Trader Joe's Hot & Sweet Mustard

As I've written before, with the notable exception of hot sauce, I'm just not a condiment kinda guy. I don't know why that is. I mean, I like the idea of adding different kinds of sauces and whatnot to a sandwich or pile of fries or whatever, or the idea of salad dressing to spruce up an otherwise dull plate of greens and veggies, but when push comes to shove, more often than not I'll just pass. Maybe I just like my food to taste like however it's going to taste without too much outside interference. Don't like ketchup. Don't like pretty much any salad dressing. And don't get me started on mayonnaise. And most importantly, if it's in a squeeze bottle that makes farty sounds, no way on earth I'm trying it. Them's the rules for me. Blecch.

One very occasional exception to this would be mustard. And I must say, very, very, occasional. I'll put some on a pretzel or, back when it was a viable lunch option, let my Subway sandwich artist put some on every once in a great while. It's no great loss when they don't. So, when someone (I think my brother, not sure) told me that Trader Joe's Hot & Sweet Mustard was more or less the best thing ever, I felt good about trying it out despite my usual prejudices (keep those in mind as you read the rest of this).

This mustard, to me, just isn't all that great. Not that it's terrible, either. "Hot and sweet" is not a completely honest description for it - "sweet and sour and a wee bit of something that approaches hot" seems a bit more accurate. Trader Joe's repeats their fairly classic mistake of assuming vinegar equates to heat (prime example: their black bean dip) for their "hot" and loads up on sugar for the "sweet" part (see first ingredient). So imagine very sweet, vinegary mustard. Maybe that's tantalizing for you. For me, not so much. To be fair, after dunking a few pretzel sticks in it, the back of my throat began to sense something a little spicy, or perhaps overly bitter, in a kinda horseradish-y sense. There's no horseradish in this mustard, of course, but that's the closest thing I can equate it to. Overall, the mustard seemed okay, not bad enough to keep me from snacking, but not good enough for me to keep on craving it. For whatever reason, it tasted a little better the one night we dipped our chickenless tenders in it instead.

My wife's admiration more than makes up for my ambivalence. "Oooooooh, this is so good, I could drink it right out of the jar!!!" Sandy exclaimed. I offered to snap a picture of her doing so and can't believe she said no. That would've been a much more interesting visual addition than our usual product shots. She agrees that it's closer to sweet and sour than hot and sweet, so good to know I'm not just making that up. It's not a terrible pickup for the measly $1.49 it costs, but if solely up to me, it's not one we'll make often. Sandy gives it a four. For me, about the fairest I can be is to call it right down the middle with a 2.5.

Bottom line: Trader Joes Hot & Sweet Mustard: 6.5 out of 10 Golden Spoons     

Trader Giotto's Bambino Pizza Formaggio

Back when I was a kid in elementary school, one of the highlights of the academic year was participating in the BOOK IT! program, which apparently still exists. It involved reading books for free pizza. Each student got an oversized button with 5 or 6 blank star-shaped spaces. For each book we'd read, we would receive a little star sticker to put on our button. We're not talking Crime and Punishment and Moby Dick, of course. We're talking Amelia Bedelia and Freckle Juice—books we'd be reading anyway, even if there weren't free food involved. 

So we'd read like mad in anticipation of our free personal pan pizza from the local Pizza Hut. On the day of redemption, we'd turn in that button at the pizza counter feeling like kings. The little round pizza would come out steaming hot, and it tasted better than any pizza we had ever had before, because we knew we earned it.

These Bambino pizzas from TJ's remind me of those personal pan pizzas from pizza hut in size, shape, and appearance, but the flavor is a little more grown-up. They taste just like really good Sicilian-style pizza with plenty of Italian herbs and spices in the mix. Although, I must say that unlike the picture on the packaging, you can't really see flecks of green herbs (I guess that's oregano?) all scattered across the tops of the pizzas. You can taste it, but you can't see it.

Each Bambino pizza is about the size of one large slice of pizza, so if you're having this for dinner, you can probably count on each person eating at least two. They come in two individually wrapped packages of two pizzas a piece. I like my crust fairly crispy, so I wound up leaving my pizzas in the oven for a minute or two longer than the instructions called for, but other than that, the baking time was spot on. Like most other frozen pizzas, I simply can't imagine these being half as good if cooked in the microwave.

If you're a fan of Sicilian pizza, check these out. I was really happy with the texture and taste, and I give them 4.5 stars. Sonia will give them a 4.

Bottom line: 8.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Organic Strawberry Lemonade

It's tough to type this without it sounding like a out-and-out whiny complaint, but maaaaaan July and August in Pittsburgh are fairly unpleasant. It's all about the humidity. It's atrocious. For the past couple days as I've left for work at about 8 a.m., it's felt like I've left the comfort of my home and stepped straight into a vaporous incarnation of a sponge hot hot and fresh from the dishwasher. Our power went out twice last week for hours, leaving us in a hot sticky mess where the usual standing order for goodnight hugs and baby snuggles were temporarily suspended for sheer survival's sake. Ugh. It's just bad. At the same time, I realize I could live somewhere else that would be prone to tornadoes or wildfires or massive widespread flooding, and my heart goes out to all communities affected by all those recently, especially Prescott, AZ. In the grand scheme,a couple months of hot steamy mugginess in the summer is not a bad truce to have with Mother Nature. I'm just glad for when those times come, God invented air conditioning.

I'm also glad he invented Trader Joe's Organic Strawberry Lemonade for these summer months. At the very least I can say he inspired those who manufacture this delicious concoction, as I believe it is truly the product of inspired divinity.

How can anything possibly taste this impossibly good? It's improbably perfect. Every sip has the proper balance of tart lemony citrus and sweet sugary strawberry that blends together in a smooth, cool, refreshing taste that however temporarily brings it all down a few degrees. And this ain't wimpy stuff, oh no. It's potent and unrelenting in it's powerful tastiness.  I tell you, it's addicting and highly chuggable for those in search of liquid refreshment. Heck, I don't even want to stop there. When I rule the world, or at least the local waterpark, I will replace all water with this lemonade. Can I wade into a wavepool churning and swaying with strawberry lemonade? Can I coast down a long twisty turny waterslide (err, lemonade slide) and splash land at the bottom, face-first mouth-open? Can I grab an innertube and float down a lazy river armed with just a swimsuit, shades, and an extra long straw for the occasional sip? Believe me, if I could, I would. It's so impeccably funktastalicioso that I'll overlook the "black carrot concentrate" added "for color" and wonder how in the h-e-double Bendi straw that works. And it almost goes without saying that add some booze and ice cubes for the adults or freeze it into some popsicles for the kiddos, and you get yourself one cool treat.

Obviously, I'm about as high on the strawberry lemonade as I can be. I think the wife and I have bought it four times thus far this summer, and seeing as that we're currently out, I'm beginning to get the DTs from withdrawal. That's just me, as Sandy's not nearly the aficionado that I am. "Eh, it's just lemonade to me," she says. That's like saying the Beatles were just a pop band or that, for his time and era, Jonathan Taylor Thomas was just another child actor. Sandy continues, "It's not like 'Ermergerd, it's strerberry lermernerde!'" It hurt just typing that, yeesh. She gave it a mere three. I file my five in protest, as this may be one of the best drinks Trader Joe's carries. Better than sweet tea. Better than the Arnold Palmer. Better than the vintage root beer, and way better than this primordial green ooze. Yums all the way around in my little world.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Organic Strawberry Lemonade: 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons