Kitchen Project #134: All About Liquorice
Welcome to DANGEROUS GOODS #1: by Camilla Wynne
Hello,
Welcome to today’s edition of Kitchen Projects. Thank you so much for being here.
Today I have the pleasure of introducing a brand new column from the brilliant Camilla Wynne: Welcome to DANGEROUS GOODS! In this series, Camilla will investigate ingredients that have a dark side. From surprising sources of toxicity, to ingredients that are banned in the US (rightly or wrongly, you decide!), she will teach us about the most deadly - and delicious - goods.
Today, she tackles liquorice with a series of recipes to showcase the chosen ingredient: AllSorts Cookies, Grapefruit & Arak Jam and The Ultimate Liquorice Cake ft. dreamy aniseed custard buttercream. Click here to make them!
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Love,
Nicola
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DANGEROUS GOODS #1: LIQUORICE
by
It’s a little-known fact that as much as you may love liquorice (or licorice, if you’re North American), you mustn’t overindulge. Eat enough and it can kill you. I lived for about 40 years in total ignorance before a click bait-y ad in my weather app shocked me to the core with the revelation that one of my very favorite candies (and flavors in general) is potentially poisonous.
It was the tragic story of a 54-year-old Massachusetts construction worker who died after eating one to two large bags of liquorice every day for 3 weeks. It's important to note the difference here between black and red liquorice, the former being true liquorice, while the latter resembles it in shape and texture but actually contains no liquorice root. Only black liquorice contains dangerous glycyrrhizic acid--you could eat vast quantities of red liquorice everyday, and while it wouldn't be good for you, it certainly wouldn't kill you.
Glycyrrhizic acid, if consumed in quantity, can cause potassium levels to fall, engendering arrhythmia, edema, high blood pressure, congestive heart failure and cardiac arrest. The FDA has even issued a warning for people over 40 that consuming just 2 ounces of liquorice a day can lead to arrhythmia (although the World Health Organisation considers that quantity safe for “most” adults). How did I not know that people with high blood pressure or heart or kidney disease should avoid liquorice? Even a healthy 35-year-old Egyptian man temporarily lost control of his motor functions after drinking a litre of liquorice-flavored water.
I asked my partner, a doctor, if eating potassium-rich food everyday would offset the deleterious effects of liquorice-overconsumption. They said maybe, but that it depended on the mechanism by which liquorice lowers your potassium. Not keen to do more research or give official advice, they noted that one simply shouldn’t consume that much of anything, especially confection, so frequently. For a final mic drop they quoted Paracelsus: the dose makes the poison (though actually that toxicology maxim is a shortened version of the full quote: “All things are poison, and nothing is without poison; the dosage alone makes it so a thing is not a poison”). Much in the way that ibuprofen soothes pains but would kill you if you took the whole bottle at once, poisonous-in-high-doses liquorice root has been used medicinally for many centuries, treating everything from asthma to sore throats to peptic ulcers. Assyrian tablets, Chinese and Indian papyruses can attest!
It’s funny but I have to be constantly reminded that liquorice is a divisive flavor. It shares the organic compound anethole with anise and fennel, linking those flavours profoundly, though liquorice also has that characteristic sweet glycyrrhizin note. In spite of having a great imagination, I love liquorice so much as to find it inconceivable that some people (gasp!) don’t eat the black jellybeans. More for me, I suppose! And perhaps they’re just better evolved, as those who dislike poison-associated bitter flavours.
It’s debated whether aversion to liquorice-y flavours is inborn. They do say, though, that you need to try something 15 times before you like it. So I hope you’ll humour me and read on. In the spirit of hoping to bring everyone to the dark side, I’ll encourage you to try the recipes that follow in ascending order of liquorice flavour dominance, like walking slowly into the cold sea as one becomes accustomed (or numb) to the temperature.
From Shrub to Confection
Liquorice, a shrub, grows wild in Asia and southern Europe. Also known as sweet root, it began to be cultivated in England sometime in the 16th century, where it was used as medicine for both humans and horses. Although it contains glycyrrhizin, which is 50 times sweeter than sugar in its purest form, the plant contains other bitter compounds that mask it. It wasn’t for another 300 years that it began to be made into sweets, though there is mention of employing it as a flavoring for gingerbread and dark beers.
It all begins with the root of the shrub, which is dried, then pulped and juiced via steam extraction. That juice is then boiled down into a concentrate which is then typically mixed with sugar and a binder to create the candy. Liquorice takes many candy guises, from hard little tablets in chic Italian tins to pipes or cigars tipped with pink sprinkled smoldering tips (my favourite) to chewy Scandinavian candies (salmiak) so salty that one wonders if they can be called candy at all. I’m particularly fond of chocolate-covered liquorice popular in Iceland and Scandinavia–the liquorice-curious might find it a good entry-level option, as the rich milk chocolate acts as a mellow foil to its more assertive center.
Baking with Liquorice
While one does find liquorice-y flavours in baked goods, though not commonly, they often come from sources other than the plant itself. Liquorice contains anethole, an organic compound it shares with both fennel and anise, which can be used as whole spices, extracts or distilled in liquors such as ouzo, arak, raki, anisette and mastika. All of these, as well as liquorice powder or candy offer potential avenues for flavouring your pastries with liquorice.
I infused four 115 g portions of 35% cream (since cream’s fat makes it better at taking on flavourings) for 30 minutes with different potential flavourings and documented my findings.
Soft black liquorice
Melting soft liquorice candy directly into cream is an idea I took from Claudia Fleming’s seminal pastry text The Last Course. About developing a liquorice ice cream, she writes, “First I tried liquorice root, which is used in savory preparations, but the ice cream tasted like wood. So I tried liquorice powder, which was hard to get and very sweet. Then I went back to where I had started, with liquorice candy.” Using her proportions, I added 15 g to hot cream and stirred to melt over low heat for about 5 minutes. Dissolving the candy slowly results in a little volume loss but more importantly a luscious texture that I wanted to drink on its own. Of course, the candy adds sugar, so you’d have to reduce the overall sugar in the recipe, but the flavor is, unsurprisingly, that of black liquorice. The color is latte brown, so there’s that to consider as well.
Star anise
My usual go-to for infusing a liquorice flavour into jams or marmalades, here I used one star anise. Perhaps I should’ve added more, as the taste was a little faint, but ultimately I don’t think that would’ve changed the fact that, although star anise has strong liquorice notes, when tasted side by side with the others, this tasted quite recognizably of star anise rather than liquorice.
Anise extract
I was delighted to find this extract at the shop, as it’s an excellent mode of incorporating flavour without altering the texture, sweetness or colour. I added just a 1/4 teaspoon to the cream. It’s hard to describe the liquorice flavor here in relation to the others, except that it’s a very clean version, sort of like the clear, sprinkle-coated jellies in a bag of all-sorts, which happen to be my favorite. I suppose it’s the lack of molasses and glycyrrhizin. But if you’re looking for an easy, clear option, this is it. Be sure to find a pure anise extract, as the artificial one I bought to compare was shabby in contrast.
Liquorice powder
I dissolved 1 tsp in hot cream. I should possibly have held back a little on the dosing here, as it’s powerful! A strong liquorice flavor, but a little heavy on the glycyrrhizin, perhaps due to the lack of molasses and other ingredients in liquorice candy. Still, the flavour is excellent, though it contributes a significant brown tone. To be clear, what I used (and what I recommend), is different from liquorice root powder, which is easier to come by but very sweet and surprisingly not particularly liquorice-y (that said, my father employs it ingeniously in spice rubs on roasts that he wants to add a sweet flavour to without the caramelization that sugar would undergo in a hot oven). What I recommend is a crystallized concentrated liquorice juice, such as the one made by Lakrids.
Conclusion
Clearly there are myriad ways to incorporate liquorice flavour in pastries—it’s a wonder it’s not more common! It mostly depends on the preparations. For doughs, anise extract works a charm, while dissolving the candy into a liquid base might work best for custards, as long as the extra sugar is accounted for. When in doubt, layer!
THE RECIPES
Entry level: Allsorts Cookies. Nothing to ease you into liquorice appreciation like the warm, comforting hug that is chocolate chip cookie dough—except (surprise!) here the chocolate chips are replaced by fun (and not too overpowering) mini liquorice allsorts. If you’re feeling uncertain, leave out the anise extract. These would also be amazing with chocolate-covered liquorice (from Iceland or Scandinavia) in place of the allsorts. Or double the anise extract and replace the allsorts with 200 g chocolate for a liquorice chocolate chip cookie.
Midlevel: Arak and grapefruit juice is a classic highball—and you know a classic has to be delicious. Here I transform it into a small-batch jelly-heavy pink grapefruit marmalade laced with anise-y arak, which you can dial back according to your tastes. This marmalade atop toast with lashings of butter is guaranteed to wake you up, even on the dreariest day. Click here for the recipe.
Big boss: I’ve been dreaming of this liquorice layer cake for YEARS but never quite had the excuse to make it. I am so grateful to KP for giving me a reason. An anise-tinged snow-white cake is brushed with Sambuca syrup, then layered with liquorice-infused crème anglaise buttercream (a TRANSCENDENT buttercream style you must try) and finished with a coating of glorious candy-coated fennel (a digestive aid masquerading as a sprinkle? Genius!). If you simply don’t feel equal to the challenge, the recipe is easily modified to make it your own favorite flavour. Click here for the recipe.
ALLSORTS COOKIES
Makes about 16
Ingredients
300 g all-purpose flour
70 g whole wheat flour
1 ¼ tsp kosher salt
½ tsp baking powder
½ tsp baking soda
220 g unsalted butter, melted
225 g dark brown sugar
100 g sugar
1 egg
1 yolk
½ tsp anise extract
300 g mini allsorts
flaky salt, for sprinkling
Method
In a medium bowl, combine both flours, salt, baking powder and baking soda.
In a large bowl, whisk together melted butter and both sugars until combined. Whisk in egg, yolk and anise extract. Fold in flour mixture until just combined, then fold in mini allsorts.
To portion, use a 1.5 oz scoop or roll into 3 Tbsp balls, about 80g each. Set on a lined baking sheet and chill at least 1 hour and up to 24 (you can also freeze the portioned dough for up to 3 months).
Preheat oven to 350°F/175°C. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper. Space portioned dough balls 2-inches apart and sprinkle with flaky salt. Bake for 18 to 22 minutes, until puffed and golden around the edges. Give the pans a good slap on the counter as you take them out of the oven to deflate them a bit.
Ready for more? Click here for the mid-level and boss-level liquorice recipes!
is a writer, recipe developer, and cooking teacher specializing in preserving and pastry. She has been a culinary professional for over 20 years and is one of Canada’s only Master Food Preservers. She is the author of Jam Bake, a Taste Canada Awards gold winner, also named one of the best cookbooks of 2021 by Food52. Her new book Nature’s Candy, all about candying fruit, is out this year. www.instagram.com/camillawynne/
How interesting! I have been wondering for years why many Americans I know are not keen on liquorice. In Italy, liquorice is produced mainly in Calabria and transformed in candy and a fantastic liqueur. It is also common knowledge that too much liquorice is dangerous for people with high blood pressure. It is however a godsend for those, like myself, who have low blood pressure but I would not dream to consume more than 2-3 small candies of pure liquorice a day. Like alcohol or sugar, everything in moderation!
Who knew?
Thanks for the savory sweet informative goodies.