Trader Joe's Sticky Pumpkin Cake with Hard Sauce

When I first read the title of this product, I assumed the "hard sauce" was referring to some sort of a solid sauce—like that Magic Shell stuff that you put on ice cream. And since ice cream is featured so prominently on the cover photo, I then wondered if maybe they stuck some ice cream in the box. I mean, this product comes from the frozen section, so it wouldn't have been outside the realm of possibility to cram a pouch or cup of vanilla ice cream in there somehow. Then, of course, I saw the little caption that says "...just a serving suggestion" and realized there was no ice cream. I frowned and mentioned it to Sonia. She, too, felt deceived by the artistic rendering of an à la mode dessert on the packaging. I was then further frustrated when I realized the "hard" part of the sauce was, in fact, dark rum, rather than a substance that shifted states of matter from a sticky syrupy liquid to a solid candy shell in a matter of minutes or seconds, right before my eyes.

After consoling one another about the tragic absence of ice cream from the box, as well as the equally disappointing presence of hard liquor in lieu of Magic Shell, we pulled ourselves together and proceeded with the preparation of our dessert. We flipped the package over and discovered that the only heating instructions provided involve a 1200 watt microwave. Now it's been pointed out many times on this blog that I'm quite adept at using the microwave for my culinary endeavors, while my skills with an oven or stove-top have generally lagged behind those of my peers. However, it should be mentioned at this juncture that Sonia and I have actually done without a microwave for the past three or four months. We have our own reasons for not purchasing a replacement microwave right now, but mainly, we just wanted to see if we could do without it. And surprisingly, neither of us have missed it very much. That is, until the day we went to heat up this sticky pumpkin cake.

At wit's end after the triple dose of first-world problems dished out by this syrupy, seasonal Trader Joe's pastry, I frantically searched the interwebs for a ray of hope concerning a viable alternate heating method. Thanks to the magic of Google, I quickly stumbled upon a thread on Chowhound involving some other poor microwaveless fool and his Trader Joe's Sticky Toffee Pudding, a wintery cousin of this autumnal pumpkin dish. (Sonia and I actually reviewed that one last year, and we should have remembered that it was to be heated only in the microwave, but now we're in our late thirties, our memories simply aren't what they used to be.) Long story short, I modified the advice given in the Chowhound thread and floated the pumpkin cake (yes, it floats!) in a large lidded pot on the stove-top, boiling the water all around it, thus steaming it, heating it, and yet maintaining a level of moisture that could never be achieved in the oven or regular stove-top pan.

At any rate, it worked quite well, and wow, I guess I should get to my thoughts on the actual food product before this review goes over a thousand words and you still don't know what we think of this product. It's good. There's definitely some pumpkin spice flavor, but it's blended in with heavy notes of the above-mentioned dark rum and caramel. The syrup is rich, lavishly sweet, and super smooth. The pecan pieces are a nice touch, and they add not only nuttiness to the taste, but a bit of crunch to the texture. 

It's really a delicious dessert, but we do have a few reservations. I'm sure it would be even better with vanilla ice cream to balance out the heaviness of the rum-caramel. And it would probably be even better with more pecans, too. If you're hugely into pumpkin spice products, this might be something you'll want to pick up, but if you're on the fence or if pumpkin spice and rum just isn't your thing, you're better off waiting until December and picking up the sticky toffee pudding. Despite our affinity for all things pumpkin, we both enjoyed that one just a little bit more, although this one's nothing to complain about by any means.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Grainless Granola

Some of our longer tenured readers may recall me prattling on and on a couple years ago about the Paleo diet I was doing. Not really wanting to rehash it all in detail, so for the uninitiated, here's the TL;DR version: For years I was severely overweight before starting a exercise and Paleo diet regime that resulted in me losing 100 pounds. It's been nearly a year and a half since I hit that century mark, and I've kept but a small handful of those pounds off thus far. And while I don't follow a Paleo diet too strictly any more, I still dabble with it here and there when given the choice, and so it's still kinda part of my ongoing weight loss maintenance program.

It's somewhat late to the party, but here's Trader Joe's Grainless Granola. Kinda wonder what took TJ's so long. A couple years ago when being discontinued in local Targets, I bought every last sackful of Renola in the greater Pittsburgh region. So, I'm pretty familiar with these kinda caveman-friendly mixes of fruits, nuts and seeds, although I still can't figure out why they're referred to as a "granola."

It's a good mix overall...but a bit odd. There's no real crunch or crispiness or anything. Instead, it seems as if perhaps the moisture of the dates permeated the nuts (cashews and walnuts) and seeds (sunflower and pumpkin) so almost everything is a soft, slightly smushy, uniform texture. That's not necessary a bad thing, but it cuts down on the snacky factor of it, and could present issues for those wishing to sprinkle some on top of some yogurt or oatmeal. The dates and dried bananas seemed to clump a tad bit, too, so if that's not your thing, beware.

Also, you gotta like cinnamon. A lot. This stuff has a massive dose of cinnamon that'll smack your nostrils when the bag opens and be present in every bite. It's not enough to override any the individual components, thank goodness, because there's plenty of "as-is" natural flavor in the granola. There's also a small smattering of vanilla, but it's not as even or present as the cinnamon, which is fine.

A few small handfuls filled the hunger hole for a good amount of time. I kept a bag at my work desk for a few days and happily munched, and wasn't 'til I was throwing out the bag that I noticed that it said to keep refrigerated after opening....umm, why? Nothing perishable in there. Someone please explain.

Anyways, the sack cost $3.99 which is about right for a snack mix of this nature. You could probably make your own for a little less, but, well, convenience. It's what separates us from the cavemen.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Grainless Granola: 7.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons.

Trader Joe's Ghosts & Bats

Well now that October's here, I think it's high time we reviewed these seasonally-appropriate, Halloween-themed snacks: ghosts and bats. Albino bats, apparently. In fact, the "bats" in this bag are nothing more than ghosts with wings. Both shapes represent fittingly ethereal characters—light, airy, and barely there.

And that's kind of how I'd describe the taste of these potato-based snacks: extremely subtle. They're like baked potato chips or crisps, but without any added flavors. "Salt" can be found on the ingredients list, but these are among the least salty chips I've ever had. It's not necessarily a bad thing. Especially around Halloween, when candy and chocolate are everywhere, a break from the fat and calories can be quite welcome.

On the other hand, if I had to pick one type of low-calorie chip to eat for the rest of my life, Ghosts & Bats would definitely not be my first choice. I like chips with a little seasoning at least—maybe some barbecue flavor or sour cream taste. That's not to say you couldn't dress these up a bit yourself. In fact, Sonia said they remind her of "duros de harina" or "duritos," a Mexican wheat-based snack, often served spritzed with lemon or lime juice and chili powder. 

So we tried these chips with a few drops of lemon and a dash of chili, and sure enough, it made them significantly more interesting. The theme suddenly changed from Halloween to Dia de los Muertos—but they're basically the same holiday, minus the part where Mexican folk leave meals in the cemetery for their dearly departed family members.

The crispiness of these ghostly chips is pleasant. There's a delicate crunch to them that's far more interesting than their flavor, in my opinion. They are prone to staleness, however. We kept our bag shut with a rubber band we had laying around in the kitchen, and after just a few days, the chips were noticeably more...styrofoam-like, for lack of a better word.

In summary, these chips are fun and crispy, but they lack a certain something in the flavor department. Three stars from me. Three and a half from Sonia.

Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Boffo! Bar

"Boffo."

It's an adjective that means "extremely good or successful" according to Merriam Webster. It can also be used as a noun meaning simply "a success" according to my top Google results.

What I can't find is anyone who actually uses this word anymore, and I'm not going to start. At least it has a more positive connotation to its name than another, similar candy bar, that's perhaps a tad more famous and ubiquitous, named after a verb that means to "derisively sneer or laugh" at someone or something. Maybe it's not itself when it's hungry.

Well, alright, alright...what's the difference between a Trader Joe's Boffo! Bar and a Snickers? Hrmm...peanuts, caramel and nougat enrobed in milk chocolate. Could describe either adequately. Well, they're different...hugely different...and definitively, absolutely not the same, and Boffo!s (Boffos!?) are not pulled from the reject pile at the Mars factory...

Don't believe me? Fact check: Boffo!s weigh 1.8 ounces, as opposed to Snickers weighing 1.86, and as a result, have 10 less calories. So ha!

Well, okay...there are other differences which admittedly the wife and I wouldn't have picked up on if we hadn't eaten half a Boffo! and half a Snickers back to back, because, you know, science. Take a gander at the two dissected candy bars I put up a pic of: first one is the Boffo!, followed by the Snickers. The Boffo!, though smaller, has a chunkier feel to it than a Snickers, and whereas, to me, Snickers seem to rely more on peanuts and caramel with nougat playing second fiddle, it's the opposite for the Boffo! The nougat of a Boffo! comprises more of the innards, with a lighter, drier, and "foamier" feel to it, with only a faint ribbon of caramel up top, and it's decidedly lighter in the nuts department (sorry, had to *snicker* at that). On the whole Boffo! bar there were maybe six or seven peanut pieces, which seems lacking given the standard out there. But that nougat though - tasty stuff. The Boffo! chocolate also seems a tad more on the dark side, though still not dark chocolate by any stretch.

Repeat buy? Maybe. There's a time and place for an easily accessible, quick appetite smusher that sometimes involves the TJ checkout line. But compared to other of TJ's fine candy bar selections, this one is decidedly more utility than luxury. And I'm not a huge Snickers-type guy either...I mean, I'll be shameless when taking the "daddy tax" out of my kids' trick-or-treat bags, but there's plenty others I'd reach for first. Like Butterfingers...Anyways, it's 99 cents which seems to be the going rate for candy bars these days. Nothing too strong to say one way or another - not TJ's strongest performance, but nothing to make too much jest of, either. Check the nutritional stats here.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Boffo! Bar: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Pumpkin Vinaigrette

Since you all know my blogging buddy Russ is a huge fan of pumpkin products, as well as salad dressings, of course I had to race to the local TJ's to purchase this product and beat him to the review. But here I sit, dumbfounded by this enigmatic dressing. Of all the hundreds of foods, beverages, and condiments we've reviewed these past six years, this might be one of the hardest to describe, as far as taste is concerned. We've seen every kind of pumpkin product, as well as plenty of salad dressings, but for some reason this one was hard to pin down for me. I couldn't even tell if I really liked it or not. But like a brave li'l foodie-hack, I'll attempt to tackle it anyway. Here goes nothing.

Okay, so the first thing that jumped out at both Sonia and I was that this dressing is surprisingly sweet. Like sweet is probably the first word either of us would use to describe it. It's not sweet like you'd use it as an ice cream topping kind of sweet. It's just sweet for the world of salad dressings. It doesn't taste at all like pumpkin pie or pumpkin spice—there's no cinnamon, nutmeg, clove, or allspice. And none of those spices would work here, so they're not missed. It does, however, taste like pumpkin, as pumpkin puree is the main ingredient. It has a squash-like essence. I guess that's because pumpkin is a type of squash. Sonia thought it tasted more like butternut squash than pumpkin, but I think I might have picked out the pumpkin flavor even if this had been a blind taste-test. But I'm probably overestimating my taste buds. My brain can't see a bright orange label with the word "PUMPKIN" written on it and taste anything other than pumpkin. I'm highly suggestible like that.

But beyond the pumpkin is where the flavor gets really complex. There's olive oil, dijon mustard, white wine, and turmeric in this stuff. And wow, it's like there's a fall festival in my mouth and everyone's invited. Yet I wouldn't say the flavor is super intense—it's just...complicated. It's not completely unlike other vinaigrettes, there's just more going on here.

Texture-wise, it's oily and somewhat thick. Toward the beginning of the bottle, there were little yellowish globs of what I can only assume would be pumpkin puree. None of said yellow globs were around by the time we snapped the above photo. But you can still get a vague idea about the product's viscosity, hydraulic stability, and other physical properties from the pic. And yes, I like a little salad with my chick peas. I call it the "garbanzaganza."

All I can say is, if you're into pumpkin, dressing, and consider yourself an adventurous eater, this stuff's worth checking out. And hey, if you're not into it, Trader Joe's has an excellent return policy. What's there to lose? Sonia gives it four stars. I think it's a little too weird for four stars, but I am glad we tried it. I'll be nice and give it three and a half.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Shrimp Soft Tacos

Another week, another shot to grind my gears about something. Made my annual autumnal rant last week about pumpkin spice. Man, that felt good to get out. This week's target? Food trucks. By in large, I think they're dumb. I get that in some scenarios they may be a way of life...but man. Stand around forever in line just to overpay for one item, have to wait around forever in another line if you want anything else, all from some typically greasy grungy kitchen on wheels. No thanks. Here in the 'burgh, the whole food truck craze has really hit in the past few years. We're kinda slow on a lot of trends - can't wave a Terrible Towel without hitting a mullet or three - but in the past two or three years, any kind of community event anywhere, it's food truck bonanza! And everyone gets so excited! FOOD! FROM A TRUCK! WITH WHEELS! STAND AROUND ON ASPHALT AND EAT FOOD! WOW!

No thanks.

I bring this up in relation to Trader Joe's Shrimp Soft Tacos because on the official TJ's website, there's a whole thing about taco trucks when they start talking these tacos. Blah. That may be a way to entice a lot of potential eaters, but not me...but then again. it's a shrimp taco, so twist my arm.

I'm not going to say these are the best shrimp tacos ever, because they aren't. Far from it. But, I will say these are the best microwavable shrimp tacos that cost less than $1.25 each I've ever had. A three pack cost only $3.69, so keep that in mind with all I am about to say.

Though the taco filling looks nothing like what's depicted on the package, it's still plenty flavorful. There's a spicy heat radiating on nearly every bite, much more than anticipated - there's some potent jalapenos lurking in that salsa verde. Lots of black pepper bite, too. I wish a little more lime flavor were present to cut through the heat some - lime juice is listed as an ingredient - but something like a little lime basil would be killer on these tacos. Once done nuking, the soft 'n mild cotija cheese is kinda indistinguishable from everything else, which isn't necessarily a bad thing.

Surprisingly, there's plenty ample filling too. One could reasonably expect that a perceived premium taco stuffer could be shorted here, but it's not - not skimpy on the shrimpy. Each taco had at least two to three firm, fresh(ish) bites of shrimp in there. You're not getting cheated here.

As for the corn tortillas...meh. Listen, they do the job. Each taco is actually double-tortilla'd, which is probably the right call - if left with just one, it'd be too soggy and potentially messy. That being said, for a corn tortilla, they're not awful, but not particularly memorable either. I'm spoiled by the handmade ones from two trips to the mountainsides of Mexico, and it's an unfair comparision, but one I hold every other corn tortilla to. I would have preferred flour ones.

Really, not too many complaints. The tacos could really use some vegetation if you have some on hand, just to freshen them up a little bit. Some lettuce or tomatoes or avocado would be a welcome addition if I had any one hand. A little dollop of sour cream would be nice, too, especially to help dampen the spice. Both Sandy and I could totally justify picking up the shrimp soft tacos again, and, heck, probably will for a quick, easy, and somewhat different lunch. No food truck required.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Shrimp Soft Tacos: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons.     

Trader Joe's Pumpkin Soup Crackers

This is one of those TJ's products with a tricky name. It's not hard to pronounce or anything, but when I look at the box, my immediate assumption is that these are pumpkin-flavored crackers optimized for crumbling and throwing into a big bowl of piping hot soup. And I'm not saying they're not good for that purpose, but what the name actually means, according to the little write-up on the packaging, is that Trader Joe's took the taste of pumpkin soup and infused these crackers with it. Interesting.

It hasn't been all that long since we've had pumpkin soup from Trader Joe's. Sonia has made at least one repeat purchase of that soup since our review of it three years ago—I'm fairly certain we had a carton of it last year. Or was it two years ago already? Gosh, it sucks being old. Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that we both remember the soup being fairly pumpkinny. Despite the presence of pumpkin puree, these crackers, in our opinion, are not.

But they do taste "harvesty," if that makes any sense. There is the slightest essence of something squash-ish—undoubtedly due to the pumpkin puree. But more notable is the pleasant blend of herbs and spices, including salt, onion powder, and brown sugar. It's this blend of flavors that gives the crackers their "soupy" vibe. The taste is not unlike a homemade broth, but in a solid form. Sonia thinks they're reminiscent of original flavor SunChips.

Texture-wise, they're nice and crunchy. They taste and feel like they're made of rice and oats, which they are—and yes, they're gluten-free. If you were inclined to eat them in soup, they'd probably go best with something like chili or tomato soup, rather than lighter, clear-broth soups.

If you're avoiding the whole sweet pumpkin pie spice thing, but still want something autumnal, these might be what you're looking for. They didn't blow us away, flavor-wise, but there's a unique heartiness to them that's worth a looksee if you're after something subtle and herby. Three and a half stars from each of us.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Organic Ginger Zinger

"Put your pears on the stairs!"

"Stomp and roar, out the door!"

"Put your sidewalk on the fidewalk!"

Yes...rhyming is all the rage these days with my four year old daughter. It's going on for weeks, nonstop. Most of our conversations sound like the classic Princess Bride talk between Inigo and Fezzik....sometimes with actual words, and as you can see, sometimes not. It's what we do, usually with a giggle...and a wiggle!

I'm fairly glad that I won't have to explain that the words "ginger" and "zinger" don't precisely rhyme, despite looking pretty similar. That "g" at the start of the second syllable is troublesome, isn't it? Close, but not enough. No rhyme, at any time.

But I ought to attempt to explain to all you fine folks how Trader Joe's Organic Ginger Zinger tastes, so here goes. Best way I can explain is, think of a bell curve, with one end designated for lemonade and the other for a mild ginger beer. Your tongue "rides" this curve as you taste this particular drinky concoction. At the foothills, there's the sugary sweetness of the lemonade, but when one would expect the tart bite to kick in, there's the intermingling of the ginger. This mix gets stronger, and just when the flavor you think would apex, it descends once more, this time more towards the ginger, with the very tail end leaving a meek, inoffensive ginger burn.

And that's pretty much it.

One end, a little lemonade, on the other, a little ginger beer, and in the middle between those two points there's a whole lot of not much. Well, sugar and water, yes, but really...nothing there. A little carbonation would have helped carry any flavor through, I think, because really, this kinda reminded me of flat soda. On the plus side, when I mixed a little rum in there, that middle ground picked up fairly well with a more solid base in there.

TJ's has proven how delectable ginger and lemon can be before. It's too bad the results can't be duplicated in beverage form here. Sigh. If this were still the hot depths of summer instead of slowly turning towards hoodie weather here in the Northeast, I might be a little more forgiving and use some words like "light" and "refreshing"...but not to be rude, I'm not in the mood. At $3.49 a quart, no need to rush it to your fort, but might be worth a shot...that's all I got.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Organic Ginger Zinger: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Quasar Bar

I've always loved the stars, space, and science-fiction. During my time at Penn State, I took as many astronomy classes as I could without declaring an astronomy minor—mainly because doing so would have added a boatload of math classes to my curriculum. I was never terrible at math, but I didn't really enjoy it either. So I took classes about archaeoastronomy (the study of archaeology and ancient cultures as they related to the stars and constellations) and the probability of life elsewhere in the universe. Incidentally, PSU has been in astronomy news recently, as one of its astronomers came up with the theory that the unusual drops in light levels coming from "Tabby's Star" might be due to "alien megastructures." I think that particular astronomer may have jumped the gun on announcing the potential existence of extraterrestrials, but hey, you never know.

My personal theory about those strange dimming patterns from star KIC 8462852: a swarm of Trader Joe's Quasar Bars en route to Earth...and BREAKING: the first wave has just arrived. Thanks to reader Ryan B. for the heads up on these TJ's brand "Milky Way" bars (who curiously has an alien featured in her Facebook profile pic).

If you like Milky Way bars, you'll most likely enjoy Quasars. They're extremely similar, with just a few key differences. TJ's offering is a little more salty, so there's a bit of that "salted caramel" effect. And it's coated with dark chocolate, rather than milk chocolate, so it's just a tad less sweet. There's still whipped chocolate on the inside, as well as caramel and nougat—so still plenty of goodies for those of you with sweet tooths...er, sweet teeth?

It's got the classic, soft, nougaty vibe that we've all come to know and love, as well as a cool astronomical name, all for just 99 cents. And it's yet another bone thrown to the dark chocolate crowd, but there's plenty of sweet stuff in there too, so you won't hear me complaining on this one. I think I'll give this delectable candy bar four shooting stars. Sonia will go with four and a half.

If you're interested in knowing what a quasar actually is, I'll just point you in the direction of this article. It's a fascinating subject, but not one I'll elaborate on here on our adventurous food blog...because it would take up way too much space...and I still wouldn't be able to explain it adequately.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Half Moon Cookies

I've already mentioned Seinfeld's Black and White Cookie on this blog once long ago. "Two races of flavor living side by side in harmony." But it really needs to be brought up again. Because this product essentially IS the Black & White Cookie. TJ's offering doesn't look quite as large as traditional B&W's, but other than that, they're remarkably similar in appearance.

Apparently very popular among New York's Jewish population, these cookies have been a mainstay at NYC bakeries for many generations. Trader Joe's went with "Half Moon" here, perhaps to deliberately avoid the stereotypes that go along with "Black & White Cookie," however, according to this article, penned by someone far more familiar with the history of these fun pastries than I am, a "Half Moon Cookie" is a devil's food cookie iced with chocolate and vanilla frostings. Cookies with a soft vanilla dough, such as these, are most definitely Black & White Cookies. The author of that article goes so far as to call people who refer to Black & White Cookies as Half Moon Cookies "philistines," and he points out that Black & White Cookies should be more accurately referred to as "Apartheid Cookies," which I found quite amusing, but that's neither here nor there in terms of this product review.

What is important is that these particular Trader Joe's brand cookies really aren't much to get excited about. I enjoyed the softness of the cookie part—and I liked that it wasn't too sweet. But I found both the chocolate and vanilla fondants to be somewhat disappointing. Each side featured a vague vanilla or chocolate flavor, respectively, but neither was a taste I was eager to return to. The fondants were far more firm than the cookie itself, and in a way, I felt like they ruined the nice texture of the doughy part. Sonia felt the same way. If anything, she was even more bored by these than I was, flavor-wise.

There's nothing particularly unappetizing about them, either. We snacked on them from time to time and didn't find it very hard to get through the package, but we weren't exactly fighting over who got the last one. In the end, they're just not particularly memorable.

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

Bottom line: 5.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Apple Pie Cheddar Cheese

There's a part of me that would like to take this opportunity to make my annual anti-pumpkin spice rant. It's that time of year, as Nathan started out last week, and as one Facebook fan put it, time for "white girls (to) rejoice!", and as we were quick to add, also white guys comfortable with their masculinity. What a little of sprinkling of nutmeg, cinnamon and cloves has to do with given personal identity characteristics, I don't know, but...I'm not a fan. The "pumpkin spice everything" trend is far too ubiquitous, far too obnoxious, far too usurping of many other great fall flavors. It takes something rather special to really impress me in the pumpkin spice regard, so it's possible, but far too many items fall short. Pumpkin spice latte? I've rather have nutmegged toilet water, thank you.

On the other hand...apples. Apple crisp. Apple cider. Applesauce. Apple pie. Now that's something to get behind. Especially apple pie, cuz I'm 'murican, dangit. Forget any other political attack ad going on right now, if an ad came out that a politician didn't like apple pie, they'd lose my vote. Now, I've heard that adding a slice of cheddar cheese to apple pie makes it even better...I've never tried. Either it's my mom's or sister's apple pie, which is absolutely perfect as is, or if I'm need of dairy sidekick, I'd choose vanilla ice cream.

So Trader Joe's Apple Pie Cheddar Cheese is my first foray into crossing these two flavor streams. I know, I probably haven't lived...sorry. Same for Sandy. At least we were both super eager to give a chunk a whirl, even with its slightly-high-for-TJ's price of $10 a pound.

It's...interesting, to say the least. First of all, it's pretty strongly applicious. How can one up the applicity factor of an average apple? Boil in apple cider! Infuise more apple! Stat! I can't quite tell the type of apple used, but I'd guess something in the MacIntosh-type range - strong, yet not overly sweet nor tart. There's also enough presence for the typical pie spices like cinnamon and nutmeg that give it a pie-like vibe. The little tidbits of dried apple add a little taste and textural variant. Nothing wrong on the apple front.

I guess where it gets a little weird is the cheese. In of itself, it's a decent cheddar - soft, mild, not overly sharp, but rather salty. Must be that sodium that, to me, creates a little flavor friction. Salt and apples don't go together all that well, IMHO. I mean, it's not awful...I kinda like the creaminess of the cheese paired with the apples - but the salt, instead of accentuating the overall flavor, kinda muddies it up instead.

Also, if it's apple pie cheese, where's the pie crust tidbits? There's none, and that coulda been fun. I guess "apple pie cheddar" sounds nicer than "fancy applesauce cheddar." Meh.

We're kinda split here - not terrific, not awful, and certainly more successful than previous TJ cheddar mash-ups. Sandy's not entirely sure of what to make of it, except she'll reserve further judgment until trying out a grilled cheese with it. She went right down the middle with a 2.5. It's worthy of higher marks than that in my book, but I can't get over the salt - a few small bites left me in want of a tall glass of water. Heck, I'd even drink a pumpkin spice latte if it were close by just to help. I can't go higher than 3.5.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Apple Pie Cheddar Cheese: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Chocolate Chai & Almond Bar

No, I didn't crop the picture a little too close or accidentally leave out a letter in this product title. I also had to correct Sandy a couple times too, despite her usually being a stickler about such things. The state forest near her alma mater of Clarion University is Cook Forest, and if you call it Cook's...*guh*. Shudder. Brace yourself.

So when she started calling this product Trader Joe's Chocolate Chai & Almond Bark, I had to give it to her back. "Look! There's no 'k'! It's just a bar! C'mon! Jeez! Get with it! Ugh!"

Turnaround is fair play. It can also put a damper on the one night of the week that the mom-in-law's out of the house, after the kids go to bed, when you get to have some quality adult time doing adult things...like drinking beer and playing mancala.

Anyways, no "k." It's just bar. Doesn't matter that it looks like a bark, eats like a bark, barks like a bark...it's just Trader Joe's Chocolate Chai & Almond Bar. Bars can be square, I guess.

Dang tasty bar. Just look at how gorgeous it is - a thick, milk chocolate base, with some darker chocolate marbled up on top, with full roasted almond nestled in fairly amply - very few bites without. By myself, I wouldn't have thought of infusing chai tea with chocolate - but it definitely works here, in a way I can't quite explain. It's there, and very present, but as pleasant accompaniment and not a dominant flavor. It's well balanced with the milder milk chocolate, while still accentuated by the dark, with the almond adding a roasted earthy bite. Well done.

And as I said, it's thick. Thicker than a normal chocolate bar, for sure. Sometimes, chocolate with this kinda girth can be hard to gnaw through, but that's not the case. Our teeth glided through each bite, with the only interruption being one of those tasty nuts. A tougher bite would have killed any goodwill with this bar, so thank goodness TJ's got this right.

Sandy and I gulped down the whole bar over a few games, with the last bite being wagered on who won a particular round...I lost :(. She's the one who found it on a solo shopping trip and couldn't recall the price...$3? $4? Whatever it was, it's worth it. Will definitely buy again...and again.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Chocolate Chai & Almond Bar: 8.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Pumpkin Spice Caramel Corn

Labor Day is usually considered the cultural end to summer here in the US. School starts, summer schedules end, and most folks have taken whatever summer vacations they're going to take. The technical, astronomical end of summer is most definitely the autumnal equinox, this year falling on September 22. 

But personally, I consider fall officially underway when two things have happened: I've consumed a new pumpkin or pumpkin spice product from Trader Joe's, and the weather gets a little cooler. After a high of 92 degrees yesterday, yet a high of only 78 degrees today here in South Jersey, I'd say there's been a marked shift in air temps. That's not to say there won't be a few more warm days ahead, but for the most part, it's time to wear heavier clothing—both to keep warm, and to cover up the extra pounds I'll gain sampling most of the 60+ new and old seasonal pumpkin products arriving at TJ's.

As for our first new pumpkin product of the season? We're off to a pretty good start. 

Highly reminiscent in appearance and texture to June's Mango Coconut Caramel Corn, this is TJ's fall-themed follow-up to that summery treat. We enjoyed that previous product quite a bit, as did most of our readers. It's still crispy, crunchy caramel corn—not too waxy or stiff. But this version has a few tricks up its sleeve.

First, the taste is nice. The pumpkin spice flavor is there, but errs on the side of subtlety. It's sweet more than spicy, and slightly more caramel than pumpkin, I'd say. Pumpkin seeds add a nice nuttiness to the product and blend well with the salty aspects of the corn. 

The packaging alleges there are walnuts in this product, but neither Sonia nor I have seen much of them. I do think I've tasted hints of walnut from time to time. Maybe the walnuts are crushed into tiny bits and have simply eluded identification thus far. Or perhaps these reclusive nuts have congregated at the bottom of the bag. We'll let you know when we get there. (You won't have to wait long.) 

Rather than floating freely, the pumpkin seeds are "glued" to the corn pieces with sugar and caramel, so you don't need to worry about mixing seeds in with your mouthfuls of caramel corn in incorrect ratios. Trader Joe's has already measured them out for you, and they did a pretty good job of it in my estimation.

All in all, it's a well-balanced flavor. If anything, Sonia and I think it could use just a tad more pumpkin spice taste, but we won't complain about it as is. Double fours on this product, and happy fall to all of you.

Bottom line: 8 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Organic Ginger Turmeric Herbal Tea

"It's kinda weird to drink something that smells like Indian food," Sandy stated the other night before sipping her first steaming mug of Trader Joe's Organic Ginger Turmeric Herbal Tea.

Yeah...ginger tea? Of course. But turmeric? That's a pretty classic staple for most Indian chow I'm familiar with. So how's this going to work?

First off: it's very aromatic. Not in an overly flagrant or fragrant kinda way...but when you cath a whiff, there's a lot going on. The aforementioned ginger and turmeric, of course, but there's a good citrus essence as well. There's a little something else, too, a "darker" element to give the aroma some depth, which I presume are the licorice and pepper...

...so yeah, it kinda smells like what the ingredients says the tea is made of. Nice thing is, while all components can be individually detected, it comes across as a very nice, balanced cuppa tea.

Wish it tasted that way as well.

The sips start out pleasantly enough, with the dominant taste being a fairly mild ginger dose. The turmeric is there more in a support role, with the orange peel adding a nice arc. But then...it hits. That aforementioned licorice and pepper. Listen, I love licorice and anise and all that much more than the average guy, but it just seems a little out of place, perhaps, and gets punctuated by the pepper. It's not harsh at first, but about halfway through the cup, it's about all I can taste, as if my mild cuppa tea slowly got polluted by a flavor overstaying its welcome.

It probably doesn't help that I'm more of a coffee than tea kinda guy...I rarely drink anything other than black coffee, water, or whiskey in fact. So, quite literally, this just might not be my cup of tea. Sandy, though, enjoys it quite a bit. More power to her. "It's a great fall tea," she said last night after the kiddos went down and a cool almost autumnal breeze blew in the kitchen window. "I dig it." After I finish my current cup (gave it a second taste to confirm my thoughts) I'll probably be done with it. But for $2.49 for a box of 20 bags, and the possible health benefits of turmeric, I can give it a little more appreciation.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Organic Ginger Turmeric Herbal Tea: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Coffee Mochi

Trader Joe's can and will turn anything into a mochi ice cream flavor—from basic flavors like chocolate to double mango to pumpkin pie, we've seen them run the gamut. We haven't seen mushroom mochi ice cream yet, but just to be clear, we're not asking for it, Big Joe. Not at all. Cookie butter mochi, on the other hand...

Now let's shift gears and focus on the product at hand, shall we? My major problem with this mochi is the same problem I have with traditional coffee ice cream: it actually tastes like coffee. I mean sure, it's kinda sweet and creamy, but the overwhelming flavor is that of dark, earthy coffee beans. I'll drink coffee, if I must, for its caffeine content, but I much prefer energy drinks (ones without high fructose corn syrup) for my morning wake-up beverage. Among coffee drinkers, that fact generally arouses suspicion, outrage, and indignation. Why would a non-coffee-drinker even review a coffee-flavored product?

Because I'll defer to my coffee-appreciating wife's opinion on this one. She liked these a lot. The texture is just like any other mochi we've reviewed: a soft, chewy, rice-based shell, a layer of smooth, cold ice cream below that, and similar to the aforementioned mango mango mochi, there's a glob of liquidy goo in the middle. I personally didn't feel like the "saucy mocha center" added much, but Sonia thought it added a nice rich flavor and extra creaminess to the product.

She loved the taste of this product because she loves the taste of coffee. The flavor of the mocha filling reminded her of Original Roast Coffee Rio Candy, which is apparently sold at some Trader Joe's locations.

Even though I didn't appreciate the taste quite as much as my better half, we do agree on one thing: this mochi is rich and intense enough that just one or two pieces at a time is more than sufficient for one sitting. Sonia gives this product four stars. My disdain for coffee might have led me to give this product a fairly low score, but I did say I'd defer to my wife on this one, for the benefit of all you sophisticated coffee connoisseurs...so I'll go with three and a half to make sure this falls squarely in our "really darn good" category.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Marinated Rack of Lamb with Herbs

After yesterday's review slightly toeing the line of religious imagery. today's review will steer clear. There's a lot of lambs in the religious pasture. But to be fair, Sandy and I also partook of those three cheese wafers, and also came away with the unshakeable impression of communion wafers. The only thing I'd like to add is, I've been to Communion performed, by a very serious, straight-faced pastor...with a hot dog bun. There was a slight miscommunication that week for who was bringing the bread. Classic.

Sandy and I also tried out the new Trader Joe's Marinated Rack of Lamb with Herbs this past week. There's also the oddly placed and/or punctuated "fully cooked" part of the product name...are the herbs the fully cooked part? The lamb? The whole shebang? Well, let's drop the slightly premium price of $15.99 a pound to find out!

As much as we both love lamb...a lamb rack is not a cut of meat we're overly familiar with. See: that price point. The few times we venture into lamb, we're more lamb chops/lamb roast/gyro kinda folks. So what I'm about to say about the meat itself, not sure how much it is intrinsically indicative for the particular cut versus this TJ branded box. But...there's not very much meat at all. Once we got it on our dinner plates, our meat looked like mostly bones, with a lot of fat and sinew intertwined in there. I'd say we each got maybe three or four reasonable bites of lamb meat, then the rest was picking and baby bites before kinda surrendering. At a certain point, the visual analysis showed that the effort wasn't worth the payoff.

But what meat was on there...soft, tender, pink, delicious. Despite its nearly raw appearance, the lamb was fully cooked via the sous-vide method before we ever got our hands on it. Very savory, and the herbs added a great little smidge of flavor, especially some mild garlic, without overpowering the natural goodness of the meat. You can't have that much fat without some natural juicy goodness, which really shone through.

There's a couple oddities I think are worth note. First: So. Much. Packaging. The lamb comes vacuum packed...inside a box so relatively large I'm surprised it didn't say "Some Settling May Occur"...that is in turn shrinkwrapped. The conspiracy theorist in me thinks that's to give the impression that there's much more meat in there than there actually is, so as to make the price point more appealing. Could be true, can't prove it's not. Also, the prep method: Heat in oven for 35 minutes (on a hot summer night? No way) or microwave then pan sear? Odd. We went the second route, and though not the nuke wizards the Rodgers are, I think we succeeded.

This probably won't be a repeat buy. Which is kinda a shame. I get that it's lamb, fancifully (and may I add skillfully) prepared, with some major convenience factor built in, and it's delicious, so I appreciate it all...but for paying $13 and change for what amounts to a few bites, can't say I'm completely satisfied, either. Wife is in the same boat. Oh well. At least we had a quiet small fancy dinner together, just the two of us, before it quickly devolved into some animalistic bone gnawing. Three each.   

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Marinated Rack of Lamb with Herbs: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's 3 Cheese Wafers

Holy Eucharist. The Lord's Supper. Body of Christ shed for you. "Thin & crisp for cheese & snacking..." and maybe for Holy Communion as well.

The only thing about these crackers that doesn't scream "communion wafers" is the very faint cheese flavor. And honestly, I'd be surprised if there isn't at least one church using these during worship services somewhere in this country. I've seen everything from homemade white bread to animal crackers serve as altar bread—and at least one group thought of using Doritos for a similar purpose. 

Apparently, the three cheeses present here are cheddar, parmesan, and mozzarella. But the three titles that come to mind when eating these crispy critters are "Father, Son, and Holy Ghost."

Sonia was raised Roman Catholic, and I was raised Lutheran, or "White Catholic," as we're known in certain Latino circles, so it's really hard not to think of those bland yet sacred discs of...I-don't-know-what that we had when we partook of that blessed sacrament. Even the little raised pattern on these crackers is reminiscent of what we both remember. TJ's version displays little triangles all over them, which arguably could represent the Holy Trinity.

Texture-wise, again, I almost feel silly saying it, but they're exactly like communion wafers. I would have guessed that the ones I grew up with were rice-based, although these crackers are apparently made with wheat flour. They're very soft, yet brittle and crispy, and they melt in your mouth quite quickly.

Flavor-wise, I mentioned there is only a subtle hint of cheese flavor in my opinion. They're virtually flavorless by themselves. I felt that they went well with the recently-reviewed Jalapeño and Honey Chevre, but only because they didn't try to compete with the amazing flavor of that cheese. On their own, as a snack, these crackers aren't much to speak of. The three distinct cheese flavors are so subtle that you have to have a bit of faith to believe they're really there.

I'm tempted to leave you with some play on scripture that starts, "As often as you eat these crackers, eat them in remembrance of me," or something like that, but even though I'm not as churchy as I used to be, I'm still not a huge fan of blasphemy in all its colorful modern forms, so I'll steer clear of such wordplay out of respect for the Big Guy. No, not Big Joe. The other big guy.

Four stars from Sonia, who's anxious to try these in a big bowl of tomato soup. Three from me.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Jalapeño and Honey Chevre

This might be my favorite cheese in the world right now. The taste zings across your tongue like a bolt of lightning. I feel like I hadn't ever truly tasted a jalapeño pepper until I had this cheese. The tang from the chevre, the sweetness of the honey, and the heat from the peppers set one another off so perfectly—in a manner I'd never have imagined. 

But beyond just the heat of the peppers, you can taste the green, planty, earthy part of the peppers, too. There's a miraculous way the goat cheese allows you to taste it separately from the spice of the jalapeno. Yet the cheese is surprisingly sweet. It does taste like real honey.

Although I don't want to downplay the heat, because it is significant. This cheese is not for the faint-of-heart. The fire is there right from the first bite, but it also builds up on the tongue in a subtle, yet powerful way. After a number of bites in a row, you need to breathe through your mouth for a moment to cool it down, maybe take a swig of whatever beverage you're enjoying, and hold for a few beats before going back to the cheese. But don't get me wrong, it's not too hot. It's just right if you ask me.

We had it with some nice light crackers, neutral in flavor. I wouldn't want to pair this cheese with anything too strong because the main attraction should most definitely be the flavor of this amazing chevre. Sonia thinks it might go well with some kind of lightly-sweet honey bread. I'd eat this stuff with anything as long as it's relatively muted, flavor-wise. 

Once upon a time, I may have slapped a different TJ's chevre product with an unusually low score, and it may have been suggested that I don't appreciate goat cheese. Au contraire. I'm just not huge into goat cheese for dessert. Despite its sweetness, this cheese, at least in my mind, is a complex, savory side dish or appetizer that deserves a perfect five stars. Sonia gives it four and a half.

Bottom line: 9.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Semi-Dried Green Figs

There's really not a whole lot to Trader Joe's Semi-Dried Green Figs. Nothing added or subtracted, but simply a fig, partially dried, and frozen. That's it. That could be the end of the review pretty much right there. But that's not how we roll...because while they do "taste...similar to fresh fruit" they do feel a little different. Had to leave out the "amazingly" because that's a bit too strong of a statement.

Anyways, if you're already familiar with their tried and true semi-dried formula first tested out on apricots, you can expect something similar here.  Those particular fruity tidbits have become a family snacktime favorite around here for 75% of our clan - I don't care about them one way or another, but Sandy, and particularly the kids, can polish off a bag for lunch. In fact, it was those apricots we were looking for when we found the figs and figured to assess them instead.

For taste...yes,  a fig. What we you expecting, a rutabaga? Tastes like a fig. The feel, though? I'm a dried fig aficianado - everytime we go to Costco I need to get me a bag, it lasts me maybe 10 days. I'd say these are much more similar to fresh figs, except I had those recently...too soft, too fleshy, too wiggly, too...I don't even know the word. That was another Costco purchase, and we made our way through the Montana-sized package, but with much less gusto. So I guess these fall fairly squarely in the middle. There's not the tough, chewy, fibrous bite of dried, but not the super soft mouthfeel of fresh. The seeds maintain their crispy qualities as well for a nice textural variant.

Sandy prefers these semi-dried guys straight from the freezer, because she's a little odd, but even when thawed a bit they retain a lot of their middlin' qualities. The kids seem to like them to, maybe not as much as the apricots, but their little chompers have less work to do than with dried, and I couldn't get them (or Sandy) to eat their fair share of fresh. Not a bad purchase for $2.99, we bought two bags and will happily finish them and likely go back for more.


Bottom line: Trader Joe's Semi Dried Green Figs: 7.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons