Kadó is a shop dedicated to black licorice in Berlin. Lucky for me, this shop is in my neighborhood of Kreuzberg. It is located on the Graefestrasse (a very cute shopping street), tucked within various cafes and second hand furniture shops. Of course in Berlin, and most of Europe, there is only black licorice, so it is known merely as a licorice shop. The first time I went in, I was so overwhelmed by the sheer variety, I ended up buying the only thing that looked familiar to me–black licorice pipes I used to love as a child. They made me feel like Popeye.
Black licorice incites deep passion or disgust in people. I am one of the passionate ones. I always felt a little bit like black licorice, you know; sharp, unyielding, cast aside in favor of sweet and popular flavors. I loved to get, ironically enough, the Red Vines brand black licorice rope and savor the tabaccoey flavor while I did my dreaded math homework. The flavor always struck me as masculine and scholarly (though I know that’s not usually an adjective used to describe comestibles).
Over the years, I’ve had many different licorice loves. I was a Panda girl for awhile because I liked the molasses sweetness and the grainy chewy texture. I liked licorice tea and drank it to try to curb my need for higher caloric licorice treats but inevitably I found myself breaking down and buying a box of Chuckles just so I could savor the sugar-crystal coated licorice square at the back of the pack.
When I finally broke down and bought an assortment of licorice from kadó, I did so with no assistance. I bought based on looks alone. When I popped an innocent looking brown-black gumdrop coated with crystals in my mouth, I was very alarmed to find that it tasted like a salty piece of chewing tobacco. I think I may have spit it out on the street. It was so strong and shocking and sour!
I realized that there were a number of scary salt-bombs in my little paper bag and I ended up hiding them in the back of my cabinet like one might hide a hastily and unwisely purchased pair of shoes in the back of a closet.
The truth is, this salty stuff takes stamina and endurance to get used to. I am not a Finnish child. I didn’t grow up surrounded by this stuff. I grew up with the most sugar-saturated candy in the world! But, I know that I love this stuff and I am determined to build my tolerance so that I may truly enjoy it and never fear a licorice purchase again.
On my third trip to kadó, I explained my predicament to the kind Swedish shop assistant and she was happy to help me build my licorice muscles. She explained that the flavor that seemed so intense to me is known as Salmiak, and that it’s actually ammonium chloride. So, in addition to the licorice root, gum, and sometimes sugar, Salmiak is the main ingredient in most Northern European licorice varieties with percentages varying from less than one to a strong 8%.
My Swedish clerk helped me chose 3 Euro worth of licorice varieties ranging from sweet and mild with no Salmiak, to lower level Salmiak varieties. Over the next few days, I will go on a licorice tasting journey, fastidiously photographing and detailing my reactions to each variety. If you want to play along, I would be happy to hear about your licorice adventures. And if you’re in Berlin, you can check out the kadó website. If you don’t like or care about black licorice, this would be a good time to tune out.
Otherwise:
Happy Licoricing!
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