Joe, I'm Back. All Is Forgiven.

There Are Reasons This Quirky Store Has a Cult Following

Back in the fall of 1998, when the specialty grocery Trader Joe's opened its first three Washington area stores, I couldn't wait to grab a cart and fill it with the foods my California friends had raved about. I, too, would snack on fistfuls of cheap colossal cashews while sipping drinkable $2 wine.

For so many years I'd heard about Joe's, the bargains and the cult following. One pal likened the store to an adult version of a candy store, filled with irresistible impulse buys.

Still, what an odd little wood-paneled space, I remember thinking that day in Baileys Crossroads. And what was with the staff in the retro Hawaiian shirts? Up one aisle, down the other and done. This wasn't one-stop supermarket shopping by any means.

There was not much to speak of in the way of produce. From shelf to shelf, in place of familiar name brands, there were unfamiliar private-label bags and boxes. But if I needed a fancy frozen dessert, I had come to the right spot. And it was impossible not to notice the low prices on a wide selection of imported cheeses, good-quality nuts, coffee beans and just about everything in sight.

But later that day, after sampling 18 different dips, salsas and spreads and deciding that even the best was mediocre, I planned not to return.

I did like the idea of having a variety of healthful dried fruits and nuts in the pantry. The bargain beer and wine were a definite draw. But I live in Georgetown. These stores were in the suburbs. And, anyway, there was no shortage of nuts in the city.

Now, however, the equation has shifted. Joe opened a new store in the West End this summer, at 2425 L St. NW, a short walk from my apartment. And I decided to give the Trader another try.

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Joe's last name is Coulombe, but he no longer owns Trader Joe's. As the story goes, in 1958 Coulombe started a chain of convenience stores, similar to 7-Elevens, in the Los Angeles area and called them Pronto Market. As the chain grew, he added assorted epicurean products and nautical nuances to set his stores apart from the competition. In the mid-1960s, first at a Pronto in Pasadena, he changed the name to Trader Joe's.

In 1979 Coulombe sold the stores to Aldi, an international discount chain based in Germany with more than 5,000 stores in Europe, the United States and Australia. The privately held Trader Joe's, headquartered in Monrovia, Calif., operates more than 250 stores in 21 states.

Thirteen of those stores are in the Washington area, including the West End location that has attracted long lines of, in particular, George Washington University students. A company spokeswoman says there are no plans to open additional stores in the District through 2007. But in the greater U Street neighborhood, a grass-roots petition drive is underway to attract Trader Joe's and claims to have picked up more than 1,200 signatures in two months. The faithful can find it at http://www.wewanttraderjoes.org .

The notoriously secretive company grants few, if any, interviews and refused The Washington Post's request for permission to take photos inside its stores. From its Web site ( http://www.traderjoes.com ) and monthly Fearless Flyer newsletter (available at the stores), anyone can learn that the company's basic philosophy is to sell high-quality products at affordable prices.

There are no sales, and the Trader rarely advertises. Prices are kept low, the company says, by the large volume of private-label products bought directly from manufacturers that eliminate distributors, better known as middlemen. And as any frequent Joe's shopper will tell you, products can come and go with no explanation.

For fervent fans, the best way to follow what's available and to separate the good products from the bad might be the online message boards, blogs and unofficial Web sites devoted to all things Joe. For example, at http://Traderjoesfan.com you can join in discussions on more than a dozen topics or, say, share the joy of a first bite of the new chipotle ranch fries.

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In the spirit of giving the Trader another try, my plan was to have an all-Trader Joe's dinner party for four. And in the end, everyone enjoyed the appetizers, main course and dessert. But I had to change the way I normally shop.

On a recent Friday afternoon, the West End store was buzzing with customers. The convenient underground parking was a big plus. And I liked the welcoming, apartment-size houseplants and fresh-cut flowers at the door.

Heading straight to produce, I found that Joe is still struggling with how to do fresh. Nothing was appetizing. Lackluster salad greens dominated. Bags of mache were black slime, the celery had a brown tinge, and containers of a tropical fruit were spotted with mold.

I was thinking, if this is the way they present their vegetables and fruits, there is no way I would buy the fresh beef or chicken. And that's why I headed to the frozen-foods case. Freezer and shelf-stable is, apparently, what Joe does best.

This would be an all-previously-frozen dinner. That night, into the oven went the lemon grass chicken sticks -- Thai-style spring rolls. Ten minutes later we were dipping the crisp, crunchy little logs in tamari sauce. They were really pretty terrific and bursting with lemon grass flavor.

A thin-crust vegetarian pizza that hails from Italy was one of the best frozen pies I've tasted. The big favorites of the evening were the luscious, beautifully seasoned soft pot stickers, imported from Thailand. Boy, were they good. Next time, I'll pass on the dull-tasting Indonesian-style rice and vegetable medley. That was not frozen Joe at his best.

But at $6.99 per pound, the thick Australian farm-raised lamb loin chops were an excellent value and delicious to boot. Why would anyone pay more? No one at my table would drink the $4 Argentine malbec. Next time, perhaps, I won't just grab and go.

Yes, there will be a next time. Now I clearly know Trader Joe's strengths as well as its weaknesses. I understand how such a store can fulfill my shopping needs. There is room for Joe in my life. And besides, I forgot to buy the colossal cashews.