Here's my latest column for the Charleston Gazette-Mail:
If you’re at Grandma’s house, that blue Danish butter cookie tin on the coffee table is never full of cookies.
Tomato pin cushion? Yes. Nuts? Sure. Sweet treats? You bet. Old-timey candies like squishy orange circus peanuts and hard, strawberry-wrapped candies can be found alongside spare nickels and bobby pins.
Occasionally, there may be one less common, curiously named candy in the mix: horehound.
Horehound has a distinct flavor often compared to root beer, black licorice, and marshmallow — all derived from plants with an earthy, herbal character. That bittersweet taste comes from “Marrubium vulgare,” a member of the mint family known for its fuzzy gray-green leaves and small white flowers, features that ultimately shaped the plant’s name.
The word “horehound” traces back to Old English, combining “har,” meaning gray or hairy, with “hune,” an early term for the plant itself. Together, harhune described the herb’s woolly leaves, and despite the modern spelling, the name has no connection to dogs or actual “hounds.”
Horehound candy is made by steeping dried leaves in hot water, then adding ingredients like butter, sugar, or molasses to create a boiled candy, cut into pieces once cooled. This simple process has remained largely unchanged for nearly two centuries, and its consistency and long shelf life made it a practical treat for families storing sweets in tins or jars.
Horehound’s use as a medicinal herb predates its candy form. People brewed teas, boiled syrups, and crafted lozenges from its leaves to treat coughs, sore throats, and congestion. In a region like Appalachia, where coal mining, logging and other dust-heavy industries often affected respiratory health, horehound provided a practical home remedy, offering some relief for irritated throats and lungs.
The plant itself is remarkably resilient. A hardy perennial, horehound grows easily in poor, well-drained soils, thrives in full sun, tolerates drought, and requires little maintenance. Appalachian families could cultivate it near their homes, using it for both culinary and medicinal purposes — a small herb with outsized utility.
Today, horehound candy isn’t as common as peppermint sticks or Bit-O-Honey, but it persists for those seeking old-fashioned sweets. Brands like Claey’s, Smith Brothers, and Jakemans keep the tradition alive, often found in local general stores, farmers markets, and specialty candy shops across Appalachia. These candies continue to appeal to people who appreciate both historic flavor and the herbal qualities that originally inspired them.
Horehound stands among other old-timey sweets as a link to a bygone era of candy-making, when treats were simple, often herbal, and sometimes doubled as remedies. Like butterscotch discs, root beer barrels, and licorice wheels, horehound reflects both the flavor preferences and practical ingenuity of past generations, offering a taste of history in every bite.
So next time you open that well-loved cookie tin, next to chalky Necco Wafers and chewy Mary Janes, you may just find a horehound drop — a candy whose curious name, earthy flavor, and herbal history carry a piece of Appalachia, tucked quietly among the classics.
