Trader Joe's Milk Chocolate Covered Potato Chips and Trader Joe's Pumpkin Cheesecake

There's a lot of perks to being one of the world's foremost amateur-hack foodie reviewer of all things Trader Joe's. I love whenever Sandy and I walk into the local store, we're greeted by the cashiers ringing their bells to the glorious tune of "Ode to Joy" as one of the stock boys approaches us both with a lei to place around our necks and gives us a hint to where the stuffed elephant is this week. Well, okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration. What isn't, though, is the sheer influx of all sorts of recommendations to try this or try that. In fact, one of our best finds was pointed out to us by a friend of mine, and further confirmed by lots of Facebook comments to the general effect of "You gotta try the chocolate caramel sea salt bar! OMG!!!" I'll admit that I generally love all the recommendations we receive, even though it makes our "to try" list almost as long as the tax code but far, far tastier.

Anyways, one item that's come up over and over and over again is Trader Joe's newish Milk Chocolate Covered Potato Chips. I get the appeal. Sandy and I were making a quick trip for some chips and hummus before heading to a friend's get-together, she saw the new bright shiny display, and immediately looked at me, eyes wide open, strained cheeks, teeth slightly bared. I can be a little slow on the uptake, but the meaning was quite clear: Pleaseohpleaseohpleaseplease pleaseprettyprettyplease we should eat these in the car plllllllease. Well, okay. You can tell our rush to try them out as Sandy quick snapped the picture on my iPhone after quickly plopping them on a windowsill inside the store. And sorry, we neglected to get the nutriotion info snapshot as enough employees were already giving us the stink-eye. We'll remedy this soon.

I'm not sure they were worth the rush, hub-bub and hype. I mean, they're good and all, don't get me wrong. They're just not as good as I hoped. First off, they have way too much chocolate and not enough chip. You know how, if you order a plate of nachos, and there's always one or two that have all the melty cheese attached to them? Think of every chip in the bag, except it's chocolate. It's good, tasty chocolate, to be sure, but it's just too much. Also, consider the chips. On the plus side, they're big, crunchy, full of ridges and definitely noticeable even in the cocoa flux. I like them, but there's two problems: First, namely, there's not enough of them. And second, well, I don't think they're salted, which I was kinda expecting. These are like the polar opposite of the Sea Salt Brownie Petites, which were way too salty. Not to go all Goldilocks on you, but these weren't salty enough (the aforementioned sea salt/caramel chocolate bar? Just right).

Sandy and I pretty much agree on these: not a bad munchie, but there's better irresistible snacks at TJ's. Sandy goes with a respectable three, I'll go with half a spoon better.

Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Annnnnnnnnd....here's a quickie bonus review of Trader Joe's Pumpkin Cheesecake, another well-recommended item from our readers. Not that I'd recommend combining the chocolate potato chips and the cheesecake into one dessert...that's a combo even I wouldn't try...but if it's your thing, well, who am I to judge? This was another quick stop pick-up for a family dinner on a day when we didn't have a chance to make a homemade dessert. However,as you can see by the far-snazzier looking picture, Sandy had much more time to make it look all fancy on her iPhone. It's in the freezer section, and the instructions say something to the effect of thaw for an hour or two at room temperature and it'll be good to go. Well, like other TJ desserts of this ilk, the results left a little to be desired. We waited the two hours to slice it up, and there were still some frozen bits here and there, and it had the unmistakable just-frozen taste to it. That's not a huge minus to me. I quite enjoyed it, actually, as it was tart, tasty, and kinda creamy, though it could have been creamier (see: just frozen). And kinda like the pumpkin pancake mix, the cheesecake was sort of pumpkin-pie tasting, while probably erring on the side of not pumpkinny enough, which I can appreciate. The graham cracker crust was pretty good, too, and for $6.99, not a bad price for a family-sized dessert. Most of our clan liked it enough, with even an enthusiastic "five" rating from the under-six crowd, while the rest of us gave a few satisfied Mmms. Only my dad had any mildly negative flavor comments ("not pumpkin pie-like enough"), and if you knew how well he's been spoiled over the years by tasty homemade desserts, you wouldn't blame him. I'll go ahead and give it a four, I think, while Sandy sticks with a three for mostly texture-related issues (related to being just frozen, of course). I'd say it's worth getting for a easy dessert to share if you don't have the time for homemade goodies, just give it plenty of thawing time before serving.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Pilgrim Joe's Pumpkin Ice Cream

I bet Miles Standish, John Alden and the gang didn't have anything like this at the first Thanksgiving. They were just figuring out how to grow crops and take shelter in the New World, and I'm pretty sure the establishment of the Plymouth Rock Creamery took a back seat to surviving and whatnot. Nevertheless, the recipe for this colonial treat was apparently passed down from Pilgrim Joe to his descendent, Trader Joe, who has decided to offer this holiday treat to all of us.

I know, I know. It's a little early for Thanksgiving stuff. But really, pumpkin season begins in October—what with "Joe-o-Lantern" carving and pumpkin patches and the advent of the Great Pumpkin, etc. I've been enjoying pumpkin seeds, pumpkin cookies, pumkin pie and pumpkin ale since the beginning of the month. And Russ, incidentally, has been enjoying other season-appropriate foods such as pumpkin pancakes.

Despite my acceptance of all things pumpkin, I was sort of reluctant about this ice cream for some reason. Maybe it's because I recently tried Trader Joe's Lemon Triple Ginger Snap Ice Cream that Russ reviewed a little bit ago, and I knew that no other ice cream could possibly follow such an outstanding flavor. Wow. Yes, the lemon ice cream is THAT GOOD.

And sure enough, I'm just a little disappointed with this pumpkin flavor. It's certainly not that it tastes bad. If you like pumpkin-flavored desserts, you'll like this. I guess what I was pining for was a bit more in the texture department. It's just ice cream. If they would have thrown in some pumkin pie pieces, I think they could have nailed it. The bread/crust part of pumpkin pie really rounds out the creamy pie-filling and makes it a total dessert. Eating this ice cream, for me, was not unlike eating a bunch of cold pie filling by itself. Not terrible, but it could absolutely be improved by some additional textures and complementary flavors.

It's very pumpkinny. It's got the traditional spices, like nutmeg, that you'd want in a pumpkin-based dessert, and it doesn't taste fake...and it's not at all bland. This is another food that I kind of feel like a jerk for not giving it a great score. Because it is a great product. I just feel like it could have been even better. I've been spoiled by treats like the lemon ginger snap and Ben & Jerry's, which generally have a bunch of other yummy foods blended seamlessly into the ice cream.

In light of what it could have been, I give it a 2.5. Sonia was pleasantly surprised (and, she wasn't as impressed with the lemon ice cream, either) so she gives it a 4.

Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Name Tag Classic Lager

Sandy and I could not do anything else other than look at each other and make a quizzical face. We were away for the weekend at a resort in Ohio this past weekend, at dinner Saturday night at the onsite restaurant, and when we requested a refill on our Sprites, our waitress brought them out...one at a time...in a Styrofoam cup...to pour right into our glasses...right in front of us. If we weren't the only ones there and would have been so obvious, we might have busted out laughing at the absurdity of it. I've never seen this before, and while a valid way to refill a drink, I suppose, it certainly made me feel a little more confident about our decision to pass up the "unbeatable price" and "tremendous value" of the time share spiel we had to sit through earlier that day.

Of course, the weekend wasn't a total loss. It's always great to have a little time away with your better half, and always funny when a buffalo almost gets its head stuck in your car window on a drive-through safari (true story). Plus, the fine citizens of Ohio have some privileges that we, the plebes of Pennsylvania, don't, like certain types of products available for purchase at Trader Joe's...uh, not that we did...the beer fairy came by again....yeah, that's it...

I shoulda told the beer fairy to not bother at all with the Name Tag Classic Lager. It's so bad that Trader Joe didn't even really put his name on it, though like the kid with muddy boots on standing on a messy carpet, it's obviously his fault. Look at the font used and the flower, and the familiar oval-shaped name tag logo....yeah, it's his. And it's bad. Listen, I went to Penn State, then lived near Pitt campus in Pittsburgh for a while, and have been flat-out broke at times, so I know what crappy beer tastes like. This, simply said, might be the absolute worst. The first ice cold sip I took tasted like literally nothing except a faint sickly sweetness at the end, which was kinda gross. Subsequent sips were tastelessly bitter and bitterly tasteless, if that's even possible. Finally, it got to the point where I could discern what this tasted like...precisely just like the metallic innards of the can. This putrid, super light, watery, nastastic spew was so utterly devoid of its own flavor it had no choice other than to absorb whatever it could from an aluminum can. To my memory, this was only the second beer I've ever tasted that, based on sheer nastiness, the remaining gulps were poured down the kitchen sink and not into my belly. This is terrible stuff, and to make it even worse, no hot chicks other than my wife appeared, no parties broke out, no one pointed out all the other "unmanly" things I'd done that day already (like stop and ask for directions at a gas station), no silver bullet train ran through the living room...nothing like that when people drink other crappy beers on TV. I just kinda sat there feeling numb and depressed over a horrible beer while making all sorts of grimacing faces. Sandy didn't have to taste it to know she wouldn't like it. Ugh. I think PBR or even something called Beer 30 Light that my younger bro mentioned to me the other night would be at least ten, if not twenty, times better than this. It's just that bad. At least it's cheap at $2.99 for a six pack, but I'm certainly more than glad we, uh, the beer fairy, procured us some other inexpensive TJ adult beverages, or otherwise the shopping trip would have been a complete disaster.

It's so bad, in fact, while deliberating a score, I seriously wondered if I should set a precedent by giving something negative Golden Spoons. But I can't do that, for two reasons. First, if this, or even this, doesn't garner a negative score, nothing can, even though I think this may be the absolute worst TJ's product I've tried yet. Secondly, some of this crap-veza might have a valuable use, and no, I don't mean giving the leftovers out to the random adults who insist on trick-or-treating in our neighborhood. I've found that bad beer often is a valuable ingredient when used in making a good crockpot full of chili, and as it's getting colder, I feel my first batch coming on soon. My brother and sister-in law, who also choked down a few gulps before ditching the can, pretty much agreed. For that, and that only, I think between the three of us we can muster a total of half a spoon from the three of us. For one of the very worst (if not THE worst) beer any of us ever tried, that has to be considered more than fair.

Bottom line: 0.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons