Cowgirl Bark from Trader Joe

Trader Joe's Cowgirl Bark

I wanted vittles and I had a hankerin for them so I got in my old Legacy and rode to the general store. While’n I perused their stock for something tasty, I came a across this here pink bag of Cowgirl Bark—my left eyebrow lifted up like one o’ them there hot air balloons. I’d only ever heard of such a thing once before, in the classic western writings of a Mister Russell Shelly—a legend ’bout a man by the name of Cowboy Joe—a man so ruggedly adventuresome that the mud scraped off his boots made an unusual snack for regular folk like you and me. And while some say it ain’t such tasty eatin’, others say Cowboy Joe’s mud is the stuff of dreams—more still say he’s a lost man; a man with good intentions, yet a drifter with a broken compass. I wanted to know if the cowgirl counterpart was as unhinged or if her bark from her boots was something a little different.

I sauntered over to the clerk, an impish young lass by the name of Josephine—Trader Jo, they called her—and placed my wares on the counter. She looked at me with a cool expression. “They sell Cows!”boy Bark,” she quipped. I stood there for a second, looking at her in return, somewhat shocked by my masculinity. I responded, “I have heard of it.” We looked at each other like high noon gunslingers. She took the bag. “You like white chocolate?” She asked. It’s documented in these here. electronic logs That I love white chocolate. “It’s my wife,” I said. On most occasions, the little missus prefers to be with her husband. Dark chocolate to white. Jo looked at me in disbelief and I said, “But I’ll probably consume half the bag…and yes, I like white chocolate,” as though the confession would compensate for my lies. With that, I quickly pulled my wallet from its holster and clicked the plastic action through the reader. The green button was pressed, and that transaction was done. Jo gave me a receipt and I put the card back into its sleeves.
She was impressed by my skill with plastic and waved me to the checkout. I sat down on a bar stool and she took off one her boots. It was covered in white dirt, and had a layer of red clay below her spurs. It was HerShe was Cowgirl Jo. She stated, “Me ‘n Cowboy Joe used riding together.” “We would rustle almondolopes in a team.” She could see I was impressed. “We set off for the adventure together. Big Rock Candy Mountains together, but…well, we both got a little lost along the way.”  She said, “I was with ‘im all the way through Pretzel Prairie, all of the way past Peanut Pond she trailed off, and got a little teary eyed.

“And then?” “And then?” I asked.

“And then, I—I just had to follow my own heart. He went up Joe Joe’s Mountain, and we parted ways. I continued on south through the Ginger Hills and finally I found a field of Cranberry Cattle. I took them to Rice Ranch and wriggled them up. She showed me the correct ingredient in her “bark” as she recounted her journey. She was a good cook, with delicious ingredients like triple ginger cookies, dried Cranberries and Rice Krispy-like Grains. But… where was she going?

She said, “Finally I ended up on the Great White Flats of Chocolate.” “I have sweet, delicious memories of that place.” She looked around her store and noticed that it was full of locals and dudes. So she excused herself, and she sent me packing. 

My encounter with Cowgirl Jo resonated with me for hours as Legacy and I lugged our goods back home to the missus—who surprisingly enjoyed the Cowgirl Bark more than I did! Cowgirl Jo was sweet, but I think she’s just a wanderin ‘…out here, a little lost like a tumbleweed tuft. But if’n you like white chocolate—and ONLY if’n you like it a lot—then I say this Cowgirl Bark is worth a whirl. It gets three Sheriff Stars. The Missus gives it four.

Final verdict: 7/10