Ask G. L. Pease (Volume 41)
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Kevin Godbee - Oct 9, 2014
- 12 min read
G.L. Pease
It’s Saturday, 4 October as I sit down to scribble out this rather late edition of this column, and as I do so, I’m caught up in a mistral of thought blowing loudly through my head, matching its speed with the activities of the previous month. In the small winery at which I am seasonally employed, we’ve just taken in the last grapes we’ll process this year. It’s been exhilarating, exhausting, challenging. Harvest came early for the Pinot Noirs that we do, and the grapes, always on their own schedule, following the whims of nature, came fast. What took place over six or seven weeks last year happened during just under four weeks of September, leaving only some Zinfandel stragglers to arrive on the first day of October. The month was filled with long days of dark to dark early risings (which, as a nocturnal creature, is not in my nature) and late homecomings, sorting, fermenting, punching down, babysitting, temperature monitoring and adjustment, testing sugars, sealing, barreling. I’m often amused by the reaction of people when they learn that I work making wine, thinking it a glamourous thing; the stains on my nails, my hands, my jeans , the aching muscles, the constant fatigue are anything but that. It’s satisfying work, though. At the end of a day, there’s something real that can be pointed to. That. Over there. That’s what we did today.
After many months of resting in beautiful French oak barrels, the precious fluids will be bottled for at least another year’s slumber before being released, to finally be enjoyed, lingered over for many years to come. Deep satisfaction and instant gratification often don’t go together.
Gregory L. Pease taking the temperature under the cap of some fermenting Pinot Noir.
Note the skins and seeds on his arm. (Also, see if you can guess what the symbol is on his t-shirt.)
Photo Credit: Cyrille Hanson
And, as I write, I’m puffing on the first production samples of a new blend I’ve been working on for almost a year, and thinking about for quite a bit longer. Blending tobacco is a different process, in some ways more cerebral, not nearly as tiring or back-aching, and it generally happens on a shorter time-table, but when I get to experience the first example of the final product, the reward, that feeling of satisfaction is equally palpable.
From the beginning, I’ve always designed my blends specifically with aging in mind. As with fine vins de garde, fine tobaccos must be delicious in their youth, of course, but will continue to evolve, offering something new and exciting to those who have the patience to let them rest for a year, two years, ten. I often find my thoughts meandering through the fields of the similarities between wines and tobaccos. Once again, there’s more than a little truth to be found in those thoughts.
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On to the Q&A, or, in this month’s case, some hard-ass questions (HAQs) and bold speculations (BS)…
From Nacho: I’m a big fan of your tobaccos and your excellent columns, and something I’ve read amongst what you’ve written has prompted me to ask this question:
I read that some time ago you did a few tests to see how ambient humidity would affect the water content of pipe tobacco and found that 60% RH would translate into a 12% water content.
With this in mind, and being that I’m just too whimsical in my smoking to know whether I’ll be able to air out a blend for several hours before smoking (I live in an island, blends take a while to air out here…) wouldn’t it be a good idea to toss a small, 8-gram 62% Boveda pack inside each mason jar and that way the tobacco would always be at the perfect water content and ready to smoke at a moments notice? Is there any reason I’m not seeing which makes this a bad idea? Thanks a lot for your time, your excellent column and your delectable blends!
A: Thank you for the kind words, and for the interesting question. I’ve not done any experiments using these humidification packs, so I can’t offer anything concrete. It should work fine, but be aware that there might be some risk. If the tobacco is put into the jar with higher than ideal moisture, the pack might not "take up" enough of the excess moisture to bring the level down to the safe zone, and mold might bloom, especially in warmer climates. On the other side, I’ve occasionally seen humidity "pillows" develop mold spontaneously, which can adversely influence the taste and aroma of the tobacco. My suggestion would be to proceed with caution. Try it with a small amount of tobacco in a jar, and monitor it closely, removing the pack at the first sign of contamination by unwanted growth. If things get all fuzzy and ugly, you’ll have to throw the tobacco and the humidity pack away, and clean the jar with a little bleach, followed by vinegar, and a thorough water rinse.
Forrest writes: In reading reviews of straight virginias, in particular ones which have been aged, I’ve seen many reviewers talk about the nicotine kick in these tobaccos. This has confused me; I’ve been told repeatedly that virginias have very low nicotine content. Do they somehow gain nicotine when aged, or are the experiences of these reviewers due to a lower nicotine tolerance in some individuals?
A: A very interesting question, and one for which I’ve never found any sort of definitive answer. It’s not clear what’s going on in these cases, but one thing is certain; once tobacco is harvested and cured, halting its metabolic processes, the plant is no longer able to synthesize nicotine, so its level is fixed. Since it is somewhat volatile, it can be lowered slightly through various means, such as steaming, panning, toasting or stoving, but its concentration can not increase. Aged tobaccos, therefore, cannot have a higher nicotine content than they had when they were first produced. Of course, there’s more to the picture.
A tobacco plant’s nicotine content is determined by several things, including the specific cultivar, the climate during the growing season, soil conditions, such as nitrogen content, and the length and conditions of the curing cycle. Virginia types have nicotine contents ranging from fairly low to rather high, depending on these factors. Though blenders will generally try to maintain a relatively consistent nicotine level in their leaf sources, it’s always possible that one vintage’s product will be higher or lower than another’s. This could account for some of the differences people experience with aged blends; the older sample may simply have had higher nicotine concentration when it was produced.
But, there’s also another, albeit more complicated possibility. The pH, the relative acidity or alkalinity of the smoke stream, is a factor in the absorption of nicotine into the smoker’s bloodstream. (Cigarette companies, many years ago, found themselves in all sorts of hot water when they intentionally adjusted the smoke from their products to be more alkaline in order to increase the effective "dose" of nicotine smokers obtained.)
Over the short term, aging tends to lower the pH (increasing acidity) of the smoke, which is part of what accounts for the fact that moderately aged tobaccos are perceived as smoother and less harsh than fresher samples, but over the long term, something else, other organic or biological processes, may be taking place that raise the pH (increasing alkalinity). One possibility is that there is a conversion of some of the natural organic acids present in all tobacco, such as malic acid, into simpler, weaker acids in a process similar to the malolactic fermentation that some wines are put through to "soften" their sharp edges. Though I have been unable to find any research directly pertaining to this, I have noticed the distinctive aroma of this fermentation in some aged tobacco samples. There are other conceivable factors, as well, but that’s likely enough hand-waving for now.
One thing is certain; what’s going on in those little sealed biospheres is fascinating, complex, and only partly understood, as, to my knowledge, no one has yet done a detailed analysis on very long aged samples of specific tobaccos, but we can be sure of at least two things: that actual nicotine levels do not increase, and that aged tobacco is a deliciously Good Thing (TM), providing it was good to begin with.
From Olivier: First of all, I’d like to thank you for the excellent work you do writing your monthly columns. I always look forward to reading you and learning new things about our hobby. Now, here is my question: Why is it that I can sit down with a relatively small pipe and puff at a steady pace, producing a very decent volume of smoke for an hour or sometimes more and yet, the exact same amount of tobacco from a hand rolled cigar with a ring gauge similar to the diameter of the pipe’s tobacco chamber will only last about fifteen minutes? I thought about airflow, thickness of the leaves, burning surface and temperature but cannot figure that one out.
A: That’s a great question, and not an easy one to approach. The short answer is that it’s all about the combustion mechanics of the two devices. Beyond that, it’s time for more hand-waving, WAGs (wild assed guesses), and a little TIC (tongue in cheek) analysis.
First, a cigar is a fairly efficient device for combustion. The airflow through it is relatively unimpeded and linear (if the cigar is rolled properly), and the exit orifice has very nearly the same surface area as the cigar’s average cross-section. Further, the "cone" of combustion is significantly large relative to the cross-sectional area of the cigar. Some of the moisture that evolves during combustion will simply evaporate, whilst some will deposit itself in the leaf behind the ember. As the cigar is smoked, it tends to "cruise" between puffs, no doubt a result of its even airflow and the corresponding influences of fluid dynamics.
In a pipe, on the other hand, the airflow through the tobacco is less consistent, and being channeled through a small orifice at the bottom of the bowl would tend to make combustion less efficient. Additionally, the pipe’s walls affect the characteristics of the burning ember, resulting in a "cone" of combustion that is not nearly as enlarged as that of the cigar. More moisture tends to stay within the tobacco beneath the ember, which we generally experience as the pipe becoming more difficult to keep lit as we reach the bottom of the bowl. (The appearance of ye old soggy dottle at the end of a bowl is sometimes an egregious, and smelly testament to this phenomenon.) And, between puffs, the pipe’s combustion temperature drops significantly. Most of us tend to sip our smoke gently and slowly.
Looking at it this way, and considering that most people tend to puff cigars harder, whilst taking slow, measures sips from the pipe, we’d expect the cigar to burn faster, more efficiently than the pipe. But, the difference is still a little unsettling.
Of course, anecdotally, we’ve all experienced that the size of a cigar does not translate linearly to how long it will last, and neither does the size of the pipe’s tobacco chamber. A cigar with twice the tobacco content does not deliver double the smoking time, nor does a pipe with twice the chamber volume. Increasing the diameter of either by a factor of 1.4 doubles the volume, and therefore, theoretically, the mass of the tobacco, yet will not result in doubling the length of time for the tobacco to burn. (A robusto or a pot does not take longer to smoke than a petit corona or a billiard if puffed at the same rate.)
To gain a tiny bit more insight, I chose a pipe and a cigar with similar diameters, and took some measurements. Of course, one sample does not define a trend, but the results might be interesting.
The pipe’s chamber has a volume of roughly 10cc, and packed the way I normally do, it holds 2.7g of tobacco, giving a density of approximately 0.27g/cc. The cigar, after it was cut, had a volume of about 29cc, and weighed in at 13g. giving a density of approximately 0.45g/cc. (Somewhat surprising; I expected the pipe tobacco’s density to be greater, but I don’t pack very tightly. Other’s results would likely be different.)
I smoked the cigar, maintaining a fairly consistent puffing rate, measuring its length at 10 minute intervals, and observed a couple of interesting things. First, as the cigar was smoked, the rate of consumption decreased during the first half, starting at about 0.18cm/min, and decreasing to about 0.08cm/min at the 40 minute mark. At this point, about half the cigar was consumed, but the cigar went out. Further measurements would be skewed, so I stopped recording them. Recalculating, the density of the half-smoked cigar was approximately 0.38g/cc, slightly lower than that of the unsmoked cigar. I’d expected it to increase, as the moisture of combustion should have added weight to the remaining tobacco. My guess, here, is that either the roll is inconsistent, or that moisture was evaporating faster than it was being adsorbed, or, more likely, some combination of these factors was at work.
On to the pipe. The smoke lasted for a bit over 40 minutes. The first half of the bowl burned away in the first 15 minutes, meaning that the rate of combustion, as with the cigar, decreased as the tobacco was smoked. We know that pipe tobacco does take up increased moisture as it’s smoked, the result of combustion moisture and other distillates accumulating in the tobacco and on the surfaces of of the pipe.
My guess (this is the WAG part) is that a combination of combustion efficiency coupled with adsorption of moisture results in the pipe providing a longer burn time for any given volume of tobacco.
The conclusion? Pipes are superior to cigars for enjoying tobacco to its fullest. QED. (That’s the TIC part.)
With that, I think it’s time to take a deep breath, wring my hands whilst cackling in a well practiced mad scientist manner, close the book on this month’s column, remove the "Ask Doctor Science – He Knows More than You" shingle from the front door, and return to my fantasy world as Certified Master of the Universe. (If you don’t get the reference, you either have a short memory, or simply haven’t been reading this column long enough. Back issues are available. You’ve got a month to catch up.) Come, Igor. We have work to do.
-glp
 Since 1999, Gregory L. Pease has been the principal alchemist behind the blends of G.L. Pease Artisanal Tobaccos. He’s been a passionate pipeman since his university days, having cut his pipe teeth at the now extinct Drucquer & Sons Tobacconist in Berkeley, California. Greg is also author of The Briar & Leaf Chronicles, a photographer, recovering computer scientist, sometimes chef, and creator of The Epicure’s Asylum. See our interview with G. L. Pease here. |
Written by Kevin Godbee
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When I first started with the pipe as a quirky and precocious teen, the only tutelage I had at my disposal were scenes from old movies in which a well dressed chap would stick his pipe into a pouch, scoop tobacco into the bowl and press it down unceremoniously with his thumb. Then, with great flourish, heâd strike a match and light the thing with all manner of cinematic excess, puffing up vast clouds of smoke falling just short of completely obscuring his visage. While it may look good on film, it’s a terrible approach to actually enjoying the thing. Somehow, though, this âtechniqueâ seems to have survived in the contemporary vernacular, at least to some extent, even with bit-loads of information handily at our fingertips that should dissuade us from the practice. But, at the time, this misguided approach was all I had; itâs no wonder my early days of puffing were fraught with difficult lighting, harsh, bitter smokes and tongue bite, all culminating in a fireproof mass of ye old soggy dottle in the bottom of the bowl. Ultimately, the resulting frustration made me give up the pipe, at least for a while. While the idea of it was still very appealing, the practice of it was not. It wasnât until a few years later when, still full of curiosity and romantic notions of pipe smoking, I wandered into a real tobacconistâs shop, and learned my âmethodâ was a long way from the techniques that would bring me to any sort of pipe smoking bliss. So, after my poor start, and under the guidance of someone who actually seemed to know how to do it right, I was given the opportunity to approach the process anew, this time with much greater success. It was only because I was both perseverent, and fortunate to have a local shop staffed with knowledgeable people, that Iâve been able to enjoy the experience ever since. At least mostly⌠How many fledgeling pipe smokers have simply given up on an enjoyable pastime because of similar early mis-starts? Fortunately, today, itâs not hard to find helpful guidance at the press of a key or ten. But, at the same time, not all roads lead to Valhalla, and sometimes the advice offered might well be labeled with, âHere be dragons.â The other day, I came across a short video on-line in which a well-meaning tobacconist suggested packing a bowl of an âEnglishâ mixture ânice and tight.â Perhaps somewhat ironically, I was smoking, or trying to smoke a bowl that Iâd filled on auto-pilot, packed too tightly, and not only was having the devil of a time trying to keep it lit, I really wasnât enjoying the acrid smoke the tobacco issued during the brief periods in which it was actually burning. âNo, no, NO!â I found myself muttering at my pipe, and at the figure on the screen, my protests joined by the guttural growling noises that sometimes accompany my discontent. 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Welcome to The Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 604. Our featured interview tonight is with Jon David Cole. JD is the Owner/Tobacconist at The Country Squire in Jackson, MS, and he is the former co-host of the podcast, Country Squire Radio, which ended their 10-year run last year. Weâll have JD with the âFrom the Country Squireâ segment talking about all the new things happening at the store and in the business in general. At the top of the show, weâll continue our audio tour of Brian’s pipe collection.
Before we begin, I should tell you: this tobacco review is being written by an A.I. Not the fancy new GPTs or their ilk; no, this is last centuryâs meat-and-bone, all-organic model. To be fair, a large part of what we call knowledge is merely the accumulated perceptions and impressions gathered from a life wandered through, synthesized into a spongy mass of what-it-is-that-we-think-that-we-know. The algorithm for this prompt is simple enough: pump thousands of bowls of smoldering plant matter into a gaping maw, cross-reference the chemical sensations with all other matter previously ingested or inhaled, sieve it all through the diffuse and fractal twin lens of memory and emotion, and churn out a panoply of adjectives that attempts to convey the sensations to someone who hasnât experienced it yet. Odds are that a diligently trained monkey could succeed half the time; if this reviewer nears fifty-one percent then that would qualify as an unrivaled success. There must have been some similar musings perambulating through the mind of Per Jensen when he began his mad scientist routine at Sutliff with the Pipe Force project, which brings us to the current mixture under the microscopeâSutliffâs Pipe Force: Episode I. Here again are the unusual ingredients that engendered the series, with the stoved Rustica being the defining voice in this composition. From the tin: The Latakia-forward English mixture offers plenty of smoky flavor from the fire-cured leaf, which is artfully harmonized with floral, earthy Stoved Rustica. A mixture of high-grade Virginias imparts a natural sweetness. Katerini, the sole Oriental component, offers herb and spice notes bringing complexity and nuance to the flavor profile. Itâs certainly Latakia-forward, with the stoved Rustica doubling up on the rhythm section like a second bassist. A first whiff from the tin releases the aromas of shoe leather and hide glue in a base of clay soil with a campfire wafted over it like last nightâs beach party. Once itâs been accustomed to oxygen again, subtle hints of sweetness poke through from the Virginias: lemon rind, light milk chocolate, the dregs of a peaty Scotch, and muddled cherry. Old regulars like fresh-sawn oak and tilled earth are there, of course, with distinct notes of truffle, creosote, damp peat, and pine bark mulch. As an aside, Iâve been re-potting my camellias and the similarity of aroma to the ericaceous soil mix is notable; the Katerini really brings the unique depth of its vegetal complexion when supported by the Rustica and afforded more voice in the mix. The smoky Cyprian Latakia, in turn, is backed by equal earthiness from the Rustica, which overall exhibits a profile similar to dark-fired Kentucky; it leans more toward the woody and vegetal end of that spectrum, echoing and amplifying those traits of the other constituents. The tobacco is presented pressed and cut into a couple of thick, hearty flakes in the tin, lightly moist and easily crumbled to prepareâI prefer mine with a bit of drying time. The out-of-this-world tin art for this episode in the series is Major OâMeara smoking a cavalier. In the absence of confirmation, Iâm going to hazard a guess heâs of the Ithklur species. The first taste from the light is sweet, with hints of that milk chocolate dancing around the edges. The Virginia leads the smoke through the top of the bowl, and orchestrates it well. Thoroughly smoky with lemony, grassy highlights from the Virginia spectrum, it soon segues into the mid-bowl profile: heartier, smokier, with the flavor leaning to the mildly acrid and tangy tinge that is the campfire-esque signature of English blends. Caution advised, it can turn overly bitter if pushedâthis is where oneâs sipping technique is required to maintain the fullness of flavor through to the heel. I did tend toward a lot of relights, though it may have as much to do with technique as with the blend. Pacing is also important as the nicotine starts to manifest; though the Rusticaâs contribution has been tempered well by the stoving, it can certainly upend an empty stomach. At the end of every bowl, the mouthfeel somehow gets better. The balance of sugars in the tobaccos would seem to be spot-on in this regard. I started out my tasting in cobs, then cut short an unpleasant bowl in a meer, and finally landed on my best instrument with the lovely Dunhill 4427 pictured, a quaint group 4 shell briar with a gentle curve and Cumberland stem supporting a perfectly executed acorn bowl. It surprised me here, as Iâve learned through the years that I generally have the best experience with English blends in large, wide bowls. With this blend it seems that to get the best out of the Kateriniâs somewhat diaphanous influence the smaller bowl fared much better. Room note is very English, so the company you keep will either love it or hate it, and it doesnât linger too much. I find it paired best with a strong coffee; Sumatran beans complement the flavors well, as do Ethiopian if a lighter brew is preferred. Overall impressions of the blend are that itâs a curiously interesting take on the English genre, almost a reductive reconstruction of the theme using the unique components. This blend, if nothing else, expanded my vocabulary of sense perceptions with the uniquely treated leaf. While the average human can distinguish approximately one trillion (1,000,000,000,000!) different aromas, multiplied by seven basic tastes, and wholly dependent on variables from body chemistry to atmospheric conditions, our overworked and underpaid simian brains canât effectively catalog them all. Our pet adding machines are exceedingly good at this, however, and someday soon theyâll be the ultimate and unequivocal authority on what something tastes, smells, looks, or even feels like. Until that time, friends, revel in the moments that can be stolen to savor over a bowl of Pipe Force: Episode I.
Welcome to The Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 603. Our featured interview tonight is with Rick Newcombe. Rick is a well-known author of several pipe books, and he is currently working on his third book. He is a prominent collector of Danish pipes, and vintage tobaccos. He has traveled the world visiting pipe makers, and learning their different techniques. He is also the founder and chairman of Creators Syndicate, which currently represents more than 200 writers and artists. At the top of the show we’ll have a Pipe Smoking 101 segment discussing best pipe shapes and sizes that are best suited to certain types of tobacco.
Outstanding and illuminating as always. Thanks for sharing your knowledge. I wish we had something like this 40 years ago. Happy Smoke Rings.
Greg
Vintage column!!!
On Olivier’s Cigar V Pipe race could a factor be that the tobacco used in cigars and pipe mixtures have different burning characteristics due to both their chemistry, cut and moisture level? Not sure how you could measure this but pipe tobaccos certainly vary in burning speed and I suspect if you selected one of the quicker burners it would be much closer to the cigar burn rate. I do not select tobacco for quick combustion but I happened on one that fits the bill – La Brumeuse Semois would need little handicap to race a cigar.
Any enticing teases on the new blend and roughly when might it be due?
Regards
Ed
Absolutely! Different tobaccos would certainly make a difference, but that difference wouldn’t be as dramatic as it might seem. A 2:1 ratio of time from a slow burning to a fast burning leaf seem unlikely. The moisture content, on the other hand, is certainly a significant factor, as is the packing density. Semois’ biggest contribution to its burn rate is the lack of moisture. But, my experience with it is that I smoke it VERY slowly to keep from toasting my tongue. As for packing density, I know people who routinely get much more smoking time from a pipe than I do, but they also pack it much tighter. Since my packing seems to be on the loose end of things, the difference between a pipe and a cigar would likely only increase.
One of the things I’ve been thinking about is observing more closely is the smoking characteristics of a given tobacco at different packing densities. That should keep me off the streets and out of trouble for a while.
Once again, a good article.
Many thanks.
You spilled a molecule of caffeine on your shirt…
[Ding, ding, ding! We have a winnah! -glp]
Greg
I found La B to be weirdly both very fast and quite cool smoking: taste was a mixture of burley coco footnotes and marked floral top notes – a sort of smokable version of Lakeland (yuck) tobacco. Apart from backing it as a fast smoker it baffles me at the moment and your finding that it smokes hot just adds to the questions.
Several other thoughts on the causes of the varying rates of cigar and pipe combustion. Is one possibility the density of pack as the combustion has less space to jump; in your experiment the cigar had about sixty six per cent more tobacco per cc than the pipe? Another might be direction: in pipes combustion goes downwards but even matches do not burn downwards so some of the impetus of the airflow could be lost overcoming this effect. A final factor might be availability of oxygen; the point of combustion in a cigar is surrounded by oxygen but as you smoke down in a pipe the oxygen source is further and further away and the rising hot gasses are pushing it up and away from the smouldering tobacco.
What puzzles me about your experiment is that if your cigar was not absorbing quite a bit of moisture why was the speed of combustion halved while you smoked it? I suppose, as you suggest, the second half must have been sufficiently lighter in the first place to absorb the moisture and still be lighter.
Is the symbol on the t-shirt in the picture a version of the molecular structure of nicotine – not sure as I can see too many N atoms – but it could be the fold?
Good luck with the new tobacco (even if you have’nt given us a tease),
Ed
[Close – a different alkaloid. It’s caffeine. -glp]
Interesting thoughts, Ed – certainly some interesting stuff to chew on. I’m off to handle some “pressing” matters, and will let this rattle about. (The attentive may read one of two things into that. Either would be relevant. đ )
Thanks for an exceptionally interesting article this time ’round!
A little insight on the Boveda packets:
I’ve used them a lot over the last year. With non aromatics, they work great for absorbing moisture. The more loosely packaged the tobacco, the better. You have to maximize the surface area exposed to the air where the Boveda is. In a tightly packed Ball jar, you can expect only the first quarter inch to dry out.
Aromatics, though, don’t fare as well. The Boveda packets absorb the volatiles as well as the moisture, so you end up with an aromatic Boveda packet and non-aromatic tobacco. I’ve also observed some weird chemical reactions between the Boveda packet contents and some aromatic additives, leaving an odd and unpleasant aroma.
The reverse function of using Boveda packets to humidify dry tobacco works OK, but it is slow. Again, the tobacco should be spread out in a thin layer. I don’t recommend doing this in a plastic bag. Water vapor seems to pass through the bag faster than it is absorbed by the tobacco. A Mylar laminate bag or glass jar works best.
Thanks again for the brain food.
-Dan
Great tease! Pressing must be the late Zinfandel and – I hope – the new tobacco. Following the huge success of Gaslight I would guess a plug. Taking the other clue above – our author has been labouring on it for almost a year – I scanned what was floating around this column and “out of the ashes” around a year ago. Two stood out; interest in Three Nuns swirled around several months so perhaps variations on the themes of some wonderful old tin (of the superior export version I hope). Even more intriguingly our author hinted at a previous interest in blending a Lakeland variation!!! Probably a better favourite in this handicap – so much harder than the pipe v. cigar stakes – is something incorporating the new oriental, perhaps an “exquisite” with very light or no latakia. Still what a wonderful time of anticipation – anything is possible but its bound to be a surprise that increases the range of fascinating pipe tobacco even if its never a personal favourite (Sextant & Gaslight are personal favourites though so fingers crossed!)
In anticipation (brings back the Christmas Eve feeling of so many decades ago)
Ed
Mr. Pease,
I recently got my father back into pipe smoking. He used to nearly exclusively smoke Drucquer and Sons “Temple Bar”. I understand that you used to blend for them. Would you have a blend of yours that you could recommend that would be similar to what Temple Bar was like? Having never tried it, I am not able to really help my father out. Also, would you happen to know anyone that would have a small tin of Temple Bar sitting around? I’d like to give my father one last smoke of his favorite blend before finding a replacement for him. Thank you sir.
V/R
Adam
Mr. Pease, first of all accept my apologies for not posting a comment earlier. I only came across the article earlier this week. Thank you very much for answering my question with such a scientific approach. It just proved that next time I have one of those questions, instead of pondering on it for days or months I just have to roll up my sleeves and get to the core of the matter! In your answer (which is much more detailed than what I expected) one clear element came to mind and it is the âfire triangleâ. I think the answer of pipe vs cigar dilemma lies in the two sides of the triangle associated with heat and oxygen. The third side being fuel, if we consider the same amount of tobacco at the same humidity level, than the difference can only found in the other two sides. In our case, the briar chamber restricts the oxygen flow much more than the open ended tip of a hand rolled cigar and also the heat is significantly different (more constant heat for the cigar vs fluctuating heat for the pipe). Once again, thanks for your time and your rigorous analysis and I wish you the best of luck with the release of the new Six Pence!