Best Ashkenazi Snacks at Trader Joe’s

A lot has happened this month. As a Jewish community, we have reflected on a year past, celebrated the new year with Sukkot and Simchat Torah, and now get to rejoice with the return of the hostages in Israel and ceasefire in Gaza. It is time for some rest.

In hopeful preparation for a restful November, I have deciphered the best (and worst) Ashkenazi snacks available at one of the greatest places on Earth, Trader Joe’s. 

Why Ashkenazi?

I’m Ashkenazi. To me, there is no greater rejuvenation than eating my mom’s roast chicken and potatoes on a Shabbat night. My Safta, who learned German before English, and my Saba, whose Polish family settled down in New Jersey before he was born, were my tasting team. And although it sounds like a simple, fun afternoon of schmoozing and noshing, the real experience was far from casual.

The Process

My grandparents and I tried 8 items from Trader Joe’s. Some items were complementary, some were individual. For each item, we awarded a taste and authenticity score from 0 to 5. That gave a composite score of 0 to 10 for each item. Then, value is assessed, granting either a “Yes,” meaning good value, or a “No,” meaning poor value.  

Taste for this experiment meant overall food enjoyment experience. Taste is a major factor, but also texture, appearance, and all the parts that contribute to the sensory enjoyment of each item. 

Authenticity was graded based on two factors. How truly Ashkenazi is this food item broadly? And how well did Trader Joe’s do in mimicking the Ashkenazi form? 

Value was a monetary metric. It was intended to measure the bang for your buck on a quantity level more than anything, though foods on either extreme of taste will likely earn a value grade irrelevant of the amount of food offered. 

Pickle Popcorn

5/10

Taste 2/5: Starting with an hors d'oeuvre as sharp and powerful as popcorn soaked in pickle brine was my bad. And for that reason the ⅖ grade must have a slight asterisk. The popcorn is unapologetically pickle, so if you’re a fan of everything vinegar and dill, then this snack is right up your alley. For me, as a liker of pickles (in moderation) a full pour of this popcorn was hard to finish.

Authenticity 3/5: I understand that people have been pickling foods since before Moses received the Ten Commandments. Still, there is something Ashkenazi about a deli pickle, a kosher dill pickle, half of which are fully sour, the other half only partially brined. This fact of origin, combined with the popcorn only having the fully pickled flavor, docks the item a point on the Ashkenazi Authenticity scale. The second lost point comes from the popcorn itself. There is absolutely nothing particularly Ashkenazi about popcorn, as bad as I want there to be. 

Value No: At $2.29, I still wouldn’t buy this again.

Wild Sockeye Smoked Salmon           Whipped Cream Cheese       Everything Bagels

Taste 5/5: These three items combine like song and dance. The bagels after a slight toast are the perfect crunch beneath a bed of cool, cream cheese. Topped with a sheet or two of the smoked salmon, and you’ll be in textural heaven with inoffensive flavors. 

Authenticity 4/5: Lox and bagels are a classic American Jewish food. The New Yorkers who created it in the ‘30’s were almost all Ashkenazi. Still, this three item bagel is missing something. They have onion and capers at Trader Joe’s, but at a certain level of production, a restful snack becomes a meal. This easy recipe remains a snack. All you have to do is toast, schmear, and place. The other quasi-reason that this only scores a 4/5 is that it is not a food universal to Ashkenazis. American Jewry, sure, but what about the British, French, or Russian Jews? For those two reasons, the combo loses a point on Authenticity and earns a total score of 9/10.

Value: Yes: At $2.99 each, the cream cheese and everything bagels both live in my fridge at home. (Well, technically I freeze the bagels.) The salmon, on the other hand, is more of a luxury purchase. One pack costs $7.99, which feels pricey in the moment, so I rarely proceed to checkout. I will say that these $14 will buy you at least five well-built lox and bagels (sometimes even six), which is great value. 

Latkes

10/10 *

Taste 5/5*: These latkes greatly exceeded my expectations. Crispy outside, cushiony interior, with a smooth and salty potato taste throughout. Each bite was enjoyable texturally; the taste itself is where the asterisk is earned. I say 5/5 because I had a great sauce. The sauce really makes the experience, so if you’re yet to enjoy these potato pancakes, try again with the sauce I'm soon to recommend. 

Authenticity 5/5: No, these are not your Bubbi’s latkes, but they shouldn’t be. Authenticity to that level is, and should remain, sacred. There are no crispy bits of potato that hang off the edge, no exorbitant amount of oil that you need to drip off, and none of the heartfelt homemade touch in general. But expecting that in a sub-four dollar pack of frozen latkes (Apologies for the spoiler) would be nit-picking. They are air-fryable latkes, 100%. They are real. 5/5

Value Yes: I couldn’t help but spoil this category; the value is just that insane. $3.69 for 8 delicious latkes is barely even a choice in 2025. Just make sure you leave room in the budget for the sauce. 

Ricotta Cheese

5/10

Taste 5/5: I know firsthand that many Ashkenazi Jews experience lactose intolerance. This ricotta is worth it. For both the latkes and an upcoming item on this list, I made a simple sweetened ricotta by mixing three spoonfuls of ricotta cheese with a dollop of honey. As you see directly above, it made all the difference. The smooth sweet cheese is the perfect compliment to latkes, or apples, or most snack foods around. 

Authenticity 0/5: Ricotta cheese is Italian. It’s not Ashkenazi. Sorry. 

Value Yes: This pound of ricotta cheese costs $3.99. Need I say more? It’s delicious, it’s resealable, it’s in my basket consistently at TJ’s. 

Chicken Soup

7/10

Taste 3/5: There is nothing wrong with this chicken soup. It is exactly as advertised. The broth was rather bland, but the trio of chicken, carrots, and onions is never bad. The color was right, none of the chicken was texturally abhorrent, so I was content. It loses a point for the lack of flavor in the broth, as well as a point for the overall eating experience lacking any excitement. 

Authenticity 4/5: It is hard to call this chicken soup inauthentic. It has a nice layer of schmaltz at the top, which was pleasing to see. There was hardly any celery, but the other two mainstay veggies in carrots and onions were clearly there. And, though bland, the broth was definitely chicken. Some might say that chicken soup is a universal food, which it practically is. However, this is a 4/5 for Authenticity as far as Ashkenazi chicken soup goes. More celery and it may have received a perfect score. 

Value No: Again, there is nothing wrong with this soup. $4.99 is no scam, but making soup from scratch is such an enjoyable experience, it will yield a better tasting product, and you’ll have enough to share at a cheaper rate than if you go with this pound and a half cup of chicken soup.

Blintzes

6/10

Taste 4/5: There’s some explaining to do. Trader Joe’s blintzes were discontinued at the end of last year. So for a sweeter replacement, I spread some of the sweet ricotta on top of these hazelnut cocoa crepes. Not quite a blintze, but not so bad either. Sweet cheese, thin pastry, and a chocolate-hazelnut inside is hard to mess up. So I’m glad to report that it was, in fact, yummy. The spread was delicious, the pancake thin but firm, and the inside was brilliantly balanced. Some sweet treats leave me wanting more, but this decadent crepe was more than enough. For the increased expectation of pure taste from a desert item, it earns a 4/5. 

Authenticity 2/5: Blintzes are Ashkenazi. That is fact. Unfortunately, these are crepes, not blintzes. The metric might be punishing the item here, but rules are rules. One step away from a rather inauthentic blintz feels like a 2/5 to me. 

Value No: $3.99 for six tasty crepes is fine value. Neither amazing nor heartbreaking, the taste would have had to have won me over. But between classics like the dark chocolate peanut butter cups, the black bean mochis, or even the dried mango slices, I doubt I’ll buy these wanna-be blintzes ever again.