Tuesday, October 28, 2008

We're Not In Twizzlerland Any More, Toto!

I'm sure many of you have slugged it out, hopefully only verbally, in the faux-licorice wars: Twizzlers versus Red Vines in sticky battles.  
"Twizzlers have that elegant twist and are slightly more chewy, more...grown up, you know." 
"Yeah, but Red Vines taste better. They have a more natural strawberry flavor." 
And so the argument would go, back and forth, until both brands were gone with nothing left but red teeth and sticky fingers. I have a confession to make: I was never a fan of either, because I always loved black licorice. Black teeth, black tongue, strange breath--it didn't matter because the original licorice was weird and wonderful. 

Luxembourg's original name was "Lucilinburhuc", which means "little fortress." It might as well mean Licorice Land. Or Licorice Heaven. I'm not sure to which of the nine spheres of heaven Dante would assign licorice lovers, though I'm sure I deserve to be there somewhere. The licorice itself is of widely differing flavor and quality, I was surprised to learn. One thing I am not able to figure out yet is which products are from the licorice plant, and which are from the anise plant. 

Some licorice is absolutely delightful, some is odd and interesting, and some is absolutely shudder-inducing to my tastebuds. This is, of course, a completely biased and subjective analysis. There are plenty that are just okay, that fall through the cracks and aren't listed here. Let's begin with the delightful, shall we? 

Yummy Anti-Twizzlers

Kookaburra
It's not local, being from Australia, though it holds up nicely to the many European brands. Soft and almost juicy, with a balanced licorice flavor and very pleasant. The little inch-long twists are handy to nibble as well. 

Schwarze Eulen
The "black owl" of the family, this German owl-shaped licorice is also very pleasant in flavor and soft-textured. Our son Trevor holds these as his favorite. (An example of positive child rearing in action: Trevor has never had red licorice).  

Odd and Interesting

Salty Herring
That is what it translates to in Dutch, anyway. The licorice flavor is very pronounced. Sharp, almost like anise extract, and less sweet than most licorice. It is soft textured, coated with grains of sugar and salt on the surface. It's also supposedly shaped like a herring. Since most of the herring I have encountered was reposing in sour cream, I'll take their word for it. 

Boogie Nights
That's right. "Boogie Nights" licorice, made in Holland by Red Band. For those of you who saw the movie, the candy pieces are NOT shaped as you might imagine. There is nothing tumescent about them. I picked up the bag in Amsterdam's Schiphol Airport because I had a licorice hankering on a layover and because the name got me giggling in the airport candy store, to the consternation of those around me. As would "Showgirls" gumdrops or Gummy Strippers.  The flavor starts out a little lemony, a little salty, then gets floral like violet. Finally there is a sweet and salty licorice sharpness, with a molasses aftertaste. Interesting, but that's not the way, uh huh, uh huh, I like it, uh huh uh huh. 

Gonna Make You Hurl

Ricard Pastis
Baffling to me, over 130 million liters of Ricard Pastis are sold every year in France. In Luxembourg supermarkets, it is common to see people wheeling out magnums of the foul stuff. Pastis is an aperitif made in Marseille, that is essentially absinthe with the wormwood removed. The primary flavor is anise or star anise, with numerous other flavors added. It is herbal and vegetal and, to me, altogether unpleasant. France banned absinthe in 1915, and Ricard reformulated it without the wormwood. Pastis was the result. Having nibbled once on a tiny piece of raw wormwood, I can assure you that it's absence is probably a good thing. "Vermouth" originally contained wormwood, and it's name actually derived from the German "wermut", or wormwood. Although I like ouzo, anisette and Sambuca (and most licorice products), I couldn't finish Pastis. 

There you have it--a brief introduction to some of the products of Licorice Land. There is plenty more out there; this is but a sampling. 

1 comment:

Carolyn Hansen said...

I'm with you. In fact . . . WHAT is red licorice? Licorice isn't red. And it doesn't taste like strawberries! (Not that I have an opinion.)

The salty herring sounds wonderful to me.

Can I have some?