I currently live two miles away from a Trader Joe’s. That’s a six-minute drive, even in sandstorm traffic.

As homesick as I am in California, friends think I have nothing to complain about. After all, I can pop over to Trader Joe’s any old time I want to and buy … what?

That’s been a big question. What is it you buy at Trader Joe’s?

Everyone I’ve asked has pretty much answered the same way: "Anything! Everything! It’s all good!"

But it isn’t really.

To tell the truth, the produce at Trader Joe’s is lackluster, particularly by California standards, where you can buy citrus right off the tree at roadside stands. The meat department is uninspired. You know all those great cowboy burgers and fancy kebabs you can get at Whole Foods? Yeah, TJ’s is no match.

And besides, the lady in the meat department is frequently announcing to anyone passing by how many more hours she has on her shift or how many more days until her vacation. The woman lives in a permanent countdown to getting out of there, you know, like so many of the cashiers you wrangle with in Hawaii, except this lady supposedly works in the wonderland of magical munchies, a place almost mythical in the minds of travelers from Hawaii. The weird thing is, that lady seems to work in every Trader Joe’s, grumpily putting steak trays into the chiller and counting the minutes until her next smoke break.

The store’s interior is done up in that weird Hawaii/Caribbean mishmash that you often see at frat party "luaus" and Old Navy summer commercials. Little bit Diamond Head, little bit Toucan Sam, lots of hoke. The guys stocking the shelves wear aloha shirts faded and frayed by too many Laundromat cycles and plastic kukui nut lei. The plastic nuts get in the way every time they have to lean over.

The omiyage selection, though, is where Trader Joe’s lives up to the hype. You can stuff your suitcase with all manner of trail mix, from sweet to savory with exotic peanut butter, dark chocolate, dried blueberry, wasabi combinations. The windmill cookies are ono and there are about a dozen variations on chocolate chip. People rave about the various Trader Joe’s condiments and sauces, but those are hard to pack for a trip back on Hawaiian Air, and unless you’re cousins with a flight attendant (they’re allowed to carry more than 4 ounces of liquid on board), it’s an ordeal to take home any of the Trader Joe’s wines.

As much as Hawaii yearns to have a Trader Joe’s, the wanting might be better than the getting. If there were a store in Honolulu, what would we bring home from trips to L.A.? (IKEA furniture definitely doesn’t fit in carry-ons).

Lee Cataluna can be reached at lcataluna@staradvertiser.com.