at work and a run with a friend. She had no chance to go home for dinner before our usual kids dance class routine. She also gave up sweets for Lent...but she was pretty hungry...and of course I forgot to grab her a dinner as I was too busy wrangling all our own kids plus one more through dinner and out the door to get to said dance class, and I remembered everything except her dinner...and it'd be at least an hour til we got home...and all I had was Trader Joe's Organic Chocolate Chip Cookies with me (i.e., kid bait to get them all moving)...

Husband fail. She broke Lent because of me. It wasn't her fault. I think God will understand.

Worth it? Maybe. I mean, these are really pretty basic snacky chocolate chip cookies. Of course, even a middlin' chocolate chip cookie is pretty tasty in my book.

What these cookies really have going for them more than anything else is at least the perception of quality ingredients. Good stuff in equals a good outcome more times than not. The closest approximation to a name brand cookie I could make for these TJ's snacksters would be Famous Amos - similar in size, feel, taste - except these just taste better in a not totally quanitifiable kinda way. Maybe it's just that word "organic" messing with me.

Regardless, these cookies are worth a try, especially if in need for a portable confectionary motivator for either yourself or the juvenile crowd. There's five mini cookies to a serving - you should see a four year old's eyes light up when you tell her she can eat five cookies if she'll just get her little biscuits moving. It works like a charm. Good, not great, cookies. Kid approved, mama and dada approved, and budget friendly at less than $3 for the baggie, so they do have all that going for them. Yumz.


Bottom line: Trader Joe's Organic Chocolate Chip Cookies: 7.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Organic Thick & Chunky Salsa

At first, this fine salsa didn't look new to me. Not completely. I felt like it had been well-established on TJ's shelves for years and years. Yet it was being marketed as "new."

How could that be?

Oh yeah.

Nearly nine years ago, we looked at this salsa's predecessor on this blog. Back then, it wasn't organic. At least not certified organic. This new stuff has the seal of approval from Quality Assurance International. Conspiracists will tell you that the New World Order will be rolling out a single world government, a single world currency, and a single world religion. I'm pretty sure QAI will be the folks responsible for planning the single world menu for all work, school, and dissident camp cafeterias.

Or maybe they just make sure stuff is really organic when people say it's organic.

Either way, we'll just have to trust them. And I do. My gut tells me this salsa's organic. It just tastes and feels fresh and invigorating somehow. Sonia said the exact same thing upon first bite without any prompting from me.

It's also bold. Where its predecessor was simply "chunky," this product is thick and chunky. It's like if that previous incarnation were the mild-mannered mortal version of the product, then this is the post-spider bite/science experiment gone horribly wrong/exposure to radiation superhero version of the salsa. 

It's got nice big pieces of tomatoes and peppers, and some onion bits are visible as well as tastable. There's some garlic flavor and juuust a hint of flavors like vinegar and salt. It's a well-rounded tomato-based salsa in almost every way.

We're dealing with half a chili pepper on the spice-o-meter, which means it has enough heat to scare away wusses and crybabies (no offense, spice-o-phobes) but not enough to administer searing pain to all who partake. I'm pretty happy with the spiciness here. I don't know if things are starting to bloom out here in the southwestern desert, or whether its the drier climate or higher amounts of dust in the air, but Sonia and I both need a little spice to open up our sinuses lately. Somehow, salsa just tastes better in the southwest.

Anyway, if the original version of this salsa made our Pantheon, then this organic version most definitely will also. It pairs nicely with another recent addition to our best of the best category—but then again, those dippers pair up with just about anything pretty well. Both are very tasty products.

Closing thought: this salsa's only $2.49! How is that even possible?

Bottom line: 9.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Organic Elote Corn Chip Dippers

Well, here's a rare sighting that just so happened to be captured on camera:

An opened bag of Trader Joe's Organic Elote Corn Chip Dippers, in my house, that hasn't been completely ransacked and emptied somehow.

I mean, sorry, about the rip up top. We usually strive to take a photo of an unopened item. It kinda presents better. It's really kinda an amatuer move on our part. Party foul.

But man...have you tried these yet?

Holy smokes.

Sandy and I are now on our fourth in less than a week, which for people who try to not eat a lot of "junk food"... is a lot of "junk food."

What's there not to love about these elote chips? Not familiar with elote? Neither are we, to be perfectly honest. but these chips got me begging for another trip to Mexico to have a try at the real deal. Until then, I'll happily make do with these.

The spice blend is pretty complex for a chip. It's sneaky as it builds and builds in intensity. The first few bites are pretty mild. A little heat, sure, but that's when I particularly noticed the creamy buttermilk flavor these chippies offer. But then the rest of it comes on about three or four bites in. There's habanero spice and good pepper bite and all sorts of other things really going on that I'm not 100% sure how to explain except....dang. It's smoky and creamy and spicy all in one, in a way I've never experienced before on a chip.

Add on top of that the incredible texture here. Oh goodness. These corn chips are almost soft and crumbly and a little bit mealy to an almost melt in your mouth essence. They're still crunchy, to be sure, but not in a typical tortilla chip or Frito kinda way.

I've heard some comparisons to Cool Ranch Doritos...no, no, no. I mean, I get the basis for comparison for the elote chips...there are some similar elements...but these chips are better, so much better. I tasted both side by side while tailgating for baseball's opening day, and the TJ's Mexican corn chips absolutely blow Doritos out of the water, by a long shot.

These chips are awesome just by themselves. Really, yes, they are made for dipping into something, but it's 100% not necessary. Unless you have guacamole. Oh man. Pair them up and you'll see. My goodness.

They're $2.29 a serving, I mean bag. I need to stop buying them. I don't want to. Sandy loves them just as much as I do, I think....which is a lot. I cannot think of a single negative thing to say. Amazing. I want to go finish off that bag right now...it's open and taunting me...double fives for the first perfect ten on anything on here since I have no idea when.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Organic Elote Corn Chip Dippers: 10 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Fresh Mozzarella Cheese Sticks

As a young bachelor, I wasn't much into eating cheese by itself. It just never appealed to me. I was fine with cheese on sandwiches, pasta, pizza, and other stuff—you know, the usual suspects. But as a married man, I've learned to live with a woman who almost always has cheese on hand in our fridge—and not just slices of cheese or shredded cheese, but variants of cheese that were designed to be eaten as stand-alone snacks: those little wheels of Babybel, for example and, of course, various brands of string cheese like Frigo or Polly-O.

At this point, I should pause and clarify something that most of you probably realize already: this is not string cheese. Foodie-hack that I am, I tore into one thinking it was. As I removed the entire plastic sleeve, I wondered why there was so much liquid surrounding the cheese, now spilling out of the packaging and onto my pants and the floor. Then I proceeded to grip the top of the cheese stick and pull down in a peeling motion. Not only did the cheese not peel as anticipated, but a little disc of it wanted to separate from the top in an unexpected way. I popped the little piece into my mouth and immediately realized: this product isn't like other cheap sticks of string cheese that kids constantly crave. This product is far more akin to those expensive mozzarella balls that cost something like $6 or $7 at the supermarket—the kind that's simple, subtle, and super gourmet.

Indeed, these are quality mozzarella balls in stick form. They're cheese sticks for a more refined palate. I'm not saying your kids won't like them. I'm just saying that if they do, they've got refined tastes. I've had some top-shelf mozzarella at county fairs and arts festivals, and for $4 at Trader Joe's, this product isn't a far cry from those other upscale offerings.

It's a clean, light, milky flavor that will be perfect for warmer weather. 

These sticks aren't heavy, gooey, or overpowering in any way. They're super soft, too. There are delightfully few ingredients. I could see them working well in antipasto, or pairing with olives, tomatoes, bruschetta, or any other Italian foods with subtle flavors, but I must admit they make pretty satisfying snacks just by themselves. Sonia's a bit more of a cheese connoisseur than I am, and she enjoys these even more than I do.

If you like the subtle flavors of fresh mozzarella and ever wanted to enjoy them in a convenient, snackable form, this isn't a bad purchase at all. Four and a half stars from my better half. Three and a half stars from me.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Garlic Salt with Grinder

Let's see...

Sea salt.

Roasted garlic.

Onion.

Ampersand.

Parsley.

In a grinder tube.

That's all, that's it. That's all it is and there ain't no mo'.

It's so simple. It's almost too simple, some might say. But somehow, Trader Joe's Garlic Salt with Grinder is bordlerine magic.

I'm not sure what the sorcery behind this is. Maybe it's extra salty and delicious sea salt, because that comes on strong. Or perhaps it's extra roasty and pleasantly pungent garlic. I mean, open the cap and it'll smack ya upside the olfactories. That garlic permeates every sprinkle of every bite. Maybe it's the onion and parsely helping give the salt and garlic a solid base that holds it all in near perfect harmony. Maybe it's perfect ratios. Maybe it's the grinder making perfectly sized granules that have a little crunch and got dispersed all over whatever.

Maybe it's all of the above.

And listen...typically I'm not a "put salt on everything" kinda guy. Added salt is, to put it mildly, generally not good for you. My day job consists partially of reading and evaluating cardiac patient medical notes...and over and over again: No salt diet. Patient advised to restrict salt intake. Low sodium diet encouraged. And so on and so on.

But everything in moderation, right? And if you're gonna sprinkle more salt on your dinner or whatever, make sure it's a good one!

I want to put this on everything. I discovered this garlic salt grinder at a dinner with friends a few nights ago. Plain cheese pizza...good but not great. Grind some of this TJ's garlic salt on though? Transformative! Since then, I've used some on veggies, eggs, quiche, cous cous. I've thought of making garlic bread with it. About the only thing it didn't taste good on was some homemade coconut ice cream my kids made...but even that wasn't as awful as it sounds. Not recommended though for sure.

I love it. Sandy loves it. Everyone who tried it loved it at the dinner - it was the absolute hit. There's something magic here, I swear. And for $1.99 it ain't a bad price either. It's just that simple.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Garlic Salt with Grinder: 9 out of 10 Golden Spoons 

Trader Joe's Milk & Dark Chocolate Sea Salt Caramel Popcorn

Growing up, most of us were aware of Whoppers—the candies, not the burgers. They weren't super high on my list of preferred treats, nor were they highly sought after by most of my cohorts. There were one or two oddballs in our class that liked them, but by and large, they seemed to be a snack favored by older generations. 

I can even remember my father talking about "malted milk balls" to some of my young friends and I when we were kids. All of us youngsters looked at each other asking, "What the heck is a 'malted milk ball'?" "That sounds gross," we unanimously agreed. It wasn't until much later that when aged folks would refer to malted milk balls that we youngsters would reply, "Oh. You mean Whoppers." I'd reluctantly consume them when they'd show up in my annual bag of Halloween spoils, but it was rare that I actually wanted or craved a malted milk ball.

These coated popcorn pieces are obviously not malted milk balls, per se. However, they remind me of them somewhat in terms of size, shape, color, flavor, and texture—and I feel very much the same about both types of candy in the end. It's hard to hate candies like this completely, but for Sonia and I, it's also hard to wholly embrace them.

The crispy inner portion—where the malted milk would have traditionally hidden—has been replaced with popcorn. It's not the first time we've seen this kind of thing at TJ's. Those reindeer dealies come to mind. In this instance, though, we see both milk and dark chocolate. Half of the pieces are just a deeper shade of brown. It takes a bit of discernment to distinguish the two flavors, though, predictably, I do prefer the milk chocolate version slightly if I really pay attention. Sonia didn't care to declare a favorite, although in general, she likes dark chocolate a bit more.

There is a thin layer of caramel between the chocolate and the popcorn, and there is, of course, salt, but both Sonia and I think the chocolate overpowers any "salted caramel" aspects of the candy. I'm not saying it's not there. I'm just saying if you want something to register as "salted caramel," you shouldn't slather it with a bunch of chocolate necessarily. Sonia doesn't even think the popcorn element is prevalent enough.

If you're craving something chocolatey and don't mind that popcorn and caramel aren't all that prominent, you still might enjoy these little guys. $2.99 for the bag. Sonia likes the packaging. It's all Eastery and springy and vernal and stuff. I guess Trader Joe's is replacing the Easter Bunny with an Easter Bear because they come out of hibernation this time of year...? Also because bears eat tons of chocolate...? And they hide in fields of daffodils...? 

Sonia said it was cute. She didn't say it made sense.

In the end, these candies just aren't very memorable in our opinions, and we probably won't buy them again. Double threes.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Organic Coconut Almond Chia Cereal

Just as in childhood, there are subtle yet unmistakable steps of maturation in adulthood, right? Or at least, definite benchmarks of getting old. Like...

...realizing your bald spot is, in fact, pretty bald.

...waking up and being sore for no apparent reason.

...turning down the volume while blasting '90s music alone in your car because it's "too loud."

...realizing the only reason why you're listening to Pearl Jam is because only God knows what the kids are listening to these days but my goodness it sounds like garbage. Drake? Post Malone? Cardi B? Who are these people?  Are they people? Or robots? Because robots make music these days. Crazy.

And most pertinent to this review: realizing that some cereal tastes much better without any added sugar.

Such is the case with Trader Joe's Organic Coconut Almond Chia Cereal.

That's a lot of natural goodness here. The inherent earthy graininess of the flakes. Tasty toasty almond slivers. Light coconut flavor all abound. If anything there's a lack of chia seed clusters, at least in the top half of the box thus far...maybe them little buggers worked all their way down.

Listen to me. Complaing about not enough chia seeds in my cereal. I do sound old.

It's tasty, tasty cereal for sure. And I'm not usually a cereal person. The flakes are solid and crunchy enough to be fully submerged in milk and still maintain a high factor of munchitude. Probably, if you're a yogurt and cereal person, this would work. And even adding some banana wouldn't be the worst idea.

My one small complaint, though: When I added milk, some of the bites tasted almost vaguely buttery. I'm wondering if it was the wetness unleashed/embellished some of the coconut and oil a little bit. It's not noticeable when dry, and I didn't taste it as much the second time around...but it was a little weird.

All those grains...and proteins...and fiber...and calories...this is hearty, filling cereal for sure! A few small handfuls killed my hunger for quite some time.

Anyways I mentioned the "tastes worse when sugar added" thing to Sandy, and she gave me one of those "well duh" looks before stating many cereals taste that way. It's worth noting she's almost exactly two years older than me and females mature quicker than males and all that...so I'm catching up, love. But yeah, extra sugar kinda kills off half the good stuff about this cerea. Which is a shame because it's pretty darn good in fact. 4.5 from me, 3.5 from the older, maturer missus.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Organic Coconut Almond Chia Cereal: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons  

Trader Joe's Organic Dark Chocolate PB&J Minis

Ah, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. "Sandwiches." Did I ever tell you guys that when Sonia and I first started dating, I noticed she pronounced "sandwich" funny? I learned quickly that it's basically the same word in Spanish as it is in English, and she was pronouncing it the Spanish way. It's almost like "sandweech" in Spanish. Also, the "a" sound in the first syllable tends to be enunciated more when a Spanish-speaker says it. I mean, maybe that's just my opinion, but the bottom line is that I immediately seized the opportunity to make fun of her to no end like a good boyfriend should. I began exaggerating her odd pronunciation more and more every time sandwiches would come up in conversation. "Saandweech" became "saandoweech" became "saandamoweeacha" and so on. At first, she was slightly miffed but then eventually succumbed to the absurdity of my annoying attempts at mocking her and started smiling when I said the word. To this day, I can't say the word "sandwich" around her normally, and we both kind of chuckle when I find a way to butcher the word even further.

However, like its 2013 predecessor, this candy is definitely NOT a PB&J sandwich, nor is it trying to be one. It's just a one-of-a-kind candy—well, I guess it's a two-of-a-kind candy now...sort of.

Let's start with the similarities. Both this candy and the PB&J chocolate bar have peanut butter, raspberry jelly, and chocolate. Both are snacktastic, TJ's-esque, and have exactly one thing in common with a PB&J sandwich: peanut butter—two if you're a weirdo that makes PB&J sandwiches with raspberry jelly. 

As far as dissimilarities go, there are quite a few. The product is organic now. It's miniature and individually-wrapped. They're using dark chocolate here instead of milk chocolate and—it's been a while since I've had a PB&J chocolate bar—but I think there's a bit more jelly in this mix. Sonia thinks the extra bit of jelly works since the sweet and tart of the jelly is balanced by the bitter aspects of the dark chocolate, as opposed to milk chocolate. Also, she wished for more jelly in the bar version—and now she got her wish. 

I agree that dark chocolate works better when there's more jelly, but I still prefer the combo of milk chocolate and not that much raspberry jelly. Another gripe about this product: I feel like these are way too big for a single bite, but they get quite messy if you bite them in half. In short, I like the bar a tad more, Sonia likes these minis a tad more. At $2.99 for the bag of eight squares, it's definitely a fun snack worth a purchase or two. 

The little missus gives these four stars. I give them three and a half.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.