Perhaps you remember being a child and biting into that colorful eraser expecting it to taste good, but midway into the bite, you're stuck in this unmoving horror at what you just bit into. You reverse the bite - and it comes off like a pop, all stuck to your teeth - and you feel the bland pastiness that's now covered the entirety of your mouth, and have to pretend that you didn't just bite into your friend's colorful eraser. This is part 1 of your inevitable love for licorice. What you now have in front of you is that same colorful eraser: in edible form. When you bite in, it shouldn't fight back like those gummies; it should wound and bend but not falter in a single chew. It shouldn't be overly sweet, for you are now wise and sugar is a played-out scheme. And it should be labeled "strawberry" and taste nothing like it. That is the perfect licorice. What we have here is a local optimum - a once-in-an-era perfection of a formula. The Trader Joe's strawberry licorice is undoubtedly a 10. (excuse the callused hand, but dont get it twisted: this is candy for the working hands)