Give us this day our daily bread.
Notice it doesn't say "give us this day our daily fish" or anything like that. And you know the Bible's all about fish, fishing, and fisherman analogies. But not here. It says "give us our daily bread."
But you know what? I think if I had absolutely nothing but bread to eat on an average day, I'd be perfectly okay with it—particularly if the bread was as tasty as Trader Joe's Butter Croissants. I'm sure that's not the type of bread he had in mind when Jesus taught us how to pray, but hey, we can always ask for something special even if we don't get it all the time.
I'd ask for bagels one day, brioche toast the next, then buttermilk biscuits, ciabatta bread, pita, naan, and finally croissants: a different gourmet baked good for every day of the week.
And while Trader Joe's Butter Croissants might not beat out something freshly made from a Parisian bakery, they'd be pretty high up on my list for what to order on croissant day. We had ours with butter and strawberry jelly, as seen in the pic above. Delicious.
We also made croissant sandwiches with egg, cheese, and Trader Joe's Bomba Sauce. Ahhh-mazing. The croissants are indeed buttery to the core. They're flaky, soft, and surprisingly fresh (if consumed before the "best by" date.)
You probably won't have much trouble eating three of them in short order, although Sonia wishes they did have a resealable package just in case you can't eat all of them right away. Our family is just the two of us, but a larger household shouldn't have any problems in that department.
$3.49 for three large croissants. We would buy these again. Four stars a piece from Sonia and me for Trader Joe's Butter Croissants.
Bottom line: 8 out of 10.
Trader Joe's is really running with this ube thing. Weird, right? Purple yams. Apparently they've been popular in Filipino food since time immemorial. TJ's has done ice cream, pancakes, tea cookies, pretzels, and spread so far. Why not make ube-flavored sandwich cookies?
Well, I can think of one reason: nobody is asking for them.
Ahem, but nevertheless, Trader Joe's will go ahead and give it the old college try and roll out a surprisingly tasty cookie, even if perhaps a bit odd. Let's open our little rectangular box and get reviewing.
What's working in Trader Joe's Ube Joe-Joe's:
1) they used vanilla cookies. Chocolate or coffee or ube or anything else simply wouldn't have worked. Vanilla is neutral enough to let the yammy flavors through.
2) The coating. The "yogurt candy" on the outside of the cookies creates an air-tight-ish seal and prevents the cookie parts from getting stale so quickly. It's also sweet, creamy, and yamtastic.
3) The filling. More violet root vegetable action here. Again, sweet. Again, creamy. Again, yammy as heck.
What's not working: I DON'T WANT ANY MORE SANDWICH COOKIES FROM YOU, TRADER JOE. Stop making sandwich cookies. Stop making cookies, period. Stop making new flavors of Joe-Joe's. Just stop it. Stop trying to make me fat with your organic junk food. Heck, is this even organic??
I'm warning you. One of these days, I'm going to give your cookies a bad review. Just you wait.
$3.49 for the sleeve of eight cookies. Perfectly delicious cookies that I would NOT buy again because I don't need any more dang cookies. Seriously. And even if I wanted to buy them again, they'll be discontinued in favor of Trader Joe's Pawpaw Durian Jabuticaba Joe-Joe's or some other such nonsense. Bloody heaven.
Four stars from Sonia. Three and a half from me for Trader Joe's Ube Joe-Joe's Vanilla Flavored Sandwich Cookies with Ube Creme in an Ube and Yogurt Candy Coating.
Bottom line: 7.5 out of 10.
Our modern western society has had it so easy for so long, I feel like we need to be aware of our roots a little more. It's just so easy to eat something like a McNugget and not even pause to reflect that what you're consuming came from a living creature. Folks like Sonia's grandparents eat chicken just like we do, but she's actually seen them grab the feathery animal from the coop, place it on its side, and chop its head clean off its body with a hatchet. I don't think I'd eat chicken as often if I had to do that each time I had a hankerin'.
Likewise, can you imagine if we humans were farmed and consumed by an advanced alien race? Wouldn't it be the worst if you gave your life so Kodos and Kang could have a gourmet meal and they decided that your meat was too stringy or chewy, and they cast your corpse aside in favor of some other human with a more savory texture?
Your spirit would be floating there in the ether, looking down at the ungrateful extraterrestrials. "Hey, I died for this meal! The least you could do is show a bit of gratitude!"
In that same way, it seems such a shame when I'm eating an animal and I have to complain about the taste or texture. Trader Joe's Grilled Chili Lime Chicken Strips certainly weren't awful, but neither the taste nor the texture were on point like we were hoping they would be.
The preferred heating method for this product is the microwave. The microwave always yields chewy chicken, and this product was no exception. We tried heating some in the skillet, but it was chewy that way, too. It wasn't stringy or rubbery or gristly per se—it was just a little stiffer than we were hoping it would be.
Flavor-wise, I mean, there was some heat, which was nice. But it wasn't a flavorful heat. It almost felt like we were eating a chicken molé dish, but the peanut butter and/or chocolate was replaced with water. There was nothing rich or particularly savory or piquant or memorable about the meat. It was just plain chicken in a light vinegar sauce with hints of chili and salt. The lime juice wasn't even detectable.
On the plus side, it was low fat, low calorie, and high protein. So...there's that.
$6.99 for four servings of Trader Joe's Grilled Chili Lime Chicken Strips. Probably wouldn't buy again. Three out of five stars a piece from Sonia and me. And thanks to that chicken that died for our sustenance. We appreciate you.
Bottom line: 6 out of 10.
