La Choy Beef Chow Mein

I feel like I haven’t been putting my Asian-ness to good use on The Impulsive Buy. Crashing my car last month was proof that I‘m giving credence to my heritage in my day-to-day life, but I wanted to take that Eastern expertise to a food review. Luckily for me, Wal-Mart sells various ethnic cuisines of questionable authenticity and it was easy for me to pick something out that looked intriguing.

Usually, “intriguing” for me means “so ridiculously ludicrous and insulting that I bet no other site has reviewed this.” This time, however, La Choy’s Beef Chow Mein genuinely looked like a tasty meal. As soon as I opened it up, though, I soon realized that things out of cans are rarely gourmet and never fresh. The top can, which contained brown gravy with a few specks of beef, resembled a premium soup that Alpo would make for dogs. The bottom can contained blanched bean sprouts, baby corn, carrots, water chestnuts, celery, and red pepper. Almost all of the mix was soggy bean sprouts.

It suddenly occurred to me that this chow mein had absolutely no chow mein in it. Maybe I‘ve been eating too much bastardized Chinese food, but I had always thought that chow mein was basically noodles with some sort of vegetables mixed in. I went to Wikipedia to restore some semblance of sanity to the situation, but they confirmed my initial suspicions that chow mein was indeed noodles. Which begged the question: What the fuck am I eating?

Whatever it was, it wasn’t anything that I would ever order at Panda Express. After mixing the vegetables with the beef sauce and simmering it for a few minutes, I tried some and savored the taste of limp bean sprouts in a sauce that tasted like something from a can of Chunky Soup. Mmm…mmm! I also loved the fact that the small portion seen on the can has more beef than the entire contents of what they’re really selling. That’s what I like to call value for money!


Even through my disappointed sarcasm, I couldn’t help but feel bad about the purchase. Can tasty Asian food ever come out of a can? Are we doomed to be stuck in the realm of takeout food? I pondered these questions as I put my chopsticks in the sink. Even baby corn’s intrinsic awesomeness couldn’t save the rest of the pan from going into the trash.

(Nutritional Facts – 1 cup – 90 calories, 2 grams of fat, 1 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 15 mg of cholesterol, 880mg sodium, 11 grams of carbs, 2 grams of dietary fiber, 2 grams of sugar, 8 grams of protein, 40% Vitamin A, 25% Vitamin C, 4% Calcium, and 10% Iron)

Item: La Choy Beef Chow Mein
Price: $2.50
Purchased at: Wal-Mart
Rating: 3 out of 10
Pros: Comes in two separate cans so you feel like you’re actually making your own meal. Variety of vegetables theoretically make it interesting. You can add more beef or tofu to it in order to make it edible.
Cons: Vegetables have little to no texture. No chow mein in the chow mein. Can of “beef” is almost all sauce.

Casa Fiesta Beef Tamales

My doctor told me last week that I wasn’t getting enough of my fat intake from canned foods.

Actually, he told me that I was lucky to make it to his office from my car, but this is what I would buy if the previous sentence were true. It’s Casa Fiesta’s Beef Tamales in a can. It boasts that it needs no preservatives, which sounds healthy until you realize that it’s packed in its own grease.

The whole idea of tamales in a can would be enough to give some purists a heart attack — and not just from the cholesterol. Real tamales are lovingly made by hand by an Mexican woman and steamed over several hours with obnoxious mariachi music playing in the background.

They are wrapped in either corn husks or banana leaves, both of which are usurped here by the practical-yet-bland parchment paper. All six tamales are individually wrapped and ready for consumption.

For who?

I’m not certain, but I think I fit right into their self-loathing bachelor demographic. Low standards here are important because they’re not what I’d call pretty. In fact, the process of canning and shipping has left these tamales looking a little bit like spent condoms. I’ll let you use your imagination for the chili sauce.

Fortunately, it does not taste awful. I would never dare serve these to other people, but they are good when you are too lazy to cook and want some spicy food out of a can. The masa dough on the outside is passable even though it kind of blends in with the beef. The beef paste has no real discernible texture; it is comparable to a dryer version of Chef Boyardee’s mystery beef.

If it weren’t for the color, I wouldn’t be able to tell where one ended and the other one began. After drenching it in hot sauce and sour cream, however, you will cease caring and begin enjoying this bastardized Mexican classic.

(Nutritional Facts – 2 tamales – 220 calories, 15 grams of fat, 6 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 25 mg of cholesterol, 680 mg sodium, 14 grams of carbs, less than 1 gram of dietary fiber, 1 gram of sugar, 5 grams of protein, 8% Vitamin A, 2% Vitamin C, 2% Calcium, and 4% Iron)

Item: Casa Fiesta Beef Tamales
Price: $1.39
Purchased at: Target
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Tastes pretty good once you throw a bunch of stuff on it. Convenient and good to have on hand. No preservatives.
Cons: Very greasy if you don’t scoop out the excess. Lacks any discernible texture. Obnoxious mariachi music. Kind of look like spent condoms.

Kraft Basil Vinaigrette Pasta Salad

During my last shopping adventure, it occurred to me that every salad I ate was actually clogging my heart. There’s the macaroni salad I have with Hawaiian barbecue, the potato salad I have with fried chicken, the tuna salad I have with parmesan bread, and the hot dog salad that I invented after it came to me in a dream. As I pondered whether that website telling me that I would die in three years was correct, I came across a beautiful box of Kraft Basil Vinaigrette Pasta Salad.

I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t drawn in by the shiny packaging. The gold lettering and fancy fonts on the box made it look like something pirates would bury on a remote island. I don’t really like medleys of vegetables or vinaigrettes, but I simply could not resist the festive colors and the promise of something gourmet.

Since it contains zucchini, black olives, green and red bell peppers, tomatoes, and carrots, I figured it would be a healthy alternative to my dietary doldrums of potato chips and Slim Jims. This was before I realized that pasta salad is just another type of “salad” that consists of fat and starch. There’s not enough vegetables in the whole thing to even add up to one serving.

It was at this point that I looked into my mirror, which happens to be a distorted one that makes me appear muscular, and realized that I would never be able to eat healthy. I’m just like a burnt out, single mother who comes to terms with the fact that she’ll always pick the bad boys. Sort of…okay, maybe that isn’t the best analogy. What I’m trying to say is that even when I think I’m eating healthy, buying anything from a box and adding oil isn’t going to earn me any favors with the Weight Watchers people.

Thankfully, the process of creating the pasta salad is very simple and effective. You just boil the pasta for a few minutes and then add it to a mixing bowl with some olive oil and the season packet. After throwing in the dehydrated vegetables, you let it rest for a few hours until it is cool and the roughage is soft. What you get rewarded with is a fairly tasty pasta salad that manages to stay firm and separated. Even with the glossy sheen, it is not at all oily. The vinaigrette is tangy and has a fairly strong basil taste, so lovers of basil should enjoy this immensely.

Overall, it is a solid and impressive product that is put over the top by the sheer awesomeness of its glorious packaging. It is a nice change of pace for anyone looking for a new side dish. Perhaps most importantly of all, it is another tasty yet unhealthy salad that will probably kill me.

That alone is priceless.

(Nutritional Facts – 1/5 box – 200 calories, 9 grams of fat, 1.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 mg of cholesterol, 480mg sodium, 26 grams of carbs, 2 grams of dietary fiber, 4 grams of sugar, 5 grams of protein, 4% Vitamin A, 8% Vitamin C, 2% Calcium, and 8% Iron)

Item: Kraft Basil Vinaigrette Pasta Salad
Price: $2.50
Purchased at: Wal-Mart
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Pasta stays firm even after cooking and coating. Vinaigrette is adequately tangy and flavorful. Very easy to make. Mirrors that make you appear more attractive than you really are.
Cons: Another “salad” that is not in any way good for you. Dehydrated vegetables don’t add a lot of flavor or texture. Being like a burnt out single mother who chooses the bad boys. Fearing your own mortality after searching for fun websites.

REVIEW: Hormel Compleats Roast Beef and Gravy

If a complete dinner in less than two minutes doesn’t appeal to you, then you’re either lying to me or to yourself. People barely have time to put on their pants before they get out of the house, a problem that has cost me several hundred dollars and a few restraining orders.

Hormel understands and they have introduced a line of Compleat meals that come out hot and ready in 90 seconds. That’s how long it used to take me to spike my ridiculously bad Asian hair in junior high (Note to self: travel back in time and slap self). By any standard of convenience, taking a box out of the cupboard and microwaving it the length of a couple commercials is pretty damn easy. But as exciting as it may seem, not all things turn out the way you want them to.

Shocking, I know.

You mean a 90 second meal doesn’t set the culinary world on fire? Well, no, unless that fire is started by me after I take my molotov cocktails over to the Hormel factory. Everything about this meal is offensively horrible in the worst way imaginable. Even worse, the cooking directions are all off. I can deal with crappy food, but when the crappy food comes out so cold that I keep having to taste it to see when it’s ready, I just begin an all out vendetta with the thing.

All in all, it probably took five solid minutes to heat the thing through. By that point, the edges of the mashed potatoes were crisp and the center was unpleasantly tepid. I understand that contrasts in texture makes food interesting, but the principle doesn’t exactly apply here.

So now that I figured out that it really takes the same amount of time to cook as a regular frozen dinner, it had to be really damn good to not make me chuck it at the neighbor’s annoying dogs. I’m sad to say that it disappointed me deeply.

The meat was dry, almost like beef jerky, and came apart in flakes. Yes, flakes. You know, like how really well cooked fish does, but only completely awful and from a cow. Not only is that disgusting, it is confusing to the taste buds.

The gravy wasn’t any better. In fact, it was completely tasteless and worthless. The mysterious sauce was watery and contained only hints of beefy goodness. It’s hard to describe…the best way I can describe it is that it tasted like “brown” with perhaps some celery thrown in. It covered the beef and a sizable bed of mashed potatoes.

I was actually pleasantly surprised with the potatoes at first because they were lumpy like homemade mashed potatoes. This was before I realized that it was just undercooked potato flakes that were just dense and mealy. My disgust at this revelation was the breaking point. In my growing hysteria, I threw the bowl against the wall and watched it slowly drip down towards oblivion. You’ll have to take my word for it, but it was very dramatic.

All in all, my hopes were crushed and it will be a long time before I can truly dream again. It was a lesson learned the hard way: gourmet meals aren’t cooked in 90 seconds. Especially ones that appear to be designed for bomb shelters and emergency kits.

Item: Hormel Compleats Roast Beef and Gravy
Price: $2.04
Purchased at: Wal-Mart
Rating: 2 out of 10
Pros: You can use the plastic bowl as a 7 layer dip container after you’re done.
Cons: Cold and flavorless food. Spiky hair. Ridiculous promises regarding cooking length. Public indecency.

Rico’s Salsa De Queso Nacho Cheese Sauce

I’ll admit that my eating habits are less than stellar. Deplorable, if you will. But I am a man who enjoys blaming all of his shortcomings on everyone but myself, so I will proceed to do so. I have had a distorted view of food since I was a small child. My parents taught me that all-you-can-eat buffets were a competition where the only way to win was to eat until you struggled to breathe. That’s how you get the edge over society and get your slice of American pie…or something along those lines, I can’t really remember the logistics of the situation.

This desensitization to crappy fried foods and imitation cheeses led to my current state of junk food codependence. I say “co-” because I feel like I have a lasting relationship with it, though I’m not sure if it’s based on eHarmony’s 29 dimensions of compatibility. High school further dragged me along this path, as the lunches provided were insufficient for rabid dogs, let alone burgeoning minds. I was left with two choices: the salad bar or nachos.

The salad bar might as well have been renamed “Hidden Valley” because everything was just a vessel for ranch dressing. Small amounts of wilted lettuce were laid out like bed sheets for macaroni and potato salads. Jugs of ranch were handed out so kids could mask any nutrients left inside. Of course, bread sticks were handed out for dipping. Ranch was fucking everywhere. Kids became addicted to it. I am convinced that I would’ve been laid if I had the foresight to pour ranch on myself.

I traveled the much healthier road and ended up falling in love with nacho cheese instead. Cheese has calcium in it, right? After rationalizing my addiction, I embraced the smooth, velvety texture of the cheese. It was laced with a hint of spiciness and the glow of neon orange. All of it came together to make a splendid sauce for the stale nachos that went down my gullet at $1.50 a tray. Throw in some pickled jalapeno slices and you’re set for any fiesta, or in my case, a night alone with the Gilmore Girls.

I had missed it in the couple of years since then, but found something appealing as I strolled through the aisles of the cursed entity known as Wal-Mart. It was Rico’s Salsa De Queso Nacho Cheese Sauce. The redundant and convoluted name didn’t strike my fancy, but the promise of molten hot nacho cheese piqued my interest.

I wasn’t expecting much, but I was pleasantly surprised that it indeed came out hot and smooth from the microwave. It was good, too! It still maintained a decent amount of texture and adhered perfectly to the chips. The nacho cheese is actually made with real jalapenos, which is noticeable as you feel a tingle of heat on your tongue upon consumption. It helped me put away a giant bag of organic tortilla chips over a one week period.

The best thing about this product is that I no longer need to rationalize the nutrition value of nacho cheese. Rico’s has done already done that for me, as their stamp boasts “0% cholesterol” and “Good source of calcium.” I’ve already begun adding it to my orange juice and breakfast cereal.

But not everything is muy bueno with Rico’s Salsa De Queso Nacho Cheese Sauce. I really wish I could say something positive about Rico’s lazily-made mascot. Seriously, a fucking drop of nacho cheese? That’s the best they could come up with? At least put a sombrero on him or some maracas.

Everyone knows racial stereotypes make the best mascots.

Item: Rico’s Salsa De Queso Nacho Cheese Sauce
Price: $1.99
Purchased at: Wal-Mart
Rating: 4 out of 5
Pros: Comes out hot and creamy in microwave. Tasty and cheap as all good junk food should be. Nacho cheese may or may not get me sexually aroused.
Cons: Not all that spicy. Lacks real cheese. Lazily designed mascot without fun Mexican stereotypes. Stretching the truth about nutritional information. All-you-can-eat buffets and their damage to the psyche.