Trader Joe's Spiced Cranberry Cider

As a young boy, my parents would regularly take me to visit my grandparents and various elderly friends of the family. During these visits I noted that older folks, for some reason, were quite fond of putting out candy, often unwrapped, in little dishes on endtables and coffee tables throughout their homes. That didn't bother me one bit. A source of free, quickly-replenished, easy-access candy was the stuff that my young dreams were made of. Before my parents could call me off, I would easily down a third of the dish. Then, inevitably, they'd yell something about spoiling my dinner, and I'd stomp off reluctantly with bits of chocolate smeared on my face and shirt.

One of the types of confections I'd frequently discover in such a candy dish were multi-colored, fruit-flavored gumdrops. I loved trying each flavor to see which was the best, and then I'd attempt to eat every gumdrop of that flavor in the entire dish. Or, I'd take one yellow gumdrop and one green gumdrop and try to create my own flavor combination: lemon-lime. In short, I loved gumdrops.

However, I can distinctly recall on one occasion stuffing my face with what I assumed were sweet, delicious gumdrops, only to be shocked by a biting, unpleasant flavor. I grimaced and choked back my gag reflex. The aged owner of the candy dish, taking note of my sufferings, said, "Aw! You don't like the spice drops, hmm?"

I thought to myself, "What on earth are spice drops?" For a moment, I thought I had eaten something that was intended for decorative or aromatic purposes only. Had I inadvertently eaten some bizarre form of potpourri?

Drinking this cider was a similarly disappointing experience. Maybe I should have taken the word "spiced" in the title as a warning sign. But I thought they meant they put a dash of cinnamon in it or something...

Typical spice drop flavors include: cardamom, clove, allspice, pimeneta, spearmint, anise, and licorice. This drink tastes like a base of cranberry juice with each and every one of those spices dumped in it. It's like drinking a glass of liquid potpourri. We finished the bottle, but it took some effort. Honestly, I'd rather down a bottle of Nyquil than drink this stuff again. Not a fan.

Sonia gives it a 2. I give it a 1. Bottom line: 3 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Mini Chicken Tacos

Mmm ... tacos ...

Really, can anything bad be said about tacos? I'm not really talking about the Taco Bell variety, though occasionally those can work in a pinch (okay, very occasional pinch). A good taco is spicy, flavorful comfort wrapped in crispy, greasy wholesome goodness that'll put a smile on your face and a little indigestion in your gut. Well, maybe not the indigestion part, but if it's there and nothing too fiery, no foul in my book.

Our favorite taco spot in town is a street stand down in Pittsburgh's Strip District in front of Reyna Foods, a great Mexican grocer. We go down every once in a while on a Saturday and grab a pair each for five bucks. There's consistently a line but it's always worth it for the fresh grilled meat piled high with cheese, lettuce, tomatoes (for me), topped off with a squeeze of fresh lime and choice of salsa seated on a fresh homemade corn tortilla. I was thoroughly impressed with myself that I managed to scarf down a set of these on Saturday while speedwalking through a crowd on a busy day without dropping it or indiscriminately smearing it all over my face or shirt. Now those are tacos.

When keeping mind these are the at-home freezer box variety, these are kinda close. It's one of those things you gotta grade on a curve. They're certainly not amazing by any stretch of the imagination, but that doesn't mean they aren't good. Contrary to the picture on the box (those darn misleading "serving suggestion" depictions) they're just little corn tortillas with some chicken bits and spices pocketed in. I guess I can't blame Trader Joe's for not dicing up veggies and shredding cheese small enough to sneak in these guys, because honestly I have no interest either. Aside from maybe a little hot sauce, these will just have to as they are for us. They're taste decent overall, but kinda plain for my taste, and I can't help to think that they could be just a little bit better. They're certainly not nearly as good as making tacos and setting up a toppings bar for yourself, but they're sure quicker and easier. They're also just tasty enough to keep me interested in them and to eat a couple more than the serving size of four. Not that Sandy would let me get away with that.

The fact that they're mini tacos kinda weird me out, though. When eating them I feel like I'm a sort of giant roaming the earth and these tacos are normal-sized for normal-sized people while for me they're two quick little bites, and I must eat enough of them that'd feed a family reunion to satisfy my belly. I feel like I've stolen them from these fine folks. It's the same kinda thing with sliders and even (to a lesser extent) personal pan pizzas. Fun-sized Halloween candy bars get a pass on this because I'm used to those from trick-or-treating and they're ubiquitous enough to make sense to me. Baby burgers and pizzas and tacos just don't. The side of the box of these taco dwarfs say they're "adorable" and that TJ's "guarantee[s] you can't eat just one." Listen, I'm a guy, I don't want to hear I'm eating something that's "adorable" and dang right I'm going to eat more than one. That's the whole point of the microscopic food genre. Eat four regular sized tacos and you're either a college freshman or a glutton. But if they're super-small 1:25 models of the real thing, you can still honestly tell yourself you ate four tacos and not feel any guilt.

I made these for dinner on Monday night along with some tater tots (not these ones but still pretty admirably good) for an easy dinner tonight. Sandy was beat from kicking some serious half marathon butt on Sunday (2 hours 48 minutes! Daaaang) and to a much lesser extent I was tired from a long day of getting her to where she needed to be way too early, cheering her on, then a long day of errands and work on Monday, so a "path of least resistance" dinner sounded right on the money. The tacos 'n tots offered enough of a comfort food quality to our meal that I'll give them a pass despite wishing they were a little tastier and bigger so I wouldn't be so worried about depriving a family of Lilliputians their dinner. Sandy, in her deserved day-after of relaxation and hunger, said she could eat the whole box, she likes them so much. I'm pretty sure that's some exaggeration on her part, but she proved beyond a shadow of doubt to me over the weekend she can do anything she puts her mind to, so I won't say she can't. She settled on giving them a four, only saying she wish Trader Joe's would have added some lime and other flavors. Otherwise, she's pretty darn happy with them. As for me, well, you've heard me ramble enough. I think I can spare a three for them, right in the middle.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Veggie Sticks Potato Snacks

When I hear the term "veggie sticks," I think of narrow little slivers of carrots and celery arranged on a circular platter around a pool of creamy ranch dipping sauce. That's not what these are, if you couldn't tell from the pic. These are crunchable doodle-puffs of snack-tastic potato-matter.

From the first bite, they seemed familiar somehow...like a long-lost friend who had just returned from adventures abroad...like a wayward relative that came back to his father's house with a strange foreign accent, a prodigal son of the pantry if you will...there was just a certain 'je ne sais quoi' about them...who are you, veggie sticks? Haven't I met you before? In another life perhaps...on a distant shoreline, did I partake of your salty goodness under a Pacific sunset marked by the sound of crashing waves and the crispy-crunches of your bite-sized bits?

No. No, you are new to me...but you remind me of someone...you remind me of...who is it now? OH! YOU TOTALLY remind me of the unmistakable flavor of McDonald's French fries...with the texture of cheese-puffs. Seriously. McDonald's fries. It's gotta be the sunflower/safflower oil.

When I told Sonia about my McDonald's French fry epiphany, she went "Oh! Really? You think they taste like that?" Then I had her try one again, and told her to think about McDonald's French fries. Then she went, "Eh, I guess I can see what you're talking about..."

So apparently I'm more or less alone in my assessment that they taste just like McDonald's French fries. Mind you, the texture is much different. The texture is that of a generic, yet not necessarily low-quality cheese-puff/cheese-doodle/cheesy-poof thing.

I tried hard to tell if there was a difference among the three varieties; orangish-red, yellowish-white, and green. I thought maybe they were tomato-flavored, potato-flavored, and spinach-flavored, respectively, however, I was unable to discern any variation in taste. Just three different colors of McDonald's fries.

We tried them with a little lemon juice. Good. And they would have been KILLER with some Trader Joe's Jalapeño Pepper Hot Sauce, but alas, we did not have any. I almost tried them with a little packet of McDonald's fancy ketchup, but then I thought that might be a bit weird. I docked a point because we were kind of wanting to dress them up a bit, however, we polished off the bag within 24 hours of getting it back from TJ's. That usually indicates a successful product. Sonia agrees.

Sonia and I both give them a 4. Bottom line: 8 out of 10.