Six Degrees of Chinese (Stouffer's Corner Bistro Sesame Chicken)

The subconscious is a remarkable thing. Sometimes, the things you do without actually using your frontal lobes just make you go “hunh?” I unintentionally picked up not one, not two, but three “Asian” or “Pseudo-Chinese” frozen meals during my last shopping spasm. I certainly hadn’t planned to do so, and to the best of my knowledge, I wasn’t even thinking about Chinese food…but I have been thinking about home (New York) a lot lately – the impending holidays always do that to me – and usually what that means is that somewhere in the back of my mind I am yearning for the ease and tastiness of Chinese takeout, a facet of New York living that I miss enormously, here in the desert life of Phoenix, Arizona. So, this week and next, I’ll be reviewing two very different “Chinese” frozen meals, for those of you that also don’t live in New York, or Los Angeles or San Francisco.

The allegedly Pseudo-Chinese meal I popped into the nuker on Tuesday night was Stouffer’s Corner Bistro Sesame Chicken. As you may know, I’ve been a fairly big fan of Stouffer’s Corner Bistro line – I really do love their Chicken Carbonara, Grilled Rosemary Chicken and Seafood Scampi dinners. I was less impressed with their Garlic Chicken Pasta.

Sadly, the Sesame Chicken dinner falls into that “I suffer so you don’t have to” category of dinner adventures upon which I’ve embarked. It’s not dreadful; unlike the Michelina’s Penne Pasta, which I literally couldn’t eat, I finished this meal. But it’s just…bland. Blah. BORING!!

The “breaded sesame chicken tenderloins” were mushy and flavorless, the coating having succumbed to being stuck inside a cellophane wrapper while being nuked. The noodles were equally insipid, but that’s more forgivable, because they’re noodles, after all. The carrots were actually the one bit of inspiration in this dish, julienne and crisp, providing good texture, which this dinner desperately needed. The sauce simply seemed to disappear into the ether, after providing an initial piquant tease by actually smelling like sweet and sour sauce. I honestly could not tell you what the sauce tasted like…neither sweet, sour, salty…in Stouffer’s attempt to please everyone, the sauce had been rendered so inoffensive that it ceased to exist for all intents and purposes.

Overall – just do NOT waste your money. I paid $4.59 for this meal, which serves one. If you’re in the mood for “Chinese,” you would be far better off grabbing one of Contessa’s stir-fries or Kung Pao dishes. If you’re looking for breaded or battered chicken in that Chinese dish, Contessa’s Orange Chicken is noteworthy, and you’ll get two to three servings from a Contessa dinner for only a dollar or two more than the Stouffer’s Corner Bistro Sesame Chicken.

Calories, 510; Total Fat 15g; Saturated Fat 2.5g, no Trans Fat; 75 mg. Cholesterol, 1380 mg. of Sodium, Total Carbohydrate 72g., Fiber 5 grams, Sugars 19g, and 22 grams of Protein.


SUPERPRETZEL


Superpretzel – yes, I know I told you I would review Superpretzel this week, but after trying two, I’m still undecided. I paid $2.50 for a box of 6 (regularly $2.79), so they run $0.42 - $0.46 USD per pretzel, which certainly isn’t back-breaking. They’re…okay. They’re not stupendous, and if you’re a New Yorker, they don’t compete with eating off the street. But if you’re a hot soft pretzel fan, and you aren’t surrounded by pretzel stands, they’ll probably do, and they’re cheap enough to try. They’re easy enough to prepare – take it out of the bag, dampen the top slightly, nuke for 30 seconds – voilá – hot pretzel, ready to eat. The actual size of the pretzel is probably slightly smaller than what you would expect from the picture on the carton, but it’s filling enough.

I will warn you that the instructions for salting the pretzel are a joke. Allegedly, you’re supposed to open the salt bag (contains “pretzel salt” – think rock or sea salt) and salt the pretzel before you nuke it. After several tries, I can’t get the salt to stick, not even with slightly dampening the pretzel. I think you would have to hammer the salt into the pretzel to get it to stick, which is tricky with a frozen pretzel. Overall, I found it easier to put the salt on a plate and just dip the hot pretzel into it, along with mustard or other condiments.

I wouldn’t rave about Superpretzel, but I wouldn’t turn it down, either. I don’t think I would buy it again, just because it’s not that exciting, but it isn’t bad, and if you’re a pretzel fan, it’s cheap enough to try. The kids would probably really like them, too.

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