As someone who doesn’t find much in common with pastels, malt balls or Peeps (unless it's this kind of a Peep Show) ...



I have an Easter antidote to recommend: If you feel black on the inside this weekend, stop by Miette Confiserie. The little shop off Hayes Street might look like a sugar-coated, princess dream on the inside, but veer left once you're in the door and witness a whole wall of licorice—18 types in total, all as black as a death rocker.


An assortment of black licorice awaits.

Black licorice, like anchovies and Campari, has a flavor that either turns people off or turns them on (and then into die-hard fanatics). Even Caitlin Williams, the co-owner of Miette, wouldn’t touch licorice until she opened the Confiserie. “I hate Black Vines, but when it’s sweet or salty, I love it.” Now she favors the Klene Munten coins, which are firm and lightly salted.

I left Miette the other day with an assortment, including the “school chalk” sticks with a sweet, minty candy shell on the outside and some of the Klene (personally, I have yet to convert to the salt). My favorites are the Pontefract Cakes made in Haribo, Germany. They have a great, chewy texture and aren’t too sweet. I can eat a lot of them. Too many. They’re also possibly the first black licorice made ever, Williams says.


But if you must, go traditional.

The girls at Miette tied up more than one scorned-lover Valentine’s basket with a big, black satin bow; they'll happily do dark-side by request. But if you must be a traditionalist, chose from their tempting Easter baskets, including a kid version (mostly milk chocolate) and an adult version, which includes more bittersweet chocolate, salted caramels and a Five-Star chocolate egg—made of chocolate, peanut butter, peanuts, salt and crispy rice. “It kills me, it’s so good!” Williams says, with that kind of visceral, OMG! reaction people have to chocolate that, admittedly, licorice rarely gets.