Trader Joe's Black Licorice Treads

Tire treads can be awfully scary or just plain awful.

Two quick stories: Couple years ago, got on the PA Turnpike. Less than five minutes into a 300 mile drive, an 18 wheeler blew a tire as I was passing them. Tread tore right off and flew right towards our windshield. I thought we were goners...but some real nifty air current wind tunnel vortex-type voodoo (or just maybe the hand of God)  caught it and sailed right over us and onto the empty lane behind us. I don't think I breathed for the next hundred miles.

Another time, not as dire but didn't work out as well: Totally ran over a tire tread on the highway and busted up the whole underside of our car. Stopped at a truck stop for duct tape to make it the rest of the way home. Got "bit by an alligator" in trucker lingo, apparently. Almost $1000 in damage in an instant.

Fortunately, Trader Joe's Black Licorice Treads are of a happier variant. I mean, it's candy. They'd never make a candy version of anything harmful or awful or anything, right? These are totally candy sticks! 

Anyways, think a flattened out black Twizzler plank, and that's about what we got here. I'd approximate each TJ tread at about three Twizzler's worth, maybe four. Biting into a piece definitely gives about the same satisfaction as biting into multiple Twizzlers but is a little softer and less thick overall. Maybe it's the lack of airtube in the middle, which sadly means I can't make double use of them as a straw. Doh.

The flavor is a little different, though. I'd admit I'm used to black licorice being flavored mostly by anise, and there's a little bit of that to be had here. But most of the flavor seems to come more from actual licorice root, with which I'm not as familiar. I wouldn't say it's rich or vibrant or deep or whatever adjectives the packaging uses. It's more subtle and subdued, and it takes a few chews to get really worked out. Maybe it's only because it's a little different from a Twizzler and it has TJ's name on it, but I kinda want to say almost "more refined." Interpret as you wish, I'm an unabashed TJ's fanboy.

Good licorice treads for real. Would have been ideal for our recent road trip, on which we somehow avoided any vehicular shenanigans of any sort. As my family says when it's all good, "No dents, no tickets." Good approach here, as these are pretty good snackers I probably won't tire of. Give them a spin. Hoping I'm not inflating too much when I say double fours. Okay, this is getting worn out...

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Black Licorice Treads: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons

Trader Joe's Chipotle Vegetable Quesadillas

"If they're called 'vegetable' quesadillas, there should be more vegetables," stated Sonia. "I want sliced-up zucchini or eggplant or peppers in there. Corn and beans aren't enough."

This is coming from the only human being I know who eats plain cheese quesadillas for a meal—nothing but a tortilla with melted cheese—on average about twice a week. If she'd add beans, corn, and chipotle sauce, I could probably live off her quesadillas, because I enjoy the taste enough, and also, I'm guessing, there'd be enough nutritional value in there.

Likewise, I could live off these quesadillas. I really like their simplicity and flavor. I'll admit we heated them in the microwave, but I was more than pleased with the result. 

Sonia? Not so much. Sometimes I think she feels threatened by Trader Joe's Mexican offerings—as if I'll suddenly ask her to never cook again and demand the freezer be stockpiled with Trader José's comida Mexicana. Where is José these days, anyway? Don't worry, wifey. I'll never get tired of your salsa de queso.

Sonia's other major complaint was the price. $3.49 for two quesadillas. I'll admit they're not exactly giving them away, but each quesadilla could stand as a meal in and of itself. That seems like a pretty standard price point for frozen foods to me. I think Sonia has a problem with it because she can make about 500 of her plain quesadillas with an inexpensive stack of corn or flour tortillas and a hunk of cheese from the grocery store, and they wind up costing about 15 cents each.

The balance of corn, beans, and cheese is on point here in these "vegetable" quesadillas, and the chipotle flavor is almost perfect, too. There's a hint of heat, but it's not overwhelming. If I were in the mood for something with a significant kick, I would have to put some kind of hot sauce on them, but for most occasions, they're perfect just the way they are. 

Sonia didn't really have any specific complaints about the taste or texture. She just thinks they'd be better with another ingredient or two. Fair enough. Two and a half stars from her. 

That's a painfully low score for these, in my opinion. Four and a half stars from me.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.