Those are a guilty pleasure for me (the non-filled ones, that is). Pure hydrogenated vegetable oil, corn syrup, and artificial flavor (I’m guessing). Plasticizers, initiators, and catalysts too, for all I know. I’ve stopped eating them, just because it’s not really food.
The weird thing is, I grew up believing that’s what licorice was. It wasn’t until much later that I discovered the real stuff (and my dislike of it, as well.)
I wonder if I’d been given actual licorice as a child if I’d have developed a tolerance for the real deal or not…
Eating it young didn’t help me; I knew the flavor pretty early on, and avoided it, even in relatively dilute concentrations and/or pseudo-versions (e.g., black Necco wafers).
NSFL
Shudder
That’s appalling. The real thing is readily available, and even sexier.
From the article:
“If you need your L-string to last longer than a few hours before use, you will need to keep the panties moist.”
Oh.
I, for one, fondly remember grape-flavored (purple stuff) laces that could only be found at our city’s amusement park.
Ah, so there is a gourmet version of red twists. I shall have to try them.
If we’re degenerating into rope-based candies… let us all remember the Twizzler dispenser of Wayne’s World…
Dammit, moose, those weren’t Twizzlers!!! That was a Red Ropes dispenser!
They call 'em Super Ropes nowadays.
I would hang my antlers in shame, but all red “licorice” is the same
Aaaaaagggghhhhh!!!
Nothing could be further from the truth! Twizzlers taste absolutely nothing like Red Vines. They look similar, if you squint, in low light. But tastewise they’re apples and earwax.
Sounds like some collectible card game played by Anise-haters
Anise. Anus.
Not a coincidence.
i’ll eat red vines and twizzlers, no problem, but neither hold a candle to real black licorice.
I really like Twizzler’s cherry Nibs and Pull N Peel, tho. But not that traditional strawberry stuff.
My dad was brought up during the last years of the Great Depression, in a house that had no electricity until they got a telephone in the late 40s, and no flush toilet until the early 50s. He liked black licorice a lot. I always assumed it was because it reminded him of his hardscrabble upbringing, and the roofing tar he’d chew on warm summer afternoons when it least threatened to crack a molar.
We used to dream of roofing tar.