Taste

No, not the kind I show a shocking lack of when dressing myself, the kind you find on your tongue.

No, not that kind you sick-minded individual. (Call me, we'll do lunch.)

The kind that comes from putting things in your mouth. (No, now just KNOCK IT OFF. Gods. Some people.)

I'm talking about SUSTENANCE. (This is your last warning. Don't make me pull this page over.)

FOOD, people... FOOD. (No, not 'food people'... for god's sake, it's simple punctuation!)

Anyway (don't mind him, he's a nutter), I'm sitting here eating a foodstuff that apparently has been marketed in this country exclusively for me, since I'm the only one I know of that can stomach it: salted licorice.

Not the weenie salted licorice you find in some stores, but real honest to deities DUBBELZOUTE! Double the zout, double the fun!

For those of you who haven't had the pleasure, let me explain... salted licorice isn't licorice that's been salted. Oh no, no, NO.... that would be too easy. This is a special kind of salt. A *secret* salt. A salt you are likely to never find in an American grocery store.

It's ammonium chloride.

While used extensively in European baking (hence the other name, baker's ammonia), I've yet to see it used in an American kitchen or see it in an American recipe book.

It's perfectly safe (*twitch*), it just has a special... kick.

Also, the licorice that the Germans and Dutch use to make this confectionary concoction is a bit, er, stronger than most Americans are used to. No more than, say, 120-130%, I assure you. Just a tad.

The upshot? Your mouth ends up tasting like a cross between a week old licorice vine and a medicine cabinet.

No, really, it's nummy. I swear.

Here, I'll show you.

MMmmmmmmmm.... see?

Now, on the bag, the ingredients list the magic salt from Heaven as 'salmiakzout', which brings us to the second part of our tale: salmiakki.

Salmiakki is a Scandanavian drink made from salted licorice, and vodka. Lots of each. You place a handful of the candy drops into a fifth of vodka, and shake until dissolved. The vodka turns this *LOVELY* greenish black color that wouldn't be out of place in a Giger montage.

Slog this down, and it's salted licorice, but *now with straight vodka*! Whoo-hoo!

But wait, it gets better. You see, for some reason the salted licorice buffers the alcohol as you're drinking it. Seriously - it has much less burn. About 15 seconds after you quaff a snog, however, it really and truly feels like someone has just bapped the back of your head with a 2x4. Your eyes go all swimmy, your legs go all swimmy, and you generally feel all... well, swimmy. And this is on a per shot basis. Not once, but every time.

NOW how much would you pay?

Well, there's more. By this time, you're all happy and feeling no pain... when the libido hits. Don't ask me why, but every person I've ever talked to who has tried salmiakki swears it. You're horny. You're *amazingly* horny. I've-got-little-9V-batteries-on-my-gonads-horny. Really. It's not the alcohol, per se... this is something completely different.

So remember boys and girls... ammonium salted licorice vodka drinks! They're not just for breakfast anymore!

(Why do I have this love of anise liqueurs, anyway? Mmmmm. Pastis.)

Taste

No, not the kind I show a shocking lack of when dressing myself, the kind you find on your tongue.

No, not that kind you sick-minded individual. (Call me, we'll do lunch.)

The kind that comes from putting things in your mouth. (No, now just KNOCK IT OFF. Gods. Some people.)

I'm talking about SUSTENANCE. (This is your last warning. Don't make me pull this page over.)

FOOD, people... FOOD. (No, not 'food people'... for god's sake, it's simple punctuation!)

Anyway (don't mind him, he's a nutter), I'm sitting here eating a foodstuff that apparently has been marketed in this country exclusively for me, since I'm the only one I know of that can stomach it: salted licorice.

Not the weenie salted licorice you find in some stores, but real honest to deities DUBBELZOUTE! Double the zout, double the fun!

For those of you who haven't had the pleasure, let me explain... salted licorice isn't licorice that's been salted. Oh no, no, NO.... that would be too easy. This is a special kind of salt. A *secret* salt. A salt you are likely to never find in an American grocery store.

It's ammonium chloride.

While used extensively in European baking (hence the other name, baker's ammonia), I've yet to see it used in an American kitchen or see it in an American recipe book.

It's perfectly safe (*twitch*), it just has a special... kick.

Also, the licorice that the Germans and Dutch use to make this confectionary concoction is a bit, er, stronger than most Americans are used to. No more than, say, 120-130%, I assure you. Just a tad.

The upshot? Your mouth ends up tasting like a cross between a week old licorice vine and a medicine cabinet.

No, really, it's nummy. I swear.

Here, I'll show you.

MMmmmmmmmm.... see?

Now, on the bag, the ingredients list the magic salt from Heaven as 'salmiakzout', which brings us to the second part of our tale: salmiakki.

Salmiakki is a Scandanavian drink made from salted licorice, and vodka. Lots of each. You place a handful of the candy drops into a fifth of vodka, and shake until dissolved. The vodka turns this *LOVELY* greenish black color that wouldn't be out of place in a Giger montage.

Slog this down, and it's salted licorice, but *now with straight vodka*! Whoo-hoo!

But wait, it gets better. You see, for some reason the salted licorice buffers the alcohol as you're drinking it. Seriously - it has much less burn. About 15 seconds after you quaff a snog, however, it really and truly feels like someone has just bapped the back of your head with a 2x4. Your eyes go all swimmy, your legs go all swimmy, and you generally feel all... well, swimmy. And this is on a per shot basis. Not once, but every time.

NOW how much would you pay?

Well, there's more. By this time, you're all happy and feeling no pain... when the libido hits. Don't ask me why, but every person I've ever talked to who has tried salmiakki swears it. You're horny. You're *amazingly* horny. I've-got-little-9V-batteries-on-my-gonads-horny. Really. It's not the alcohol, per se... this is something completely different.

So remember boys and girls... ammonium salted licorice vodka drinks! They're not just for breakfast anymore!

(Why do I have this love of anise liqueurs, anyway? Mmmmm. Pastis.)