Trader Joe's Apple Bourbon BBQ Sauce

Let's see...Nathan has had some very favorable reviews recently on products that predominantly feature apples or bourbon, so how about something that has both apples and bourbon?

Indeed, there just may be a small revolution or passing trend going on with TJ's products: bourbon. First, there's that pecan pie filling (which of the many things my Aunt Brenda puts in hers, I am quite sure that bourbon is not one of them). I've also seen a bourbon barrel aged maple syrup which I haven't had the occasion to pick up yet, but really, I should (here's a quickie review here). And for those fortunate few who live in the right areas that fully recognize the 21st Amendment, TJ's actually has a pretty decent housebrand bourbon as well.

Now, there's Trader Joe's Apple Bourbon BBQ Sauce. You can't tell me that doesn't sound gooooood. I'm not  huge condiment guy - I like food to taste how it "should" taste - but I'll admit to a little puddle of drool when I first heard the word. I was due for a good mix up from my go-to barbecue sauce of choice anyways.

Gotta say I'm pretty well pleased overall. This is some thick, goopy, slow-movin' sauce, which is how it oughtta be. "Pretend there's a 57 on it and tap it!!!" Sandy cried out when I was trying to pour the first load onto my plate one night. If you have no idea what that means: here. I hate ketchip, but yeah, that method got the proper flow going. This was also when I first noticed little apple tidbits flinking around here and there - not enough to add any crunch, but a slightly noticeable textural variant.

And there's definitely more apple than bourbon going on here. In a lot of ways, this sauce tastes mostly like a pretty solid, decent barbeque baste with a hefty dose of added appley awesomeness. There is a soft bourbony undercurrent, but there's certainly not enough to make it terribly boozy by any stretch - it's possible I would have missed it if I knew not to try and find it. Sandy said she didn't really taste any, but then again, she's pretty much never had bourbon. There is a little added acidity to it, which looking over the ingredients, could be the somewhat curious inclusion of both apple cider vinegar and pineapple juice. Regardless, the emphasis should be on sweet and apple more than bourbon or smoky if doing it straight up.

Just wish we gave ourselves the chance to really try it out with some good pork. Not like the sauce didn't make our grilled chicken and fries taste fairly delish, but after first taste, my immediate thought was ribs followed quickly by pulled pork. I then wondered about the best way to try to incorporate it with some bacon. But alas. We also enjoyed it in place of ketchup in some homemade meatloaf (although Sandy's mom hated it, probably because it had actual flavor), and with some meatballs as well. Cooking with it certainly mellowed out the sweetness a touch while bringing other flavors to the surface.

No real complaints - it's a worthy pickup, for sure. Not the best out there, but pretty decent, so here's to hoping it'll stick around for a while.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Apple Bourbon BBQ Sauce: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Rustic Apple Tarte

Rus·tic

/ˈrəstik/
adjective

1. 1.

   of or relating to the countryside; rural.
2. 2.

   constructed or made in a plain and simple fashion, in particular.
3. 
   

I'd say both definitions of "rustic" apply pretty well to this apple tarte. Sonia and I, now residing in rural South Jersey, have never lived anywhere more rustic in our lives. And as chance should have it, we got a free slice of homemade apple pie from a local roadside produce stand just the day before we heated up our Trader Joe's Rustic Apple Tarte. The farmers' apple pie was scrumptious. Absolutely amazing. 

Sonia and I both agreed it was possibly the best apple pie we had ever had. Granted, nether Sonia nor I grew up in homes with mothers or grandmothers cranking out fresh-baked apple pies at all...like, ever. Sadly, McDonald's apple pies in the little green cardboard boxes were about the best we had ever had as kids. But we were in absolute agreement that this roadside stand had just set the bar for near-perfect country-style apple pie. 

But the very next day, TJ's gave our local farm market a run for its money. We could get into the semantics of how tartes (or tarts) are very different from pies, but if we're honest with ourselves, we'll all agree that their similarities outweigh their differences. They're basically the same animal as far as I can tell—at least when comparing this tarte with this most recent sample of apple pie.

Trader Joe's offering would never have stood out in our minds had it not looked, felt, and tasted homemade. But it did. Straight out of the oven, the smell was heavenly. I was shocked how soft everything was when I cut that first slice. The crust was buttery and flavorful, and there was just the perfect amount of it. It was perfection in and of itself, and yet it took nothing away from the apples. There were tons of apple slices and slivers throughout the pie. In my mind, they were definitely the main attraction. They still had enough crispness to feel like apples, but they were supple and sweet enough to feel like a delicious baked dessert. The syrup was very sweet, and if anything, was the weakest part of the pastry. It was just a tad too sugary, even for me. And I feel like had it been just a mite bit less overpowering that it could have let the natural apple flavors through even more. But to complain about it would be unfair, since it is dessert after all, and is meant to be quite sweet.

The most pleasant surprise—and in many ways the most "TJ's-esque" thing—about this tarte was the layer of candied almond slivers on the top of the confection. At first, I thought it was granola of some kind, but upon closer inspection, they proved to be little pieces of almond. They added a welcomed crunch to the texture and...well, a nuttiness to the flavor. Also the use of "Northern Spy" apples prompted a Google search for the origin of the name. It conjured up images of Civil War treachery in my mind, perhaps the 1860's version of TURN. But, alas, I found nothing so dramatic—just that they're native to New York state and frequently used in making pies.

The only other complaint we might make about this product is that there's a significant amount of saturated fat and calories...if we wanted to be picky. But, as mentioned before, it is a dessert after all, and both Sonia and I will tell you that it's worth a few extra minutes at the gym. It's another item you might bring to your family's Thanksgiving Day dessert spread in lieu of something made by hand, and it might just make you the hero of Turkey Day. It's absolutely delectable. Four and a half stars from me. Perfect five from Sonia.

Bottom line: 9.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Turkey Kit

Note from Russ: We have a special guest blogger today - my wife Sandy! Yes, she exists, and not just when I make fun of her mercilessly. Enjoy!

 

I love Pinterest, and I’ve spent a lot of late nights pinning away. Recipes, sewing projects, cleaning tips...you name it, I’ve pinned it. Now, if you’ve ever actually read half of the blogs that are most often pinned, you’ll notice that most of them are by stay at home moms with a bunch of kids and they all somehow live in spotlessly clean houses, and are able to get a three course meal ready for dinner, while still having time to be elaborate crafters and top notch photographers.

I’ve recently joined the SAHM ranks. It’s been exactly three months since I’ve left my job. My house is not spotless. Russ is lucky to get a hot dinner with some frozen peas (M’s favorite) when he gets home. And, with my new birthday gift of a craft table, I’m working on the elaborate crafts, and you’ve all seen my photographs - well, they're better than the ones Russ used to snap with his crappy phone. I have a board of projects that I’ve actually tried out and most of them have been successful. One of the things that I have not ventured into is cookie decorating. M loves watching cookie decorating videos with me at night. These ladies that we watch are amazing. I’d love to figure it out, but it’s just not going to happen. That’s where our good friend Trader Joe comes in, with his Turkey Kit.

Oh Joe, you’re going to help me make my preschooler’s dream of being a master cookie decorator come true! This kit contained everything that we needed for this adventure, without having to turn the oven on!

Sprinkles, gummy fruits, ‘buttons’ (non M&M’s M&M’s) and icing...sugar. What, no little piping bag of pre-made frosting? Simple enough to make though - box of sugar, one egg white and a bit of lemon juice if it wasn’t sticky enough.

We’ve watched enough videos that I could tell that it wasn’t going to be thin enough to flow, so I added the tiniest bit of water to get it to what I thought would be the right consistency. “Hey that looks like a piping bag!” M exclaimed as I filled the bag up. We laid all of our pieces out and got to work.

Even with my slight thinning down, it was fairly hard to get the icing out. I started with the base and even though I don’t believe that you have to do things the way the box says, I thought that it’d be easiest to put all the nonpareils on the bottom. M happily sprinkled away...only to have most of the sprinkles fall off. Russ started helping and they got quite a few on, but nothing like the box shows. I outlined the rest, while they worked on the sprinkling and then the turkey body was assembled. “Let’s move on” I told M, and she happily told me where to put dots of icing for her to add on the gummies and buttons. We of course had to sample them to make sure they were good. 

 

The buttons were similar to M&M’s and the fruits, which we thought were fruit snacks, were actually a fairly decent gummy. M’s only complaint was that she wanted to put more fruits on and there weren’t anymore. We ended up supplementing with some Costco fruit snacks we had on hand.

Here’s our finished turkey cookie (M pretty much says the word turkey just like cookie. We try to make her say turkey cookie all the time). I’m pretty sure this is meant to be a decoration, but how do you tell a three year old they can’t eat the cookie they just made? M wanted to eat the head, I grabbed a foot and Russ grabbed a bit of tail feather and we all took a big bite. Umm, I now know what fluffy, gingery cardboard tastes like. I think we know why…

We didn’t make a gingerbread turkey, it was a ginderbread turkey. The rest of the box was right, I wonder how they missed this one? Does anyone else’s box have this typo?

All in all, this was a pretty fun family project, worth the $7.99 price tag. In fact, we’re planning on getting another one to take back to Russ’ folks and make with M and her bigger cousin C for Thanksgiving. M gave it a five. I give it a 4, for the gummies and the family fun factor. If it weren’t for that, it would rate much lower.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Turkey Kit: 9 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Podcast Episode 12: Stiff Dessert

In this episode we talk about some of TJ’s newest products like Turkey and Stuffing Seasoned Kettle Chips, Chocolate Pecan Pudding Pie, Peppermint Joe Joe’s Ice Cream, Rosemary Garlic Monkey Bread, Pecan Pie Filling in a Jar, Rustic Apple Tarte, and much more.

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Trader Joe's Pumpkin Biscotti

Before this pumpkin season is officially over, I wanted to throw a review of this biscotti out there for you. It's not new and it's not exactly a Thanksgiving-themed product, but I really wanted to take a look at it and let you all know about it because it's actually very good and it's never really had its day in the sun. It's one of those "under-the-radar" kind of products.

This stuff makes me wish I were a coffee drinker. It's so good when dunked in any kind of coffee. I mean, the biscotti sticks are perfectly delicious by themselves, but the pairing of these with coffee is absolutely scrumptious. Yes, I did go ahead and pour myself a "cuppa" or two while enjoying these biscottis because no matter how much I tried to enjoy it, they simply didn't pair up well with my usual morning sugar-free energy drinks.

It was more natural for Sonia, because she is a daily coffee drinker. And she loved them just as much as I did—maybe even more. As she observed, the pumpkin spice level in these is just about perfect. The package also mentions real pumpkin puree, which can just barely be detected by the tongue. All the flavors are well-balanced, and the textures are even better than other types of biscotti I've tried...biscotti cereal included. The sticks are firm and crispy, but they break apart easily enough when you go to bite a piece off. They aren't rock solid like some other varieties. Also, they're a good value at $4 for a sizable tub with nine servings.

We're pretty much in agreement about this one—except for maybe the pronunciation. She insists on saying "bis-coat-y," while I say "biz-cott-y." Not that it makes any difference. Four and a half from Sonia. Four from me.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Rosemary Garlic Monkey Bread

Very controversial past couple days here in the Pittsburgh home base, and nothing to do with Starbucks cups. Nope, it's all about Trader Joe's Rosemary Garlic Monkey Bread.

Let's see: Sandy says I shouldn't have thawed it out by slightly preheating an oven, then turning it off, and trying to let the bread rise...even though that's exactly what I did last weekend while making homemade pizza dough and it worked like a champ. Instead, I should have just sat it on the counter. Directions stated to let rise in a warm place, and the heat ain't on yet (two things I don't allow on before Thanksgiving: furnace or Christmas music), so the counter in a cool kitchen didn't sound great, and it's not like I could tell a lump of frozen dough to put on a layer and run a lap to warm itself up. We've gone back and forth, and back and forth, and back and forth....

...but not nearly as much as we have about the silly little flimsy plasticky bundt pan the monkey bread comes in: To bake the bread in it, or not to? Here's, TJ's really should have thrown us a clue and stated SOMETHING about it somewhere. Take out of box: Duh. Remove plastic film/baggie surrounding it: Check. Nothing about the pan. No "oven safe" label. No "Hey dummy, don't bake plastic" sticker. This is actually a legitimate TJ's question as evidenced by Nathan's Sad Pot Pie Fiasco of 2013. I say we should have baked in it, Sandy insisted we didn't, and we sided with the risk of slightly suboptimal chow versus poisoning ourselves, and went sans the pan. Was this the right call? I have no idea. But maybe you do. Help.

And no great way to really segue this in, but mid photo shoot, our subject box o' bread took a dive off the back deck, about 15 feet down and splat into the withered remains of our tomato plant in our garden below. I guess it just had enough of our shenanigans right then and there. 

Anyways, the outcome, perhaps not surprisingly after all that, was perhaps a little sub-optimal. But I'll do my best to be fair here. Let's see: The idea of a savory monkey bread was pretty intriguing. My only previous experiences have been of the sweet and cinnamony type, so a herbed garlic with cheese one sounded like a worthwhile try. Problem is, very heavy on the rosemary, not so much the garlic. I had to pick out the "weird little green things" for my normally carb-crammin' three year old to even think of touching these, which I don't blame her for (this was after her first bite). So. Much. Rosemary. But doable, especially with the dough, having been rolled in parmesan cheese, getting an outer, crispy, burnt-cheesy bite. Nice touch there.

But for the texture: I'll own whatever portion of the blame is for any of our potential missteps. But when I think "monkey bread" I think light and fluffy, only a little bready...not dense and chewy and grainy. But that's what we had here. Part of the blame has to go to the wheat flour, at least, though. Normally I'm not terribly opposed to it, but it just didn't work here. Another point: monkey bread to me is a bunch of little pull-apart bites all stuck together, not 10 or so dinner roll sized buns to break off one another. So "monkey bread" seems to be a bit of a misnomer.

I think we all, in the end, enjoyed it enough to warrant buying again with perhaps some clarification of the rules of engagement here. Sandy said she wished it came with a little dipping sauce, suggesting some marinara. For the $4.99 price point, I think a little pouch could be included. For all the clamor this product has caused - I doubt a single food item has ever caused as much ongoing debate as this silly thing - it's a sign of our overall union when we both gave it a matching 3.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Rosemary Garlic Monkey Bread: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Pecan Pie Filling in a Jar

Here's another $7 item from TJ's. One might justify that lofty price tag with the added bonus of a quality mason-esque jar you can keep long after the pie filling has been consumed. One might also justify that seven dollar premium with the notion that this stuff is pretty tasty. Because it is.

After making the purchase, Sonia and I mused about whether or not we'd need to employ the recondite prowess of one skilled in the culinary arts in order to enjoy this unique delicacy because, unfortunately, neither of us are particularly gifted in that department—at least as far as pies are concerned. Sonia can make some tasty Mexican dishes thanks to some family recipes handed down to her from her parents, who, incidentally, were in town this past week. They brought delicious, authentic Mexican sweet breads from a bakery in Los Angeles. It seemed an obvious pairing to me, if perhaps nobody else, so of course I slathered a piece of the bread with this sweet blend of nuts and syrup: Mexican-American fusion at its rarest and finest.

It worked. As long as you didn't mind the moderate alcohol essence from the bourbon in the pie filling. Other food pairings yielded similar results: ice cream, pancakes—and I can only imagine with cheesecake as well, as mentioned on the packaging—all super sweet and super tasty, but there was still that alcoholic kick. I'm well aware that the bourbon is less harsh after baking, and for that reason, I decided to try my hand at whipping up something in that big, hot, bakey thing in the kitchen that's not a microwave. What's it called again? "Oh-ven" or something like that?

My baking experiment was a reasonable success, as I modified the pie recipe on the jar to use the filling in little crescent rolls instead. The process of baking and a good bit of butter certainly helped to mellow out the bourbon zing, and the pecans were even more tasty, as they picked up a lightly-toasted flavor and slightly crispier texture in the oven. 

Straight out of the jar, it's extraordinarily sweet—and bourbony, as mentioned before. The first and fourth ingredients are both types of sugar. So yeah. Hope you brought your sweet tooth. It's really just a jar of rich, luscious, maple-esque syrup and a boatload of whole pecans. Between that Chocolate Pecan Pudding Pie and this, Trader Joe's must be single-handedly keeping the pecan farming industry afloat. 

I think this product is vastly more enjoyable and successful after baking, but Sonia is perfectly happy with it as a raw topping on just about anything. She gives it four out of five stars. Because it's expensive, wants to be baked, and a little too much like drinking pecan-flavored whiskey, I think I'll keep my score to a modest three out of five. But don't let this average-ish rating scare you away, particularly if you're blessed with mad baking skills.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Turkey and Stuffing Seasoned Kettle Chips

Well, hope you all had a happy and safe Halloween. We sure did out here in the 'burgh, although our kiddos were too smart to fall for the Jimmy Kimmel "we ate all your candy" bit we tried to pull on them. Too smart, those kids. Anyways, on to the next holiday (and my personal favorite) - Thanksgiving!

One thing I'm thankful for, as triflingly unimportant in the grand scheme it is: Seems to me we're in the midst of a potato chip renaissance going on here. For the longest time, the only kind of chips out there, that I could think of anyways, were: plain, sour cream and onion, barbecue, and salt and vinegar, with the occasional rogue bag of cheddar and sour cream, but who really liked those, anyways? Maybe some slight variations in there, but all that there really was. Then....Lay's kicked up their "Do Us A Flavor" campaign and BAM. I didn't know that you could make chips taste convincingly akin to biscuits and gravy, or Reuben sandwiches, or a gyro, or...well, yeah, let's forget those cappuccino ones, shall we?

Now, just as November rolls in, a new entrant: Trader Joe's Turkey and Stuffing Seasoned Kettle Chips. I'm kinda surprised that they didn't go for a name like "Holiday Dinner", "Gobbler Goodies" or "Thanksgivingesque" - the name as is just sounds too straightforward. But too awesome to not try.

And not disappointed one bit. Not. At. All. Cracking the seal unleashed a very savory aroma much like a fresh dish of stuffing waiting to get devoured....yum. Salivating already. Quick visual scan: very much like sour cream and onion, but okay, who has time for that, it's munch time...oh goodness. The first taste that hits is hard on the stuffing. Very upfront. Sandy and my brother both said, independently, that it tastes very much like Stove Top brand stuffing - I'm picking that up, too, but I think that's mostly because that's what I first think of when I think of stuffing. There's the taste of celery and slight herbal bite of rosemary and thyme in there that really seals the deal.

That's fine, but....what about the turkey? It's present, but more subtle. The best way I can think of to describe it, there's a certain roastiness to these chips that slowly builds with each chip, and is more apparent on the aftertaste. It'd be impossible, probably, to perfectly replicate the juicy joy of fresh roasted turkey on a dry, crispy potato chip - but to the extent that a chip can, it's there. If you've tried the Lay's Reuben chips, for example, the "corned beef aspect" is perhaps the subtlest, but still present - these TJ turkey tater tidbits are similar in that regard.

Really though, in all, the stuffing and turkey flavors come together very well, and of course, some potato flavor pokes through as well to sell the "Thanksgiving dinner on a chip" idea even better. Now, some might say "well, you'd need gravy and cranberry sauce to really make it Thanksgiving dinner....." Look. There's enough salt on them, with enough taste, that adding just a little more to add a gravy spin would be a misstep. And adding something tart and sweet to them, like cranberry, would throw it all off. IT'S A POTATO CHIP, not meant to replace your holiday meal, or to be some Wonka-gobstopper-esque concoction that will taste like an entire holiday dinner, because then they'd have to include pecan pie and wine too, and now we're just getting carried away.

And they're perfect just as they are. No, I mean that. Perfect. Perfect turkey and stuffing taste. Perfect kettle chip crunch. Perfect for the snack budget at only $1.99 a bag. Just perfect. I love them, and I don't say that about chips often - I'm a guy who most days would prefer a handful of raw spinach over a baggie of average run-of-the-mill chips. I'm going to say these are now my favorite potato chips I've ever had, which will make their logical seasonal demise all the sadder. So, in the meantime: Indulge! Sandy and I polished off one bagful already, and went back for more - self control might kick back in at one point, but until then: Gobble gobble.

Bottom line:  Trader Joe's Turkey and Stuffing Seasoned Kettle Chips: 10 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Podcast Episode 11: Alcoholic Beverages

This episode is all about alcoholic beverages we’ve tried from Trader Joe’s. If you have suggestions for others we should imbibe, let us know. Also, you might notice some minor audio issues. We apologize for those.

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Trader Joe's Whole Wheat Butternut Squash Gyoza

Quasi-confession time: I had some behavioral issues in my formative years. More than most kids. Lots of fights at school and crap like that. One time, in fifth grade, I (rightfully so) got slugged square in the jaw and had a permanent tooth busted. Got it fixed at the dentist and was told no solid food for at least a week. Well, then, applesauce, Carnation instant breakfast, Jello, and milkshake time then, right? Wrong. My folks got me...baby food. And rightfully so. And perhaps still even rightfully so, stretched out a few days past the week we were told - you know, for "nutrition's sake" and "dental structural integrity assurance" and all. Had nothing to do with teaching some young punk a lesson, I'm sure. Nothing at all.

I bring this up in relation to Trader Joe's Whole Wheat Butternut Squash Gyoza because when I say I know what baby food tastes like, I know exactly what I'm talking about. I gagged on that stuff almost every day. I'm not sure what was worse, the smell or the taunts of my peers at the cafeteria table. I swore to myself then and there if I ever had kids, I'd never feed them baby food from a jar - and over 20 years and two kiddos of my own later, that is still true.

And while these gyoza weren't quite as bad as those squatty Gerber jars...they were fairly reminiscent. I'm not quite sure what it was. I generally do well with squash overall - spaghetti squash has become a favorite, I have no problems with roasted, either. Maybe it was the smushy texture. Or maybe it was the taste, too - it just seemed extra sweet, somehow. There's some added ginger and honey, which sounded good, but don't poke out flavor-wise nearly as much as the sheer squashiness of it. Maybe it was the particular blend of squash, butternut and kabocha, which to my knowledge, this was my first encounter with it. Good ol' Wikipedia says kabocha are a strong and sweet variety, and unrelatedly, is apparently revered as an aphrodisiac in some pockets of the world. Not that you'd put that in a baby food, but maybe if you want to make...I'm stopping there.

The rest of the gyoza fares only mildly better. For some textural variety, there's some small carrot bits and some edamame mixed in, which seem a somewhat odd choice. As is the whole wheat wrapper, which just adds a somewhat unnecessarily heavy feel to the whole package. Honestly, the whole concoction kinda felt and tasted like some outcome from a TV show like "Chopped" where the ingredients in the basket were whole wheat flour, edamame, and baby food, without much more added. I mean, this would be about the best one could do with such a mix, but that doesn't mean it'd be entirely satisfactory, either.

It's not just me in the household who didn't really like them. Sandy first turned her nose when she opened the package, noting an odd super-squashy scent. When it came time to dine, we both took our first bites with all the faith and good vibes in the world...and kinda scowled. The only way we made it through our plateful was dousing them in some "Red Dragon" to overpower the squash. Our toddler, M, kinda made a face but bravely soldiered through the bare minimum we allowed her. Baby B (almost not a baby any more!) seemed to enjoy them the most, appropriately enough. Then again, she eats anything at this stage. While we're fans of most of TJ's other gyoza offerings, I think we all agree these will not be a repeat purchase. Matching 1.5's.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Whole Wheat Butternut Squash Gyoza: 3 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Chocolate Pecan Pudding Pie

It's rare for Sonia to be lazier than I am. That's why it kind of surprised me when the first comment she made about this pie was "You know, Trader Joe's has got to start pre-slicing their pies." 

Now there's a first-world problem if I ever heard one:  that moment when you realize you will have to cut your own slice of chocolate pecan pudding pie. But cut a slice she did—actually, one for herself and one for me—although, I would have been more than willing to cut mine myself.

Because I've been looking forward to trying this delectable dessert since I first heard about it a week or two ago on Instagram and Spotted on Shelves. It has a "this will be your dessert on Thanksgiving Day" kind of vibe about it: the name, the packaging, the $7 price tag. And there's another horrific first-world problem for you:  that moment when you realize you'll have to eat your Thanksgiving dessert a month early because you're an intrepid foodie-hack blogger. Inquiring minds want to know and all.

So I'm here to tell you that if you like chocolate, pie crust, and pecans...GO AHEAD AND BUY THIS FOR YOUR FAMILY'S THANKSGIVING DESSERT. I am not working for Trader Joe's. I am not making any commission off of this recommendation. I'm telling you this because you'll thank me. And even if you're one of those rare people that's somehow not in love at first bite with this scrumptious snack, I can pretty much guarantee someone in your family will enjoy this product.

My dear misguided wife was one of those rare people not in love with this pie. "It's too rich," she said upon her first taste. In my opinion, the benchmark for whether a pie like this is "too rich" or not would be whether you can taste the pecans or not. Well, you can taste the pecans in this instance. They blend seamlessly with the chocolate pudding in a way I wouldn't have expected to even be possible before trying this choice confection.

The chocolate pudding is quite rich, to be fair. But Thanksgiving dessert is supposed to be rich. It's thick, sweet, creamy, and very chocolatey. It's not like they dumped a few cups of Jello pudding in this pie, either—this stuff is top-shelf...no disrespect to Bill Cosby...well, okay, I guess we've all lost a good bit of respect for Bill Cosby, but not because of his lifelong advocacy of Jello pudding and its derivative products. What I'm trying to say is that the pudding here is thick, fudgey, and among the best I've ever had. The crust is a typical pie crust—similar to any pre-packaged, store-bought pie you'd find this time of year. It's fresh, flaky, buttery, and delicious, but in a way, it's the only part of this pie that isn't mind-blowingly unique. Don't get me wrong, it's nothing to complain about. At all. And the pecans...man, don't get me started on the pecans. If you like pecans, there are about a million of them in there. And if you don't like pecans, there are still a million of them in there. So...that might be one reason not to buy this product.

In my mind, this pie might be up there with cookie butter in terms of TJ's scrump-dilly-iciousness. Sonia's score will ensure this pie never sees the light of the Pantheon. My score will make sure it's remembered as better than simply "not bad." 3.5 from her. Perfect 5 from me.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Sweet, Hot & Savory Honey Roasted Cocoa & Chili Peanuts & Almonds with Roasted Salted Pecans

Three adjectives. Three major flavors. Three nuts. Three ampersands (a TJ's first?). Three minutes to type out the name, and three breaths to say it all. Can you say it three times fast? Not me, at least not easily.

Yup, Trader Joe's Sweet, Hot & Savory Honey Roasted Cocoa & Chili Peanuts & Almonds with Roasted Salted Pecans. What an epic name. I suppose something like "Triple Nut Treat" sounds a little too, well, oddly suggestive, and I cracked enough "thanks for taking pictures of my nuts to put online" jokes to Sandy to continue down that track, so let's back up and just look at that name in all its 105-character glory.

Even just as an acronym: TJSH&SHRC&CP&AWRSP. Dang. But once you get over the length of it, just look at it al. Don't know you about you, but man - I was intrigued. Honey, chocolate and chili powder, on a perfectly great assortment of roasted nuts. Sounds promisingly, presumptuously and preposterously pleasant, piquant and palatable, and for just $4.99 for a not-quite-a-pound, like a bargain, too.

 Well, I wish I were a little more bowled over, I guess. It's not a bad sack o' nuts by any means. Though predominantly peanuts (as one would expect), there's more than ample almonds and pecans mixed in. Though pecans are further down the ingredients list than almonds, our particular bag seemed to have more pecans than almonds, which I think is a great thing. Almonds have always been the disappointment of the nut family to me - nothing personal, but they don't do it for me as much as a pecan or cashew or macadamia.

Regardless, in case you got lost in the product name (it happens), it's just the peanuts and almonds that are honey roasted then blasted with cocoa and chili powder. Not any of those flavors really stand out though. Instead, the dominant flavor upon first bite really seems to be the nuts themselves - crunchy, meaty, earthy, like any good roasted nut. A few seemed perhaps a little over-roasted but not by terribly much - could have been more a visual deception than actual reality. There's a little sweet twinge from the honey, and the chocolate chili dust is noticeable and it adds a nice taste, but it's more accompaniment than main feature. There's only a slight residual burn too, so if spice is a concern, you're probably okay here unless your palate is super-sensitive.

Of course, this dark dust slips off the peanuts and almonds and makes its way over to the pecans as well as a virtual powder reservoir towards the bottom of the bag. I expected to unearth some potent flavor when I started mining that particular area, but to be honest, not that much more came out. On one hand, I get it - keep a mellow balance, have a great little easily munchable snack, placate the masses, more or less. But on the other, I wish the flavor were a little more bold, with each flavor - honey, chocolate and chili - more amped up to a more distinctive taste. As is, it all tastes a little more muddied than anything else.

I can't debate that these super-long titled nuts are fairly decent as is, though. The wife, without much elaboration, concurs. I probably exasperated her enough with too many offline nut jokes for her to add much more than that. Appropriately enough, though, we both are going with the same score: Three.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Sweet, Hot & Savory Honey Roasted Cocoa...seriously, I give up: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons 

Trader Joe's Pumpkin Panettone

This is actually the second panettone we've reviewed here on WG@TJ's. The first one—the Panettone Classico—was much smaller than this selection, and it was offered around Christmas time. The write-up on the packaging for this unique product mentions that it's also eaten traditionally by Italians at Christmas time. Strangely, this offering is brought to us by the one and only Trader Joe, while the aforementioned "classico" selection was brought to us by "Trader Giotto." I erroneously assumed the discrepancy was due to the classico coming from Italy and the pumpkin version coming from here in the US. In fact, both products state plainly "Product of Italy" on their respective boxes.

Speaking of the boxes, wow! HELLO packaging! Not only is this thing huge (much larger than its classico cousin), but it's also beautiful and ornate. In fact, there are little loops at the tops of the boxes in case one is inclined to use them as decorations. But if you do wait until the yuletide season to purchase a pumpkin panettone, I'd warn you not to hang the unopened box on your Christmas tree, as it is likely to bring the whole thing crashing down. At a full pound, this treat from the old country serves eight and is densely packed with "pumpkin flavored filling cream" and pieces of candied pumpkin. 

For about $5, it's perfect for parties or holiday gatherings, but when it's just you and maybe one other person, be prepared to open and close the packaging several times, as you'll never be able to eat this thing in one sitting. And be prepared for a struggle each time you open and close the package. In addition to the large, bell-shaped outer box, there's a big cellophane bag with a twist-tie and an oversize paper muffin cup around the cake itself. Serving yourself a slice of this dessert is rather like breaking into Fort Knox.

And as soon as you open it, there's a peculiar smell that's hard to describe. One might say it's a citrusy, fermented kind of fragrance. It's undoubtedly from the pumpkin ingredients. Sonia wasn't as pleased with the candied pumpkin as she was with the creamy pumpkin stuff. I found them both to be equally unexpected and unusual. They both taste like actual pumpkin, but sweeter. They're not too heavy on the traditional pumpkin spices like cinnamon and nutmeg. I thought the candied pumpkin was similar to any dried fruit you might find in a dessert like this. Sonia thinks they should have added pumpkin seeds to take the place of nuts, like you might find in a similar product.

We both wholeheartedly agree that the best part of this product is the soft, fluffy cake bread. It's almost like angel food cake, but slightly more bread-like. It tastes and feels incredibly fresh. In fact, I can't figure out how a shelf-stable, pre-packaged product like this one—one that's been imported from Europe, no less—can flaunt such perfectly soft bread. Well, actually...I take that back. The three hefty layers of packaging might have something to do with it. But still...the freshness of this bread is impressive.

I can't say the pumpkin cream and candied pumpkin were entirely appetizing to me, primarily because I'm not used to them. Sonia was even more weirded out than I was. But in the end, I have to admit that I'm glad we purchased this uncommon Italian holiday dessert treat, because I'm all about trying new things, even if they don't blow me away at first bite. This is the sort of thing I think might grow on me over time. And man, that fluffy breading is amazing. I can't go lower than four out of five stars. Sonia wants more pumpkin cream, less ginger flavor (I barely noticed the ginger in this product), and the addition of pumpkin seeds in version 2.0. Three and a half stars from her.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Podcast Episode 10: New Fall Products

In this episode we discuss several new pumpkin products at Trader Joe’s, plus a few new non-pumpkin products.

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Trader Joe's Magic Beans

It's easy enough to see Trader Joe's Magic Beans and make the allusion to Jack and the Beanstalk, or if you're all hip and cool and into today's musicals, Into The Woods, but I'm not going there. I mean, if I traded my cow for these beans, maybe, but I digress.

Nope, going with the tried and true classic, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

Not that there were any magic beans in that classic novel brought to life on the screen by Gene Wilder (totally ignoring you here, Johnny Depp, go prance somewhere else). But...wouldn't it be cool if Willy Wonka made actual magic chocolate beans? He made everlasting gobstoppers, a chocolate bar you could reach into your TV and grab, a chocolate river...why not a magic candy bean?

If these TJ choco-beans could conjure up any magical power, I know which one I'd want it to be: plant a chocolate tree in my stomach so I could stop craving chocolate practically nonstop. Over the past year, I've practically choked off almost all of my other candy cravings (I can resist Reese's products and Take 5s like a pro by now)...but chocolate? For whatever reason, it's grown only stronger, and it'd be so nice to have something in my tummy to make it stop. That way, I wouldn't have to end up making a video like these for the Jimmy Kimmel show after my kids go trick-or-treating...except it'd be real.

Well, I'm pretty sure that cocoa plant in my innards isn't going to happen with the lack of sunlight, soil, and basic science and all, but that doesn't mean I don't want to keep on planting these beans down in my tummy anyways. There's three different main colors - brown, green, and white - which are kinda marbley in appearance and identical in taste. The thick, candy shellacked shell (thicker than typical M & M) gives way to some pretty basic milk chocolate with an almond nougat middle. Pretty big beans, overall, with the nougat core taking up about half the insides, and adding a big ol' solid crunch.

Yes, a solid crunch, all the way through. Interesting. When I hear the word "nougat" I think of the stuff that resides inside something like a 3 Muskateers bar, and not this almost-but-not-quite toffee-esque substance in the middle with some almonds adding some girth. Some quick hack research on the matter (i.e., good ol' Wikipedia) reveals that not only what the 'murican standard of nougat is is something that's not quite the real stuff (go figure), but also that there's such thing as "brown nougat" or "nougatine" that is firm, crunchy, and made without egg whites. So that's what's on the inside here, in case you, like me, were expecting a soft iddle and were surprised by the wholly solid core.

Overall, the magic beans aren't a bad confection by any stretch. Just a few will really do the trick for a quick cocoa pick-me-up, and there is a small novelty factor to them. But while we both like them, neither Sandy nor I are particularly bowled over by them. That may be partially because the candies weren;t what we were exactly expecting, which doesn't make them less tasty, but maybe just more aware of our ignorance to the larger world of nougat out there. I'm also pretty sure to have any chance of these taking root and growing into that cocoa plant, I'd have to swallow a bean whole, and they're much too big for that - potential choke hazard for small kids, I'd think. Also, the price seems perhaps slightly high - $3.99 for a 7.7 ounce bag - which isn't horrible, but I'm used to a better value from TJ's. Cost less than a cow, though. Matching 3.5's here.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Magic Beans: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons

 

Trader Joe's Pumpkin Tortilla Chips

I can't deny these are good tortilla chips. But Sonia and I have a small problem with them. We don't know how they want to be eaten. On one hand, they are salty and savory, with pumpkin seeds and corn flour. The back of the bag says to dip them in "any salsa or even a yogurt-based dip." You mean like a Spinach and Kale Greek Yogurt Dip?? 

The problem with that is that there's nutmeg and cinnamon on these chips. How often are you craving Greek yogurt, kale, cinnamon, and nutmeg all at once? I don't know. Maybe there's a type of yogurt dip they're thinking of that's just escaping me right now.

Now, I did try these fascinating tortilla chips with spicy, traditional tomato-based salsa. It worked just fine because the heat and flavor of the salsa easily outshined the subtle cinnamon seasonings on these snacks. If you only ever had these chips with spicy salsa, you'd hardly even know they were anything other than plain old corn tortilla chips. 

But I also tried them with Pumpkin Pie Spice Cookie Butter. And that worked, too. Magically, they were transformed into dessert chips in a way I'm not so sure plain tortilla chips could pull off. In this latter case, I think the cinnamon and nutmeg helped seamlessly blend the chips with the cookie butter.

When eaten plain, the chips feel and taste like basic tortilla chips, but then there's the definitely-detectable presence of the above-mentioned pumpkin spices—yet there's no innate sweetness. It's a bit confusing for my tongue. It's almost as if these chips don't know who they really are or what they want to be. And this isn't the first Trader Joe's product we've come across that's had an acute case of dissociative identity disorder.

But then there are those of you who will insist that I praise the versatility of this product, rather than dismiss it for straddling both sides of the fence. You wouldn't be wrong. For that reason, I give them four stars. Sonia isn't convinced. She wants them to be one thing or the other, and for that reason, she gives them only three stars. Who's right? Are these chips too creative for their own good, or does their weirdness make them wonderful? Let us know in the comments below!

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Ghost Pepper Potato Chips

Boo!

Err, I mean, yay! Finally, a perfectly seasonal item from Trader Joe's that has nothing to do with anything even remotely resembling a pumpkin or any of its usual camaraderie of spices. It's about freakin' time.

How are Trader Joe's Ghost Pepper Potato Chips "seasonal" you ask? Well - Halloween is just a few weeks away! And these are ghost peppers we're talkin' 'bout here, Willis. Although, as grammatically improper a statement it is, I don't believe in no ghosts. But ghost peppers? Listen: Anything that has potential to melt your face off as if you just peered at the Ark of the Covenant ought to be feared and respected. Although not the most capitally capsacin-incapacitated peppers out there...those suckers are hot! Beware!

So, it was with some fear and trembling that Sandy and I ripped open our bag the other night, and with even more trepidation that I took my first waft in preparation of placing one of these potentially unholy tater wafers in my mouth. Hrmm...not picking up much here. A quick glance brought to mind sour cream and onion chips almost - a dusty cakey coating of some type with little dark specks. And I got my first good luck at the chips unique (to me, at least) structure of being lattice cut - I've seen waffle fries and ridged chips, but never some combination of those. Maybe that's just my general chip world ignorance speaking there. Anyways, I said a quick prayer, gulped, and prepared for first bite...

Crunchy. Very crunchy and crispy yet lighter and airier due to design - in some ways it was like eating a flattened sheet of potato sticks, which I say as a compliment. Great texture, great munch. Then the flavor started sinking in...smokey, a little mesquitey, a small hint of sweetness, a scant of burn - hey, wait a second here! I just described a pretty adequate barbecue chip. And honestly, that's what these supposedly spicy suckers tasted a lot like, except with a little tingle on the afterburn. The spicy seemed to build a bit with each successive chip, but never to the point of unpleasantry. In some ways, after such a huge ramping up to get myself psyched, it was a big letdown.

Not. Hot. But don't take my word for it. Take my toddler's, who's adventurous as a three year old can be when it comes to food, but shies away from most spicy stuff. She insisted on trying a chip, though, and with some hesitation, Sandy and I offered her one, milk cup and tear rags ready to go just in case. "Yummy!" she exclaimed. "I wike these." I asked if her if she thought they were spicy, and she said "No, maybe just a little bit."

So, there you have it - another exotic sounding TJ chip which turned out to be more BBQy than truly unique. In some ways, I'm somewhat relieved of that - the munch factor was extremely high, so it was nice to not be inhibited by spice overload. But in others, I'm kinda disappointed - I wanted these pepper chips to have enough heat to scare me away a little, but be enough of a treat to keep me coming back for more.

For $2.29, they're tough to argue with, though. Sandy enjoyed them enough to give them a four, mostly for texture and crunch (seriously, try eating just one or two - not gonna happen) which seems around right to me. A little more spooky spice would send them over the top, but their overall tastiness isn't an apparition.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Ghost Pepper Potato Chips: 7.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons