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Brussels sprouts. Flip-flops. Starbucks pumpkin lattes. There are many things in life that people either loathe or adore, with seldom seen an opinion in-between. When it comes to the snacking world, there’s one treat that polarizes like no other. Licorice. Are you a lover or a hater?
Personally, I happen to adore the stuff, and the stronger the better. I can trace the start of my licorice addiction back some two decades ago, when I was living and working in Denmark. Perhaps enticed by the large neon advertisement I used to cycle past in Copenhagen’s main square, I fell into the habit of buying boxes of a breath-freshening gumdrop type of licorice named Ga-Jol. “Danish Weather is Ga-Jol Weather,” the huge, unmissable sign proclaimed. And certainly, some kind of a pick-me-up on the endless gray and blustery days of winter was called for.
As it goes with many addictions, I found myself craving the black stuff all the more often and in ever-increasing strength. The Danish fondness for licorice meant it was readily available. Soon enough I was sucking down “Turkish Pepper,” a licorice bonbon filled with a substance called Salmiak, which is ammonium chloride. Such strong candies, which sometimes come in packages bearing the risqué-sounding warning “for adults only,” start off sweet and innocently enough, but mid-way through, you hit a substance that feels like you’ve inhaled a hit of bleach or ultra-strong cleaning agent.
In my travels throughout northern Europe, it became apparent that Danes aren’t the only Scandinavians with a fondness for licorice. The Swedes seem to love theirs with more of a salty than sweet kick, and the Finns are such fans that consumers have organized a fan club. Another land in which licorice lovers are spoiled for choice is the Netherlands. The Dutch variety delights with its profusion of fun shapes from cars to toy soldiers and a brown variety with a taste unto its own.
In my present home base of Germany, I continue to indulge in this form of black gold. An open bag of Katje’s Salzige Herringe (Salty Herring) quickly becomes an empty bag. Katzen-Pfötchen (Cat Paws) are soft and mild, and their distinctive orange and black packaging always reminds me of Halloween. And the individually wrapped “Salitos” are wonderful for strewing about in coat pockets and rediscovering while out hiking or cycling.
Where do you stand on the licorice divide?
