Be warned: Ingesting too much can result in a range of possible side effects—from an irregular heartbeat to high blood pressure, muscle weakness, and lethargy—caused by glycyrrhizin depleting your body’s potassium levels. Most people wouldn’t eat the quantities required to trigger these side effects (two ounces a day for a fortnight). And, to its defense, licorice does try to ward you off with its poisonous taste.
The English town of Pontefract is reportedly the birthplace of the bittersweet candy. In 1760 a pharmacist supposedly added sugar to a cough medicine containing licorice root to make it more palatable, and manufacturers began cranking it out in the mid-1800s. From there, licorice went viral in various countries. In Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Iceland, Finland, Germany, and the Netherlands—where the most licorice per capita in the world is consumed—salmiakki, a black, salted, diamond-shaped, and deeply astringent version is beloved by superfans. In the U.S. Twizzlers and Red Vines both make black licorice twists. The French are all about Cachou Lajaunie pastels, which are intended to freshen your breath after a meal. In Sweden they’re so keen on the stuff, they kicked off Lakritsfestivalen (“licorice festival”) in 2009, featuring tastings, contests, entertainment, and even sculptures made out of the substance.
Wisely, many of the Australian confectionary companies I grew up with mask the taste of licorice itself by smothering it in chocolate to form a “bullet.” We also favor dressing up our licorice as colorfully layered cubes and other miscellaneous shapes called “allsorts” a concept we borrowed from the Brits. Cult brand Darrell Lea claims to make enough licorice to wrap around the Earth each year. It also manufactures imitation flavors that cut out the fennel-like substance altogether, featuring raspberry, grape, mango, green apple, and pineapple varieties in their range at various points.
Somehow demand for the real deal, black licorice, is growing, especially in Europe and North America. A 2020-2030 forecast by Transparency Market Research, a global consumer analytics firm, predicts licorice, thanks to its natural sweetness, could fill the gap left by those of us abandoning sugary “junk foods” for better health. While it’s baffling to me, it also makes sense: 10.4 percent of the world population is expected to be diabetic by 2030.
Despite its potential health benefits and long, twisted history, I was born loathing licorice. When I find it in my mixed bags, it takes a swift flight to the nearest bin. I can, however, admire its tenacity. For a candy born of cough medicine, licorice has really pulled itself up by the boot, er, straps. I respect that kind of sticking power—just not in my molars, please.
