Soft Panda black licorice was an important part of my childhood diet.
It was a special treat shared especially between my Father and I, the two black licorice lovers of the family. On certain trips to the health food store, we were each allowed a single, fat log of licorice, and if we were really good, maybe a whole small box of Panda to take home. Sweetened with molasses, softened by wheat, the licorice flavoring was spicy with heady anise notes.
Now I know that some of you may be frightened by the ugliness or stinkiness or weirdness of black licorice, but I assure you, dear friends, that there are so many different shapes and wonderful flavors of black licorice, that you will surely come to cherish it as you do other bitter or overly aromatic foods (black coffee, stinky cheese, but licorice goes down easier, I swear…). If you’re still skeptical as to the culinary power that licorice commands, Alinea Restaurant in Chicago paired black licorice with squab, watermelon, and foie gras, which sounds strangely divine. And if you like root beer, well, licorice root is a chief ingredient in good root beer.
My friend Claire once brought me salty German licorice that I loved, and I once shared Dutch licorice sprinkles with my friend Chris. Licorice is one of those foods that brings oddballs together, people who have tastes for the unfamiliar, the misunderstood.
A few years ago I discovered that I am severely allergic to gluten, which ended my licorice romance. Now I am sad, because I adored my occasional licorice treat: it was refined-sugar free and offered that little extra “kick” in my palate that plain dark chocolate doesn’t deliver.
Childhood nostalgia and culinary curiosity are pushing me to imagine a recipe for soft black licorice safe for celiacs. There are two brands on the market, but I haven’t tried them yet because I’ve never seen it in a store and they either contain corn or soy, which I also avoid for sensitivity reasons.
I would imagine the ingredients would be rice flour, molasses, sea salt, maybe some xanthan gum, and either licorice powder or licorice extract (I am unsure whether one is superior to other in terms of flavor, moisture, and texture). Maybe water would be needed, and I would try it with and without carnuba wax, because I don’t prefer a super chewy licorice, more soft and doughy like Panda. Perhaps these ingredients are just boiled down and then poured into oiled moulds? Any savvy confectioners out there?
If I was a Food Scientist, an allergen-free soft black licorice is definitely a product that I would make. Maybe I will just have to become a Food Scientist to make it happen…
aren’t you already a food scientist?
some of the salty licorice in NL has what we call Salmiak in it to make it kinda spicy/smoky/salty/fishy. I know fishy sounds weird…but try the ones actually advertised as Salmiak Drop (licorice) — they’ll be the most prononounced. There used to be a variety that was a very sweet licorice stick that you would lick and then dip in a little box of brown salmiak powder. It was intense. Definitely would be a fun ingredient to do some Alinea style experiments with!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salty_liquorice
This reminds me of my licorice breakthrough. I had always hated, really hated, the black kind. Until 2006, when I had a really bad chest cold. I was strolling through the aisles at Whole Foods, saw some Panda, and suddenly wanted it. It was strange, but I obeyed, and discovered that it was delicious! I was hooked on Panda, and ate it obsessively for the next couple weeks. It was such a weird turnaround that I had to look it up. I found out that, of course, it’s a good cure for congestion. Oh the things our bodies/minds know that we don’t.
You should totally experiment with a new recipe! It’d be a great for those who want to use it as a cure but can’t because of their allergies.