Few foods are as divisive in these hard times as black licorice. Otherwise easygoing people will be taking part in a particularly nice conversation, complimenting your shirt, asking about your mother, discussing the possibility of rain, when somehow the topic will turn to black licorice. Their face will freeze in place momentarily. Their gaze will harden, their lip will curl, ever so slightly.
Then they will tell you how much they dislike black licorice. In great detail. It’s obviously an unpleasant topic for them, but there is something about black licorice that seems to require them to empty their soul on the topic. Their distaste for the candy will inevitably spread to you, as a sensible, licorice-loving person of taste and elan. It might take you days to regain your credibility in their eyes.
Nevertheless, here is a recipe for a highball that might satisfy both of you, allowing you to move on to less fraught topics, like religion, politics or the Red Sox:
- 2 ounces golden rum
- Juice of half a lime – about 1 ounce, plus whatever is left of that half-lime once you have finished squeezing it for everything it has to offer
- 3 to 4 ounces fresh squeezed orange or tangerine juice
- 1/2 ounce grenadine
- Splash of club soda
- For garnish — and this will just be a pretty, fruity drink without it — a black licorice swizzle
Over two or three ice cubes, in a tall glass — a Collins glass will work nicely for this — pour the lime juice over ice. Place the exhausted lime half on top of the ice, then cover with several additional ice cubes. Top with the orange or tangerine juice and a splash of soda to give it some bubbles. Stir gently with a long-handled bar spoon.
Pour a “slip” of grenadine down the sides of the glass. The inside of the glass. (After a few of these, we should probably have instructions as specific as possible.) Because the grenadine is denser than the drink around it, it will pool at the bottom of the glass, but not completely, giving a pink-ombre effect to the enterprise.
Take five or six black licorice twists, and pull them apart from one another. The vast majority of people making this drink will only require one, but in my particular case one of the pieces of licorice will look sub-standard in some way. Maybe it got a little stretched out as you pulled it away from the main body of licorice in the package. Perhaps you just see that it has a flawed character. In either case it needs to be disposed of. By eating it.
The next licorice stick might make it into the actual drink, but maybe it looks a little too bendy. The cold drink will stiffen it into that shape, which is clearly unacceptable, so it needs to be removed and disposed of. Also by eating it.
You might bite the end off each side of a licorice stick and try to use it as a straw, which — in my experience — does not work well. And now it looks funny and needs to be disposed of. Again, by eating it.
I can’t speak to your own level of swizzle competence, or licoriphilia, but you should probably be prepared to use all five licorice sticks.
Featured photo. Photo by John Fladd.
