Trader Joe's Unsalted Organic White Corn Tortilla Chips

Ever since Sonia's mom had a rather serious stroke a couple years ago, we've been a little more cognizant of the dangers of high blood pressure and too much sodium in our diets. Fortunately, she's mostly recovered and pretty much back to normal now, but it was a long, challenging road to get there.

Shortly after her incident, I realized that my own blood pressure was way too high, as well. I wouldn't say I'm on a "low sodium diet" now per se, but I often intentionally select less salty options when possible.

At the recommendation of a couple of friends, we tried these chips for the first time a while back. At first, I was like, "Who in their right mind would eat tortilla chips with no salt?" But then if you really think about it, most of the time you're eating tortilla chips, you're eating them with something else: salsa, queso, guac, and all of those have their own salt in them. Do you really need to double up on salt? In my opinion, the answer is no. These chips are the proof.

Even though I didn't think I'd like them, I'm totally fine snacking on them plain. Somehow the lack of salt lets the natural flavor of corn shine a little more. And just as you'd assume, all of the above-mentioned fixins provide plenty of sodium content by themselves.

This has become one of our most frequent Trader Joe's purchases of all time and a staple in our household. It's very difficult to find completely salt-free chips in your average mainstream grocery store. We highly recommend you give them a try, even if you're a salt-o-phile like me. It might not be new or super exciting, but it's a classic TJ's product very much worthy of Pantheon status, in our humble opinions.

Perfect five stars from Sonia. Four and a half from me.

Bottom line: 9.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Shrimp Seafood Burgers

This is one of those non-beef products that's definitely not even trying to be a hamburger, so why call it a shrimp "burger" at all? I mean, really, it's shrimp and pollock fish and there's no way to make that combo taste like a beef hamburger. It's much more like a chicken patty in terms of texture, and maybe even a little bit in terms of flavor, too. Well, I can't say for sure why Trader Joe's went this route with the moniker, but I, for one, like the word "burger" better than the word "patty" for reasons I can't quite put my finger on, semantically accurate or not.

Taste-wise, it's about equal parts shrimp and pollock, and both flavors are balanced out by garlic powder and other "spices." I can't tell you what the other spices are, because Trader Joe's didn't tell me, but I can say that they're definitely detectable and also delectable by my reckoning.

The burgers are not hot nor spicy by any means, just flavorful and savory—not fishy at all, either. Another plus: they actually stay together when being consumed and don't disintegrate and crumble like some other patties we've seen from Trader Joe's. Must be the rice flour.

The four little discs come individually packaged. So far we've tried heating them on the skillet and also in the air fryer. Both methods yielded pleasant results and took comparable heating times, although the air fryer method was preferred just ever so slightly by both Sonia and me. The air fryer heating method wasn't listed on the packaging this time. We just winged it. I think it was about 375 degrees for 8 or 9 minutes.

The patties go well with condiments like sweet chili sauce, or you can burger them up and use a mild cheese and toppings like lettuce, mayo, and mustard. I can't see ketchup working too well with something like this, but I could be wrong. In general, ketchup is probably my favorite condiment for beef hamburgers, so it's not like I'm biased against it. I just don't do ketchup with fish, unless we're talking fish sticks, and even then I'd lean toward tartar sauce. Hmm. Tartar sauce might work as a topping for these things, too.

If you like the taste of shrimp, and you wouldn't mind trying it in a chicken patty-esque, puck-like format, then snag a box on your next TJ's run. 

Four burgers for $6.99. Four stars a piece on this one.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Crispy Jalapeño Pieces

 Another day, another quick hit. That's just how it rolls right now with my ever growing family as the world continues to reawaken. 

But no time for the details on all that. You want a real quick hit? Grab a shortie of Trader Joe's Crispy Jalapeño Pieces next time you see them. They're either $1.99 or $2.99...don't remember...doesn't matter. 

Crispy. Crunchy, A touch greasy. Fleshy. Spicy. A wee salty, And perfection. It was love at first sight. There's no way this go wrong, unless you're one of the odd types who wouldn't enjoy something like this. Grab a handful and place on whatever you're eating. Burger? Taco? Pizza? Salad? Eggs? Soup? Sandwich? Mashed potatoes? Mac n cheese? Heck, probably even ice cream? Yes, to all of those, and more. 

There's nothing magical or mystical here. It's just thin slices of jalapeño battered lightly and fried (presumably) into an irresistably crunchy topping. Or, let's be honest...snack. I ate nearly 2/3rds of a cannister all by myself, and stopped only because I didn't want my wife's ire to consume me while enjoying chili later on that night. These are amazing. 

My only critique? There were too few "big pieces" of pepper. Those pieces are the best, when your teeth cut thru the crispy shell and sink into that mildly spicy, fleshy jalapeño....man, I'm making myself hungry again. Love 'em, need more of 'em. There were quite a few middle sized guys and naturally a handful of empty fried crumbs. Those are all tasty as well...but we're here for the big tasty jalapeños. 

Get 'em, you won't regret 'em. Pair nicely with a hoppy IPA.  Delish, and darn near perfect. 

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Crispy Jalapeño Pieces: 9 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Strawberry Swirl Cheesecake

We've seen a lot of great sweet treats and after-dinner desserts from Trader Joe's over the years, and reviews of them generally do pretty well here on the blog. For example, our most popular post of all time by far, based on total page views, is my review of the original speculoos cookie butter. Or if you go by Farcebook likes, it's my review of cookie butter ice cream. Neither product is completely unique to Trader Joe's, but in both cases, they offered something that, at the time of release, wasn't widely available in the United States at your average, everyday grocery store. Those types of imported flavors tend to be the most popular, most successful, and in my opinion, most interesting offerings from Trader Joe's. For one thing, even if their speculoos cookie butter weren't the very best example of such a product, the average American shopper wouldn't even know the difference, because a good portion of us hadn't ever tried cookie butter at the point when TJ's made it popular.

However, most of us have had strawberry cheesecake...and I'd even venture to say most of us have tried very, very delectable, mouthwatering strawberry cheesecake that nears culinary perfection. So...if you're gonna tackle something with a high standard already established, you better bring your A game, you feel me?

Let's just say we're in a parallel reality where cheesecake hasn't come to America for whatever reason. It's popular in Europe and a few Yanks have tried it and they tell tales of this rich, sweet, creamy dessert when they come back stateside and get all their friends excited to either travel abroad or have some imported. Then Trader Joe's, out of the blue, begins offering Strawberry Swirl Cheesecake. Okay. Then I'd probably be pretty enthused. Everyone would be.

But I must say, not only is this not the best strawberry cheesecake I've ever had, but it's not even the best frozen cheesecake I've ever had. Archer Farms and Cheesecake Factory both make (or made) pretty decent offerings in that department.

This product might have been a contender if they'd simply swirled that strawberry gel all throughout the middle of the product. As it is, it's only on top. And it's by far the best part of the cheesecake, at least as far as Sonia and I are concerned. The cheesecake itself seems a little dull and boring, as cheesecakes go. The graham crust is pretty decent, I must admit.

It's a sweet dessert that's adequate for a small group for an after-dinner treat or what have you, and most people would be perfectly fine downing a slice or two, just so long as they don't overthink or overanalyze like I'm doing right now. But this isn't even the best cheesecake we've seen from Trader Joe's. It's not like they messed it up, but they didn't make it particularly memorable, either.

Three stars a piece from Sonia and me.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Pulled Jackfruit in Smoky BBQ Sauce

Though mainly carnivorous in nature, in all honesty, a little vegan meat substitution here and there doesn't bother me. Need proof? All the things TJ's sells, it was none other than the original TJ's soy chorizo that got me interested in helping jumpstart this here fine blog over ten years ago. Think I'm long, wordy, pointless, and all that now? Ha! You have no idea how lucky you kids are these days. 

That being said, I've been meaning to and wanting to try out Trader Joe's Pulled Jackfruit in Smoky BBQ Sauce for quite some time. Love pulled pork, but it doesn't always love me the same way back. I've heard rumors that jackfruit easily emulates all that pulled pork can offer, and well, here's an easy chance to draw my own conclusion at the expense of $1.99 and a minute in the microwave. 

Surprisingly, to a newbie like me, decent. Take a look at my product pic. It definitely looks the part, right? Saucy, stringly, a little chunky. At first glance I thought maybe onions were involved, but the ingredients make no mention of them, so i presume it's all jackfruit and sauce. 

The bite is definitely softer than even slow-and-low smoked pulled prok, and not as stringy either. I miss that little bite, but not the little bits that inevitably get stuck in my teeth, so there's that. There was a small plastic-y square in mine - not sure if actual part of package made it's way in, a foreign intruder at the packing plant, or just a pretty not-so-great part of jackfruit. Cast aside without much drama and worries.  Everything else was great - small strands, bigger chunks with more "meat" to them - but no bark though. Oh well. 

The fruit itself is mild, without much flavor by itself. That works because that really helps take on the flavor of the sauce...and man. this BBQ Sauce is pretty legit. Thick, a touch sweet, tangy, with a upper medium kick - it's definitely Kansas City, the American classic, style. I wouldn't say "smoky" quite as much but the little touch that's there iss okay - if liquid smoke were added for the kill shotit'd be an absolutely no go for me. Hate that junk. As it was, that BBQ sauce was finger-lickin' good.

In all it was definitely a decent lunch. I ate mine plain in a bowl, but I think it'd go well over rice. In a sandwich, with a sturdy roll, I feel the texture of the carbs would heavily outweigh the bite of the fruit, so all would be tasted and sensed would be sauce. For the cost and convenience I'll absolutely buy again without a dount. My lovely bride opted for something else for lunch, but I was happy to nosh down the entire package myself as not much of a stomach stretcher. Without going into detail, I'm having some mild digestive issues which I can only really attribute to the jackfruit, but it's nothing too troublesome. Tasty, tasty, tasty, and pretty darn good. Here's another fake meat win for you, TJ's!

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Pulled Jackfruit in Smoky BBQ Sauce: 8.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons. 

Trader Joe's Crispy Onion Chips

I never really got Funyuns.

Considering how much I love the taste of onions, I'm just never in the mood to have oily corn meal rings that vaguely taste like the popular root vegetable. I mean, they're not terrible. I just always wondered why they couldn't have some actual onion bits in them. 

Sure, they're optimized for sitting in unrefrigerated vending machines for weeks or months at a time, which wouldn't work with real onion pieces. But what if the onion pieces were dehydrated? Hmm. Then we might have a real winner.

And what if, furthermore, there was no cornmeal at all and the only ingredients were "onions, rice bran oil, and salt"? Well, then, my friends, you would have these: Trader Joe's Crispy Onion Chips.

I'm not saying everybody will enjoy these unique chips as much as I do. In fact, I'd be shocked if many people are with me on this one. The chips flaunt a texture not unlike that of styrofoam. Crispy? Yes, but they melt in your mouth in the most delightful and unexpected way.

The natural flavor of onions is on full display here. They almost taste like a rice-based snack, dusted with some complex array of garlicky additives and exotic seasonings. There's even something buttery about them. But all that's there is onion, salt, and oil. Amazing, really. 

If you don't have a weird affinity for onions like Sonia and I do, you might not be as enthused. But for all onion-lovers, I'd say these are worth at least one purchase. $2.69 for the 1.4 oz bag. It says it's one serving, but even Sonia and I managed to stretch it to multiple sittings. If you eat this whole bag all at once, then dang, I guess you must really, really like onions.

Four and a half stars from me. Four and a half from the wifey.

Bottom line: 9 out of 10.

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.