Margaret, Author at The Impulsive Buy

REVIEW: Trader Joe’s Organic Frosted Pumpkin Toaster Pastries

September 30, 2013December 24, 2020 Margaret 4 Comments

I’ve never been good at finding things. I can’t find the metaphors in Shakespeare’s 58th sonnet. I can’t find Atlantis. I still don’t know where in the world Carmen Sandiego is.

So it was with great surprise and befuddlement that I stumbled upon these seasonal pumpkin toaster pastries crammed in the back aisle of my local Trader Joe’s. Like a rabbit caught in Mr. McGregor’s garden, my first instinct was to freeze in the middle of the aisle, causing a 5-cart pile-up behind me. The next impulse was to unashamedly shove not two, but three boxes into my cart with all the fervor of a dictionary collector coming upon a stash of 1884 Oxford English dictionaries. I may have pulled an oblique muscle in the process.

I’ve often pondered the functions and philosophical implications of Pop-Tart’s no-melt frosting, so it was to my chagrin to uncover: the Trader Joe’s surface icing melts! And re-crackles! Like the glaze of so many doughnuts, this works favorably for the pastry as a whole, adding a gentle caramel flavor on first chomp.

The act of icing meltification led me to investigate the box closer. What were these ingredients that allowed icing to actually melt? Could toaster pastries be made with something other than sodium acid pyrophosphate? Why, yes, yes indeed. To my further confundity (yes, Computer Spell Check, that is now a word), I discovered that these are organic. And made with ingredients I can pronounce. And made with…whole wheat?! Hmmm…is this genius or blasphemy?

Having finished one box in 24 hours, I argue in favor of genius.

“Brown Sugar Cinnamon! Brown Sugar Cinnamon! Brown Sugar Cinnamon!” These were the eloquent thoughts racing through my brain on first bite, and those thoughts were reinforced bite after bite as the pleasantly gritty, sugary filling reminded me of the filling of Brown Sugar Cinnamon Pop-Tarts (one of my top 3 toaster pastry varietals). There’s also a noticeable hint of nutmeg, a kick of ginger, and just an edge of deep woodsiness that I’m guessing comes from the molasses.

While those sugar-and-spice notes lollop on the front engine of taste, the promised pumpkin makes itself known on the caboose, coming in with a gentle flick of flavor that is unquestionably pumpkin. The discretion showed in the amount of pumpkin somehow highlights the squash’s sweet, tart characteristics, thus giving due respect to the best qualities of the jack-o-lantern vegetation.

As a consequence of nature, nutrition, and an ancient Merlin curse, whole wheat flour is denser than its fluffy, all-purpose brethren, thus it takes these rectangles more ticks in the toaster to achieve the standard crispy edges often found in a non-whole grain tart. The instructions on the box recommend toasting at the lowest level on your toaster, but if you like your pumpkin-sugar pastries on the crunchity side, go wild. Turn the heat up to 3, or, if you’re really living on the edge, go to 4. These are pastries covered in what might be a NASA-approved full metal jacket of whole wheat, so no fear. Toast!

If you toast wisely, you shall be rewarded with a honey whole-wheat crust that is crackery, almost nutty. While this crust is nothing too astounding or offending on its own, it does make an excellent base for that sugary, pumpkin-ish filling inside. Finding them hearty for his morning meal, my friend and former logger suggests that these are pastries for the lumberjacks of the world*.

*They’re also really good for non-lumberjacks.

Sometimes, organic products can be expensive and filled with fluffified frou-frou in their foodie egos. Trader Joe’s seems to have broken all pretenses of that here. Not only are these original and cost-friendly, they are daring to compete with Brown Sugar Cinnamon pastries in my pantry. The honeyed crust coupled with the sugary, sweet, slightly pumpkin-y filling has won me over.

If you are looking for an entire can of Libby’s inside your toaster pastry, this may not be the rectangle for you, but if you enjoy brown sugar cinnamon, a bit of pumpkin flair, and good toaster pastries, these are definitely worth your time while they’re around. Good show, Joe, good show.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 pastry – 200 calories, 40 calories from fat, 4 grams of fat, 2 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 125 milligrams of sodium, 0 milligrams of potassium, 38 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of dietary fiber, 18 grams of sugars, and 3 grams of protein.)

Other Trader Joe’s Organic Frosted Pumpkin Toaster Pastries reviews:
What’s Good at Trader Joe’s

Item: Trader Joe’s Organic Frosted Pumpkin Toaster Pastries
Purchased Price: $2.49
Size: 1 box/6 pastries
Purchased at: Trader Joe’s
Rating: 9 out of 10
Pros: In the running for “Top 3 Favorite Toaster Pastries I’ve Ever Eaten.” Sugary spiced filling. Highlights tart sweetness of pumpkin. Greater ratio of filling-to-crust than average Pop-Tart. Crackery honey wheat crust. Icing actually melts and reforms. Good for lumberjacks and non-lumberjacks.
Cons: May not be pumpkin-y enough for pumpkin lovers. Seasonal. Only six to a box. Pondering philosophical implications of frosting that never melts. Ancient Merlin curses. Pulling oblique muscles.

REVIEW: Special K Nourish Maple Brown Sugar Crunch Hot Cereal

September 24, 2013December 24, 2020 Margaret 10 Comments

You may be asking: Why in all the magical golden coins of Super Mario would I want to buy two bowls of portable oatmeal with some mix-ins?

Well, that just brings up a slew of other questions: Why fry a Snickers? Why make your own piñata? Why learn to surf in a pool of whale sharks? Why, in fact, should you do anything? I’ll tell you why: because you are a great human. You want to reach higher. To be all you can be. To walk into work not only with your shoes on the right feet, but with a little kick that says “I am a great human and I am here to change the world.” And how, with a 1:30 bedtime and a 4:30 wake-up call, can you have the consciousness to do that?

Breakfast.

Preparing to fully bank on this need for early morning sustenance, Special K’s kicked out this new line of oatmeal so you can microwave a bowl of whole grains in your office, dorm, or as you brush your hair before dashing out the door, spooning mouthfuls as you swerve through the 7:30 traffic, without even grabbing a bowl. And this spurs the next question: Is it worth it?

That depends.

On first glance, I figured there’s nothing revolutionary going on here. It’s just a mushy, but oddly comforting bowl of cooked oats, right? Oh how wrong I was. Underneath the goopy exterior rests an amalgam of grains that stretches the vocabulary of Kansas agriculture: there’s oats, some wheat, barley, and even quinoa, which I appreciate because it has a “Q” in it. Q words are so hard to come by these days.

While there were four grains in there, the sweet, malty oats still stand at the forefront of flavor. I was quite pleased that Special K opted for whole oats rather than the puny chopped up instant ones, which often make me feel underappreciated and begging for more like a character in a Dickens novel.

The accompanying mix-ins include two packets of toasted almonds, which, while a bit flavorless in their unsalted way, serve as quality crunch nubbins, and the separated dual packets of almonds allowed me to plop one segment in the top half of the oatmeal while saving some for the bottom, thus preventing Boring Bottom Half of Oatmeal Syndrome.

Unfortunately, there’s no actual maple syrup involved here. Instead, the oatmeal is swirled with what I imagine are little dehydrated maple crystals that, when looked at under a microscope, might be mistaken for those frightening rhinestones people put on their cell phones that blind you on a sunny day. While the maple bits add a nice smell of maple to the air, the sugar-y-ness of maple is subdued after preparation, but let’s face it: dehydrated maple bits are no substitute for the Grade-B Vermont liquid gold.

Otherwise, this is pretty successful in that straightforward, no frills way, even if there were only two bowls. The almonds stay fresh in their little compartments and the single serving allows me to stuff the bowl in my bag in the morning while running out the door. It can be prepared in the microwave or, if you wanna get fancy, the bowl provides directions for steeping.

As with all microwave oatmeal, you can whip it up with your liquid of choice, be it water, milk, coffee (and excellent choice), or, depending on the time of day and your mood, maple syrup’s best friend: bourbon. If you’re passing by a McDonald’s or keep a slab of pork belly in your employer’s mini fridge (not that I do…), a side of crispy bacon would make an excellent pairing.

As fall whisks its merciless wind through the tethers of my flimsy cardigan, this oatmeal seems perfectly timed. It’s warm, hearty brain food that I can grab on the way out the door. I don’t see myself buying this all the time, but it makes me feel cozy enough to wear footie pajamas to work. In fact, perhaps I will! Tomorrow! If you see me in my footie pajamas on the subway, know that I am not committing an act of defiance. It is merely a symptom of being filled with hot cereal.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 container– 190 calories, 45 calories from fat, 5 grams of fat, 0.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 140 milligrams of sodium, 170 milligrams of potassium, 32 grams of carbohydrates, 5 gram of dietary fiber, 11 grams of sugars, and 8 grams of protein.)

Item: Special K Nourish Maple Brown Sugar Crunch Hot Cereal
Purchased Price: $2.78
Size: 2 pack
Purchased at: Walmart
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: No frills. Easy to prepare. Big whole oats. Crunchy almonds. Magically dissolving maple-y bits. Slabs of pork belly. The option of preparing with bourbon. Making a piñata. Wearing footie pajamas to work.
Cons: Only 2 bowls. No actual maple syrup. 4:30 wake-up calls. Feeling like a character in a Dickens novel. Endangered “Q” words. Being blinded by cell phone bling.

QUICK REVIEW: Kellogg’s Eggo Drizzlers Vanilla Icing Waffles

September 12, 2013September 5, 2023 Margaret 11 Comments

Purchased Price: $3.19
Size: 6 waffles/box
Purchased at: Publix
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Waffles toast up crispy. Icing akin to cinnamon roll icing. 10 vitamins and minerals. Excellent for making breakfast sausage sandwiches. Excellent for making ice cream sandwiches. Fulfills lifelong goal to draw on a waffle. Filling in the waffle nooks reminds me of Tetris.
Cons: Homestyle waffle base is pretty bland on its own. Only 3 icing packs for 6 waffles. Must sustain patience for the icing to defrost. Must sustain patience for waffles to toast. Realizing I have no patience.

Nutrition Facts: 2 waffles and 1 icing pack – 280 calories, 80 calories from fat, 8 grams of fat, 2.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 15 milligrams of cholesterol, 430 milligrams of sodium, 60 milligrams of potassium, 46 grams of carbohydrates, less than 1 gram of dietary fiber, 14 grams of sugars, and 4 grams of protein.

REVIEW: Nestle Nesquik Chocolate Sandwich Cookies

August 28, 2013August 30, 2023 Margaret 5 Comments

Historians speak of a time when sandwich cookies didn’t exist. A time when T. rexes and carnivorous, boulder-sized iguanas scoured the land, all crazy-eyed and hungry to fill the five empty sugar chambers of their reptilian, soon-to-be-extinct hearts. I hypothesize the true reason for these animals’ disappearance was neither a comet nor a great flood, but the absence of a cookie and a cold glass of milk.

It is with this in mind that I become grateful to live in a time when cookie sandwiches not only exist, but seem to generate from some enchanted, dextrose-enhanced geyser in Yellowstone Park. With Oreo flinging Banana Split and Watermelon sandwiches all over the place, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that Nesquik’s taking the dive for the caboose of the cookie sandwich train, holding tight to the cabin car as it offers up these new double chocolate goods.

Upon ripping open my first bag, I was astonished to find that this is not just a tray of cookies, but 12 individually wrapped packs of cookies (I should’ve read the package’s front first), and, while Ziplocs and overpriced FoodSavers have made individual wrapping seem like no big thang, I can’t help but appreciate the gesture.

I like to cram cookies in my maw at my leisure, not under the unspoken pressure to shove them down before they become stale, tragic discs, and, as many know, for every moment after you open that big Family Pack of Oreos, those cookies get just a little less fresh. Here, the task of stale-prevention has not only been done for me, but all the text on the packets have been printed in English and Spanish, so I have the freedom learn some Spanish while scarfing cookies down, which is exactly what I’m gonna do now.

Hola, friendly, anthropomorphic bunny, Quiky! I am going to eat you!

One of the marks of a good sandwich cookie comes with the dynamic of The Twist. Do the cookies separate easily? Does one wafer come off clean? Or is it a wrestling match? Does it leave a slab of cream on one biscuit? Or does the cream just plunk off on to the floor? And these Nesquiks stood up to the test. While not performing the super smooth, Triple-Axel clean sweep that an Oreo might provide, the Nesquiks perform a fairly good separation, usually leaving a smidge of frosting on one biscuit while keeping a large chunk on the other. Some twists are more successful than others. Luckily, each pack, or “pacquet,” gives you four (yes, four) cookies to wrestle with, so, if one twist fails, you have the freedom to try, try again.

But at the end of the journey, The Twist stands secondary to The Taste, and, while not an Oreo, this little packet of cremed-up discs holds its own. The crunchy wafer harkens back to some distant hot chocolate mixed with a touch malt, while the thin layer of creme serves as a gritty, sugary, milk-chocolate version of palm oil goodness, a bit more chalky than the Oreo middles, but still a respectable representation in its own right.

Taken as a whole, the cookies are straight-up sweet cocoa and perfect for those who enjoy a subtle milk chocolate and malt flavors. Would I have liked more taste contrasts between the creme and cookie? Sure, but they fulfill my craving for midday milk chocolate and that’s good enough for me.

Having swept through three packs now, I’ll admit: these surprised me. In the mess of evaporated milks and hot chocolates, Ovaltines and Alba powders, I’ve often pushed Nesquik aside, leaving it as the forgotten, distant, frumpy, and chalky cousin to Hershey’s syrup. I say it’s high time I amend this loss, resurrect the Forgotten One in all its mild cocoa regalia and declare my love for it through this new cookie form. These sandwiches have taken the qualities of Nesquik powder (a milky, malty cocoa) and smooshed it into a cookie sandwich, and that is a noble deed.

While they may not be made from imported, single-sourced, organic 73 percent cocoa picked from the tree this morning, they’re just chocolate-y enough, leaving behind a whiff of that dusty, cheap cocoa that I’ve come to love/hate, and that is enough to keep me trundling back with eager, empty hands, needing nothing more than a glass of milk and a cookie to fill my grumbly stomach.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 pack/4 cookies – 160 calories, 50 calories from fat, 6 grams of fat, 3 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 50 milligrams of sodium, 0 milligrams of potassium, 28 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of dietary fiber, 13 grams of sugars, and 2 grams of protein.)

Item: Nestle Nesquik Chocolate Sandwich Cookies
Purchased Price: $2.98
Size: 1 box/12 packs
Purchased at: Walmart
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: That distinct cheap cocoa taste. Crunchy biscuits. Good twist qualities. Generous gestures to prevent staleness. Learning Spanish and eating cookies at the same time. Reasons to eat anthropomorphic bunnies.
Cons: That distinct cheap cocoa taste. Chocolate flavor gets a bit one-note. Arguably thin creme layer. Grumbly stomachs. Carnivorous, boulder-sized iguanas.

REVIEW: Lay’s Air Pops Original Potato Chips

August 20, 2013August 28, 2023 Margaret 7 Comments

In the world of potato chips, the bright yellow bag of Lay’s potato chips is stamped permanently in my Potato Chip List of Glory. How one improves on permanence? I don’t know.

Of course, every new product Lay’s rolls out presents a new threat to my ardor: What if I eat a new kind and find myself unsatisfied? It isn’t realistic to expect perfection from every product…is it? Should I just stick with the classic fried chip? Am I going to give up Lay’s if I have a negative experience? If I give them up, where will I go when I have a chip craving? What does it all mean for my future of chip eating?!?!

I’m not sure, but I do know that a) the arrival of Popchips has been threatening to disturb the order of Lay’s potato chip glory on the shelves lately and thus b) Lay’s deserves its day to try and stand up for itself in this puffed-chip world. It was for this very reason that I pushed my anxiety aside and picked up the Lay’s Air Pops, determined to see if my steadfast chip could hold its own in these shifting, puffy-chip times.

Air Pops supposedly come in Sour Cream and Onion and Barbecue flavors. This time, the Fates conspired against me and I was left with the Original as my only option, a shame as I would’ve swooned like a melodramatic Shakespeare character over a bag of Sour Cream and Onion, but I figured it was best to try the Original first as it would prove whether or not Lay’s could set a solid foundation for its poppable round crisps. Plus, it saved me a lot of embarrassment that would’ve resulted from swooning in public.

Having been raised on the Original Lay’s, I like my chips thin, crispy, and with a salinity that could compete with the sodium levels of the Dead Sea. At the same time, none of this should take away the potato flavor. Popping open the bag, I’m greeted with the smell of potato and salt, a good foresight considering that’s all I want to taste.

And these don’t disappoint. Salty, crispy, potato-y, these have all the qualifying pillars that build a Potato Chip Parthenon on the acropolis of Greatness. They’re definitely inspired by the “Popchips” all those youngsters are talking about. Now, if you’ve yet to dip your toe in the Popchips craze, let me explain: a Popchip is a potato pellet (yes, “potato pellet”) that, according to an oldie clip of Marc Summers, has been vacuumized and puffed out into a round, crispy disc.

Flavor and texture-wise, I would describe Popchips as a round, potato-enhanced Bugle. One of the troubles I sometimes encounter with a Popchip is that they have a grain that can come across sharp against my mouth, almost as if I were subjecting myself to eating potato-flavored dry polenta. I was happy to discover the Lay’s version has a more Pringles-like grain that goes down smoother. That, paired with the fact that they’re doused with that perfect, cheap, grainy Lay’s table salt, gives them high marks all around.

There are many things that bring me great joy: the wrinkly faces of English Bulldogs, crazy straws, and Scottish kilts. While I’ve never taken the time to number them, resting somewhere at the top of the list would have to be finding the crumbly bits of chip at the bottom of the bag. You know what I’m talking about. Those discarded, semi-damaged remnants of potato flake and salt that, when tipped out of their pointed fissure in the corner of the aluminum bag, congeal with the perfect ratio of sodium chloride to potato. I’m happy to say that, for all you chip dust lovers, Lay’s doesn’t deny you here. Because the bag had been slightly crushed on the trek home (curse you, closing subway door!), a bounty of dusty booty awaited me as I reached the end of solid chippery, allowing me to tilt the bag and consume my reward. Ah. Chip satisfaction.

As seen with yo-yos, spandex, and roller skates, trends can meander and shift with no rhyme or reason, and it’s no different in the world of chips, which can go from 3-D to taco-fied in a matter of months. However, this puffed chip craze seems to be sustaining itself, having already expanded to everything from tortillas to lentils, and I, for one, am glad Lay’s has jumped in the ring. Their rendition is a solid one, done with a fearlessly salty hand and a quality potato taste while offering a slightly smoother texture than Popchips, so make room in the pantry. Lay’s has entered the puffed chips game.

(Nutrition Facts – 19 crisps – 120 calories, 40 calories from fat, 4 grams of fat, 0.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 190 milligrams of sodium, 80 milligrams of potassium, 19 grams of carbohydrates, less than 1 gram of fiber, 0 grams of sugar, and 1 gram of protein.)

Item: Lay’s Air Pops Original Potato Chips
Purchased Price: $2.99
Size: 3 oz. bag
Purchased at: Duane Reade
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: Nice balance of salt and potato. Similar to a slightly airy Pringle. Comes in Barbecue and Sour Cream and Onion. Plenty of crumbs. Doesn’t require endorsements from pop icons to make them taste good. Crazy straws. Wrinkly bulldog faces.
Cons: Only finding the Original when you really want the Sour Cream and Onion. May be too salty for some. Kinda sorta copying Popchips and, therefore, could be accused of lacking originality. “Potato pellet.” Getting crushed by subway doors.

Author: Margaret

REVIEW: Trader Joe’s Organic Frosted Pumpkin Toaster Pastries

REVIEW: Special K Nourish Maple Brown Sugar Crunch Hot Cereal

QUICK REVIEW: Kellogg’s Eggo Drizzlers Vanilla Icing Waffles

REVIEW: Nestle Nesquik Chocolate Sandwich Cookies

REVIEW: Lay’s Air Pops Original Potato Chips

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