GB Glace Lakulätkä Lakrits Puck

It was Thanksgiving Weekend here in the states, and one thing that I'm thankful for is that I'm no longer in Sweden. You see, I've been traveling quite a bit these past several months and Sweden was unfortunately on my itinerary. It's not that I have a problem with Sweden, the Swedes, or even Swedish Meatballs, it's that Sweden is right next to the dreaded homeland of Salmiak: Finland.

Fortunately, I was as far away from Finland as possible (Malmö), but I could not escape the long arm of Finnish delicacies. On my way back to Denmark, I stopped at the grocery store at the train station to find an absurd amount/variety of yogurt, a strange obsession with condiments in metal tubes, and – as you probably guessed – plenty of salmiak.

One thing that caught my eye was in the freezer section. Amongst a bunch of seemingly good-tasting ice cream treats, I spotted this:

My Swedish is a little rough, but "Lakulätkä Lakrits Puck" roughly translates to "ground-up hockey puck", and is apparently how they describe the flavor of salty licorice. After confirming that the ingredienser did indeed list salmiak, I opened up the package to find this appropriately hockey-puck shaped ice-cream bar.

I figured that nothing could ruin ice cream, so I took a big bite of the Lakulätkä. I figured wrong. The ice cream portion of the bite melted pretty quickly, leaving a half-melted candy coating to chew on. It was a lot like those chocolate-covered icecream bars, except that it was covered in awful.

The candy coating had an impressively strong taste that came roaring in after a few seconds. I was a bit hungry, so I took another bite figuring that the taste couldn't get any worse. And once again, I figured wrong. The taste of cheap salmiak candy coating quickly overwhelmed me, and I threw the remainder of the puck in the nearest rubbish bin.

The taste stayed with me halfway to Copenhagen, and took nearly half a pack of gum to finally rid myself of. Considering that the Lakulätkä Lakrits Puck was mostly ice cream, I'll rate it as almost edible.

Apteekkarin Salmiakkipastilli

When you've tried as many kinds of salmiac as I have, you start to notice patterns. I mean, they're all bad, but they all fit into their own category of bad.There's the hard-candy-that-calls-itself-hot-but-really-isn't kind, the sticks-to-your-teeth-so-the-awful-never-goes-away kind, the saltlick-licked-by-a-deer kind, and so on.

So, when I saw the Apteekkarin Salmiakkipastilli, I had a pretty good idea what I was getting into from my Apteekkarin Pehmeä Salmiakkipastilli review and thought it'd be a great candy to share with my friends.

I was expecting basically the same thing, just without the "Pehmeä". Of course, I'm not sure what "Pehmeä " means, but I figured it's either "menthol" or "yellow packaging". This is what I found inside.

The candies looked like your typical hard candy, but they had a slightly rubbery texture. Not squishy rubber, more like the rubber on running tracks - or even asphalt on a hot day.

"They look like rabbit terds," one of my friends added before taking a whiff of one, "doesn't have much of a smell, though."

The taste wasn't very intense - in fact, it was fairly subtle. At least, until getting past the outer coating. The middle had quite the kick, but not nearly as strong as some of the Tyrkisk Peber I've tried. It was tolerable, but not something anyone would want to keep eating any longer than they had to. And as such, this earns the almost edible rating.

CandyWell salmiakki-meteorit

Last week, I was out of town and met with a few clients on the west coast. Somehow, one of our small-talk conversations shifted to a discussion on candy.

"You know," I said, "it's a shame I didn't bring any of the 'special' liquorice that I have back home. You guys wouldn't believe this stuff! It's Finnish or something, and it's infused with this super-salty salt -- ammonium chloride -- which is not your regular old sodium chloride table salt."

I got a few quizzical eye-brow raises and the unmistakable I'm-pretty-sure-you-shouldn't-eat-ammonium-chloride look. But nonetheless, they all expressed interest in trying this exotic delicacy and made me promise to bring it next time I'm on-site.

Yeah, right. Like that's going to going to happen. As I'm sure you all know, giving someone salmiac is #6 on the "Top Ten Ways to Kill a Relationship" list, and today's tasting of salmiakki-meteorit confirms why.

To the untrained eye, these spherical candies look like they could be sugar-coated chocolates. Popping the red-colored ball was not an unpleasant experience: there was a sweet, raspberry hard-coating that was just waiting to be chomped on. Bracing for the worst, I bit down... only to find the unmistakably spicy taste of liquorice.

The Yellow (banana, I think) and Green (no idea what flavor) shared the pleasantry: a hard candy coating with a liquorice center. Excited that this might be an edible -- nay, enjoyable -- candy, I eagerly popped the black candy ball in my mouth, only to find it repelled by my gag reflex almost immediately.

Somehow, that little black candy packed more salt taste than salt itself. Which is surprising, considering they all appear to be coated in about the same amount. No matter, because of the black ball of salty death, I have no choice but to rate the salmiakki-meteorit as almost edible.

Salmiac Mix

Once again, Alex “I’m too busy and important to blog about salmiakki”  has delegated this job to a subordinate.  “I’ve had my eye on this one for a while now,” he told me, referring to our latest selection:

As someone that once spent a week in Finland about 14 year ago, I feel that I am completely qualified to translate that as “Salmiac mix.”  It seems that the name doesn’t reveal much in this case (but then I guess it usually doesn’t).  I ripped open the bag and took a closer look:

Salmiac Mix appeared to consist of antacid tablets, pills, and chewable childrens’ vitamins.  Strange choice for a candy, I thought, but harmless enough.  After popping one of the discs into my mouth, I realized that the white powder covering all of the candies was not sugar.  I won’t lie; I spit the first one out, being totally unprepared for that salty coating.  After seeing this reaction, John tried one and managed to finish it.  Shamed, I tried again – this time one of the little pill-shaped pieces.  I made it past the salty coating to discover that it actually wasn’t terrible!  The pink and yellow pieces seem to have some sugar in them, while the other pieces are just salt and licorice.

Later that day, I thoughtfully offered Alex some Salmiac Mix.  “It’s not that bad,” I told him.  He grabbed a handful of the candies and put them in his mouth.  “Once you get past the salty coating,” I added.  You’d think he would be used to that overpowering salty flavor by now, but… his reaction suggested otherwise.

Salmiac Mix combines three tastes that are bad enough on their own: chalk, salt, and licorice into one unpleasant experience.  However, the addition of sugar makes the pink and yellow ones tolerable once you get past that initial salty rush.  Overall, it’s certainly not terrible, but that powdered ammonium chloride coating reduces the rating from edible to almost edible.

Alfmix Light Line

It’s always exciting to have a new team member come on board. Not only does the new guy help reduce the workload, but there’s a great chance that he’ll come with some new and exciting ideas. My company recently brought on a new developer, Greg, and I was as excited as ever. And not just because of the whole helping out and new ideas thing.

On the afternoon of Greg’s first day, I stopped by his desk to share some Alfmix Light Line gummy candies. Unfortunately, he had already been warned about me and my wonderful Finnish candies. But Greg was brave and dove right in, rhetorically asking “how bad could it be?”

“Bad enough for an OSHA violation,” a nearby coworker smirked, “just make sure you’ve got a chaser.”

Of course, by that point, the advice was too little and too late, and Greg had already started with one of the black square pieces. As he bit into the gummy candy, his confidence-filled expression slowly faded into bewilderment. The more he chewed, the more his expression turned to disgust. Within ten seconds, Greg rushed to the nearest trash bin and spit out the black candy, adding “ok, that was a mistake.”

Despite Greg’s bad experience, I started trying some of the other shapes.
• Yellow/Orange Ones – edible! They’re not very sweet, but they could easily pass a gummy candies
• Berry-shaped Ones – edible! Not berry flavored, more a subtle liquorice
• Square-shaped Ones – almost edible! This is the only one that Greg tried; at first, they weren’t too bad, but as he discovered, but the creeping salty liquorice flavor quickly makes them unbearable

If it weren’t for the square shaped pieces, this candy would pass for edible. However, it gets the almost edible rating.

Pirkka Salmiakki

There's nothing wrong with plain, ordinary, and run-of-the-mill, and in the world of Salmiakki, Pirkka seems to offer just that. There's no special packaging, special shapes, or special "features" like chili flavor. It looks a lot like the generic/store brand of candies that we have here in the states.

Cracking open the bag of liquorice revealed a bunch of penny-sized, diamond-shaped candies. They had a soft texture, but were a bit firmer than, say, a Twizzler.

When I popped one in my mouth, I was pleasantly surprised to experience a non-offensive liquorice taste. Chewing a few times reiterated the flavor, and my apprehension slowly turned to delight. Could it be... a piece of liquorice from Finland that wasn't awful!?

Alas, it was too good to be true. After about twenty seconds, a subtle, salty note started to appear and, within a few moments, completely take over. It quickly evolved into a deep "salt thirst," and I had no choice but to abort mission. The candy was spat out and I quenched my thirst with a full liter of water.

Although this was one of the more mild Salmiakki, the creeping salty sensation makes it almost edible.

Katjes: Hot Temptations

Now that I've not only remembered which Google account I used for this blog, but remembered that account's password, I can once again continue on my reviews of Salmiakki. Actually, the timing worked well; I've finally recovered from those toxic cookies.

I was recently invited to a "Hotluck" dinner party. In case the pun is not painfully obvious, it's a potluck party in which everyone brings hot and spicy food. I figured this would be the perfect opportunity to get rid of share some of the delightful Salmiakki.

Mmmm, mmm, mmm: a smiling model touching her lower lateral incisor with a long chii peper! Now if that's not sexy, then I don't what is. Good work, Katjes, you've actually managed to distract me from the fact that this is a bag of salty, spicy liquorice. I mean, for crying out loud: adding hot to salty liquorice is like adding a lawsuit to an insult that was added to an injury. But no matter, it was the perfect treat to bring to the hotluck.

I put the fish-shaped candy in a little bowl and snuck them on the snacks table next to the wasabi cashews and hot peanuts. Surprisingly, they actually looked like edible candy, and the sugar-like coating made them seem like a delightful mix of hot and sweet.

Of course, the only delight that came from the Hot Temptations was watching unsuspecting party-goers casually take a piece and pop it in their mouth. It would take a few seconds, but just about everyone gave the unmistakable what the hell did I just eat face.

Most were polite, and quietly chased the candy with something not awful tasting, while a couple people disgustingly said, "what kind of liquorice is that!?!" Actually, that's been my question all along.

For the sake of completeness, I did try the Hot Temptations at the party and, surprisingly they weren't too bad. Compared with the rest of the spicy food, they were pretty mild.  Oh, and that sugar-like coating I mentioned earlier? Salt, of course.

When paired with spicy foods, this rates as almost edible.

Tyrkisk Peber: Firewood

What a better way to start off this Salmiak review blog than by starting with the bag that looks, smells, and will probably taste like those little woodchips you add to your grill for some extra barbeque flavor?

There was no overwhelming smell when opening the package, and a fun assortment of pieces were found within. The brown terd-like pieces and black balls could almost visually pass as real candy, especially when mixed in with chocolate-covered raisins.

I started off with the silver log and was pleasantly surprised. Not only was it not the worst thing in the whole wide world, but it was actually pleasant. It wasn't even hot/spicy; the 2/3 rating may as well have been 0/3.

The licquorice was very subtle, and some other (non-awful) earthen flavors came out shortly thereafter. Perhaps that's why they call it firewood? But things took a turn for the worst when I bit into it. The sensation was much like biting into a Cow Tale (i.e., cold, creamy, and soft) , but the flavor was... intense. I don't know if it was just a big pocket of salt, dirt, or pure awful, but I couldn't do it. Tried as I might, I had to spit.

The black log and black ball didn't fare any better, as they had the same gooey center. The brown-terds? I actually managed to finish one of them. I might even go back for another.

This rates as almost-edible.