Kevin, Author at The Impulsive Buy

REVIEW: Trader Joe’s Speculoos Cookie Butter Cheesecake

December 18, 2014December 28, 2020 Kevin 4 Comments

The following are uncovered hacked e-mails from Trader Joe’s headquarters. The correspondence is between CEO Trader Joe and powerful cheesecake agent Graham K. Racker.

On Jun 14, 2014, at 2:19 PM, “NEW CHEESECAKE?” < [EMAIL REDACTED]>, “Graham K. Racker”> wrote:

Joe,
Had a chance to check out the samples yet? Want to get these cheesecakes on the shelves stat.

On Jun 14, 2014, at 6:31 PM, “RE: NEW CHEESECAKE?” < [EMAIL REDACTED]>, “Trader Joe”> wrote:

Graham,
Yes, I have. Although I appreciate the time and effort in sending me all of these cheesecake samples, there is just no way that we will be able to accommodate them all at our stores. Some of the flavors also seem strange. “Brussel Sprout?” “Toro Sashimi?” “Little Caesar’s $5 Pizza Cheesecake?” That’s not even legally possible, Graham.

Though, I will say, one particular cheesecake caught my taste buds. The Speculoos Cookie Butter Cheesecake. I think this is perfect for our stores, as it’s very good and will continue the extremely popular Trader Joe’s Speculoos Cookie Butter tradition.

Here’s what I think: I was at first taken aback with the fact that it wasn’t an entire cheesecake with cookie butter cream cheese or something like that, maybe a swirl. It’s more like a plain cheesecake wearing a cookie butter hat. Actually, if you consider the crumbled speculoos cookie crust, the cheesecake is wearing a cookie hat and cookie pants. Might have to save that saying for one of our sign artists!

And it’s a delightful slice. The plain cheesecake is not too sweet, allowing the cookie butter to shine. The two flavors of cheesecake and topping are relatively muted and elevate each other, allowing the consumer to mindlessly zombie-eat it, like Oreos or Doritos dust. (Ironically, I couldn’t eat more than two bites of the Oreo-Doritos Dust Cheesecake you sent)

The cookie butter top is a little denser than the cake filling itself and biting into it releases a waft of cinnamon that triggers pumpkin pie memories. Following that, the cream cheese exhibits a mild tang typical of a cheesecake. It’s almost until the aftertaste that I am walloped in the mouth by ground up shortbread dancing around my mouth. It’s not trying to reinvent cheesecake, it’s delivering what it says on the box: It’s a cheesecake with cookie butter on it. I like it.

If there is a downside, it is that it is frozen. Of course there is no way around this, as per transportation and storage necessities, but the instructions on defrosting ranges from “4-6 hours or overnight.” So people’s mileage may vary. I know myself, I sleep 3 hours a night, being the CEO of a successful company. So overnight for me is less than the recommended time. Now I’m bragging.

The speculoos cookie crust does a decent job of serving up the rest of the goods, but the cookie butter top and cheesecake are definitely the stars. Also, because it is frozen, the crust absorbs a good deal of moisture, which is not a deal breaker but not the best situation for crusts. Also to consider because of it being a frozen product—how long a consumer puts it out to be room temperature will affect the softness of the cheese in the cheesecake.

But most of all it sucks that we have to wait to eat it! This item seems great for our shelves and a good supplement or replacement for the apple pie and pumpkin pies during the holidays. Thanks Graham.

On Jun 15, 2014, at 8:35 AM, “RE: NEW CHEESECAKE?” < [EMAIL REDACTED]>, “Graham K. Racker”> wrote:

You can’t just pick and choose, Joe. If you want the Speculoos Cheesecake you have to take the Dragonfruit Salvia flavored one too. Don’t mess with me. We’re on the verge of getting Obama to pardon a cheesecake this Christmas and it will put us on the map and you will be sorry. I’m going to make it a [redacted] flavored one. You think he’ll love that?

The cheesecake industry is coming up and your Hawaiian shirt wearing pathetic losers can’t stop me. You aren’t even in control of your own brand, Joe. Not saying you’re a whore, but you’re a whore.

You can have the cookie butter cheesecake but you have to take the Cardamom Parsley Squid one too. This is not up to debate. I am not destroying my career over a minimally talented spoiled brat, Joe. I’m talking about you, Joe.

On Jun 15, 2014, at 9:06 AM, “RE: NEW CHEESECAKE?” < [EMAIL REDACTED]>, “Trader Joe”> wrote:

Good thing I have a mouth like an elephant’s brain — it can replicate tastes with amazing recall. It also feels large but actually is proportional for my body size. We don’t need you, crazy man. Putting this stuff out by December.

(Nutrition Facts – 1/6th of a cheesecake – 410 calories, 220 calories from fat, 25 grams of fat, 14 grams of saturated fat, 0.5 grams of trans fat, 80 milligrams of cholesterol, 220 milligrams of sodium, 43 grams of carbohydrates, 29 grams of sugar, and 4 grams of protein.)

Item: Trader Joe’s Speculoos Cookie Butter Cheesecake
Purchased Price: $6.99
Size: 22.5 oz.
Purchased at: Trader Joe’s
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: Tastes like cookie butter. Fans of cookie butter can enjoy it in cheesecake form. Not too sweet.
Cons: Thawing process unpredictable. Soggy-ish crust.

REVIEW: Burger King Four Cheese Whopper

December 9, 2014September 2, 2023 Kevin 10 Comments

The Burger King Four Cheese Whopper could have been great. In fact, it should have been great.

Everybody knows that four is the best number. There are four blind mice, four good Indiana Jones movies and four continents on the planet. So when Burger King unveiled a Four Cheese Whopper, everybody in the country yelled “Four!” at the same time like we were playing golf for the fourth time that day. We needed this, BK. Imagine it: Buzzfeed lists of “Which of the Four Cheeses are you?” or umm, “Buzzfeed ranks the Four Cheese Whopper cheeses in order,” or “Buzzfeed remembers 2014, the year of the Four Cheese Whopper.” Buzzfeed is pretty 2013, but the Four Cheese Whopper could have swung this year for it.

However. You dropped the ball, Mr. King. You dropped the ball so hard. You dropped the ball harder than the Burger King Kid’s Club playing a game of pickup. Because at some point you’re going to have to pass the basketball to the nerd or the shaggy dog. Oh yeah, and there was that dude with a Virtual Boy strapped onto his face with a rubber band. What a dummy. Did Kid Vid invent Google Glass? Now I hate him even more.

Burger King, you dropped the ball harder than I wish I could drop Google Glass onto the ground. Let’s quote your own description of the Four Cheese Whopper. It says it has “melted American cheese, a creamy three cheese blend, cheddar sauce.” That sounds like five cheeses. And any idiot knows that five is better than four. Five is the best number, duh. There are five Golden Girls, five signs on the zodiac, and five sodas in a six-pack. You could have named it the Five Cheese Whopper and you completely missed the boat.

To be honest, though, you could have named it the One Cheese Whopper. Here’s the deal with this thing. There’s cheese on it. A lot of it. And it all tastes the same. It’s one note, and processed to hell. I could see the lady making it for me at the restaurant, and she stacked a few slices, then sprinkled some shavings, and then squirted a glop from a bottle. So much work, so many delivery systems, but it all ends up tasting exactly the same.

It pretty much tastes like half a stack of Kraft Singles on top of a Whopper. And, yes, I know, that sounds awesome. But that’s because I’m a fatty obsessed with comic excess. It’s actually not awesome. To top it off, it’s that congealed cheese that’s barely melted so it has the texture of a frozen cheeseburger heated for 3/4 of the thawing time.

The cheese mutes any acidity in the burger toppings and also overthrows the charbroiled taste in the patty. King Burger also removed the pickles and the ketchup, which tips the entire fromage-agaggedon into cheese overdrive. There are onions, tomatoes and pieces of lettuce in there, but they resemble those people who die climbing Mount Everest and then freeze there like statues for future climbers to see, if instead of snow, cheese fell from the sky.

Regular Whopper with Cheese (left) Four Cheese Whopper (right)

The bun is a Whopper bun. It’s got sesame seeds. It also gets a little lost in the cheese mix. By comparison, the Whopper with cheese costs a few cents less and the ingredients all manage to find themselves onto the consumer’s palate, which, considering this is Your Majesty’s Burger Joint, may be considered a worse thing. Seems like this item would be labeled “for cheese-connoisseurs only,” but if this is the quality of cheese you like, you’re probably the kind of person who eats string cheese without stringing it: Do what you want, but that ain’t my style.

This burger appeals to about zero people. But you know what the silver lining is? Zero is by far the best number. Zero days of Christmas, the concept of pi starts with a zero, and there is a zero chance of this bit getting old.

(Nutrition Facts – 850 calories, 57 grams of fat, 21 grams of saturated fat, 2 grams of trans fat, 115 milligrams of cholesterol, 1160 milligrams of sodium, 47 grams of carbohydrates, 9 grams of sugar, and 32 grams of protein.)

Item: Burger King Four Cheese Whopper
Purchased Price: $4.99
Size: N/A
Purchased at: Burger King
Rating: 4 out of 10
Pros: Basically a Whopper with more cheese. Still contains some Whopper qualities, if that’s your speed.
Cons: Cheese is overbearing, also not of greater quality, or even of differing quality than usual.

REVIEW: Taco Bell Doritos Nacho Cheese Cheesy Gordita Crunch

November 5, 2014August 30, 2023 Kevin 4 Comments

The griffin is an awesome mythological creature with the body and tail of a lion and the head, wings and talons of an eagle. And it is a beast. I’m talking “beast” as in Marshawn Lynch, not Hank McCoy.

The griffin was thought of as the king of beasts, and many times was known to guard treasure or rewards. But here’s the thing, my ancient dummy friends, you didn’t need to invent the griffin. An eagle is pretty scary already. Hell, a bird is scary. One time in junior high I rode my bicycle through a field and scared up a murder of crows and they circled my head for a quarter of a mile. I almost started going to church regularly.

And don’t get me started on lions. One time in junior high I rode my bicycle through some plains and scared up a pride of lions and I died. They ripped me limb from limb. Or that’s what would have happened if I did ride through some lions. Don’t let that lie cloud up that first story. The birds thing is super true. Anyway, the concept of the griffin is a little overkill. That’s all.

The Doritos Cheesy Gordita Crunch (DCGC) is a fusion of two beloved Taco Bell items, the Doritos crazy tacos and the Cheesy Gordita Crunch. The fanfare for this product has been noticeably muted, unlike when the Beatles went on Ed Sullivan and ate those Doritos Locos Tacos for the first time in America.

The DCGC promises flatbread with a three-cheese blend that encases a Doritos hard taco with ground beef, lettuce, cheese, and pepper jack sauce. In theory, it’s an exciting conference of the best of the best, like the Olympics: The hard-soft dynamic of the Cheesy Gordita Crunch with the bold flavors of the chip taco. In practice, watching pole-vaulting for fifteen minutes is fun once every four years.

To refresh my memory, I purchased a plain Cheesy Gordita Crunch, and boy, did it deliver. The satisfying crunch of the hard taco shell through flatbread is just so great. And the contrast of cold, crisp lettuce to the warm sodium bomb of ground beef seems so balanced. But those are the places the Doritos version gets it wrong.

The DCGC: Nacho Cheese Edition is made from the Nacho Cheese Doritos Locos Taco, which is thinner than the non-Doritos taco. I ate two of these, about half a week apart at different Taco Bells, and the first time the hard taco shell tasted stale. The second time was better but still could not compete with the rigidity and crunchiness of the plain version.

Because the hard taco shell is flavored, it spins the entire flavor profile off its axis. Everything is now covered in Doritos dust. The three-cheese blend is lost in redundancy and the whole item is salty like a dull wave of cheesy numbness instead of small bursts of salty zest with the plain version. The Doritos flavoring itself is consistent with the brand and is fine, it just overlaps some of the other elements.

Taco Bell is pushing the Doritos collaboration pretty hard. It’s as if they think I’ll come running if they stick two brands together. Sure, I ate Burger King Cinnabons. Sure, I ate Reese’s Oreo Cookies. Sure, I’ll eat a ream of wet printer paper if Staples and Popeye’s put their names on it. Wow, I feel like a sucker. There are so many brand logos on these things it’s like eating a NASCAR car. Though, if we did have to eat NASCAR cars, I’d probably go with Pepsi Max over Tide or Verizon.

Overall, the Doritos Nacho Cheese Cheesy Gordita Crunch: Special Victims Unit is not horrible — it’s still a soft bread with a hard taco inside. But it does not live up to the original. We all figured out at 10 years old that making homemade nachos with Doritos chips didn’t turn out as gloriously as we had hoped. The crunchy, corn base is the stage that allows the flavors to dance, but the Nacho Cheese Doritos shell wants to be the stage and the dancer at the same time. When Doritos are involved, there are too many dancers on the stage.

(Nutrition Facts – 490 calories, 250 calories from fat, 28 grams of fat, 10 grams saturated fat, 1 gram trans fat, 55 milligrams of cholesterol, 880 milligrams of sodium, 40 grams of carbohydrates, 5 grams of sugar, and 20 grams of protein.)

Item: Doritos Nacho Cheese Cheesy Gordita Crunch
Purchased Price: $2.69
Size: N/A
Purchased at: Taco Bell
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Soft on hard. Nacho Cheese Doritos flavoring is fine, but overlaps other ingredients. Still a version of the Gordita Crunch family.
Cons: Does not improve on Cheesy Gordita Crunch. Fails at what makes Cheesy Gordita Crunch great in the first place. Being a sucker for brand collaborations.

REVIEW: Little Caesars Soft Pretzel Crust Pepperoni Pizza

September 26, 2014September 2, 2023 Kevin 27 Comments

Little Caesars’ Soft Pretzel Crust Pepperoni Pizza is a pepperoni pizza with a soft pretzel crust. It’s that simple.

The meeting at Little Caesars for this pizza had one visual aid. It was a photo of a soft pretzel and a plus sign and then a photo of a pepperoni pizza and then an equals sign, and then a soft pretzel pizza.

Q: “But, Marshall, do you think we need to somehow optimize the flavors to each other?”

A: “Larry, do you or do you not want to go eat lunch?”

The meeting was six minutes long and they definitely did not eat Little Caesars for their meal.

Eating a slice of this pizza is like rummaging through boardwalk garbage. It’s a straight up soft pretzel stretched out into pizza form and had pepperoni and cheese put on it. It’s what the pawn seagulls probably bring to the queen seagull. Pretty sure Templeton from Charlotte’s Web has a slice of one of these things during his smorgasbord. I wouldn’t describe the pizza as “terrific” and probably not “humble,” but it absolutely had “some pig” in it.

Yo, Little Caesars, have you ever tried your own Hot-N-Ready pizzas? Thems salty. So what did you do? You added a pretzel bread, which is saltier, and then on top of that you sprinkled that rock salt that clears New England sidewalks in the winter.

After the first few bites, I had a salt wince duck face like it was selfie time. The pepperoni was not bad. But in the context of the entire pie, it was a little much having meat discs of sodium to surf on the waves of high blood pressure. Quiz: “I’m really looking forward to more Salt.” Is that a quote from me eating this pizza or Kurt Wimmer, writer of the Angelina Jolie film Salt? Find the answer hidden in this review somewhere! (It’s Kurt Wimmer)

Of course, our taste buds adapt to change, but it was disconcerting when a couple slices in I started to get used to it. Could I ever eat anything without salt again? What if this was my new normal? I looked up from my thoughts and realized I had eaten the entire pie.

I spent weeks wandering the street as a salt junkie until I went through the twelve step salt program. I’m now a salt-free, productive member of society but every once in a while when I’m at a mid-low caliber restaurant, the shaker with the white rocks calls my name. I ignore her pleas but she knows one day I’ll crumble. She knows.

Moreover, Lil’ Caesar, I like the way you run your store. I was in and out in about four minutes and there were two people in front of me in line. Handed over payment and received my product. Someone get the guy who thought that system up to help out with hospital emergency room triage. In and out. In and out. Easy. Everybody leaving the ER has a slice of pizza in their hand. Beautiful.

Since LiCa did such a good job with replicating a pretzel for the bread, there are a couple things to consider here. First is the texture. The soft pretzel bread was very similar to what we all know as soft pretzel bread, but the question is: Do we want that chewy, chewy texture for pizza? The answer for me is that it’s fine, but ultimately I like a crispy exterior and a chewy interior. It works for the novelty, but I don’t want it for my every day pizza.

Second is the cheese. There is some “real” cheese sprinkled on top but I noticed a cheddar cheese sauce that is also present, more the consistency of a thick nacho cheese. This was a cheese that tasted and felt like a dipping sauce that you might stick a soft pretzel into. It had a bit of zest and all the smoothness of Cheez Wiz. Again, fine for the novelty, but the more I think about it, it’s kind of gross. Like kissing!

It’s all a bit of an unbalanced affair and I’m not sure my hypertension can take another one, but the Soft Pretzel Crust Pizza is an interesting novelty, and a cheap one at that. If you’re ever pressed for time like those executives who thought up this pizza, and you really, really need to eat a soft pretzel and a pizza at once, the Little C got your back. Pizza pizza? Salty salty.

(Disclosure: We received a $10 Little Caesars gift card from Little Caesars to purchase the pizza.)

(Nutrition Facts – 1/8 of a pizza – 270 calories, 11 grams fat, 4.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams trans fat, 20 milligrams of cholesterol, 570 milligrams of sodium, 31 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of fiber, 2 grams of sugar, and 11 grams of protein.)

Item: Little Caesars Soft Pretzel Crust Pepperoni Pizza
Purchased Price: $5.99
Size: N/A
Purchased at: Little Caesars
Rating: 4 out of 10
Pros: Fun to eat two food items at once. Cheap.
Cons: Extremely salty. Texture of bread is not pizza bread

REVIEW: Wendy’s Smoked Gouda Chicken on Brioche

September 4, 2014August 25, 2023 Kevin 8 Comments

Dad: “That’s-a Gouda sandwich.”

Son: “Stop it, Dad.”

Dad: “Nice size, too. Serving size is not poultry.”

Son: “…”

Dad: “Ahem. Not poultry”

Son: “It is poultry. It’s a chicken sandwich.”

Dad: “Like paltry.”

Son: “Oh. I see. … Stop it, Dad.”

Dad: “Sheesh. Sorry to brioche the subject.”

Son: “I am going to die.”

Dad: “C’mon you got the onions to withstand a conversation with your old man. Certainly this sandwich does. Well, did. They’re all chopped up now. Makes me want to shed a tear.”

Son: “Oh my god.”

Dad: “And they got a healthy dose of greens in this thing. That’s good for my digestion, for my trip to d’john later. Let me be over here. Looking at me with an a-hole-y face.”

Son: “Are you having a stroke?”

Dad: “No. Dijon. Aioli. It has Dijon aioli. A-hole like asshole.”

Son: “Dad, you aren’t saying anything about the food. You want to talk about the sandwich, go ahead. Please. By all means. But puns are not a form of communication. I’m not eating with you so you can trot out stupid, tired dad jokes. If you want to talk about the sandwich, at least tie an opinion onto something instead of unloading on me the lowest form of humor imaginable. We aren’t connecting.”

A pause.

Dad: “Okay. Well, the Wendy’s Smoked Gouda Chicken on Brioche is pretty good. Pretty good. Full stop. The chicken is breaded fine—nobody will mistaken it for Chick-Fil-A or anything, but it seems to be a lighter batter than the dollar menu items. It’s a good canvas for what goes on above it.

The cheese and the caramelized onion sauce play extremely well together. The sweet onion flavor is very reminiscent of fig, and the eponymous Gouda lands a few bites of earthy flavor in the sandwich. It’s not super stinky like expensive cheese, but somehow they’ve stolen a little bit of that Gouda power, and a mouthful here and there is filled with that wannabe classic cheese-and-fig pairing. It’s very fancy for fast food fare. Fancy for fast food fare. Try saying that—”

Son: “Dad.”

Dad: “Sorry. Adulting up the proceedings even more is the bitter greens mix, which is actually bitter and again contrasts fairly well against the onion sauce. The chopped red onions give off tiny flares of acidity. The Dijon aioli cools things off, but in the face of all the other flavors going on, its rounded profile is lost a bit in the shuffle.

Bringing it home is the brioche. It’s soft enough but not soft enough to be noteworthy. It’s more like a piece of bread dressed up in a brioche Halloween costume.

It’s a pretty expensive sandwich. The entire deal is very balanced taste-wise and, like I said before, it’s substantial. But it clocks in at over five bucks. Not sure if it’s worth it since we’re at Wendy’s right now but I wanted to have lunch with my son and have a nice time, so to me it’s a bargain.”

A pause.

Son: “Thanks, Dad. Sorry about saying your jokes were stupid before.”

Dad: “It’s okay. I get it that sometimes j’can’t-stand-kitsch.”

Son: “What?”

Dad: “J’can’t-stand-kitsch. Chick-en-sand-wich?”

Son: “Ugh, I thought we were over this.”

Dad: “We are.”

Dad disappears in a puff of smoke. Son is sitting alone at a restaurant eating a sandwich. It was an imagined conversation the entire time. The son looks at his meal and pauses. He sighs, continues to eat.

Dad walks up to the table.

Dad: “Sorry, the bathroom took a while. There was a line.”

Son smiles. The conversation was imaginary but his dad is still around.

Dad: “Also, I got stuck.”

Son shakes his head and chuckles.

Son: “Oh, Dad.”

Freeze frame like at the end of an 80’s sitcom. Pull out to reveal it’s a photo in an album. Son is in old man makeup looking through photos.

Son (voice over): “And that was the last time I saw him before he left.”

Shot remains on the son. Harry Chapin’s Cat’s in the Cradle plays in entirety, except instead of the line “You know we’ll have a good time then” it’s replaced with “You know we’ll have a Gouda time then.”

(Nutrition Facts – 600 calories, 250 calories from fat, 28 grams of fat, 8 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 100 milligrams of cholesterol, 1550 milligrams of sodium, 460 milligrams of potassium, 57 grams of carbohydrates, 11 grams of sugar, 3 grams of fiber, and 32 grams of protein.)

Item: Wendy’s Smoked Gouda Chicken on Brioche
Purchased Price: $5.19
Size: N/A
Purchased at: Wendy’s
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Onion sauce and cheese are nice together. Bitter greens are bitter. Sophisticated flavors for the fast food world.
Cons: Pricey. Bread could’ve been softer. Chicken breading is fine but not spectacular.