A while back I ordered an ounce of C&D's Exclusive, a VaPer with 50% perique. Have loved the sweet swamp weed since I first smoked it in a roll your own blend many years ago but I digress. The first bowl of Exclusive was sublime. The sweetness of the Virginias, the fruity and spicy elements of the perique inter-played through out the bowl. I do not have the words for what I experienced. I was saddened when there was nothing left in the bowl but ash until I remembered I had more and could get more. A smile crossed my face as I imagined a future filled with repeats of the wonderful journey I had just taken. I then laid my pipe down and took care of somethings I had to do that day. When I was finished and was ready for another pipe, I grabbed the Exclusive, ready to be whisked away to tobacco paradise once again. I wasn't. It was good but it was not at all like the first bowl. No worries I told myself, if it was there once, it will be there again. It never was. Finished that ounce and then bought eight more and worked my way through that, never once experiencing what I had the first time. I tried drying it for different periods of time and the flavor profile would change with each different time period but I never found what I was searching for. I gave up looking.
Earlier today, while surfing the net, I picked up my VaPer cob and grabbed a perique/burley of my own design, filled my pipe and started smoking. I puffed away for a minute or two until my tongue started screaming my name. I realized at that moment I was back to where I had been so long ago. Perique nirvana. It was a bit different seeing as this was perique and burley but it was oh so close. I sat back and puffed away, joy filling my heart as though I were a boy on Christmas morning again. This was my blend, I knew how I made it. I could make it again. I would pass it around to everyone and they would sing songs of my greatness.
It was at that moment I realized I couldn't make it again. The tobacco I was smoking was from a bag I had taken on a trip to Cincinnati to see my sister. Five hundred total miles in a car, varying weather conditions through Tennessee, Kentucky, Ohio and then back again. I would never be able to recreate it. As a tear ran down my cheek, my eyes fell upon what remained in the bag. It was at least two ounces. I would have one more bowl and then lock it away, bringing it out only on special occasions. I waited until after dinner and then filled a pipe with this prized tobacco. I struck a match, lit it, and sat back and waited for the train to leave the station on the way back to paradise. After several minutes, I was still in my small house in the mountains of East Tennessee. Once again, all I got was a kick in the nads by cruel spirited tobacco gods. My ever elusive perfect perique blend was gone once again.
Once I am done here, I will dust the boot print from the crotch of my pants and begin my search anew.
Earlier today, while surfing the net, I picked up my VaPer cob and grabbed a perique/burley of my own design, filled my pipe and started smoking. I puffed away for a minute or two until my tongue started screaming my name. I realized at that moment I was back to where I had been so long ago. Perique nirvana. It was a bit different seeing as this was perique and burley but it was oh so close. I sat back and puffed away, joy filling my heart as though I were a boy on Christmas morning again. This was my blend, I knew how I made it. I could make it again. I would pass it around to everyone and they would sing songs of my greatness.
It was at that moment I realized I couldn't make it again. The tobacco I was smoking was from a bag I had taken on a trip to Cincinnati to see my sister. Five hundred total miles in a car, varying weather conditions through Tennessee, Kentucky, Ohio and then back again. I would never be able to recreate it. As a tear ran down my cheek, my eyes fell upon what remained in the bag. It was at least two ounces. I would have one more bowl and then lock it away, bringing it out only on special occasions. I waited until after dinner and then filled a pipe with this prized tobacco. I struck a match, lit it, and sat back and waited for the train to leave the station on the way back to paradise. After several minutes, I was still in my small house in the mountains of East Tennessee. Once again, all I got was a kick in the nads by cruel spirited tobacco gods. My ever elusive perfect perique blend was gone once again.
Once I am done here, I will dust the boot print from the crotch of my pants and begin my search anew.
