Adam – Page 29 – The Impulsive Buy

REVIEW: Green Giant Sea Salt Mulitgrain Sweet Potato Chips & Zesty Cheddar Roasted Veggie Tortilla Chips

Adam / April 17, 2013 / Reviews / 4 Comments

When I think of the most influential food and beverage spokespersons, the Jolly Green Giant falls somewhere between a mild-mannered if not over-the-hill personality like the Quaker Oats guy and…wait..was that the bad guy in Jack and the Beanstalk?

Needless to say, the Jolly Green Giant’s effectiveness in introducing children to the merits of a high-fiber, omnivorous diet have been negligible. I guess he lacks a certain je ne sais quoi. But it’s not all his fault. The Jolly Green Giant just doesn’t have as much to work with.

Even so, you can’t blame it all on frozen peas alone. It’s not like his image inspires confidence. I mean, if the diet he’s pushing means sprouting into a nine-foot tall, green freak of nature whose wardrobe consist only of a toga made out of leafs, then I am never, never eating anything natural again. I tend to think most kids with a vegetable aversion would feel the same.

The new Zesty Cheddar Roasted Veggie Tortilla Chips and Sea Salt Multigrain Sweet Potato Chips are the Jolly Green Giant’s attempts to make kids (and adults) eat their veggies. Neither, as of yet, has a taco named in honor of them, and judging from their only ho-hum taste, I think we’re safe from a Green Giant/Taco Bell collaboration for now.

Not that either flavor is horrible. One’s actually pretty good.

First up is the Sea Salt Sweet Potato chips, which have a Sun Chip feel going for them, minus the typical Sun Chips ridges. They have a decent sweet potato flavor – less flavor than Utz’s Sweet Potato Chips but more than Garden of Eatin’s Sweet Potato Tortilla chips — and get a thumbs up for a non-cloying whole grain sweetness. But while the initial flavor is mellow and wholesome, there’s something off-putting on the backend.

At first, after shoving a bunch of the chips in my mouth, I didn’t notice it. But for a few of the apparently more under-seasoned chips there is definitely an almost hempy whole grain aftertaste that’s bitter and a little repulsive. Thankfully it didn’t seem to linger too long, but I can’t see it doing much for parents trying to get their kids to like vegetables. In any case, the chips are undersalted as a batch, and don’t take advantage of the kind of spices that make the luxurious, but useful sweet potatoes the Ferrari of the vegetable world. (By the way, turnips are the Ford Windstar minivan of the vegetable world.)

The Zesty Cheddar Roasted Vegetable Chips are better. Instead of looking like Sun Chips, these have an almost Doritos-like quality to them, complete with a chemical-lab inspiring orange hue of seasoning powder that, thanks to their lickable quality and my habit of multitasking, has now made its way into every crevasse of my computer’s keyboard.

The price I pay for you people.

The crunch is a bit lighter than Doritos, but the seasoning powder gives the chip a tasty spectrum of sweet, salty, and a complex roasted flavor that reminds me a bit of Garden Salsa Sun Chips. It’s none too piquant, but I didn’t exactly expect that. I did enjoy the caramelized and hearty back notes that seemed to mirror the taste one might get from a long-simmered tortilla soup. The only downside is that long list of ingredients, which contains two separate references to partially hydrogenated oil, still doesn’t add enough of a noticeable cheddar flavor.

Even though the Sweet Potato Chips weren’t horrible and the Roasted Vegetable Chips were pretty good, I can’t see the chips doing much for the Green Giant’s street cred. I mean sure, eating them will dispel the myth that you yourself could end up a nine-foot tall chlorophyll-addict, but the flavors just don’t stack up when compared to Sun Chips or Doritos. So unless the Jolly Green Giant has got a backup plan for ice cream or pizza, then I don’t think the cause of converting kids to vegetables will be advancing very far under his guidance anytime soon.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 ounce – Zesty Cheddar Roasted Veggie Tortilla Chips – 140 calories, 60 calories from fat, 7 grams of fat, 0.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 2 grams polyunsaturated fat, 3.5 grams monounsaturated fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 190 milligrams of sodium, 18 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of fiber, 2 grams of sugar, and 2 grams of protein. Multigrain Sweet Potato with Sea Salt – 140 calories, 50 calories from fat, 6 grams of fat, 0.5 gram of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 80 milligrams of sodium, 19 grams of carbohydrates, less than 1 gram of fiber, 3 grams of sugar, and 1 gram of protein.)

Other Green Giant Chip reviews:
I Ate A Pie

Item: Green Giant Sea Salt Mulitgrain Sweet Potato Chips & Zesty Cheddar Roasted Veggie Tortilla Chips
Purchased Price: $2.50 (on sale)
Size: 5 oz. bags
Purchased at: Weis Markets
Rating: 5 out of 10 (Sweet Potato Multigrain with Sea Salt)
Rating: 7 out of 10 (Zesty Cheddar Roasted Veggie Tortilla)
Pros: 30-40 percent less fat than standard potato chips. Whole grains and vegetables. Multigrain Sweet Potato chips have decent sweet potato flavor. Roasted Veggie chips actually taste like roasted veggies but look like Doritos. Not getting my hopes up to inevitably be let down by a taco flavor inspired by the chips.
Cons: Weird, hempy aftertaste in the Sweet Potato chips. Needs more salt. Roasted Veggies chips lack hearty crunch. Partially hydrogenated oils. Not as good as Doritos or Sun Chips.

REVIEW: Dunkin’ Donuts Old Fashioned Butter Pecan Iced Coffee

Adam / April 8, 2013 / Reviews / 4 Comments

Maybe it’s just me, but I’ve always struggled with walking into Dunkin’ Donuts. It’s not that I’m drunk and end up stumbling into glass doors or anything like that, but rather, it’s the unfortunate predisposition I have to being both very, very indecisive, as well as having insatiable cravings for the kinds of things that keep dentists working overtime.

Never mind the fact that Dunkin’ Donuts presents me with a sugary catalogue filled with fried dough in all shapes and sizes, but I oftentimes find myself in a Dunkin’ that shares their space with the 31 flavors of Baskin-Robbins.

What starts out as a late afternoon coffee pick-me-up can easily turn into three scoops of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, followed by the inevitable and actual physical struggle of walking out of Dunkin’ Donuts thanks to a sugar high not seen since that fat kid in Matilda ate that whole chocolate cake.

The way I see it, the new Baskin-Robbins-inspired iced coffee flavors from Dunkin’ are, or at least should be, the ideal way to kill two birds with one stone and get both my coffee kick and ice cream sugar fix (as for working donut ingestion into that mix, I leave that up to Baskin-Robbins’ R&D).

Since I recently returned from a business trip in which I experienced the full brunt of that sweet southern concoction of nuts, butter, cream, and sugar known as pralines, I felt like the Old Fashioned Butter Pecan Iced Coffee was calling my name. And because I stress the utmost in scientific and accurate reporting on all things tooth decaying and artery clogging, I made sure to grab a cone of Baskin-Robbins’ Old Fashioned Butter Pecan Ice Cream at the same time.

The Old Fashioned Butter Pecan Iced Coffee didn’t taste exactly like the ice cream flavor that shares its name, but the former is still very good. Because I wish for my iced coffee to have the rich taste of actual milk fat and not just the watery and dull taste of lactic acid, I chose to have my iced coffee with cream instead of skim milk. I highly suggest this.

The syrup itself is plenty sweet, but not cloying in the way you’d expect from the stuff that gives snow cones their flavor. It’s actually remarkably balanced when taken with the rest of the beverage, with a roasted pecan flavor that’s only heightened by the mellow and smooth Dunkin’ coffee. There’s also a depth of sweetness that tastes like brown sugar or maple syrup.

Taking turns sipping from my iced coffee and licking my Butter Pecan Ice Cream cone, I found both products enjoyable, if moderately different in flavor. The iced coffee focused the pecan flavor more in terms of what I would call a “creamery fresh” sensation with a sophisticated roasted vibe, while the ice cream drew most of its flavor from the buttery and oily flavors of the big ass pecan sticking out of the cone.

I didn’t find Dunkin’ Donuts’ take on sister chain Baskin-Robbins’ Old Fashioned Butter Pecan Ice Cream to be an exact replication, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a bold and interesting new take in the overcrowded fast food iced coffee market which screams for flavors beyond vanilla, hazelnut, and caramel. The roasted and full-flavored coffee notes, as well as the brown sugar, give the Old Fashioned Butter Pecan Iced Coffee a kind of pralines and cream flavor that’s in some ways preferable to the “Old Fashioned” Butter Pecan flavor of the Baskin-Robbins ice cream, and much more lively than the par-for-the-course shot of vanilla-flavored syrup.

(Nutrition Facts – small – 140 calories, 50 calories from fat, 6 grams of fat, 3.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 20 milligrams of cholesterol, 115 milligrams of sodium, 21 grams of carbohydrates, 0 grams of fiber, 17 grams of sugar, 2 grams of protein, and 6% calcium.)

Item: Dunkin’ Donuts Old Fashioned Butter Pecan Iced Coffee
Purchased Price: $1.69
Size: Small
Purchased at: Dunkin’ Donuts
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: Much better than standard iced coffee syrup. Tastes like butter pecan. Creamery fresh taste has roasted pecan flavor thanks to the smoky notes of coffee. Pralines ‘n Cream thing going on. Killing two birds with one stone. Dunking ice cream in coffee gives new meaning to the ‘Dunkin’ in Dunkin Donuts.
Cons: Doesn’t have actual pecans in it. Butter flavor could use some work. Finding a way to work donuts into the equation

Coffee Dunkin Donuts Fast Food

REVIEW: McDonald’s Sweet Chili Premium McWrap with Grilled Chicken

Adam / March 21, 2013 / Reviews / 19 Comments

I have good news and bad news for those of you thinking that McDonald’s new Premium McWraps are just the same old pathetic looking McDonald’s chicken snack wraps with a prefix attached to the front of their name and a whole bunch of marketing buzzwords thrown into their description.

The good news? They’re not.

They come in futuristic packaging, taste pretty good, and demonstrate a degree of wrapping that most men in this country will never be able to achieve when wrapping birthday and Christmas gifts.

The bad news? They still kind of look pretty pathetic, all things considered.

Each wrap, including my Sweet Chili with Grilled Chicken, comes in an oblong container that looks kind of like an unlit lightsaber. It’s been a while since I was required to read directions to open something with the prefix “Mc” in front of it, but I eventually managed to separate the top part of the container to reveal and handy-dandy and convenient oh-God-why-would-I-need-this base container that attempted to defy gravity in holding my McWrap upright (ultimately, it failed. For you teachers, consider it the next time you teach Newton).

As seen below, the wrap didn’t exactly live up to advertising expectations. With a good inch and a half of tortilla “dead space,” my first bite was about as disappointing as the series finale of Seinfeld. A lone cucumber stared me straight in the face like a cyclopes, but since I was eating something called a “McWrap” and not facing down an actual Cyclops, I didn’t exactly cower in fear. Like I said, it looked pretty pathetic.

The tortilla itself isn’t bad on its own, but for $3.99 I really expect something composed of more than just enriched flour and hydrogenated soybean oil in foldable form. Fortunately, a quick cut through the wrap’s abdomen yielded insides stuffed with chicken and other vegetation.

Regarding this vegetation, the McDonald’s website tells me that my McWrap may have contained some or all of a catalogue of designer greens including Baby Green Romaine, Baby Red Romaine, Baby Red Leaf, Baby Green Leaf, Baby Red Swiss Chard, Baby Red Oak, Baby Green Oak, Lolla Rosa, Tango, Tatsoi, Arugula, Mizuna, Frisee, and Radicchio.

Basically, I’m going to venture to say it just contained a little more than the standard iceburg lettuce that’s usually thrown in as an afterthought. I may not know how to pronounce Tatsoi, and the last time I saw Tango I was falling asleep watching Dancing with the Stars, but I think I’d know for certain if they were in my wrap. The greens add a little bit of flavor and bitterness, but mostly, they’re just kind of there like the third string quarterback on a football team.

The chicken is juicy and plump and has a nice faux chargrill flavor that could compete with most fast casual chains. Thanks to what I’m guessing is the “prepared with liquid margarine” part of the ingredients list, there’s a buttery and slightly sweet taste that conjures up images of meat basting on the grill.

The Sweet Chili sauce, while seemingly isolated in the wraps southeastern quadrant, was actually applied in just the right restraint. It’s not overpowering or cloying, although, as anyone who has ever drowned their sorrows in a 50 pack of McNuggets can tell you, it’s not very hot. Basically, they should call it Sweet Red Pepper Sauce.

While the wrap gets its name from Sweet Chili, it’s the Creamy Garlic Sauce which pleasantly caught me by surprise. It’s got a mild milky flavor with a certain lightness but also a sweet roasted garlic element to it. Think of it as yummier and healthier than mayo, but simple enough to not confuse your taste buds, maybe like an aioli-for-dummies or something like that.

Enjoyable, no doubt, but worth the 3.99 price tag? That’s where I’m going to have to say ‘no.’ While there’s certainly some heft in the 360 calorie, 27-gram protein McWrap, the truth is that it just doesn’t feel as substantial as a “Premium” sandwich. Sure, the tastes are all there, but the wrap itself leaves something to be desired in terms of the amount of ingredients offered, as well as their proportion. Too much Tortilla and not enough crunch set it back, as does a bells and whistle packaging design that screams trying too hard.

In addition, there seems to be something missing in terms of the vegetables offered within the wrap. Discounting wrap physics, I would have preferred a few chopped tomatoes or perhaps crunchy carrot or pepper strips to compliment the two sauces. As someone who had the chance to try the line of McDonald’s flatbreads the chain tested in the Baltimore region some three years ago, I can say I enjoyed those flavors — and price tag — much more, and hope that the Golden Arches hasn’t put that idea on the back burner and decided to replace it permanently with the new line of Chicken McWraps.

Click here to read our McDonald’s Chicken & Ranch McWrap review

(Nutrition Facts – 360 calories, 80 calories from fat, 9 grams of fat, 2.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 65 milligrams of cholesterol, 1030 milligrams of sodium, 44 grams of carbohydrates, 10 grams of sugar, 2 grams of fiber, and 27 grams of protein.)

Other McDonald’s McWrap reviews:
Man Reviews Food

Item: McDonald’s Sweet Chili Premium McWrap with Grilled Chicken
Purchased Price: $3.99
Size: 9.1 ounces
Purchased at: McDonald’s
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Bigger and better than a snack wrap. Good, ‘premium’ tasting grilled chicken. Excellent wrapping that doesn’t fall apart. Good balance of sweet and savory. More greens than just iceburg. Creamy Garlic Sauce is a great change-up from mayo. Eating a non-pickled cucumber at McDonald’s. Pretending to be a Jedi with the container. 27 grams protein.
Cons: Size doesn’t justify the price. Could use another vegetable crunch factor. Tortilla dead space. Doesn’t look as pathetic as a snack wrap but still kind of pathetic.

Fast Food McDonald's

REVIEW: Nabisco Honey Mustard Wheat Thins

Adam / March 19, 2013 / Reviews / 6 Comments

I oftentimes wonder if there’s some kind of flow chart that maps out how snack companies pick the next flavor for their brands. You know, the kind of simple-to-read document with the Microsoft Word-Art-inspired fancy arrows in bright colors that leads executives on a maze to the big pastel colored circle that says (in Comic Sans, no less) “Red Velvet Pop-Tart” or “Chicken and Waffles Potato Chips.”

And knowing how some flavors get the check-mark before others, I further wonder if the brilliant advisors to some of our nation’s finest food brands aren’t in fact the same whiz kids giving AT&T all that brilliant advice.

I bring this up because it seems a long-time coming that Wheat Thins would add Honey Mustard to their flavor lineup. Seriously, Nabisco. If “artisan” cheese, low sodium, and cinnamon sugar can get on the flavor list, then you’d think a flavor like honey mustard would have made the cut by now.

Well, better late then never.

The taste is classic honey mustard powder, which from my experience is different than actual honey mustard because it has all the benefits of the irresistible sweet-salty combination with a hint of tang and earthiness to go along with not having to deal with the annoyance of squeeze bottle physics.

There aren’t any particularly “artisan” notes that suggest a fancy-smancy Dijon or horseradish-type of honey mustard, which is great in my book because the last thing I want while snacking is making funny faces thanks to nasal irritation. The powder is applied liberally enough to allow for a finger-licking experience, even after a handful of crackers, which seem a natural fit for honey mustard given the crackers’ malted aftertaste and wheaty flavor.

Like I said, it’s a flavor that seems a long time coming.

The sweet and slightly tangy taste permeates past the powder though, which in this case makes the crackers all the more addictive. It also validates their ability to withstand plenty of the stresses of springtime events like watching opening day baseball on your couch with a cold one.

Yes, spilling your beer on Honey Mustard Wheat Thins will infuse the cracker with the triple hops brewed taste of fermented barley, but it won’t wash away the honey mustard taste. Should you not spill beer on your Wheat Thins and just be one of those weird people who insist on licking every atom of seasoning powder off your favorite snack before crunching down, you’ll still find the usual malted taste of the Wheat Thin melding perfectly with the honey mustard flavor.

Truth be told, I really can’t find noticeable flaws with the Honey Mustard Wheat Thins. However, a bit more seasoning as well as a hint of the kind of innate “pretzel” flavor that goes so well with honey mustard would have put these crackers over the top for me.

On that note, Honey Mustard Wheat Thins won’t be the kind of snack that inspires you to deplete your local Walmart’s stock before your tax rebate check arrives, but at the same time, they’re not something that disappoints. If only all flow-chart inspired snack flavor product decisions could accomplish so much.

(Nutrition Facts – 30 grams (About 15 crackers) – 140 calories, 50 calories from fat, 5 grams of fat, 1 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 160 milligrams of sodium, 85 milligrams of potassium, 21 grams of carbohydrates, 2 grams of dietary fiber, 5 grams of sugars, and 2 grams of protein.)

Item: Nabisco Honey Mustard Wheat Thins
Purchased Price: $2.50
Size: 9 oz. box
Purchased at: Safeway
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: Classic honey mustard powder flavor reminiscent of Rold Gold Honey Mustard pretzels. Sweet-salty-malty powder applied liberally enough for finger licking action. Not overpowering in the tang department. Avoiding squeeze bottle physics which rob me a good three tablespoons of honey mustard. Whole grains.
Cons: Snack food flavor flow charts. Lacks familiar “pretzel” flavor. Still waiting for a Beer and Honey Mustard Wheat Thins flavor.

Crackers Wheat Thins

REVIEW: Nabisco Roasted Sweet Onion Brown Rice Baked With Sweet Potato Triscuit

Adam / March 11, 2013 / Reviews / 11 Comments

If I was required to guess at which snack product would abandon the usual attempt to capture the taste of a nutritionally poor fast food product or even an offbeat American classic in favor of something that sounds like it came from a Giada De Laurentiis cookbook, then I would pick Triscuit.

More upscale than a lowly potato chip and much more inclusive than the crunchy, sometimes divisive malt flavor of the Wheat Thin, Triscuits are the kind of crackers you put out when you’ve invited your next door neighbors over. You know…the nicely dressed couple in their late 30s with 2.4 kids and a dog named Champ. Average. Moderate. Broad. Unassuming. They’re kind of just there. Except when Champ poops on your front yard.

I know it sounds counterintuitive, but I can admire a safe snack like that. It serves a purpose, and is something I don’t feel too bad about when going for seconds at holiday socials. This is important, because like most people, I hate talking to my annoying relatives, who tend to flock to such gatherings. But while I can admire Triscuit because they provide me a distraction when I want to be anti-social, I usually don’t go out of my way to buy them. Hard as I try, I just cannot leap for joy at cravings spawned by the taste of soft winter wheat.

However, combining brown rice, sweet potato and roasted sweet onion in and on a Triscuit? Don’t expect me to make it and upload a photo on Instagram, but even my inner fat kid can get behind a composed flavor combination of wholesome grains and vegetables like that.

Triscuit’s marketing people did a really nice job talking up how these crackers were baked with “real food,” but from the slightly orangyish hue, an almost fried-like wheat and rice structure, and a liberally coated seasoning that looked like Doritos Cooler Ranch powder, each square resembled someone’s misplaced attempt to fry a cracker rather than an actual sweet potato or red onion. Undeterred by this bastardized cracker, my initial bite was greeted by an unmistakable shattering sensation that borders somewhere between crispy and crunchy. Wherever it is on the crunch spectrum, it’s strikingly addictive, and a textural bite I’ve really only encountered at Korean fried chicken restaurants like the chain Bon Chon. Far from the usual sturdy, if not boring, crunch of a Triscuit, I was instantly hooked.

The flavoring powder is strong and slightly sweet and definitely has the red onion vibe going for it. It’s thankfully not as sharp or intense as a raw red onion, although the flavor doesn’t quite reach the mellowed, smoky-sweetness of an actual roasted red onion. Basically, someone like Scott Conant might not be “kinda angry” from eating it, but would rather be just be mildly confused. Personally, I loved it. For while the sweet onion flavor wakes up your tastebuds, a mellow, smokier and wholesome sweet potato taste permeates the backend. Think a whole grain sweet potato chip, if you’ve ever had one of those. If you haven’t, just think yummy and smile.

Through it all, there’s an almost Doritos Cooler Ranch quality to the seasoning. I can’t place my finger on it (probably because I was licking them), but there’s a slight tang that just melds everything together. Or maybe it’s just the natural reaction to licking little green herb seasoning off my fingers.

The box came with a nice little recipe idea for topping my crackers with Gouda and figs, but because I chose a career in writing and editing and don’t have that kind of straight cash money, I settled for some Walmart mozzarella and a few raisins. The cracker did just what it needed to do, contributing the sharp sweet onion flavor and meaty sweet potato back notes to the earthy sweetness of the raisins and milky taste of the cheese. Not overwhelming the topping but still holding its own, my little creation was probably the closest thing I got to an actual meal all week.

Clearly, I’m impressed. So impressed, as a matter of fact, that I’m ready to proclaim this my favorite Triscuit and right up there with some of the best crackers I’ve ever had. What Triscuit has managed to do is create a cracker with one of the greatest textural elements of chips but also the robust flavors of, well, actual food. And they’ve done it with something that’s actually pretty good for me and combines none of that actual cooking stuff. While I can foresee those with a strong aversion to onions taking a pass on these, I think most people will be pleasantly surprised by the entire Brown Rice Triscuit line.

As for pleasing your neighbors at those awkward pre-dinner conversations? Well, you’re completely on your own there.

(Nutrition Facts – 6 crackers – 130 calories, 40 calories from fat, 4.5 grams of fat, 0.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 85milligrams of sodium, 21 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of fiber, 1 grams of sugar, and 2 grams of protein.)

Other Roasted Sweet Onion Brown Rice Triscuit reviews:
Junk Food Guy

Item: Nabisco Roasted Sweet Onion Brown Rice Baked With Sweet Potato Triscuit
Purchased Price: $2.50
Size: 9 oz. box
Purchased at: Walmart
Rating: 9 out of 10
Pros: Wonderful and slightly sharp sweet onion flavor balanced by subtle molasses sweetness of earthy whole grains and sweet potato backnotes. Crispy-crunchy-shattery texture like Korean fried chicken. Real food. Whole grains. Doesn’t overpower toppings but can hold its own. Has a Cooler Ranch Doritos vibe for some odd reason.
Cons: Confusing Scott Conant and the anti-onion crowd. Might be a little intense for those who like plain crackers. Not as much fiber or protein as regular Triscuit. Assistant Editors’ salaries. Divisive cracker tastes make for awkward pre-dinner conversation with the neighbors.

Crackers Triscuit

REVIEW: Green Giant Sea Salt Mulitgrain Sweet Potato Chips & Zesty Cheddar Roasted Veggie Tortilla Chips

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REVIEW: Dunkin’ Donuts Old Fashioned Butter Pecan Iced Coffee

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REVIEW: McDonald’s Sweet Chili Premium McWrap with Grilled Chicken

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REVIEW: Nabisco Honey Mustard Wheat Thins

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REVIEW: Nabisco Roasted Sweet Onion Brown Rice Baked With Sweet Potato Triscuit

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