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.
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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…
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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).
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NSFL
Shudder
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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.
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I, for one, fondly remember grape-flavored (purple stuff) laces that could only be found at our city’s amusement park.
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Ah, so there is a gourmet version of red twists. I shall have to try them.
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If we’re degenerating into rope-based candies… let us all remember the Twizzler dispenser of Wayne’s World…
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Dammit, moose, those weren’t Twizzlers!!! That was a Red Ropes dispenser!
They call 'em Super Ropes nowadays.
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I would hang my antlers in shame, but all red “licorice” is the same
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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.
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Sounds like some collectible card game played by Anise-haters
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Anise. Anus.
Not a coincidence.
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i’ll eat red vines and twizzlers, no problem, but neither hold a candle to real black licorice.
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I really like Twizzler’s cherry Nibs and Pull N Peel, tho. But not that traditional strawberry stuff.
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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.
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We used to dream of roofing tar.
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