I’m not much of a joiner. 
After high school, I was a member of Columbia House, and that ended with dissatisfaction and letters demanding payment for “Easy Listening Hits of 1984”—which I swear I never ordered.
I’m especially dubious of the cult-like phenomena that can sprout up around a company or a product; think Saturn cars, Apple computers, or even Nutella. If you like it, then drive it, use it, or eat it. Does one really need a support group with newsletters and t-shirts?
So, the fanatical devotion that Trader Joe’s garners left me cold, and extremely skeptical.
When I went to the Chapel Hill location on opening day, I was disappointed. I was expecting Whole Foods with 2 dollar wine; lots of produce, gourmet items, and an esoteric collection of meat in a comprehensive department. It wasn’t like that. I visited infrequently, but still didn’t contract the Trader Joe’s virus.
I’m ever on the lookout for dried fruits and nuts to add to my always present, always changing bag of trail mix. Recently I was at Trader Joe’s and picked up a bag of dried baby pineapple.
I hated it. I’m sure there were fans of it somewhere, but I was not one, not even a little bit.
So one Sunday afternoon I headed to Chapel Hill, and Trader Joe’s, to return it.
Once inside I went over to customer service with the pineapple, and within seconds walked away with a credit for the full price. There was no paperwork, questions, or judge-y looks; nothing. The manager-person just wrote a number on a slip of paper and handed it over.
And that’s how they handle all returns—no muss, no fuss, no exceptions. It’s only one of a few pretty great store policies.
They will give you a sample of basically anything. Just ask a crew member, they’ll open it up, and give you a taste. They don’t sell any products containing high fructose corn syrup or genetically modified foods. They are almost always offering samples. Last time I was there it was delicious cauliflower ravioli and hot spiced apple cider that tasted exactly of apple pie.
But there are two factors at Joe’s that finally made me a fan. And the intersection of those two? There lies culinary nirvana.
90 percent of their products are private label. And in addition to breakfast cereal, canned soup, noodles, and jelly, they have items that are hard or impossible to find even in expensive purveyors of gourmet foodstuffs.
The frozen food they carry is the kind of things you dream about when you’re crazy hungry and know you won’t be able to eat for hours. They’ve got the ethnic thing down, with Italian, Chinese, Mexican, Indian, and more. Tons of different fish and pasta dinners. They have mac & cheese with buckets of variations, even breaded deep-fried bites.
Their sweets are the devil. They have enough yummy looking candies, cakes, and cookies, to throw me into an irretrievable diabetic coma. Dark chocolate salted caramels, tons of different candy bars, desserts like Japanese mocha ice cream, French macarons, and cookie butter cheesecake, lemme say that again; Cookie.Butter.Cheesecake.
But the huge Trader Joe’s lure is the prices.
Eggs, 99 cents a dozen. Sour cream, a buck a tub. Fresh oyster mushrooms for $1.99. Ravioli is two portions for 3 or 4 dollars. Even non-food items are cheap. I paid 3 bucks for a ginormous jug of lavender-scented hand soap. The Kid calls the store ‘the love child of Earth Fare and Aldi’s’.
But when gourmet and budget meet is the temptation that finally preceded my fall. I got a jar of Middle Eastern style preserved lemons for $2.99. And a tube of umami, which is a mixture of tomato paste, mushrooms, anchovy, to up the umami factor in anything you cook, is the unbelievable price of $1.99. I’ve used another brand (now impossible to find in the US) that sold for $12.99.
So, put a fork in me, ‘cause I’m done. I am a true Joe’s believer. They’ve got me.
But I promise, you will never find me attending a Trader Joe’s fan club meeting.
I’d rather give Columbia House another go.
Thanks for your time.
The other half, a wide-eyed, innocent, ‘Happily ever after’ bunch if there ever was one, thinks it’s probably fairy dust.
But the thing is; these are stealth cookies.
Then, they sink their teeth in and taste it. Their eyes get real big and their faces light up. “Oh my Gosh! I get it. What’s in these things? They’re the best cookie I’ve ever eaten. What the heck?”
1½ cups all-purpose flour
The frosting is really good, and works on anything that needs frosting, and stuff that doesn’t. My dad and I have been known to eat a bowl of it, on nothing more than a spoon.
Thanks for your time.
The store was called Stitches, and we sold stylish unisex clothes for young adults. Think Hot Topic, but more preppy, or Gap, but more trendy.
That chicken salad I enjoyed so much? Not much chicken in it, ‘cause it was made with turkey. You could have knocked me over with a feather (chicken or turkey feather, either would have worked).
It’s possible you may have some leftover Thanksgiving turkey, hopefully in suspended animation in the freezer because a week in the fridge is too long for safe eating. If you don’t have any turkey, maybe you’re planning on making more for another holiday meal.
Stir together salad ingredients. Fold in dressing, starting with half, adding more as needed. Test for seasoning. For best texture and flavor, serve right away (you can refrigerate the salad and dressing separately and mix right before serving). Make 6 generous sandwiches.
Thanks for your time.
I was standing inside Big Bundts, owned by Kristen Benkendorfer. It’s in that striking brushed silver ADF building on Broad Street, where Hummingbird Bakery used to be. I’d visited before and the brownie Bundt bite had already made me a true believer. The bites are tiny, adorable little cakes; decadently moist and deeply chocolate. They’re about 2-3 bites for any sane person, but I nibble on one for hours—it’s either pace myself or eat my weight in them.
Well, I’d already asked for three of them, as they’re sold 3/$5. But then I spied some cupcakes, which looked exactly like Hostess cupcakes. You know, cream-filled chocolate, frosted with more chocolate, and a white swirly on top?
Dog House. They sell the best dogs in town. The food is consistently superior and the employees always friendly. Plus; crinkle fries and pink lemonade.
Over on 9th Street is Elmo’s Diner, which never disappoints. Their sweet potato pancakes are the best flapjacks I’ve ever eaten. Somehow they make something as simple as a spinach salad extra tasty.
The Cupcake Bar’s rotating menu ensures that every visitor can find a flavor that makes them as happy as a kid at an amusement park. Plus, they have Mexican Coke, ice-cold chocolate milk, and their miraculous frosting shots.
Every time I walk into The Parlour ice cream shop I feel like I’m six-years-old at my own birthday party. It’s a simple yet sophisticated pleasure that makes even the grumpiest among us grin like a demented game show host.
For the second year in a row, Petey and I will dine at C&H cafeteria for Thanksgiving. The food’s great, Petey can get a traditional Thanksgiving dinner for less than eight bucks, and I can get something other than turkey (here’s hoping they’ll have veal Parmesan again). Plus they’ll put one of their delicious, homemade desserts in a to-go box for me.
Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.
It hasn’t been all rainbows and unicorns at Chez Matthews lately.
Despite my worries, big and small, I’m a pretty lucky girl. Good grief, I’m alive and walking around, and tomorrow is coming to give me another chance to screw up, or get it right—my choice. So in honor of our national day of gratitude, I took a look at the things in my life that I appreciate.
I’m thankful that I have a snug and cozy roof over my head. I love my neighbors. Some I know well, some not so much, but I know that every single one would be happy to help out in times of trouble; and numerous ones already have.
The following items are simple frivolous things that make me feel better when I have trouble remembering all the big things for which I’m thankful.
Potato salad and Dewey’s birthday cake with extra frosting—‘nuff said. They know how I feel about them.
Happy Thanksgiving.
So I was at the North Carolina state fair. I was acting as a judge in the North Carolina Sweet Potato Commission’s sweet potato contest. The direction was to come up with an item for breakfast, lunch, dinner, or snack.
Well…it didn’t really look like hash. It looked more like one of those hash brown casseroles (Not that there’s anything wrong with that, they are usually doctorate-level comfort food). So a nice creamy, cheesy baked sweet potato dish was coming up. Yeah, I could suffer through.
Only it was delicious. I mean it. Somehow, that disparate combo of ingredients, when mixed together and heated became a completely cohesive dish that was awesome. I don’t understand what happened; I’m just chalking it up to some kind of kitchen miracle.
3 Sweet potatoes, peeled and shredded
It won first prize.
I can happily consume hours of Sharknado movies and marathons of RuPaul’s Drag Race or any of the Star Trek franchises. But a double feature of football seems like an intentional infliction of emotional distress.
Shocking everyone present, including myself, I pluck the ball out of the sky, as well as everything else thrown in my direction that day. I become my brother’s performing seal and cash cow, as he wagers on my skills with those unfamiliar with my freakish feats of hand-eye coordination.
Still though, c’mon!
Ages 17-30: Having lived around oceans growing up, I am familiar with undertows and how to navigate them. I revel in swimming straight out as far as possible, resting a bit, then leisurely swimming back to shore. While I adore this activity, Petey spends the entire time I’m in the drink composing the phone call to my parents to explain my disappearance into international shipping lanes, death by drowning, or dismemberment by shark.
I’m afraid my topic this week may throw some people into a full-on tizzy. Knickers will be twisted and pearls will be clutched.
1 yellow onion, chopped
But it taught me a very important lesson: Love is great, but even so-so take-out is better than dreck.
Synesthesia is a neurological phenomenon which blends senses. It comes from the Greek words, ‘sensation together’. For example; a person listening to music may see the sound in varying colors. One might see numbers as points in space. Or, sounds may produce feelings in different parts of the body.
But there are friendlier warm spices that evoke cozy sweaters, rustling leaves, and hay rides. And without them, I’d be bereft and my kitchen would have much less flavor.
Smoked paprika-This isn’t just the tasteless stuff your mother used to sprinkle on the potato salad to make it pretty. In Spain it’s known as pimentón. You can buy it smoked or not, and the heat level ranges from non-existent to pretty darn hot (in the spicier varieties, hotter chiles are mixed in). I use sweet smoked, and it not only adds color, but a subtle smoky flavor. When using pecans in place of bacon in foods, I toast them in a tablespoon of butter with salt and pepper, and a dusting of paprika. You get both crunch and smoke, while ingesting a good fat.
Chinese Five Spice-This Chinese staple is traditionally made from cinnamon, cloves, star anise, fennel seed, and Szechuan peppercorn. This spice blend is what gives egg foo yung gravy its distinctive taste. I purchase mine from the Asian grocer near me; it’s cheaper, authentic, and because they sell a lot of it, there is fairly quick turnover, which means fresher on the shelf. I use this powder on sweet potatoes and in spice cookies. But holidays wouldn’t be the same without my famous ham. And the glaze may change from year to year, but the one constant is my five spice.
bull city mom 