Salmiakki: A Foreigner with Unusual Love for Finnish black salty licorice

I have an embarrassing confession to make. About two hours before my Finnair flight via Toronto landed in Helsinki, I developed a craving so specific that everything else on my Finland itinerary temporarily became background noise.

I was about to spend the trip kayaking, boating, horseback riding, cycling and hiking. Those were the activities I was supposed to be thinking about. Instead, I sat there like one of Pavlov’s more desperate dogs, imagining the moment I could get my hands – or, more accurately, my mouth – on salmiakki.

Not ordinary black licorice. Not the sweet, polite stuff I could buy almost anywhere. I wanted the sharp Finnish version that tastes salty, medicinal, faintly hostile and, to me, absolutely magnificent.

What Salmiakki Actually Is

Salmiakki is salty licorice flavoured with food-grade ammonium chloride, a mineral salt known as salmiak. That ingredient creates the sharp, briny, astringent sensation that separates salmiakki from ordinary sweet licorice.

The important detail is that this is not simply licorice sprinkled with table salt. Table salt is sodium chloride. Salmiak is ammonium chloride. Both are salts in the chemical sense, but they do not taste the same. Sodium chloride gives food the familiar saltiness we know from chips and pretzels. Ammonium chloride is stranger: salty, bitter, cooling, mouth-drying and faintly medicinal all at once.

Licorice extract provides the dark herbal sweetness underneath. Sugar or syrup may soften the edges. Anise, menthol, starch, wheat flour, gelatin or other ingredients can change the texture and flavour depending on the product. That is why one black candy can be mildly sweet while another feels as if a Finnish pharmacist has personally challenged your courage.

Salty licorice is not exclusive to Finland. It is also eaten across Sweden, Denmark, Norway, Iceland, the Netherlands, parts of Belgium and northern Germany. Finland, however, has embraced it with unusual enthusiasm. Here it escapes the candy bag and turns up in chocolate, ice cream, drinks and desserts without anyone behaving as though a confectionery crime has taken place.

How a Canadian Became a Salmiakki Convert

Salmiakki? What the heck is that?

It is licorice descended from the depths of heaven Finland.

The video of my first taste explains why Audrey and I were probably destined for opposite reactions. I had grown up eating much sweeter licorice in Canada and already considered myself a serious licorice fan. Audrey did not. She had never liked licorice, and her sister Ashley – who had already visited Finland – had specifically warned her to stay away from this “nasty candy.” Reassuring stuff.

I took the first piece expecting it to be salty but hoping my Canadian licorice upbringing would carry me through. The flavour landed all at once. My recorded verdict was an “explosion of flavours”: extremely salty, completely unlike the licorice I knew and, somehow, immediately delicious.

I reached for another piece before the first experiment had even properly ended.

Audrey had planned more sensibly. She kept a bar of milk chocolate within reach as an emergency palate cleanser, took one cautious bite of salmiakki and promptly spat it out. Her explanation was not complicated: “I don’t like licorice. I’ve never liked licorice and that’s just foul.” Then she reached for the chocolate.

I was delighted. Her rejection meant I inherited the entire bag.

That first video adds an important bit of context. I was not a neutral foreigner being ambushed by a random Finnish candy, and neither was Audrey. I arrived as a lifelong licorice eater. She arrived already disliking the entire category. Salmiakki amplified a divide that was there from the beginning.

It also permanently changed ordinary licorice for me. Pasta lovers sometimes return from Italy and complain that packaged supermarket pasta now tastes like cardboard. That is more or less how I felt about normal licorice after trying the Finnish stuff. It had lost its nerve.

I ate as much salmiakki as I could during that brief visit to Finland and brought several packs back to our base in Chiang Mai, Thailand.

Those supplies lasted mere days.

Afterward I kept looking for salmiakki in specialty import stores while continuing my travels in Asia. No luck. Not one bag. Not one box. Not even a single medicinal little diamond to take the edge off.

One full year without a morsel of it was enough to make a sane man behave strangely on an approaching flight to Helsinki.

From Pharmacy Shelf to National Obsession

The precise moment when somebody first combined licorice and ammonium chloride is murky. The most credible explanation is less romantic than a secret Finnish candy workshop: salmiakki probably grew out of pharmacy culture.

Ammonium chloride was historically used as an expectorant, while licorice root had a long association with throat preparations. Finnish author Jukka Annala has suggested that pharmacists mixing their own cough remedies may have combined the two, perhaps partly to make the medicine easier to swallow. By the 1930s, salty licorice pastilles were already being produced in Finland and several neighbouring northern European countries.

One surviving product makes that pharmacy connection especially tangible. In 1951, chemists Signe and Bruno Colliander developed the recipe for Apteekin Salmiakki – literally “Pharmacy Salmiakki” – in Helsinki’s Haaga district. The company says their recipe omitted gum arabic and gelatin and remains in use today.

That history helps explain why foreigners so often reach for the same comparison: cough medicine. Salmiakki did not merely end up tasting medicinal by accident. Its family tree runs straight through the pharmacy.

The name carries another trace of that history. The Finnish word salmiakki came through Swedish salmiak, related to the old term sal ammoniac. The traditional etymology links the name to “salt of Ammon,” although the exact ancient story is less certain than many tidy internet explanations make it sound.

For me, this is where salmiakki becomes more interesting than a novelty candy. It is a preserved medicinal flavour that somehow crossed into pleasure, became a childhood taste for millions of northern Europeans and then expanded into an entire product category. It is also a strange doorway into Finnish cuisine more broadly: practical, distinctive and far less interested in pleasing outsiders than most internationally marketed food.

Audrey and I Had Completely Opposite Reactions

The first tasting established the basic pattern: I did not need to acquire the taste. The taste acquired me immediately. Audrey wanted the flavour removed from her mouth and the evidence destroyed.

Our return to Finland a year later gave both positions a much more thorough test.

As for whether I finally got my fix after landing: of course I did. I have my priorities in order.

After the long transatlantic flight, I freshened up, brushed my teeth and carefully combed my hair.

Who am I kidding? I did none of that.

I rushed into the nearest convenience store at Helsinki Airport, found a Fazer salmiakki mixed bag and proceeded to demolish it on the bus into the city centre.

Later, in our Helsinki hotel room, we lined up six different salmiakki products and tested what sweetness, texture and format actually changed. I liked every single one, although not equally. Audrey endured the ice cream, Super Salmiakki and a sweeter chewy roll before I finally granted her an exemption. She returned only for the chocolate, largely because the surrounding milk chocolate offered a fighting chance.

Even then, our verdicts remained beautifully incompatible.

That contrast is part of the fun. Salmiakki is not a polite, agreeable travel snack that everyone describes as “quite nice.” It provokes a verdict. People love it, hate it, distrust it, laugh at it or slowly change their minds after trying a gentler version. Sitting on the fence is difficult when the fence tastes like ammonium chloride.

Salmiakki Products I Actually Tried

Salmiakki comes in enough forms that “I tried salmiakki and hated it” does not tell me very much. Was it a soft sugary roll? A hard pastille designed to dissolve for several minutes? A mixed bag? Chocolate? Ice cream?

The six-product video lets me be much more precise than memory alone. These were our actual reactions.

My ranking became clear by the end. Ice cream and milk chocolate were the top two because I have a sweet tooth and salmiakki became even better when paired with something creamy. The sugary chewy rolls came next. In general, I preferred chewiness to the hardest pastilles. The little box won on portability, while the mixed bag beat the other traditional candies because it offered several textures and strengths at once.

There is also one small confession buried in the footage: while assessing the mixed bag, I put four different pieces into my mouth at the same time. This produced an enthusiastic reaction and a terrible controlled experiment. Current me recommends one piece at a time. Younger me wanted the whole sample size immediately.

It Wasn’t Just a Holiday Crush

Travel can make ordinary things feel special for a week. A candy tastes brilliant because the trip is exciting, the weather cooperates and your brain has temporarily become a souvenir shop.

Salmiakki survived the flight home.

We filmed another Finnish candy tasting in Canada after running out of time in Finland. By then I said I had eaten “a lot of salmiakki” during the trip. When I put one of the small hard pieces into my mouth in Audrey’s backyard, my reaction was not cautious analysis. It was: “I’m in my happy place right now.”

Audrey, meanwhile, tried a fruity sweet licorice and spat that out too. That settled an important question. Her objection was not merely to the ammonium chloride or the extreme saltiness. She genuinely did not like licorice. I finally stopped trying to negotiate and declared that giving her more – especially salmiakki – would be cruel.

This is why the article is not a story about two foreigners gradually learning to appreciate the same Finnish flavour. It is a story about one established licorice fan discovering his final form and one established licorice hater confirming that she had been right about herself all along.

How to Choose Your First Salmiakki

Starting with the strongest salmiakki is like learning to swim by being thrown off a dock. You may emerge delighted. You may also emerge angry at the person who suggested it.

This is not the order Audrey and I followed. Our first encounter began with ordinary candy and ended with emergency chocolate. After comparing six formats, I would now separate three things newcomers often confuse: format, texture and strength. A black diamond shape does not guarantee a particular intensity. A soft gummy can still be aggressive. A chocolate bar can carry a strong salmiakki centre. The package, ingredient list and any words suggesting “strong,” “extra” or “super” matter more than the colour alone.

My First-Timer Tasting Order

1. Salmiakki milk chocolate: familiar enough to establish what you are tasting without starting a diplomatic incident.
2. Salmiakki ice cream: the cold creaminess softens the sharp edges and lets the flavour arrive gradually.
3. A soft mixed-bag piece: now you are tasting salmiakki as candy rather than as a flavour inside dessert.
4. A standard hard pastille: firmer, longer-lasting and more concentrated.
5. Super Salmiakki: save it for the person who has started bragging that the earlier pieces were “not that bad.”
6. Salmiakki liqueur: an adults-only finale, not a palate cleanser.

Most importantly, try one piece at a time. Let it sit for a moment. Salmiakki changes as it dissolves: sweetness, saltiness, bitterness and licorice do not always arrive together. I once put four mixed-bag pieces into my mouth simultaneously. That was energetic content creation and terrible comparative tasting.

More Forms Worth Looking For

I have not personally tracked down every salmiakki variation in Finland, and I am not going to turn a handful of photographs into a fake memoir of tasting all of them. The category is much bigger than my own sample.

Beyond candy, chocolate, ice cream and liqueur, you may encounter:

• Salmiakki powder: loose, concentrated and sometimes sold in small containers for pouring directly into the hand or onto sweets.
• Salmiakki syrup or sauce: used over ice cream or in desserts.
• Salmiakki mints and chewing gum: portable forms that blur the line between candy and breath freshener.
• Filled chocolates and baked desserts: sweet exteriors hiding a salty centre.
• Cocktails and spirits: from the classic Koskenkorva version to newer bar experiments.

The sensible first-trip priority is still the core progression: one chocolate, one ice cream, one mixed bag, one classic box and – if you drink – one liqueur. That gives you real range without buying every black object in the shop.

Other Finnish Licorice and Candy to Put in the Basket

If salmiakki turns out to be your thing – or if it does not and you need an immediate peace offering for your tongue – Finland has plenty of neighbouring sweets worth trying.

The useful distinction is not “Finnish candy versus foreign candy.” It is sweet licorice versus salty licorice, and then mild salmiakki versus strong salmiakki. Once you understand those two axes, the supermarket aisle becomes much easier to navigate.

Salmiakki Koskenkorva: The Candy-Flavoured Drink Finland Pulled from Shelves

Koskenkorva is a Finnish clear spirit made from barley and water. Mix it with salmiakki flavour and it becomes Salmiakki Koskenkorva, commonly shortened to salmiakkikossu or Salmari.

The flavour is clever and potentially deceptive. Salmiakki’s sweetness, bitterness and medicinal edge soften the obvious taste of the alcohol without removing the alcohol itself. The official Koskenkorva history says the bottled drink entered the Finnish market in 1990 and was withdrawn shortly afterward by the state alcohol monopoly because it was selling too well.

Finnish broadcaster Yle dates the withdrawal to 1993. The drink had become particularly popular with younger consumers and acquired the enduring nickname “teenagers’ vodka.” It later returned to shelves, but the episode remains a warning hidden inside an amusing national-drink story: candy flavour can make a spirit seem easier than it is.

The exact origin of the bar recipe is uncertain. One famous anecdote credits Finnish singer Jari Sillanpää with mixing it while working as a bartender in the late 1980s, but it is better treated as a good story than settled history. Combining crushed salty candy and clear spirits may well have happened in more than one bar.

The Third Shot and the Sudden Intervention from My Liver

The video record reveals that I did not originally approach this drink with the restraint I now recommend.

During day four of our Finland trip, we travelled by boat to Bolax, a former military island dotted with summer cottages. When Audrey asked what I was having, I answered “Salmiakki!” and immediately announced: “I’m going to down it. One shot.”

I called the first one awesome. When asked what it tasted like, I said, with the precision of a seasoned drinks critic, “Just like salmiakki.”

By the time the camera returned, I was holding shot number three and promising it would go down “in one blast.” It did. I described it as yummy, amazing and so good, briefly inquired about a fourth and then delivered the most useful tasting note of the session:

“My liver just flipped.”

That sequence explains the drink’s appeal and its risk better than generic caution ever could. The salmiakki flavour made the spirit taste familiar, sweet and dangerously easy to enjoy. Younger me treated it like liquid candy. Older me has reviewed the footage and would like to recommend sipping.

Most people encounter Salmiakki Koskenkorva as a chilled shot. Sip it slowly enough to notice what is happening: first the salty licorice, then the sweetness, then the warmth of the spirit underneath. Do not let the childhood-candy flavour convince you that it belongs in rapid-fire rounds. I performed that experiment already. The liver submitted its findings.

Where to Buy Salmiakki in Finland

You do not need a specialist shop or secret password. In Finland, salmiakki is everyday food. The greater challenge is choosing among dozens of products without accidentally beginning at the brutal end of the spectrum.

The One-Supermarket Salmiakki Haul

Were I introducing somebody to salmiakki with one supermarket visit, I would buy:

• one salmiakki chocolate bar;
• one ice cream bar or tub;
• one mixed bag containing several textures;
• one classic small box of pastilles;
• one clearly strong or “Super” product for the final round;
• and one completely non-salmiakki Finnish sweet for Audrey and other sensible people.

That is a better tasting experience than buying six bags that all occupy roughly the same level of intensity.

A Salmiakki Half-Day in Helsinki

This is not a day Audrey and I followed step by step. It is a practical framework built from the places and products involved in our own Helsinki experience, with a clear boundary between personal memory and suggested itinerary.

The idea is not to devote an entire Finland trip to salty licorice. Even I recognize there are limits. It is to weave a genuinely Finnish flavour into a day that still includes the city, waterfront and the people you are travelling with.

Bringing Salmiakki Home

Some souvenirs gather dust. Salmiakki either disappears rapidly or sits untouched while your friends avoid eye contact. Both outcomes are more interesting than another refrigerator magnet.

Keep candy sealed, place chocolate away from heat and check the alcohol and customs rules for your destination before buying liqueur. I would also keep one small box in cabin luggage. That is not official packing advice. It is emotional insurance.

Health and Dietary Considerations Without the Chemistry Panic

The presence of ammonium chloride makes salmiakki sound more dangerous than it normally is as an occasional candy. At the same time, “it is only candy” is not a useful answer for everybody.

The best-established blood-pressure concern around real licorice comes from glycyrrhizin, a compound in licorice root. Repeated or substantial intake can raise blood pressure and disturb potassium balance in susceptible people. Research publicized by Linköping University has reinforced that even amounts within previously accepted guidance may affect blood pressure when eaten daily.

That does not mean a healthy traveller needs to panic over one taste. It does mean I would avoid giving universal portion advice. People with high blood pressure, heart or kidney concerns, pregnant travellers and anyone taking relevant medication should read labels, keep consumption modest and seek medical advice rather than treating this article as a prescription.

Salmiakki Questions Answered

What does salmiakki taste like?

Imagine black licorice combined with salt, bitterness and the medicinal edge of a strong throat lozenge. Good salmiakki can also feel cooling and astringent, meaning it dries or tightens the mouth slightly. The exact balance depends on the product: chocolate and ice cream soften the flavour, while hard pastilles and powder concentrate it.

Is salmiakki the same as ordinary black licorice?

No. Ordinary black licorice is generally built around licorice extract or anise-like flavour and sweetness. Salmiakki adds ammonium chloride, which produces its distinctive salty, sharp and medicinal quality. In Finland, lakritsi usually refers to licorice, while salmiakki identifies the ammonium-chloride style.

Why do Finns like salmiakki so much?

There is no single national explanation. Familiarity matters: many Finns encounter the flavour early, when it is an ordinary part of the candy aisle rather than an exotic challenge. The category also offers enormous variety, from sweet and creamy products to severe salty pastilles. Calling it a prank food misses the point. Foreign reactions may be entertaining, but Finns were eating salmiakki long before reaction videos existed.

Where can I buy salmiakki in Helsinki?

Start with a supermarket. S-market, K-Market, Prisma and other grocery stores generally offer a broader selection than souvenir shops. R-kioski and similar convenience stores are useful for pocket boxes, popular bags and ice cream. Airport shops work for last-minute purchases, but I would build the main haul in the city.

What is the best salmiakki for a first-timer?

Based on what I tried, begin with salmiakki milk chocolate or ice cream. They preserve the distinctive flavour while giving your palate something familiar to hold onto. Move next to a soft mixed-bag piece, then a standard pastille. Save anything labelled “Super,” extra strong or powder-coated for the end.

Is salmiakki safe for people with high blood pressure?

Real licorice can contain glycyrrhizin, which may raise blood pressure and affect potassium balance, particularly with repeated or substantial intake. The amount varies by product, and salmiakki may also contain other ingredients that matter for individual health conditions. People with high blood pressure, heart or kidney concerns, pregnancy or relevant medications should be cautious and seek professional medical advice about regular consumption.

Is salmiakki vegan or gluten-free?

Sometimes, but not automatically. Licorice candy often contains wheat flour, and some products use gelatin, beeswax, milk chocolate or other animal-derived ingredients. Check the individual package for explicit vegan and gluten-free labelling. The word salmiakki describes the flavour category, not one standardized recipe.

Can children eat salmiakki?

Many Finnish children grow up eating ordinary salmiakki candy, so it is misleading to call the entire category adults-only. However, strength varies, some products are extremely concentrated and alcoholic versions are obviously for adults. Parents should check labels, choose milder products and offer small portions rather than assuming every black candy is equivalent.

Can I bring salmiakki home from Finland?

Sealed candy, boxed pastilles and chocolate are usually straightforward travel souvenirs, subject to the food-import rules of your destination. Liqueur must comply with airline liquid restrictions, customs rules and alcohol allowances. Pack chocolate against heat, seal powder carefully and protect glass bottles in checked luggage when required.

When a Weird Candy Becomes a Travel Memory

What I love about salmiakki is how quickly it stopped being merely a flavour.

I remember the first bite and the “explosion of flavours” that made me reach immediately for another. I remember Audrey keeping emergency milk chocolate within arm’s reach, spitting out her tiny sample and accidentally surrendering the rest of the bag to me.

I remember the year of searching for salmiakki across Asia and finding nothing. I remember landing in Helsinki and treating the airport convenience store like the final checkpoint of a pilgrimage. I remember eating the mixed bag on the bus instead of waiting until we reached the city.

I remember the hotel-room test where ice cream and chocolate rose to the top, Audrey declared Super Salmiakki irredeemable and I attempted to compare four mixed-bag pieces simultaneously. I remember bringing the flavour home to Canada and discovering that a small hard pastille could still put me in my happy place after the trip was over.

And, unfortunately for my internal organs, I remember shot number three.

The photos, videos and transcripts preserve both sides of the experience. This is not a story in which Audrey eventually recognizes that I was right and joins me in worshipping salty licorice. I loved it. She wanted it gone. Both reactions were honest, and the distance between them is funnier than a manufactured consensus would ever be.

For many travellers, Finland means saunas, lakes, forests, design and northern lights.

For a strange little subgroup of us, it also means a black diamond-shaped candy that tastes like salt, licorice, medicine and somehow – after enough time away from it – home.

And if you find yourself somewhere over the Atlantic daydreaming about your next bag of salmiakki instead of your next major sight, do not worry.

You are in good company.

Now here is the part I am most curious about: do you like licorice? Have you tried salmiakki? Did you love it, hate it, launch it across the room Audrey-style or keep going until your liver filed a complaint? Let me know in the comments below.