12 Popular Store-Bought Quesos, Ranked Worst To Best

In Spanish, queso literally means "cheese," but to many Americans the word has come to symbolize the best of Tex-Mex cuisine. And the dip somehow manages to stir up a lot of strong opinions. A good queso dip is silky and melty, with a brightness from salsa and a bit of spice from the inclusion of jalapeño peppers. But there are some bad quesos out there.

Flavorless, oversalted, and with strange textures, these sub-par quesos are lined up with their counterparts in the grocery store, ready to be purchased by the unsuspecting shopper with a hankering for a little Tex-Mex comfort. I took it upon myself to correct this injustice, lining up twelve jars of store-bought queso for a tasting to crown the ultimate processed cheese dip. I was looking for a queso with some personality, real peppers visible in the mix, a little saltiness, and a flavor that doesn't fade into the background.

365 is Whole Foods' in store brand. 365 is also the number of days per year I can live without this queso. I can't say I was surprised that this product ranked so low. Ever since Amazon acquired Whole Foods in 2017, I noticed the quality of the products started to slip to the point that I ceased to be a regular shopper at the store. But even for Whole Foods, this queso was bad. I mean, really bad.

The consistency was loose, gelatinous, and had an unsettling jiggly quality. The white, milky substrate didn't really cling to the chip when I dipped it, it just sort of slid off. When I did manage to scoop some up and get it into my mouth, I almost wished I hadn't. Other than a mild milkiness, there was no flavor at all, just the unpleasant texture. There are green flecks throughout the queso, allegedly jalapeños, but even when I scooped one up and ate it, I tasted nothing. Jalapeños are becoming less spicy these days, but that's no excuse for the egregious lack of flavor in this jar. It's fully organic, and price-wise, it was pretty average, but organic means nothing when food is inedible. To call this jar queso dip is to do a disservice even to a jar of processed cheese.

To some die-hard queso lovers, the fact that this jar was made with oat milk and cashew butter as opposed to the standard mix of milk and dairy cheese is enough to land this dip at the bottom of the list. To me, vegan queso is still queso, and some of the best non-dairy ice creams are made with oat milk, so I had high hopes for this dairy-free alternative. But Credo queso is bad regardless of its ingredients.

The first issue comes the first moment when you dip this chip. At room temperature, it has a passable texture, but once it's heated, the dip doesn't have enough viscosity to cling to your chip. To get enough queso from the bowl to your mouth, you have to scoop it up and rush it over (I spilled some on my pants in the chaos). And once you get there, you wonder whether it was worth the trouble.

There's a vaguely smoky flavor to this queso provided by a blend of spices, but that's where the fun ends. The jar advertises itself as medium spicy, but there is no heat to speak of. The only strong taste that comes through is a sour, astringent quality. It was so strange that for a moment, I thought the oat milk had gone bad inside the jar. If you're vegan, you don't have to suffer through this jar. There are better options.

The first look at Wise Salsa Con Queso doesn't exactly win you over. Its texture is strangely gelatinous, with a jiggle that's hard to miss once you see it. Real queso should be lush and silky, even a bit decadent, but this feels heavy in an artificial way. Even so, it's dense enough to stick to your chip and every dip delivers a solid serving without mess or droop.

At first bite, it hits with a bitter edge that's way sharper than anything you'd want to find in melted cheese. Instead of the cozy, smooth flavors found in average store-bought dips, this jar leaves a weird chemical tang up front, like it was made in a lab instead of a kitchen. That odd note takes over fast, drowning out any balance. What's worse is knowing there's a bit of fun hiding under that harsh aftertaste. When the bitter sting dies down, you get a solid zesty punch that brings real warmth, and you catch just a glimpse of the cheesy goodness that could've been. And unlike some other quesos that promise heat and don't deliver, this one delivers a spicy kick, but it's too little too late.

Kite Hill's almond milk queso surprised me, though not exactly how I wanted it to. The first bite slaps your taste buds with a zingy punch, more like tangy sour cream or Greek yogurt than queso. It's bold and spicy, with a kick that warms up your mouth just enough. The issue isn't that it tastes bad — it just doesn't taste like queso.

The mouthfeel is like something borrowed from another kind of meal altogether. It's thick and dense, which is usually a good thing for a queso, but the texture here is entirely alien to the concept of queso. Rather than spreading smooth on a chip like true queso should, it sticks together as one chunk, standing stiff on your chip like a soldier. Again, it's not off-putting, but it's decidedly un-queso-like behavior.

If you forget that you're eating queso, it pulls through as a plant-based topping. It's a problem of semantics, really. Those who don't mind loose labels may like it, though folks wanting that familiar gooey bite will come up short.

The first red flag when you're cracking open a queso is often the ingredients list. If you take a look at the label on Old El Paso queso, you'll notice it reads more like a chemistry lab handout than a food product. Maltodextrin, whey protein, titanium dioxide, and other dubiously dubbed ingredients might have you thinking twice about throwing this one in your shopping cart, and with good reason.

Uniquely among the quesos on this list, Old El Paso comes in a squeeze bottle, which isn't the most flattering vessel for this particular dip. When I squeezed a curl of this thick, bright orange dip onto my chip, it looked slick and shiny, like Cheez Whiz. Still, it held its shape and demonstrated a nice queso consistency.

Once it reaches your taste buds, though, the party is over. The flavor is distinctly chemical, and while the label includes jalapeños, I tasted nothing of the sort. Sometimes you can amp up a jar of store-bought queso with some fresh ingredients, but this one is beyond saving. It also left a slickness on my tongue that begged for a sip of water to wash it away. I know queso isn't meant to be a natural experience, and some processing is simply part of the package, but this one went too far.

This 365 queso (the one found in the tub, not the jar) hits the textural bullseye. It's not too watery and not too thick, and it clings to the chip just like a queso should. Unlike others, this one tastes like actual cheese, not fake stuff mixed up somewhere far away. You notice a light creaminess, kind of fresh, smooth yet simple, a welcome break from those bright orange goops pretending to be food.

But once you get past the amazing consistency and the well-seasoned milky flavor, there's not much personality. While most of the dips on this list are speckled with green and red peppers, this one is a sea of orange with nothing for your eye (or your tongue) to seize on.

The flavor is strongly dairy, and you can taste the milky and cheesy combo that makes up the base of a good queso, but there's no oomph, no pizzazz. The label advertises this product as medium spicy, but there's no heat to speak of. Not even a stray jalapeño was present to make this queso a little more interesting. It's easy to eat and since the base is so solid, it makes a great substrate for mixing in some grocery store salsa to punch it up. Alone, however, the flavor fails to deliver.

This recipe is everything that queso shouldn't be. Namely, it's healthy. Instead of an unspecified cheese blend and artificial flavors and stabilizers, this queso is made with carrot puree, pumpkin seed butter, organic tomato juice, and a whole roster of wholesome ingredients. Naturally, I braced for chaos. Then came the taste, and I was shocked how well it clicks.

The texture is solid and viscous like a good queso should be, and when you drag your chip through it, you end up with just enough. Although it lacks a traditional queso's signature milkiness, it delivers with a ton of flavor, with just enough salt, a tangy finish. Unfortunately, it was missing some spiciness that could've kicked this plant-based dip to the next level. It was also the most expensive product on this list and a sad reminder that eating healthy often comes with a high price tag.

A dairy-free queso will, of course, never taste just like the classic versions of the famous dip that you're probably used to, and that can be off-putting to many customers. That said, this product made a valiant effort, and if you're vegan or paleo, you can eat this delectable dip and feel great about it. 

Finally, a queso with some personality! After slogging through bowls of bland, watery goo, finding this one's like spotting an oasis in a desert. Pace has clout in the spicy dips department, and for good reason. The color is a pale orange that doesn't go too far in the direction of glowing neon, but reminds you that this is a processed cheese product, and sometimes that's okay.

And for the first time while trying all these quesos, I finally believe that I'm eating peppers and salsa. The pepper's well-balanced heat hits you quickly, and lingers just like a good chile flavor should. Its earthy spiciness is the perfect counterpoint to the naturally creamy, fatty cheese and it keeps you reaching for chip after chip to drag through a bowl of this delightful golden-orange concoction. Red pepper and tomatoes give this dip its signature color, and also lend it a bit of brightness and acidity.

The aftertaste was a bit more fake than I would've liked, with a hint of that plastic processed flavor that lingered in the back of my throat, but overall, it's a small price to pay for a quality salsa con queso. This would be an ideal product for drizzling over nachos dressed with beans, sour cream, and pickled jalapeños.

Queso blanco is typically a bit milder than salsa con queso since it lacks the gentle acidity and sweetness that the addition of tomato brings. And while I typically prefer the festive flavor of salsa con queso, Pace's queso blanco has me questioning my preferences. The main thing fueling my affinity for this particular dip is the unmistakable taste of jalapeños.

This is the spiciest queso on the list, and the only one being honest when it claims it contains medium heat. Unlike many of its competitors, you can actually taste the peppers in this queso, and appreciate the gently fresh, grassy heat they bring to a cheese dip like this one. The dip clings to a tortilla chip with confidence, and its mellow milkiness marries well with the chip's earthy crunch.

The only negative quality about this queso is that it's a tad too salty. Since tortilla chips (the only sensible substrate for snacking with queso) are also quite salty, the combination leans a bit hypertensive. But even so, the flavor balance in every other department is spot-on, making this a strong contender for store-bought queso.

The standout of the queso blancos on this list, Tostitos blends pepperjack cheese and jalapeños to create the milk-forward taste of queso blanco with a distinctive heat. The first thing I appreciate about this dip is that at first glance I can see the red and green peppers in the sauce like Christmas morning. These peppers come through first in texture, where they add interest to the otherwise viscous, milky consistency of the cheese and milk mixture of the queso. And more importantly, they contribute to the dip's flavor.

Although I would prefer a tad more spice, the peppers lend a gentle heat that makes this appetizer live up to the fact that it announces itself as medium spicy, which can't be said for all the products on this list. The queso itself is milky, creamy, and a bit salty (as queso blanco tends to be) and it goes perfectly well with the salty, earthy flavor of tortilla chips. Combined with the heat from the jalapeños, it's strong enough to stand up to bolder flavors like black beans or ground meat, and it would go well drizzled into a burrito or on top of a plate of loaded nachos.

Visually, the peppers don't stand out quite as much in this queso as they do in some of the others, and it made me think I was headed for a dud. Luckily, looks can be deceiving. After a minute in the microwave, this queso pours beautifully from the container. This dip is viscous enough to stand up to a tortilla chip, but liquid enough to melt easily in your mouth, releasing a bouquet of tomato and bell pepper flavors.

This queso isn't spicy, but it doesn't claim to be. It's the best mild dip on the list, and while I'd personally punch it up with some hot sauce or peppers for a little kick, it's a great mild option for those who don't like a spicy queso. Unlike some of the other milder sauces, however, this one still feels bold, with the savory salsa flavor coming strongly through the dip. It's not just a one-note dairy bomb.

Tostitos is a tortilla chip giant, and the company clearly knows its way around the dips that elevate a crunchy, salty snack to its apex. At first glance, this dip stood out because it's more orange than many of the other salsa con quesos on the list. I was afraid this portended an artificial taste, and the dip would be little more than dressed up Velveeta. But I was wrong.

The queso tastes rich and layered, with salt and spices coming through to meet your taste buds when you ferry a bite onto your tongue. There were peppers dotted throughout the liquid that I could see when I poured the melted queso from the jar into a bowl, which gave the bright orange dip a bit of visual interest. And the jalapeño flavor came through, lending the sauce a welcome bit of heat without overwhelming it. While hunting for quesos in stores in my neighborhood, this was by far the brand I came across the most, so it's as delicious as it is easy to find. So if you're feeling like an authentic helping of Tex-Mex flavor, this is the queso for you.

To judge all these store-bought quesos, I picked a wide mix of dips, ranging from standard dairy to plant-based. I got a mix of brands from inexpensive grocery store staples, to fancier, pricier jars. The idea was to set up a fair test so every dip had the same shot, no matter how well-designed the label. When I tasted each dip, I was looking for a good kick mixed with real salsa, actual pepper bits you can see, plus depth in taste where salt plays along but doesn't take over. Mouthfeel counted as well; a great queso should be thick enough to stick to a chip, creamy when eaten, and never rubbery or jiggly like pudding.

I followed the microwave instructions on each label before tasting. After warming them up, I tried each dip two times: once solo, checking taste, smell, and feel; another time with my favorite brand of plain tortilla chip, seeing how it worked in its natural habitat.