Ahoy, cap'n, 'tis Trader Joe's! Let's score us some Pirate's Booty!

Not too long ago, I spent a fortnight playing innkeeper for two different sets of houseguests (never again, folks; NEVER again!). On one of the days the last group was here, during our merry tour around the Puget Sound area, we drove past the local Trader Joe's.

"So, um, what's Trader Joe's then?" one of the passengers asked.

I tried to explain as best I could, but I ended up mostly defining what Trader Joe's is not. Health food store? Not really, although they do sell food supplements, soy milk, and rBST-free dairy products—I don't think the multitude of offerings in the chocolate aisle would count as "health food" in any meaningful sense. Standard grocery? No, not that either—it's a small store with a limited overall number of items, although they offer a wide range of products. Fancy-pants specialty store? Closer to the mark, although it doesn't have equally ritzy prices. I suppose I should have just parked the car and shepherded them into TJ's, there to learn for themselves what the place is: a discount specialty grocery, and an overall nifty place to shop.

Until fairly recently, Trader Joe's was a strictly West Coast chain with headquarters in Southern California, but it's since spread east to Massachusetts and New York and even has a few token stores in the Midwest. The chain has done well by sticking to a tried and true strategy: offer a limited product range of excellent quality and good value; whenever possible, package products under the Trader Joe's house brand to keep costs down; don't sell loss-leaders or spend a lot on advertising. It's a simple idea, but it's worked. TJ's addicts like myself can be found in the store nearly every week, stocking up on cheap canned Roma tomatoes, pesto tortellini, dried apricots, slivered almonds, smoked chicken breast and decadent dark chocolate caramels, all sold under the Trader Joe's (or Trader Giotto's, or Trader Ming's, or Trader José's) label.

The store doesn't JUST sell private label items, however. Trader Joe's is also an excellent place to pick up Dr. Bronner's Magic Soaps, Burt's Bees body care products, Orangina orange soda, Boursin cheese, Le Pim's biscuits and Roberts snacks, including one that warms the cockles of my privateer's heart: "Pirate's Booty." (Arr, check out me fine Booty! Aw, c'mon, you knew it was coming.)

Every few months, when new items come in, Trader Joe's sends out its Fearless Flyer to regular patrons—a unique mishmash of simple ad text and Victorian-era clip art with goofy new word balloons added. In a world where every conceivable hard-sell technique has been employed, this laughably simple advertising method—stating the new products, what they're like and what to expect by way of prices, with minimal fuss—ought not work, but it does. Maybe it's just that we're all sick to death of flashy, glitzy advertising and appreciate the straightforward approach, or maybe we just know we're likely to find stuff at TJ's that lives up to the advertising claims. All I know is that when the Fearless Flyer arrives in my box, it's the first thing I browse. (Hey, I already know how the phone bill is going to read.)

TJ's doesn't have it all—but then again, they're not trying to offer it all. Instead, expect a small line of very good quality food, drink and personal hygiene items at very reasonable prices. If you have a Trader Joe's within an hour's drive of your location, it's worth a visit. If not, contact the Powers that Be at traderjoes.com and demand satisfaction until they give in and open a location near you. Much happiness—and Booty—will ensue.

All material displayed on this website is © 2001-2012 by S. B. Houghton, writing under the alias "The Pirate King." All rights reserved.
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