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.