Trader Joe's Potato Chips with South African Style Seasoning

It's a little less expensive than I thought to fly from Pittsburgh to Johannesburg, South Africa: starts around $1400, with a couple layovers (in Toronto and Munich), and takes about 24 hours. It's not a trip I'm planning seriously for any time soon (or quite possibly, ever) but if/when I'd ever go, man, someone invite me to a braai, please. Don't know what that is? I didn't until I saw it mentioned on the bag of Trader Joe's Potato Chips with South African Style Seasoning and looked it up. Basically, it's a South African style cookout/social gathering centered around lots and lots of meat. There's sosatie and boerewors (two new words for me!) along with chicken, seafood, whatever else...that's my kinda thing right there.

Well, apparently these TJ's chips got invited to the party, but to me, the jury's out on whether they really, truly belong or not. There's nothing really wrong with the chips - good, munchy texture, very crispy, almost worth the diet cheat points for that - and, although salty, I like the seasoning mix - lots of different stuff, primarily featuring smoky paprika and garlic - but there's something lost in translation here, I think. In the end, these South African-inspired chippies taste closer to a run-of-the mill straightforward barbeque chip to me, which is kinda boring and not the exotic kick I was looking for.

 I'm wagering this is not the fault of the spice blend itelf, but because it's on a chip, not a big ol'l chunk of carne. There's no real base for the flavor to blast off from. I've been too busy with some other spices and rubs at TJ's, but I *think* I've seen a South African seasoning blend on the shelf there which, if it's anything like this, would be a terrific pickup to rub on some chicken or fish or sausage or anything that can get all juicy on a grill. Instead, here, we're left with these light little dry crisps without much pop or sizzle. I think a little meaty gristle here could go a long, long ways - there's just not enough here for the seasonings to be able to really, fully express themselves. However, if we were to stay in the chip realm, another chip type may fare better - these are dressed up "Ode to Classic Potato Chip" hombres. A ridged or kettle chip would be a firmer base, with perhaps a little more oomph.

I'm not the only one not tooting my vuvuzela about these chips.Sandy's not too much of an ardent enthusiast either. "Ehhh...nothing too special," she stated with a dismissive tune. "I'll eat them but really, they pretty much taste like barbeque chips." Granted, it'd be a pretty darn good BBQ chip, and the price at $2.29 (at least locally) is a perfectly reasonable buy, but we both can't help but be a little bit disappointed here.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Potato Chips with South African Style Seasoning: 5.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Cowgirl Bark

I had a hankerin' for some vittles, so I saddled up old Legacy and rode on over to the general store. While'n I perused their stock for something tasty, I came a across this here pink bag of Cowgirl Bark—my left eyebrow lifted up like one o' them there hot air balloons. I'd only ever heard of such a thing once before, in the classic western writings of a Mister Russell Shelly—a legend 'bout a man by the name of Cowboy Joe—a man so ruggedly adventuresome that the mud scraped off his boots made an unusual snack for regular folk like you and me. And while some say it ain't such tasty eatin', others say Cowboy Joe's mud is the stuff of dreams—more still say he's a lost man; a man with good intentions, yet a drifter with a broken compass. I had to find out if his cowgirl counterpart was just as unhinged, or if the bark from her boots were something just a little more special.

I sauntered over to the clerk, an impish young lass by the name of Josephine—Trader Jo, they called her—and placed my wares on the counter. She eyed me coolly. "You know they sell Cowboy Bark," she quipped. I stood there for a moment, eyeing her in return, taken slightly aback by the affront to my masculinity. "I've heard of it," I said. We stared each other down like gunslingers at high noon. She picked up the bag. "You like white chocolate?" she asked. Now, it's well-documented in these here electronic logs that I'm a huge fan of white chocolate. "It's for my wife," I lied. At least on most occasions, the little missus prefers dark chocolate to white. As Trader Jo shot me a look of disbelief, I went ahead and conceded "But I'll probably eat half the bag...and yeah, I do like white chocolate," as if the confession would offset my untruth. And with that, I quick-drew my wallet out of its holster, clicked the plastic action down through the reader, punched the green button, and laid that transaction down in no time flat. I snugged the card back in its sleeve as Jo handed me a receipt.

Impressed by my skills with the plastic, she waved me aside from the checkout, sat me down on a barstool, and took off one of her boots. It was covered in white mud, with a conglomeration of brown and red clay caked below her spurs. It was her. She was Cowgirl Jo. "Me 'n Cowboy Joe used to ride together," she said. "We'd rustle almondolopes as a team." She could tell I was impressed. "We both set out for the Big Rock Candy Mountains together, but...well, we both got a little lost along the way."  She continued, "I was with 'im through Pretzel Prairie, all the way past Peanut Pond..." she trailed off and got a little teary-eyed.

"And then?" I asked.

"And then, I—I just had to follow my own heart. We went our separate ways when he went up Joe-Joe's Mountain. I continued south through the Ginger Hills, and eventually I came upon a field of Cranberry Cattle. I wrangled them up and returned 'em to Rice Ranch." As she recounted each leg of her journey, she showed me the corresponding ingredient in her "bark." Triple ginger cookies, dried cranberries, and Rice Krispy-like grains were all tasty ingredients, but...where was she headed with all this?

"Finally, I wound up on the Great White Flats of Chocolate," she said. "I have sweet, sweet memories of that place." Glancing round her store at that point, she noted that it had filled up with locals and dudes, so she excused herself and sent me packin'. 

My encounter with Cowgirl Jo resonated with me for hours as Legacy and I lugged our goods back home to the missus—who surprisingly enjoyed the Cowgirl Bark more than I did! Sweet as Cowgirl Jo was, I still think she's just a-wanderin'...out there driftin' in the wilderness, just a bit lost like a tuft of tumbleweed. But if'n you like white chocolate—and ONLY if'n you like it a lot—then I say this Cowgirl Bark is worth a whirl. I give it three Sheriff Stars. The missus gives it four.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.