That loaf of sliced sandwich bread in your pantry giving you a case of the yawns? Well, Trader Joe’s bread aisle has just the thing to really shake up lunch: Trader Joe’s Sandwich Starters. What’s a Sandwich Starter? It’s literally bread. Okay, it’s more like a flat bun that’s connected to a bunch of other flat buns, but I’m pretty obsessed with the idea of making bread and completely rebranding it. From now on I’m calling deli meat “Hoagie Guts.” And lettuce can be “Grinder Greenery.” (I guess we did just rank “sandwich spreads,” so maybe TJ’s is onto something?)
If you haven’t read my colleague Justine Sterling’s full ranking of Trader Joe’s bread, I’m about to spoil it by telling you the best Trader Joe’s bread isn’t really made for sandwiches. It’s a weird (and delicious) flatbread that comes shaped like fingers, so another sandwich-suited option is welcome. But are Trader Joe’s Sandwich Starters worthy of your Hoagie Innards and Grinder Greenery? Let’s find out.
Pros: Listen. I know I talked a lot of shit back there, but I actually really like Trader Joe’s Sandwich Starters. The little buns remind me a bit of a square of focaccia with less of that wonderful chew or an English muffin minus the tang and the dusting of cornmeal on the bottom. They come in pre-sliced 2×3 slabs (2 buns by 3 buns, that is), so you can make a big sandwich or a really small one (each individual Sandwich Starter is roughly 3 inches wide and 3 inches long). It didn’t occur to me to keep them connected to neighboring buns, so I used them to make little breakfast sliders and found that they’re perfectly sized for a breakfast sausage patty and a fried egg. Plus, they have nooks and crannies like English muffins, so they’re great for sopping up yolk. I also tasted them on their own, and they’re good! The description on TJ’s site says they’re made with olive oil and sea salt, and you can see a little oil and salt collecting in the dimples on the bottom of the buns.
Cons: I guess the corny name can be considered a con, but I’m willing to let it slide. Bread can go by any name as long as it tastes good.
Howdy! I’m Gwynedd, Sporked’s managing editor. I live in Los Angeles and have access to the best tacos the U.S. has to offer—but I’m a sucker for a crunchy Old El Paso taco night every now and then. I’ve been at Sporked since 2022 and I’m still searching frozen mozzarella sticks that can hold a candle to restaurant sticks.
Why you should trust me: I’ve been a journalist for 20 years (yikes), a consumer of food for 40-plus years, and I’m truly hard pressed to think of foods I don’t like (or that I can’t tolerate at the very least). Oh and one time I cooked my way through Guy Fieri’s cookbook and wrote about the journey through Flavortown.
What I buy every week: Trader Joe’s Original Savory Thins. Fat free plain yogurt (usually Fage or Nancy’s). Honeycrisp apples. Sweet cream coffee creamer for my at-home Americanos. A frozen cauliflower crust pizza and some jarred mushrooms to top it with. Old El Paso Stand ‘N Stuff taco shells and Gardein Ground Be’f, even though I think “be’f” is a nightmarish contraction.
Favorite ranking: Stouffer’s frozen dinners. I don’t own a microwave (I get my cancers the old fashioned way!), so I love taste testing things that I don’t really buy to eat at home.
Least favorite ranking: Soy sauce. Don’t get me wrong, I love soy sauce—but consuming that much sodium in one sitting is probably illegal in some countries. Our frozen enchilada taste test was a close second; the smell of microwaved corn tortillas still haunts me.
Thoughts? Questions? Complete disagreement? Leave a comment!
Gwynedd Stuart
Justine Sterling
Joe Rumrill
Thoughts? Questions? Complete disagreement? Leave a comment!