Trader Joe's All Natural Pasteurized Green Plant Green Food Beverage

About two months ago or so, Sandy and I started going to a spin class at the gym together. She's using it as crosstraining for a couple half-marathons this year, and I'm crazy enough to think I can do a 150-mile bike ride for the National MS Society this June. Anyways, we've always heard that spinning is a tough, tough class, so we were a little apprehensive about our first class. The instructor, who was this fairly young, scrawny, probably college-aged kid who looked like a hardcore cyclist, came in. Forty-five minutes later, we walked out, thinking, "Well, that wasn't too tough." Sure, we broke a sweat, but it seemed pretty easy and well within our range of capability without too much challenge. We went back the next week, although at a different time for whatever reason, for another one, which had a different instructor. This guy came in, and honestly, I couldn't imagine him being tough. He was easily mid-to-late thirties, balding, and not that I'm one to talk, big ol' hang-low-wobble-to-and-fro gut (I am unsure about any knot or bow-tying capabilities, but I'd assume no). I tell you the truth ... that guy was tough. High intensity climbs and runs, lots of sprinting, lots of quick up/down intervals ... it was ten times harder than the previous week. Easily. We've made it a point to go to his classes and get our butts kicked on Tuesday nights and Saturday mornings.

Why do I tell you this? To make a point: appearances can lie. Don't judge based on them.

It was with this in mind that we decided to pick up and try out this incredibly long-named product this week. For brevity*, I'll just refer to it as the green plant juice. Appearance-wise, it just looks weird and freaky and not so delicious. Green juice doesn't exactly have an illustrious history to my knowledge - the only semi-successful that comes to mind is Ecto-Cooler ... mmm, green orange juice. Combine that color with its murky, slimy, chunky appearance, and the green plant juice is something else. I actually made a list of what it reminds me of:
1. Swamp Thing, melted
2. Something you'd look at under a microscope in seventh grade
3. Pond scum
4. Bathwater for Oscar the Grouch
5. What you'd find in Oscar the Grouch's trashcan
6. Springfield River water, home of Blinky, the three-eyed fish **
And smellwise, to be honest, reminds me of jarred babyfood. So not off to the best of starts. I was definitely a little apprehensive about trying it.

It's actually pretty decent. It's not sugary sweet like some other reviewers in this blog would probably go nuts over, but it's kinda like pear juice, although there's no pears in it. But there's pretty much everything else - apple and pineapple juice, pureed peaches, bananas, and mangoes. Even has barley grass, spinach and and broccoli in it. Seems almost like a gym smoothie, without the smooth part. Texture-wise, it is a little bit of a challenge at first. Think orange juice with lots of pulp but a little softer, and you're on the right path. It also leaves some funky slimy film in your glass that's a little water-resistant. I'd say overall, if I were blindfolded and tasted this, not ever tasting it before, and afterwards I were asked what color I thought it was, I'd definitely go with green. I'd also wonder what the heck I just put in my mouth. Wouldn't be too upset, though.

This oddball beverage also has some green superfood-type stuff like spirulina and chlorella in it. What do those do? Glad you asked, and gladder that Wikipedia knows. They're both algae (so that pond scum thought wasn't too far from the truth) that are supposed to be loaded with protein (yet the nutrition label says the plant juice contains no protein. Hmm). Anyways, besides that, they both are chock full of other nutrients and minerals that made them an attractive food source at one point in time or another. In fact, the Aztecs loved spirulina so much, they called it Tecuitlatl, which apparently (and delicately) means stone excrement. Yum. Chlorella wasn't as lucky to be so beloved. In the World War II era, it was extensively researched as a potential untapped gold mine of nutrition for the exploding European and American population, until it was discovered how much of an expensive pain in the butt it'd be to grow in large enough batches to make it worthwhile. Today, these are still touted as champion green super-healthy food products, though probably only nutrition wackos (and now you) have ever heard of them. I didn't until trying this out.

Sandy said she kinda liked it overall. I knew she had at least a little affinity for it as she tried it the day before I did and said she'd drink a cup with me as I tried it. We might try to mix it up in a smoothie with some other stuff to try and make the texture not stand out as much. It's definitely not anything we can just gulp on down like some other juices and beverages out there. I like it okay too - drank some before spinning tonight, and poured myself another small glass to sip on while writing this. I think, for now at least, we'll both give it a three, and we'll probably pick this crazy green plant juice stuff up here and there at the very least.

Bottom line: 6 out of 10 Golden Spoons
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* Brevity? Me? Yeah right.
**Despite the legend in the Pittsburgh area, there's no truth to the rumor that Blinky was inspired by the polluted waters of the Monongahela. Regardless, I bet he'd fit right in.

Baker Josef's Cinnamon Crumb Coffee Cake Mix

I am still in awe of the righteous new labeling system that Russ recently implemented on this site. So, to honor that system, I very thoughtfully considered which category(ies) to put this crumbcake in. Please follow my process of logic:

-Coffee helps one wake up and is thus a morning beverage.
-This cake is to be associated with coffee.
-Therefore, this cake can, at least part of the time, be considered a morning food.

Hence, it is filed under breakfast.

But it is also cake, and cake is very often eaten as dessert, ergo it should also be categorized as dessert, under "snacks and desserts."

And we shall spend the remainder of this blog entry discussing the categorization of the item under its third and final heading of "Not Bad."

Indeed, this is a prime example of a "Not Bad" Trader Joe's product. A week or two ago, we examined TJ's Chocolate Cake and Frosting Mixes, which are, in all respects, Pantheon Level foods. Those products surpassed expectations in every way, and in my life, they shall evermore be the standards by which all chocolate cakes and chocolate icings shall be measured.

This cake, however, can not be placed in such high esteem. It tasted pretty good...but it was sort of...uneven. The ribbon of cinnamoniness was the biggest offender. Instead of coming out like the photo on the box, which depicts a thin layer of soft, cinnamonish goodness evenly spread throughout each piece, there were large clumps of a harder, chewier cinnamon-based substance, unevenly and haphazardly dispersed about the cake. The cinnamon parts tasted overly sugary, and they left a slightly unpleasant aftertaste. The texture of the cake was fine, but any bites that contained this cinnamon ribbon were contaminated with a gritty feeling that cheapened the fluffiness of the main cake material.

Despite my complaints, this product was still among the best coffee cakes I've tried. (Although, truth be told, I haven't eaten many different coffee cakes. The nasty, pre-packaged vending machine variety doesn't count). The cake does go well with coffee, and it's certain to satisfy any sweet-tooth cravings you might encounter during your break.

If you're a huge fan of coffee cake, this is surely worth a try, but if you're just looking for a random cake mix to whip up for dessert or a special occasion, we recommend getting the chocolate cake first.

One last thought: who came up with the idea of crumb cake, anyway? Aren't our lives complicated enough without someone deliberately trying to make food that falls apart when we eat it? Not only do we have to spend time baking, preparing, and serving this stuff, but we have to wash dishes, clear the table, and on top of it all, break out the dust buster now, too. No thanks. One more reason to stick with the chocolate cake.

Sonia gives it 3 out of 5 stars. I'm definitely a bigger fan of sugary breakfast foods than she is. I give it a 3.5 out of 5. Bottom line: 6.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Ricotta & Spinach Tortelloni with Red Pesto

Want to know one of my favorite things about Trader Joe's?

The cashiers.

Seriously.

At the local store, at least, they are routinely some of the friendliest, knowledgeable, and conversational retail workers I've ever encountered. Most of them are quick to give a quick, honest opinion whether good or bad (like the clerk giving me a knowing nod and slightly uneasy "yeah" when returning these catastrophes) and just genuinely nice. Compare and contrast to the way I usually feel "tolerated" by the cashiers at the local big chain. On one of my last shopping trips there (because TJ's, unfortunately, doesn't carry everything) the clerk was literally slamming and throwing my groceries through the scanner and down the belt because she was "tired" and "felt like (unprintable)" ... if I hadn't spent half an hour in line and just wanted to go home, I would have reported her to management. I'll do something more effective and choose not to spend my dollars there. It's sad when your most courteous service comes from the self checkout that insists you have to put your item in the bag and have it "settle"in there in five seconds or the alarm goes off.

I mention this because on our last trip, I picked this package of tortelloni, and the clerk happily chirped that this was her favorite of the burgeoning microwavable pasta selection TJ's offers. This started a nice friendly little conversation about this blog, and if you, Mrs Nice TJ's cashier, are reading this, I dedicate it to you.

Okay, the tortelloni ... how's that different than tortellini? And shouldn't this really be Trader Giotto's goods? I'm glad I'm not the only one who forgets about him. Questions aside, this is some decent stuff. I'm not the biggest fan of ricotta and related cheeses. I'm sure it's not exactly Grade A creamy matter they stuff the pasta with, but it's gets my stamp of approval, with a caveat. Not sure if it was the work microwave's fault, but some of the stuff seemed to get a little overzapped and grainy in small pockets here and there. But it's pretty passable even for someone on the fence like me, and it helps that the pasta good and firm, not limp like some other stuff.. The pesto sauce is fairly zesty with all the basil and Italian spices, and even has a little kick. The veggies in it are decent - they definitely taste grilled, and are quite flavorful, but they're kinda squishy. It'd be nice if zucchini and peppers were a little crisper, but I guess between grilling, freezing and nuking there's only so much that can be expected. You get a fairly generous portion, even for someone with a larger appetite like me. Between this and an apple, I was pretty satisfied the rest of my work day. Pretty simple to make, too - just take off the surrounding cardboard, peel a corner of the top film off, zap it, and three minutes later you got lunch. Good tasting stuff.

But I have a complaint to make. I hope it's at least somewhat valid. But I love containers, simply because they can "contain" things. What things? Anything! And if you get them for free somehow, like with a food purchase, even better. Chinese takeout Tupperware is the king of this. I routinely save any and all beer case boxes to store stuff in the basement. Sandy, when preparing to move in, had to take quite some time convincing me it was okay to throw out the stack of clementine crates I had accumulated and saved over many a scurvy-busting session. It didn't matter that the crates were empty and had been for months - they could hold something and be useful and just didn't belong in a landfill when they're perfectly fine. Seriously, I was nearing Hoarders-level obsession with this kind of stuff - my house was going to turn into a literal container of containers. I'm getting better (thanks, wife), but still ... this stuff comes in a plastic squarish bowl thing. It doesn't have a lid (just that film over top) and it's kinda flimsy-ish (suitable enough to get your lunch from the freezer to your belly), but it's just solid enough to suggest (to me, at least) that it shouldn't just be tossed and to instead find another use. I knew I couldn't bring it home or Sandy would give me the stink eye for sure. I tried to think of what I could put in it for work - about the only thing I could think of was paper clips, and I've used three of those in the last year, so that didn't seem too beneficial. And since it was lidless, it'd be tougher to re-use as a food container. To compound the issue, for whatever reason, my work doesn't have lunchroom recycling, so it wasn't a matter of just tossing it in a bin. I was genuinely conflicted about what to do ... environmental responsibility vs psychological/obsessive-compulsive indulgence vs domestic tranquility ... well, I won't say what I did, but I feel ashamed. Lunch shouldn't make you feel that way. Good thing it was tasty.

Sandy hasn't tried this and never will. There's not only cherry tomatoes in it, but also they're deliberately cut in half to spread their tomatoey guts everywhere. It's a nonstarter for her. So I'll just double my score ... I'll give it a solid seven overall. Give me a real lid for it, and we'll revisit this.

Bottom line: 7 out of 10 Golden Spoons