Licorice, the Real Stuff

All I did was mention the word licorice – I mean, it wasn’t as though I forced anyone to eat a piece – and my friends’ faces wrinkled up like dried apples, proving again that there’s no in-between with licorice, you either love it or loathe it.  (One of my friends said she didn’t mind red licorice but, as any real licorice lover knows, the red stuff isn’t real licorice.)

I grew up on black licorice – corrugated nibs (why do I think I remember a camel or something Saharan on the box; yes, a box - in the way-back most candy came in boxes), long supple laces that you could twirl or tie in knots, twisted sticks, pinwheels with floridly colored sugar dots in their centers, minuscule lozenges that were bought in little paper packets and Good & Plenty, pink and white candy-coated pieces of licorice that made a ton of noise when you shook them out of the box (I’m surprised they sold them in movie theaters, but they did). 

I’m sure I liked licorice because my mom did, but now, when I think of the candy, it doesn’t seem a kid’s sweet at all.  Although I do see kids buying licorice as after-school treats in Paris. And they must buy it in all the other licorice-friendly countries, like Holland, where it’s not at all uncommon to find salted and even double-salted licorice candies; Germany; Finland (the Panda brand’s made licorice almost cuddly); Italy, where so much of it is pure and unsweetened; and all over France, where it’s as easy to buy a stick of licorice root as it is a croissant.  In fact, one of the most interesting dishes I’ve ever had used a licorice stick as a skewer for sweetbreads.  It was a Jean-Georges Vongerichten creation and I had it with my husband, Michael, who doesn’t like licorice or sweetbreads, but thought the combination was great.

In fact, it’s interesting that so many licoricephobes seem just fine with licorice taste-alikes like fennel, star anise, anisette and that great Provencal thirst-quencher Pastis.  Not that any of these is so all-American. 

Maybe that’s it.  Maybe it’s that licorice is just not an American flavor.  My two friends who did everything but say “yuck” when the dread l-word escaped my lips, conceded that I might be on to something, except, according to them, one of whom came from Oklahoma and the other from L.A., New York City's the rule-breaker, a licorice-loving town in a country of licorice loathers.  It's just another thing that separates the natives from the transplants and it's not anything that my friends think is going to change - neither can imagine ever being New York enough to like the stuff.  Oh well ... more for us real Gothamites.

Comments

[milgwimper]

I know this is an old post but I had to post! I have to confess I have a love hate relationship with licorice. Somedays the black goodness calls to me even the salted ones, and other days I can even stand the smell of them. So I guess I am one of the on the fence people...

I think Rootbeer does this to many who are not American in my ecperience. I could be wrong, but I have not met many non americans who liked or loved rootbeer.

[Viveka]

Yeah. I love licorice, but I got my mom to try some and she literally spat it out. Its a love/hate thing. I'm going to get some right now. I have a box of Panda in the cupboard.

[barbara]

I love regular black licorice but not the salty one. How anyone can eat it is beyond me.

[Sarah Campbell]

Dorie, maybe coffee or black walnuts. I haven't found much flexibility with regard to those flavors. People seem to either love or hate black walnuts. I love them but they're too strong for a lot of people. Same with coffee. You either like it/drink it or you don't.

[Dorie]

Rob, you raise some really interesting points. Of course non-sugary candy is an oxymoron -- a funny thought -- but my bet is that most Americans don't like licorice not because it isn't sweet but because, as you pointed out, it's such a distinct and particular flavor, maybe a flavor that's an acquired taste and one more tied to tradition than most.

I'm wondering what other flavors can divide people in the way that licorice does?

[rob]

I have to confess to being one of those people who dislikes black licorice candy, but likes the licorice flavour in anise, Pastis, and certain savoury dishes. I wonder if this has anything to do with the way North American sweet tooths are conditioned to like really sugary treats. Let's face it, black licorice is a distinct flavour I would not call sweet, so it's something of a disappointment as junk food. What I'm driving at, I suppose, is not so much a distaste for licorice, per se, as a distaste for candy that isn't sugary.

[Dorie]

Chip, your reminiscence brought back the exact memory from my childhood. I think it had to do with a G&P advertising campaign that had the line: "Charlie says, love my Good & Plenty." Remember it?

[Chip Dahlke]

Dorie- I distinctly remember as a child shaking a half eaten box of Good & Plenty's in a cadence simulating a steam locomotive and chanting...GoodnPlenty GoodnPlenty. When the box was empty you could blow into it and hear the sound of the train whistle. Playing with your food is the best- then and now.

[Dorie]

Laura, I'm so happy to hear from you -- of course I remember meeting you in North Hampton. I knew from the minute I met you that you were a woman with great taste and now you've proved it by being a licorice lover. Now about those Good & Plenty: do you eat the candy first and then suck on the licorice center?

[Laura Bixby]

Dorie, I'm afraid I must disprove your theory! I love black licorice-I still get Good & Plenty at movie theaters, when they have it. And I'm from Phoenix-a far cry from NYC. But I don't know anyone else who likes licorice the way I do.

P.S.: I don't know if you remember me-we met at your booksigning in Northampton, MA. I just discovered your blog and I've enjoyed reading the archives!

[Sarah Campbell]

Dorie, I read your comments re the new dark chocolate M&Ms. We've been buying the 52 oz bags at Costco. My husband isn't convinced he can tell the difference but I can. We work in the same office so I keep the entire bag in my desk drawer and he occasionally comes over with a little cup and pours some out for himself. You mentioned you carry the M&Ms in a bag in your purse. I do that with licorice. It's addictive. I'm lucky I don't have a weight problem. Very lucky indeed.

[Dorie]

Sarah, We used to have an old-fashioned candy store near us on Broadway. They had chocolate in bulk, lots of hard candies, caramels and gummy bears, nuts that they roasted themselves in the back of the shop (the whole street smelled terrific on roasting days) and a wall of licorice with lots of stuff from Holland. I'd go in, get Swedish Fish for our son, cashews for my husband and a bag of a little-of-this-and-a-little-of-that licorice for me. And, like you, I was the only one in the house who liked it, so I never had to share. The shop is gone -- replaced by some chain store -- but the memory is a sweet one.

[Sarah Campbell]

Dorie, I absolutely love black licorice. The last time I went to Amsterdam I didn't go to the museums or the typical tourist spots. I headed to a candy store which was basically floor-to-ceiling licorice. Oh my! Nirvana. I filled my backpack with about 3 kilos. It's very hard to get good licorice in the States and Dutch licorice is the best, in my opinion. And, my husband doesn't like it so I never have to share. :)