Trader Joe's Crispy Cookies Filled With Belgian Chocolate

Russ and I have reviewed so many of TJ's foods, that I'm starting to think that one could project a score for just about any Trader Joe's brand product just by looking up previously reviewed products here on our blog. Take for example, these cookies. Just break down the product into its constituent parts and then type each one into the Google Custom Search Box individually. First, type "Belgian Chocolate" and you get Trader Joe's Belgian Dark Chocolate Bar, with a score of 7 out of 10. Then search "Crispy Cookies." You get Trader Joe's Crispy Crunchy Chocolate Chip Cookies and Crispy Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies, both with scores of 8 out of 10. With this knowledge, one can safely assume that most TJ's "crispy cookie" products will be in the ballpark of 8 out of 10 Golden Spoons or stars (depending upon which of us is reviewing the product) and that Belgian Chocolate will score in the ballpark of 7. So let's make a simple equation: 

(Trader Joe's Belgian Chocolate + Trader Joe's Crispy Cookies) ÷ 2 = 7.5 stars

Obviously, if you were calculating the score for a product with, say three constituent parts, you'd look up three different search terms and divide by 3 instead. And some types of products will lend themselves to this system more readily than others. I'm thinking it will be easiest and most accurate with snacks and desserts, simply because we often concentrate on those. Just look what happens when we step outside of our snacky comfort zone—when we try things like Sushi Sensations and Pad See Ew. Maybe less fatness, but also less happiness.

Now most of you who've been reading a while and know my sense of humor have probably figured out that I'm only semi-serious about this method of pre-calculating scores. Most of what I write on this blog is tongue-in-cheek. And of course, TJ's offers plenty of healthy-esque things that are tasty as well. But at least in this particular case, it's a system that would have worked quite well. We're seeing exactly what we've seen before in terms of crispy cookies: great crispy, crunchy texture, nice moderately sweet flavor, all in a classy presentation and practical packaging. I'm not sure if the Belgian chocolate is technically dark chocolate or milk chocolate in this case, but if it's milk chocolate, I'd say it's on the darker, richer end of the spectrum. Less sweet than a Hershey's bar, but more sweet than unsweetened cocoa powder. The rectangular shape lends a bit of class to the whole production, and at $2.79 per package, it's comparable to other less-sophisticated name brand cookies. 4 stars for these opulent oreo opposites from me, 3.5 stars from Sonia, who states that they're much better when dunked in coffee or hot chocolate.

Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.

Trader Joe's Sushi Sensations

Like those Snickers commercials allude to, when you're hungry, you're not yourself. Case in point: Mid-Sunday evening, the family and I standing in the brand-spankin' new McCandless Crossing Trader Joe's in Pittsburgh's North Hills. Nice store, grand opening weekend, it's kinda busy, we're getting the lay of the land, and all of us are h-u-n-g-r-y. All we want is an easy dinner, but we can't figure out what. M, our increasingly rambunctious two and a half year old, wants "nuggets and mac and cheese." Easy enough for her...but we eat that way too often to have that sound palatable for us. For whatever reason, I have a real hankering for onion rings, but they're nowhere to be found. Sandy's eying up the wraps, as am I, but they're pretty well picked over. We don't feel like pizza. We don't want to put much of any effort besides maybe roasting some veggies into dinner. Nothing frozen catches our eye. And the rumble in our tummies just grows and grows.

And then...

Listen, I have no idea what propelled me to even consider Trader Joe's Sushi Sensations. It's not that I'm against sushi. It's just that I've never heard anything good about Trader Joe's. Google "worst things to buy at Trader Joe's" and their sushi will almost always be mentioned. Years ago, in an article on The Daily Meal, I even said I never, ever wanted to try their sushi. Yet, here it was, in my hand, mulling it over....and even more amazingly, Sandy even said she'd eat some with me if we also got her a buffalo chicken wrap as a back-up. I've never seen her near sushi in the seven-plus years we've known each other. This was going to be an interesting night.

Well...there are some positives. I guess. In true amateur foodie-hack fashion, I'll admit, I'm neither a huge sushi fan nor anything close to an expert. But even I could tell this wasn't exactly top-notch fare. There's four types of sushi laid out for sampling here: Shrimp Nigiri, California, Spicy California, and Tempura Shrimp. There's also some dipping sauces: a slightly spicy "dynamo" (not to be confused with the juice), some sweet, some wasabi, and a packet of soy sauce, as well as a small bucket of crispy Panko bread crumbs. The nigiri were reasonably okay, though nothing special, as well as the shrimp tempura. Some common complaints regarding TJ's sushi is the quality and texture of the rice - there wasn't too much (if any) sliminess present, and the shrimp had a good firm texture and taste. Each paired well with the variety of the sauces (although we skipped both the plain soy and the wasabi) and the breadcrumbs also added a nice, little touch.

If those were the only rolls in there, we would have been reasonably fine with dinner and given a middling to solid score. But...the California rolls. Ugh. This is what California rolls are supposed to look like. These TJ impostors? Not close. Instead, the filling and the insides looked like some sort of cross between seafood salad and cat food - just a mishmash o' mush shoved inside some seaweed and rice. And I mean "mush." I didn't realize that the sticker with the nutrition label and ingredients was missing, and I can't find a picture of one online, but the filling tasted like all sorts of fake seafood-type junk smushed together. If there was a shred of authentic seafood in either one of those rolls, I;d be shocked. The "spicy" and regular had no discernible taste difference either. Sandy took one bite of one of them and nearly spit it right out for the texture being so offsetting. I'll admit that I was able to eat the rest...I must've been really, truly hungry and the sauces and breadcrumbs helped cover a lot.

For a couple deliriously hungry sushi novices like us, the Sushi Sensations platter made a somewhat passable dinner, but barely. This is what you get when you pay $6.49 for a large sushi plate - we should have figured and gone for something else. At least I can say that I've overcome my fears and tried it out, all to say you'll probably want to stay away. This is not going to be purchased again.

Bottom line: Trader Joe's Sushi Sensations: 3 out of 10 Golden Spoons


    

Trader Joe's Blarney Scone

Before moving to the greater Philadelphia area, which has a huge Irish population, I was unaware of the existence of Irish soda bread—or other authentic Irish traditions like "Irish Potatoes," corned beef sandwiches with sauerkraut, and Shamrock Shakes. Okay, I'm just kidding about the Shamrock Shakes. 

And to be fair, Irish Potatoes aren't Irish either—they're...Philly-ish. Not really sure about corned beef. It seems like there might be some contention as to whether that's an Irish tradition, or an American one...or possibly even an English one. The very fact they eat it with sauerkraut might even give the Germans some stake in the matter, and...well, I've digressed far enough already.

But, Nathan, you say—with your extreme whiteness, red features, and "MacFarland" for a middle name, aren't you super Irish? No. I'm not. I mean, not strictly. On one side, I'm descended from Scottish Presbyterians that lived in Northern Ireland for some time in order to persuade the stubborn Irish that the King of England wasn't really that bad and that the Pope in Rome wasn't really that great, and that shaving off a third of their island was a small price to pay to avoid having their butts kicked repeatedly by the Brits. So...Irish in a sense, yet probably not at all popular with proper Irish folk. And now that I've publicly made myself a target for the IRA, here ends the digression. I promise this time.

A clever play on the words "Blarney Stone," this loaf of high-rise bread is not a true scone, at least not in the sense that I think of. It's not particularly sweet, except for the raisins scattered throughout the bread. It's not at all like "raisin bread" either, in that there's no cinnamon and very little sugar. It tastes similar to rye bread to me—but with no marbling of any kind. What makes it "soda bread" is the presence of baking soda as a rising agent, rather than yeast...and it might be my imagination, but I want to say you can taste that difference pretty clearly. It's nothing spectacular in the flavor department, but not at all unappealing, either.

Texture-wise, it's a nice, soft bread, but very crumby. Too crumby. It was extremely difficult to cut individual pieces off of the loaf, and nearly impossible to place said pieces in a traditional toaster without losing most of the bread to the fiery recesses of the sweltering appliance. I enjoyed just grabbing chunks from the sizable 10-serving "scone" and eating them plain. I must say, it goes well with cream cheese too, if you're craving a bit more flavor. The $4 loaf was a decent value and fun to try, although don't expect anything super exciting in tastebud-land. This isn't really a dessert. 

Double 3.5's and Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Bottom line: 7 out of 10.