Amanie Pepper Drops Extra Hot

I've been out of town for quite a many weeks, but returned home last week for the Thanksgiving holiday to visit with friends, family, and unfortunately some Salmiac.

Although my friends are wary to taste anything I give them after suffering through Dracula Piller, they had all drank enough to be willing to try not just one, but three different Salmiac candies. The first one I opened up was Amanie's Extra Hot Pepper Drops.

"You denounced an entire country based on this stuff?" my friend Dan commented as he picked up a piece, "it doesn't smell that bad." He then popped the piece in his mouth, and I had one as well.

Although my Salmiac palate is much more refined than most of my peers, it doesn't take a connoisseur to recognize bad. After sucking on the pepper drop for about a minute, he couldn't take it anymore and spit it out. I held on a little bit longer and asked what he thought of it.

"The taste was good for a second—"

"Wait," I interrupted, "did you say good?"

"Err, I should say, good by comparison. It was somewhat normal, and then it started... uhh... leaking a bad flavor."

Clearly, Dan was unprepared for powdered yuck found in the center of most of these pepper drops. I enquired further, asking what the flavor was like.

"It's hard to say... salty battery acid?"

That sounded about right. The battery acid taste started getting to me as well, so I spit the pepper drop out and chased the flavor with some Diet Coke. For the record, that combination was even worse. But one thing that was noticeably missing from these extra hot pepper drops was the hot.

"They weren't hot at all," he confirmed, "I couldn't taste anything past the bad. Which, by the way, is still going -- this is like a Jäger shot that just won't end."

As for the others, the general consensus was "awful", "terrible", and "seriously, people eat this stuff?" But as far as pepper drops go, Amanie is no Pirkka, but they still are inedible.

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Look for the other two other reviews later this week. Also, I picked up a small batch of some fresh, salty licorice at a German grocery store nearby where I'm staying.

Pirkka: Tulinen Pippuri (Sokeriton)

Before even taking a whiff of the Sokeriton (sugar free) Tulinen Pippuri from Pirkka, I was already pretty pleased with it. The rusty, just-dug-it-out-of-the-ground appearance screams don't eat me louder than any other salmiakki I've seen - which is precicely the message that should be emblazened on every bag sold.

Taking a whiff of the confectionary reminded me that things that look like they've been buried underground for longer than I've been alive don't have a pleasant smell. It's hard to describe how the tulinen pippuri smells, but I'd say it's about 37% cayenne pepper, 18% sweet, 13% sour, and 99% evil.

As soon as the Tulinen Pippuri met my tongue, I was filled with the all-to-familiar sensation of burning salt. I soldiered through this onslaught, using an occasional sip of water to combat the wretched taste. Fortunately, the pain quickly subsided, leaving a fairly normal piece of hard salty liquorice candy.

If it weren't for the rough beginnings, I'd consider rating this almost edible - but I'm going to stick with inedible. Which is exactly what it looks like.

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.