Welcome to The Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 651. Our featured guest tonight is Glen Whelan. The first time we had Glen on he was  the Director of Sales for Peterson of Dublin. Now he is the Managing Director. Peterson is a family tradition for Glen. His father worked in the factory for 50 years, eventually serving as Factory Manager. Although Glen now serves as Managing Director, he started as a part-time retail associate in the Peterson store at the age of 16. After more than a decade in Peterson retail, Glen joined the sales team in Sallynoggin, and kept moving up from there. At the top of the show, we will have another edition of the virtual tour of Brian’s pipe collection with four more pipes that are not the usual shapes and styles that he collects.

Welcome to The Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 650. Our featured guests tonight are Jonni Adams and Grey Van Kuilenburg. Jonni makes the J. Adams line of pipes. He is originally from Leeds in West Yorkshire, England, and moved to the US in 1997. Grey makes the Van Kuilenburg line of pipes. He is a tattoo artist full time, and also hand carves custom electric guitars and basses for the last 30-years. Both Jonni and Grey have been making pipes for five years. They will be telling us about their trip to Denmark to work with Tom Eltang. At the top of the show Brian will answer a listener question about aging flake tobaccos.

Welcome to The Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 649. Our featured guest tonight is Jon David Cole. JD is the Owner/Tobacconist at The Country Squire in Jackson, MS, and the accompanying online store. We’ll have JD and Brian talking about sales trends for pipes and tobacco at the shop, and other news. This will be an extended conversation, so we will skip the usual Pipe Parts opening segment.

There is a transitory nature to this enjoyment of pipes and tobacco, making it an easy metaphor for the nature of time and our place within its flow, and, hopefully, enhancing our appreciation to lend focus to moments which we allow our perceptions to linger within. It is ephemeral, like all things we hold dear; so, too, the holiday season aims to serve as reminder to enjoy and cling to those moments—with family, loved ones, and spirit of good cheer. As another holiday season winds down and confronts us with the promise of renewal in the year ahead, let’s keep that in mind as we examine some of the sunset offerings from the Sutliff Tobacco Company. Pipe Force Episode III Stoved and Red Virginia give a naturally sweet, tangy, woody foundation. The hearty Rustica leaf has been hot-pressed and stoved for the first time. The process slightly tempers the bold tobacco and imparts a floral note, but still, the robust character is not lost, bringing body to the smoke. A portion of Dark-fired Kentucky then offers a mesquite spice to the mixture.  The last of the Pipe Force Project releases, Episode III keeps with the Star Wars aspect in much the same way as Revenge of the Sith did. Lieutenant General Marshall is the portrait of the Cthulian officer gracing the tin and the lucky challenge coin within, intoning a portent of the unknown and, possibly, the unfathomable—in this case, the first time stoved Rustica leaf has been included in a commercial blend. Inside the tin are a few stout, thick flakes that release a bouquet of campfire coals, almost a Scottish blend experience even absent Latakia or Orientals. Crumbling for preparation is easy, with the nearly quarter-inch flakes parting easily and at a good moisture for packing straight from the tin, or with a minimum of air drying to preference. On the light there is not as much of a bass note as the aroma would suggest, nor are there an abundance of high and bright notes either; it plants itself firmly in the middle of the range. A decidedly woody dimension continues from the aroma through the light and all the way to the heel; it is definitely the defining character of the blend’s flavour palette. Between the dark-fired and the stoved Rustica leaf, little room for expression remains. Perhaps this is something that some time in the tin will alter, allowing the red Virginia to pronounce some sweetness and depth eventually. On the technical side it burns strikingly well, requiring only a single light to find the heel—outdoors in a light breeze, mind you—and leaves the aftertaste of a flat IPA with hints of barbecue on the tongue, mercifully absent of bite. Overall the blend feels a bit flattened out and perhaps a bit too fresh to exhibit depth, with too much compression in the mix to feel the highs and lows, though at moments one can taste the umami that floats as a potential in the background. Not to say that it was a disappointment by any means—the smoke is agreeably as stout as the flakes, on the hearty and dry side, and with a good amount of nicotine delivered in the process. Cringle Flake Holiday Edition 2024 Aged Red Virginias from 2010 are pressed and sliced to showcase the dark side of the flue cured leaf. The mature Virginias offer bread, dark fruit and spice in this special smoking mixture.  This year’s holiday special edition, the last from the marque, is built around a legacy bundle of leaf from the storied McClelland holdings. Cringle Flake 2024 is nearly a companion smoke to Pipe Force III in the woody flavour spectrum, owing to the particular complexion of the flue-cured red Virginia leaf. The tin art is seasonably festive, either in the Cringle Flake version or the alternate Krampusnacht packaging exclusive to TobaccoPipes.com, though both are the exact same blend; my personal preference is for the wilder Krampusnacht image, as it calls to mind the art of Ed “Big Daddy” Roth, but it makes no difference to the flavor—or does it…? (No, it doesn’t.-ed.) As noted, the flakes are a blend of two vintages of red Virginia, a 2000 US crop and a 2010 Canadian from an earlier acquisition of McClelland stock. Nosing the tin there is detectably a hint of that old vinegary aroma, so fond memories of Christmases past are certainly contained therein. Overall it has its own read, though; to me, it’s a woody, oiled mahogany aroma, not unlike the smell of a new acoustic guitar (yes, I spent an inordinate amount of time smelling my Christmas gifts). There is a bit of tang, high and sour, though it lacks clear sweetness up front, both in the aroma and smoke—the notes of dark fruit and spice are slight at best. It seems apparent that the intention is that this is a Virginia blend destined for at least a little bit of tin-ageing. The woody tilt continues through the top to middle of the bowl, leaning into that aspect of the leaf and its curing. Though it took a few bowls to dial in, there was a richness to be found with some deepening of the bass notes—think brown bread and extra-sharp cheddar—and highlights of a clover honey character on the palate and retrohale. The blend benefits greatly from a sharp black coffee or strong tea, particularly for repeated servings, as well as some delayed gratification technique—I found that taking an initial light and burning until it needed tending, then allowing it some room to breathe, suitably amplified the flavour profile. Despite some astringency in the overtones, after finding the proper pace it proved a very repeatable and enjoyable smoke. The holidays are a celebration not of what we acquire, but of what we can share. Stashing away a tin or three of these stocking stuffers will make for savoury moments to enjoy, hopefully with good company. In closing, with a repeat of last […]

Well there’s nothing like a touch of the plague to usher in the changing season. Leaving the airport just when the first advertisements for all things pumpkin spice began to appear—lattes, muffins, shampoos, trash bags, and myriad other concoctions—so, too, my ability to breathe freely disappeared. The unfortunate side effect of losing one’s sense of taste and smell for weeks is the utter inability to enjoy tobacco. Not that I consider myself an expert on anything but my own tastes, but be forewarned that this review was made with mildly impugned sensory equipment. Just when a comforting pipe was most needed, its comfort was denied. Be that as it may, the road to recovery found me limping along on one lung this past month, trying to wrest the particulars of two blends on offer from Sutliff: the latest 175th Anniversary blend, Silver Quarter, as well as their spooky seasonal Maple Shadows II. Silver Quarter is a new style on offer from Sutliff, their first coin-cut blend. Naturally a Virginia-Perique, it is enhanced with a traditional core of black Cavendish. In the tin it holds much promise, with a lightly bready and very woody, if ever-so-slightly sour, aroma. After some time acclimating to air, the bouquet softens further and offers hints of the burley with some chocolaty notes wafting through the more dominant dry grassy aspect. The tin art is of a coin-style bas-relief bust, presumably of a founding Sutliff brother, à la The Old Boss On the reverse of the tin we find the blend’s description: Reflecting on Sutliffs 175 years of tobacco excellence, we came across a brand that embodies true value, SILVER QUARTER. This name pays homage to Sutliffs roots, the legacy of two brothers who popularized pipe smoking in the burgeoning mining society of San Francisco. We celebrate this heritage with a coin cut composed of the finest African Virginias, complemented by a core of Perique and Black Cavendish.    The tin notes are, forgive the pun, on the nose for a good VaPer blend: mild tart sweetness peeking out from behind dried hay and slight chocolate undertones, with a lightly tannic finish of weathered oak. It is always a joy to prepare a coin cut, my preference being to put a few in my palm and vigorously warm my hands together to fully break them apart. These well-formed discs pack and light easily, and smoke with little prodding to the end of the bowl. For technical points it scores well—it smokes light, and it’s easy to tend the ember. While it gets sharp after a few quick bowls, pacing should be heeded to easily smoke down to the heel without inviting bite. Of the flavor, though, I am left a bit wanting. There are tart and high notes aplenty, but very little of the lemony citrus I would anticipate, as well as scant midtones; they tend more toward the red wine-vinegary and sour. The flavors are muted, also, lacking the sweetness and piquancy of other marques—the small measure of Perique tickles the nose now and again with peppery hints, and there is a smidge of a deeper sweetness to be found in the Cavendish from puff to puff, but overall it lacks some dynamism. The Virginias, to my palate, come off a bit on the dry side, and here they dominate the blend. The aftertaste and mouthfeel are neutral, again evincing more of the dry, woody, tartly tannic end of the spectrum. The blend has plenty of polish, but not enough depth or richness (*yet) to make it a standout. Here, comparisons are inevitable: Luxury Bullseye Flake has more sweetness, both from its Virginia as well as its Cavendish, and a better finish; Davidoff is similar but with a pronounced umami that is absent here; as for Escudo, I haven’t had any fresh tins lately so it would be unfair to compare. While it rates as a solid, fairly mild smoke, particularly to lovers of the genre, it does not surprise with any exceptional flavors. To be fair, all the boxes have been checked for the blend to benefit from some real aging, and it would be worth checking in on this after a couple of years sealed away. I’ve set half my tin aside to sample again in a month or two, in case I’m merely suffering from the lingering effects of parosmia, and will amend this review in that case. Maple Shadows II, on the other hand, made up for the weeks of sniffling and sneezing I’d endured. Offered in a full 8 ounce tin with delightfully spooky Halloween art, it’s (hopefully) enough to last through the season. Somehow I had missed this last year, so it’s a real pleasure to get some in my candy bucket this year. As the chilling winds of autumn draw eerie prattle from contorted, deciduous limbs, we find ourselves possessed by the spirit of the season. Bewitched by a dissonant charm, we’ve created Maple Shadows. In a season that is defined by the unlikely harmony of treats and frights, we’ve joined the enchanting sweetness of maple with the earthy spice of Dark Fired Kentucky for a smoking experience that captures the senses with an otherworldly fusion of flavor. This may be the best aromatic blend Sutliff’s ever made—and they make a ton of them. First off, it’s not overbearing in the least—quite the opposite, it is also one of the more restrained aromatics they’ve ever made, with a clear but very light topping that melds oh-so-well with their choice Kentucky added to the mix. Opening the tin, the sweet maple is up front and center, but so too is the must of fallen leaves, bready pie crusts, and a crackling fire in the hearth—a perfect invocation of Herbstdüfte in a can. Packing best in an open and capacious bowl, the flavoring is subtle, and recedes to the background while puffing. With a sweet coffee or tea to accompany, the aftertaste of the maple is reinvigorated on the palate […]

We’re in the dog days of summer, and in the heat and humidity I find my palate tends to become as erratic as the extreme weather. To be more precise, my entire biochemistry is busily making the continual adjustments that keep this finely-tuned machine old jalopy of a body in top form hobbling along, and my taste buds are a good indicator that the system is preoccupied with regulating itself. Therefore it’s no surprise that McCranie’s Roanoke, the tobacco that I’d been favoring since the winter months and regularly returning to between other review blends, just wasn’t hitting the spot anymore. We live in fortunate times that present no shortage of novel and interesting blends to try, so some speculation toward new flavors is in order. This month’s spotlight will thus fall on a couple of summer sequels, of a sort: first, the latest installment of Per Jensen’s Pipe Force line, Episode II to be exact; second, a new incarnation of Seattle Pipe Club’s Hogshead, this time with a bourbon barrel-aged twist. Much like The Empire Strikes Back improved on the previous film in that series, Episode II is a generational improvement on the English profile offered in Episode I. To my personal taste, while I enjoyed Episode I quite a bit, it didn’t have a definable hook for me; this iteration of a similar ingredient list hits much closer to the mark. Here again it is a Latakia-forward mixture presented with Katerini concoctions and stoved tobaccos, but with more variety and, for my money, more interest. From the tin: A mellow, sweet mixture of Bright, Red, and Stoved Virginia offers the exceptional base for smokey Latakia, floral Kentucky, spice of Stoved Katerini and the ambrosial berry and spice of Katerini Perique. The result is a harmony of flavor in perfect balance. The bouquet in the tin is tart, heathery, and leathery, in equal proportion. The aroma is dry and smoky with clear clay overtones and, as advertised, faint berry notes from the tin. In the bowl the sweetness sneaks in immediately, displaying a wonderful synergy between the Katerini Perique (Periquini? Katerique?) and the Virginias, offering a flavor unique and quite apart from the usual raisiny range commonly found in Virginia / Perique meldings. Conversely, the Latakia’s smoky, burning-rubber character is also influenced by the Katerini, directing it toward a very pinyon-esque range of aroma that lingers distinctly the room note afterward. Speaking of room note, it can become rather tart after repeated bowls—advise any expected visitors that no, there isn’t a diesel fire in your house, you’re just savoring your time with a new blend. It’s offered as a tight 50g crumble cake, easily broken apart for preparation. As if it needed any more curb appeal, every 10th tin of the series includes a challenge coin featuring the tin’s artwork inside, and this was a lucky tin. It’s a great way to have fun with the series, makes a great addition to the random tchotchkes adorning one’s desk, and serves as a very tactile fidget toy that doubles as a brand reminder—is it time to stock up again? In my testing it seemed at its best in a wider, shallower bowl; the ember was easier to tend, breath pacing allowed a fuller flavor, and it didn’t veer too strongly to the tarry tones that Lat can have. Of the flavors there were many—often varying from bowl to bowl, and very dependent on accompanying beverage or previous meal, it seems. It’s an unfocused blend, but not to its detriment in this regard; it had a very consistent overall tone, with each bowl eliciting some new and interesting flavor moments—my notes are all over the spectrum, with observations like popcorn, maple bacon, charred cardboard, the aforementioned diesel fumes, burnt beef ends, dried silage, musky oak, swamp water (peaty!), and dried vodka. Appreciably, those who enjoy Latakia will read all these descriptors and understand that none of them are negative. It was so fun to keep chasing these disparate flavors that I did incur some mouth fatigue, just this side of bite, after rapidly repeated bowls. Slow smoking and pacing are advised, as the nicotine was mild enough to not discourage such practice. Overall, Episode II is a blend with so many interesting things going on that it warrants another taste after it has some age on it. My hope is that with some time in the tin, the Latakia notes will tone down on the dryness and the Viriginia / Katerique sweetness will amplify, with all the other cacophonous notes finding their home in the in-between spaces comfortably. Per’s experiments with these new treatments of old leaf are yielding remarkable results, and I look forward to seeing them in more blends in the future, and indeed more innovation of this sort in the tobacco world in general. Tasting something so similar, yet so slightly different, from what’s been available before is what this market needs. Seattle Pipe Club Hogshead: Bourbon Barrel Aged Review Our second summer blockbuster is SPC’s  Hogshead: Bourbon Barrel Aged. Somewhat akin to that other summer blockbuster, Deadpool & Wolverine, this one is a cut above its predecessor. Thank you ladies and gentlemen, I’ll be here all week, tip your waitress… Vintage Virginia tobacco cultivated from around the world aged in a bourbon barrel for 30 days. The tobacco is then pressed and cut for a unique and one of a kind smoking experience. Well at least they didn’t prattle on with the ad copy and let the blend speak for itself. Veering a hard left from the boisterous melange of the Pipe Force, this iteration of Hogshead is a dead simple straight Virginia blend of the same 10-year-old red & orange used in the prior, this time presented in thickly-sliced pressed flakes, aged in bourbon barrels. Deceptively simple, that is—the flavors of this blend are robust and varied, punching above their weight class for being confined to the comparatively narrow range of “just Virginia”. The first […]

A few years ago, I remember it well, I received in the post an unexpected gift of the sort that inspires the instantaneous rendition of an awkward happy dance. I’m apparently not a very good dancer, at least if the reactions of my kid and dog hold true. Everybody’s a critic. Sometimes, I just can’t help myself. (It’s a good thing disco died before I gained any sort of notoriety for my exhibitions. When it comes to tripping the light fantastic, I’m more like Elaine from Seinfeld than Saturday Night Fever’s Tony Manero. No videos are forthcoming. Don’t even ask.)  The plainly wrapped parcel was in the postbox, my own address cryptically hand-written as the return, and no postmark indicating the source of the package. Since I had no recollection of having sent anything to myself, it was a genuine surprise. After a little head scratching, I pulled open the wrapping and opened the box without ceremony, only to find another similarly wrapped one within, also lacking any clues as to the package’s origin. Curious. A mail bomb? Surely anyone with seriously nefarious intentions would be more thoughtful about not arousing undue suspicions.  I poured a dram of my finest whisky, just in case it might be my last, took the smaller parcel to the farthest reaches of the weed patch loosely referred to as the “yard,” and, listening carefully for ticking, carefully sliced the sealing tape with my pocket knife. I carefully opened the flaps, and averted my eyes while pondering that digital detonation devices probably don’t tick… Too late to call in the EOD. Fortunately, no explosive device was detonated, no deadly gas released. Instead, inside was a plain white envelope emblazoned in pink ink with my name and adorned by a small heart. Cute. The envelope concealed a little card, with the hand-written words, “Your tobaccos turn me on.” It was signed simply “Scarlett J,” with another little heart. Ever since seeing Lost in Translation, I’ve had a thing for Scarlett Johansson, but I had no idea she was a pipe smoker. Bonus!  Under the envelope, wrapped in bubble packing,  was a fabric pipe sock of anonymous origin, quite plain, with a thin cord tied round the top. I took the package back inside, poured another Scotch, and sat down to explore the contents further. After removing the pipe from the sock, I immediately recognized it. I’d seen it not long before on a seller’s site. I’d even shared the link with a friend who shares my adoration for interesting old pieces, and who knows of my predilection for a particular actress, at least in one role. While there may be another one like this out there, it’s unlikely. It’s a beautiful old Comoy’s Virgin Briar made for the 1933 Chicago World’s Fair, a uniquely fluted apple with a tapered stem.  These were all the clues I needed. Using my finely honed skills of detection, I now knew both where it had come from, and who had been responsible for it finding its way to me. I gave my presumed benefactor a call, and employed all the subtle interrogation techniques I’d learned from watching too many episodes of Criminal Minds in an attempt to draw a confession out of him. Eventually, he broke by asking the question, “How does it smoke?” Aha! Got you. But, at that point, I couldn’t answer him. I’d been too busy gawking at the thing to fill it with tobacco. So, while we were talking, I gave it a go.  I’d just finished a bowl of some excellent vintage leaf in another really nice pipe. It was a great smoke, but nothing prepared me for what was to come. There was so much more depth and complexity here, with nuances clearly articulated that were almost completely missing in the prior bowl. The virginias delivered a caramel-like sweetness, the orientals swirled over my tongue like a genie set free from Aladdin’s lamp, and the latakia rendered softer, more polished. In a word, it was superb. Even after all these years, it’s still unfathomable to me that one pipe can deliver a really good smoke, while another can transcend.  Beyond purity of taste, there’s some sort of fascinating interplay, an inexplicable synergy between certain tobaccos and briars that transforms the smoking experience into something more, something sublime.  For all we know and understand about pipes, about pipe making, about briar and brands, it remains the unknown that continues to fascinate and delight. With this pipe, was there something special about the wood that made it great? Was there something about the way it was made that perhaps enhanced its strengths, while deleting any potential weaknesses? In many cases with very old pipes, I’m inclined to attribute a superior smoke to the way it had been treated during all the years I did not possess it, but this one had been so lightly smoked that the cutting lathe’s chuck marks were still visible in the bowl, so it wasn’t that. It’s even possible that the last time this nearly pristine pipe was smoked, maybe the only time, was shortly after it was sold. Eighty years is a long time to rest. Here’s the problem, the sleeping dogs part. After such a magical smoke comes the fear that the next bowl might not live up to the expectations set by the first. It’s unlikely, sure, but it’s happened enough times in the past that the thought crosses my mind. Or could it be that the excitement of receiving this precious gift had simply influenced me sufficiently to make me focus more on the subtleties causing the experience to seem better than it was? Would it be best just to have the memory of that great smoke intact in my noggin, rather than risk disappointment?  It took me a long time to give it another go. Fortunately, it again delivered, and has every time I’ve smoked it since. Maybe there’s still a bit of bias at […]

I remember the first time I heard someone else say it. “How many pipes do I need? Just one more.” It’s glib, sure, a bit of a joke, but it also rings a bell of truth, at least to me. I certainly have “enough” pipes, but pipes are seductive little things. Just when we think we’re all set, we have enough, another will come along that tempts us beyond any sense of reason. I suppose it’s the same way with any sort of collecting. There’s always another white whale we’re in pursuit of. When we finally track that one down, though, another will almost inevitably breach the surface, taking its place as the new object of our desire, enticing us to change course and set sail once again. But, there’s a potential problem with having a lot of pipes. Maybe. The more pipes we may have, the harder it can be to keep them in rotation. It makes sense. We tend to gravitate towards our current faves, the ones that most appeal to us for whatever reason, and sometimes, maybe they stay in rotation longer than they really should. The side-effect of this, of course, is that another favored pipe might end up too-long forgotten. That’s exactly what happened recently. Exhibit A: The Castello pictured is one that has been long overlooked. It’s a Trademark shape #55. It’s a really nice example of the shape. The red pearlized stem is beautifully done. The wood isn’t really anything special to look at, but it’s evenly covered, without any bald spots. When I look at it, I wonder why it wasn’t done in the more typical dark ruby-red finish that adorns most Trademarks. I’ve seen a great deal of variation amongst the grade over the years, including one really nice bent-bulldog that left the factory with a brown sandblasted finish. (For those who don’t know, Trademark has long been the lowest Castello smooth grade, usually finished in a dark red.) Was this a stamping/grading error, or is there just more leeway in the grade than we’ve come to expect? I might never know. This example is from the early 1970s, maybe even the late 1960s, identified by the upper case Ks in the grade designation. (On Sea Rock and Old Antiquari pipes, the Ks reflect the size, while with the smooth finishes, Trademark, Castello and Collection, the Ks represent the relative grade.) It has been living in a different rack than the one housing the majority of my #55s. I don’t recall why I put it there, but as many of us can relate to, rack space is often at a premium. I stumbled upon it while looking for something completely different. “Oh, you? Why are you there? I remember you smoke pretty well.” Yeah, I sometimes talk to my pipes – one of many quirks, I suppose. I won’t begin to worry until they start talking back. I grabbed it from the rack, dusted it off, and decided to give it a fill with a bowl of a slightly aged VA/perique blend, Telegraph Hill, from 2018. What a delightful smoke! At five years, the tobacco is expressing a lot of the complexities of aged Virginias and the perique adds a delightful fruitiness. When young, the composition is a bit brighter, maybe a little spicier, but time has polished any edges, and amplified the sweeter notes. Like the pipe, I’d forgotten about this blend for quite a while, but one evening in March, after chatting with my good friend Nate, who is quite a fan of it, I decided it might be time to revisit it. I got a couple of fresh ones, and excavated a couple older tins from the library. I normally reach for Fillmore when I want a VA/perique thing because of its boldness and depth, but in revisiting this one, I’m finding something soothing and comfortable about it that I’ve really been enjoying, both young and aged. Sticking with the theme of the forgotten, and as a perhaps interesting tidbit to the photographically inclined, I shot the pictures for this month’s column with my old Nikkor-O 35mm/2.0 mounted on my trusty Nikon Df. The last time I used this lens, it was adapted to one of my Fujifilm bodies, and I didn’t care much for the results, so I put it away and pretty much forgot about it. But, I’ve recently been exploring some of my old kit, deciding what to keep, what to pass along, and this one once again came to my attention, kind of like that old Castello. On the Df, there’s something about its vintage rendering that I find truly appealing. Another forgotten treasure, and just like with that old pipe, it seems that, at least today, everything old is new again. If your collection is on the large side, are there pipes or tobaccos that you’ve all but forgotten, only to come back to them one day to find yourself wondering why? Maybe it’s just another fun dimension to this endlessly fascinating journey.

There’s a pipe in my collection that I cannot bring myself to smoke, though I’ve had it for more years than I care to recall. It’s old, or shall I say, well experienced; that experience, that oldness came to it long before it was in my possession. The pipe is an old Comoy’s Grand Slam from the 1940s. The shape (#93), a slightly canted, stack billiard (sometimes referred to as a Belgian) is right up my alley, and it’s a beautiful example of it. It came to me with some wear and tear; nothing unusual for an old pipe, but more the signs of one that has been well loved, smoked a lot, treated as a favorite tool, cherished, in a sense, by frequent use. It’s the pipe equivalent of a vintage car that’s been driven a lot, enjoyed fully and maintained adequately, rather than one kept in a spotless garage, dusted and detailed weekly, brought out only for leisurely Sunday drives, or to be ogled behind the ropes at the next Concours d’Elegance. When it arrived, those uncounted years ago, it wanted a little restoration. Nothing dramatic needed to be done to it, but the stem was oxidized, the finish a little dingy. The cake was even and fairly thin, and the airway was relatively clean, both signs that its previous owner cared for it, but the bowl’s surface was a little drab and dull. It took little effort to reveal its beauty, to show the lovely contrasted stain and interesting grain beneath the old wax. I often think I should do before and after photos of pipes that I work on, but those thoughts always come after the work’s been done. This one would have been a great illustration of how years of handling that can sometimes make a pipe more beautiful, can other times make it just look grungy.  Once I’d cleaned up the externals, it was time to address the inside bits. I approach this a little bassackwards, I realize. It would be more sensible to take care of the inside before addressing the outside, but it’s how I roll. If an old pipe isn’t pretty to look at, it’s unlikely that I’ll care much about it, and cleaning is usually the hardest part, or at least the most boring part of any restoration for me. Alcohol and pipe cleaners. Lots of pipe cleaners. That’s why I leave it for last. Sometimes, I’ll even give a pipe a test smoke before a deep cleaning, just for a point of reference. I gave it a sniff to get an idea of what I was up against, and it stopped me cold. There in that bowl was an aroma that I had not smelled in decades. My head was instantly filled with memories of being in the back room of a fabled Berkeley tobacconist’s shop where I stumbled upon a few jars of long discontinued blends. One of them, a blend called Forty and Eight, had the most engaging and unusual scent of any tobacco I’d stuck my schnoz into. It was sweet, but not in a candy store way. There were none of the usual vanilla, cherry, berry or anise notes of typical aromatics, nothing that could be compared to aftershave or deodorant soap, but something almost musky, a little earthy, something exotic. The shop’s owner couldn’t tell me what was in it,  how, or where it had been produced. The old blend had been retired before he’d bought the place. The printed catalogue gave no clues, either, other than being overprinted with the word “DISCONTINUED” in bold, rubber-stamp type. (And, I don’t recall it as being “highly aromatic” as the description indicates.)  There was still quite a bit in the jar. Being, at that point, an intrepid explorer of all kinds of tobaccos, whether I thought I’d like them or not, I had to give it a try. It was burly based, but also comprised a good measure of virginia leaf, and maybe some other varieties; I didn’t have enough experience at the time to really pick it apart. But, that aroma was unlike anything I’d experienced before or since. It was something now completely lost to time. Until it wasn’t. Memories are powerful things, and there is no sense more tightly bound to memory than our sense of smell. One whiff was all it took to carry me back in time, conjuring a vivid recollection of something long submerged in the inky depths of a subconscious mind.  Look, I know as well as anyone that pipes are meant to be smoked, and that many feel it almost sacrilegious to have a pipe and not set it to its intended task. In this case, I simply can’t. I won’t. Ever.  Rationally, I am fairly certain this pipe would probably be a great smoke. It was too well loved by its previous caretaker to be anything less than that. My choice not to smoke it is an emotional one, not something rational. Of the thousands of pipes that have passed through my hands over the years, this is the only one to create such a singular and vivid, almost Proustian recollection of temps perdu, of lost time. It revivified a long dormant memory that is mine, and mine alone, and that’s enough. I keep it in a drawer with other old English pipes. In some ways, it’s nothing special, just a nice old pipe. I don’t lavish it with any particular care that arguably befits the hidden treasure that it holds. It’s not in a special box, or displayed preciously in a glass cabinet. Every once in a while, I take it out, point my nose bowlwards, and every time, those memories return just as powerfully as they did the first time. I have no idea how long it’s been since its last owner smoked it, but in the years I’ve had it, there seems to have been very little degradation of the aroma, and that’s […]

This might strike some of you as weird, but I think I’m in a time warp. On a recent trip to South Carolina, I looked for the old-time bricks-and-mortar pipes and tobacco shops. I know there were some somewhere, but nary one did I find while driving around in a couple of shopping districts. Oh, there were a plethora of vape shops. But tobacco pipes bricks-and-mortar shops are more to the Pundit’s notions. Now, before you run out to the nearest shrink and send them my way, this was not the only strange oddball occurrence. I covered the legendary Masters golf tournament in Augusta, Ga., four times, back in the day. So, while I was so close to the famed course during my South Carolina sojourn,  I visited Augusta, Ga., and decided I would drive down the beautiful Magnolia-covered lane to the main area once more. The trees, planted on both sides of the road to the clubhouse, are 175 years old, according to Master’s history. Nope, didn’t get to do that either. It’s a private club, I was told by a half-smiling gate guard manning a far-away entry from the main gate entrance to the famed golf course at Augusta National.   Yes, dear friends, the times are a-changing. No trip down memory lane for an old sports writer, and, sadly, pipes and tobacco stores were difficult to find in the once great state of tobacco barns and tobacco fields.   Ok, sorry for the old-fashioned rant. On to more important thoughts.   Usually on International Pipe Smoking Day, I pull out a vintage tobacco blend from the cellar and fill up a classic old friend.   I began reminiscing this IPSD about my beloved pipes and tobacco cellar. So, I hauled out a couple of my favorites along with an aging Mason jar of Virginia, Latakia with a dab of Orientals.   It was a rare delight for an old-fashioned pipe and tobacco day. When you are puffing your pipe in the fluffy ease of an afternoon, all worries seem to fade away. More pleasant thoughts arise, like a puffy cloud of pipe smoke.   I looked up a recent column by Chuck Stanion in his “History of International Pipe Smoking Day February 19, 2021, in SmokingPipes.com’s Daily Reader and Tobacco Talk.  Chuck outlines the history of the IPSD and its purpose. It’s a must-read for pipe smokers to find a refreshing view of our hobby.   And now it’s time for Pipe Smokers of the Past:   Jack Kerouac was born: on March 12, 1922, in Lowell, Mass., and died on Oct. 21, 1969, in St. Petersburg, Fla.   Kerouac was one of the leaders of the Beat movement in the 1950s along with Allen Ginsberg,  Gary Snyder, Gregory Corso, and Lawrence Ferlinghetti, among others.   His most famous work was “On the Road” published in 1957. That book spawned beat poets across the nation and produced broad cultural influence.   Quite naturally, Pundit ran right out and bought a first edition, fancying himself something of a beat poet.  And, sadly, that first copy has been lost, but replaced. Oh, the woes of youth! However, I did visit Kerouac’s home in Florida, just to soak up the muses of that long-gone era. The beat continues! Several online sites say the beat author smoked a pipe and even one site showed photos of his old pipe stands. However, I was unable to find certifiable pipe tobacco he smoked. All human beings are also dream beings. Dreaming ties all mankind together—Jack Kerouac   Next up is Edgar Rice Burroughs. He was born Sept. 1, 1875, in Chicago, Ill., and died March 19, 1950, in Encino, Calif.   He was the famed author of the Tarzan of the Jungle novels. And although I found evidence of his pipe smoking history, his tobacco preferences remain elusive.    Love is a strange master, and human nature is still stranger—Edgar Rice Burroughs.    A parting shot:   I have been a pipe smoker for many years—from my college days through the middlemarch.   However, I did cease for a good long span to take stock of things entering the senior geezerhood era. And then I returned with a passion. The embers of my pipe ardor have not waned, though I do smoke less now than in my younger days. Some time back, I decided smoking a pound a week was a little too much intensity.   My pipes and tobacco still give me much pleasure. It continues to fulfill a relaxing afternoon or mornings with coffee. And there are those moments of contemplation on life and its many twists and the unexpected. And at times, recalling the roads not taken, to steal an apt phrase from one of America’s greatest poets, the pipe-smoking Robert Frost.   I call it reflections in smoke.

Yes, some things are just too hard. Take, for example, trying not to bust the budget on a new, long-sought pipe from one of the master creators. I faced this issue many years ago when I saw one of the gods of pipe creations resting coyly in a bricks-and-mortar glass display case. The creation was so alluring I could hardly keep myself from throwing my money down on the barrel head, and to hell with debt. Everybody carries some, so why not for a longed-for pipe from this emperor of the ebauchon? More on that dilemma in a moment, but first let’s relax with thoughts of a new year, new adventures, new pipes, and new tobacco blends. Joy reigns. Uh, yes, Pundit is a bit ga-ga over the possibility of new pipe toys. Just read about new pipes from BriarWorks at SmokingPipes.com. Oh, joy to behold! As we flutter into new days, this missive can be thought of as views of the heart (ahem, of the briar) and the joys of our wonderful hobby. The masterminds at Briar Works have birthed a beautiful calabash. Amazing and with a finish so fine it makes you want to dance. I wrote a story long ago on Briar Works in Columbia, Tenn., south of Nashville. The shop was in its early beginnings. Now Pete Provost and his crew have a smoking lounge to enhance the fun. This is the foundational meaning of a new year. Pipes and tobacco, especially from the masters, make our days go better from sunup to sundown. But I don’t want you to think Pundit has forgotten his old friends. I was reminiscing not long ago about the senescent drugstore, drugstore soda fountain counters, and drugstore pipes and tobacco. Of course, those days are well behind us, but I still have one or two of those old pipes and tobacco tins as well as dear thoughts of fountain-made milkshakes and those squat and colorful music boxes sitting right on the counter in which you shoved nickles and dimes to hear the latest rock-n-roll hit. And as I reminisced, I was struck by another reverie of an Elysian pipe I once absolutely drooled to own. Back those long years ago, I used to search many a brick and mortar pipe and tobacco shop, and even online. Nothing presented my pipe dream, until one day, there it was: A Former Lovat-billiard shape. Having no idea who or what a Former was, you can only guess my surprise when I discovered Former’s given name is Hans “Former” Nielsen, a premiere Danish carver, from the land of legendary pipe carvers. The “Former” nickname is from his younger days. Now 84-years-old, the famed Danish carver, who was trained by fabled Danish carvers and once worked for W.O. Larsen, continues to produce immaculate pipes of wondrous design. https://www.smokingpipes.com/smokingpipesblog/single.cfm/post/legendary-hans-former-nielsen Instant labor of Lovat love. I had to have it, no matter the price. But it was well above my pay grade. And if I had to purchase that pipe today, I would have to sell my house. Needless to say, I struggled to find a way to purchase the Lovat. I just could not in right mind figure a way to acquire the beauty and keep peace in the household. I passed on the purchase, walking downtrodden from the shop. But as they say, just ’cause he ain’t talking don’t mean he ain’t still figuring. And ponder on it I did. Several days later I figured maybe I could work out a plan with the shop owner, whom I knew. Why, yes, the shop owner said. With a hefty down payment, he could work out a plan over a few weeks. The deal was cut and I walked out the shop doors with my beautiful new goddess. Some days later, the lady of the household found my unsmoked pipe where I had stored it in a socks drawer, not wanting to attract attention. I was greeted with an evening conversation that began, “And, so, what did that pipe cost? Too much, like all the rest I see stored away?” I explained it was not bad, and that I had figured a payment plan over the next months that was affordable. “Oh,” said the lady of the house, “so it’s as much as a car payment!” It did not get better after that first round. After much interrogation, I caved. I returned the Former Lovat to the bricks and mortar, got a refund, and again slunk downtrodden from the shop — heartbroken. I think of that beautiful Former Lovat today, my Lovat’s Labor’s Lost. Now for Pipe Smokers of the Past. John Steinbeck, the 1962 Nobel Prize in Literature winner, was born Feb. 27, 1902, in Salinas, Calif., and died Dec. 20, 1968, in New York. “You know how advice is. You only want it if it agrees with what you wanted to do anyway.”—John Steinbeck For a wonderful biographical and character study of Steinbeck, check out Zachary Podl’s Sept. 15, 2023 Pipe Line piece. https://www.smokingpipes.com/smokingpipesblog/single.cfm/post/john-steinbeck-writer-and-pipe-smoker

Make no mistake, this was a fairly good year. So many pipes and so little time. Which forced Pundit to deal with an unruly herd of pipes. The past, always a good forecast of the future, has always been go big or go home for the Pundit. This year was time to do a little cowboy corralling, lassoing, and cutting the herd so new additions could be considered in this new year. There were so many good year-end tobacco blends from which to choose, the Pundit was in a maze of confusion and indecision. Uhm, no, that’s not too unusual. But, my goodness, there were some hard choices from fresh Christmas blends to updates of old favorites. There are not too many Virginia, English, and smooth aromatic blends that Pundit doesn’t enjoy. Yes, it’s been a very good year for pipe smokers. And from what I have seen carousing some of the online pipe shops, we are in for another outstanding year. Per cutting back the herd. I’m a sucker for Christmas tobacco blends. Let a new Christmas delight show up, and the Pundit is on it, like a kiddie ripping open a wrapped present beneath the tree. Ok, I get it, Christmas is over and let’s move on. I’ve got something of a seasonal story to tell you. Date evades me, but I was riding down an old country road on a bright spring day some years back when I spotted an older gentleman sitting on a tombstone. He was sitting and resting atop a tall headstone in a country church cemetery and staring off into the cemetery. The old memorial stones were baked in a faded gray look, with many names and dates faded into shadows. Naturally, I stopped to see if he might need help or something. He was puffing his pipe and just looking off. I said hello and asked him if all was okay. “Yes,” he said. “I’m just having a chat with Naomi.” Naomi, he told me, died a few years back right before Christmas, just after Thanksgiving and he was telling her how his Christmas was. He took another puff on his pipe. I asked him how long the two had been married. “All our lives,” he told me. Translated, the name Naomi means “gentle,” or “pleasantness,” according to a Google search. He puffed a bit more. I reached for a handkerchief to manage a tear, and then pulled out my pipe. We chatted a bit more before I left him to his thoughts of Naomi and his pipe. The New Year is not only a good moment for pipes, but as with Naomi, the year is also a time to reflect. To find the gentleness in life, especially while relaxing with your new pipe. I’ve thought about the gentleman and Naomi many times over the years since I interviewed him. And not to become too mushy but after that chance meeting, I thought of my pipes in a different light. They not only bring pleasure, especially with new purchases and new tobacco blends, but also pipes give me time to reflect on the past, present, and future, much like Scrooge in Charles Dickens’s classic, A Christmas Carol. If you recall that story—and, ahem, if not it’s time to read it for its many lessons when the ghosts of past, present, and future visit Scrooge. As for the New Year, the present, I’ll add more pipes to the herd, after the culling is over, the past. It will also be a New Year, the future,  of major tobacco additions to the cellar, especially from that master blender Jeremy Reeves of Cornell & Diehl. I’m always amazed at how Jeremy gets to the essence of a blend. His talent is that of a gourmet chef. Just sayin,’ Jeremy is in that league of top blenders, in Pundit’s view. Now, it’s time for some Pipe Smokers of the Past: Carl Sandburg was born Jan. 6, 1878, in Galesburg, Illinois; and died July 22, 1967, in Flat Rock, N.C. Sandburg was a poet, journalist, and a Pulitzer Prize winner for his biography of Abraham Lincoln. In addition, he won two more Pulitzers for his poetry. And if you have ever wondered where the “Good Morning, America,” phrase originated, you might consider his 1928  book, Good Morning, America, which some sources say is the origin of the expression. As for pipes, it is reported that he was rarely seen without his pipe, stuffed with plug tobacco. Now, that takes a strong constitution to smoke plug tobacco all day. Maybe that’s why he won three Pulitzers. He “plugged” away at it. Ok. On to another Pipe Smoker of the Past. John Ronald Reuel ( J.R.R.) Tolkien, an old favorite, was born Jan. 3, 1892; and died Sept. 2, 1973. Yes, Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, that J.R.R. Courage is found in unlikely places― J.R.R. Tolkien And if you need an outstanding read on the famous author and pipe smoker, see Chuck Stanion’s superb piece in his Aug. 27, 2021, Pipe Line column on Tolkien at SmokingPipes.com. A Parting Thought: My New Pipe, My New Year Pal