...the Pig Tail had next to no aroma at all, just packed a wallop big enough to flatten a herd of maurading elephants determined to mangle everthing in their way - the stuff was evil, incarnate - but, in all fairness, it was actually meant to be chewed, in very small quantities. I read somewhere that the workment used to chew a bit, and then, when they'd done with it, keep the remnants, dry 'em and then smoke 'em - seem's reasonable to me.
Sounds good to me!
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And thanks for sharing that tidbit about the workers re-using the chaw to dry and smoke later,
very interesting stuff and the kind of thing that brings one closer into an understanding of what this stuff was and how it was actually a vital part of peoples lives, especially hard-working people who had little money, where true pleasures were far and few between, and such a magic baccy might be the closest they could come to paradise, no wonder they wanted to stretch it out!
The Walnut tin did indeed find its way to you - it was sitting in a box for far too long, the paper label inside was what really elevated it for me. The cut was square - very unusual - never seen anything like it. The tobacco was perfect, just dry. I adore the modern Walnut Flake, but the old stuff, in its freshly cut exuberance must have been the nectar of the Gods.
I love that tin, and the paper insert!
I found some Mick McQuaid that was square cut,
pretty neat,
but similar to your experience with the Walnut,
the MM was dry and lacking any real flavor, sadly.
I don't really like the modern MM,
something about that almond-type flavor doesn't agree with me.
The Turku, was, to say the least, ROBUST - but a gorgeous smoke all the same - very, very enjoyable. The tin was/is gorgeous, with a lovely embossed lid, and cracking paper label - a quality item.
Cool!
Glad to hear it worked out well,
neat stuff to get onna gamble and sounds like it paid off,
it's probably some exotic oriental leaf that isn't available anymore!
The Players was so beautifully presented in the tin that I didn't want to disturb those glorious discs of tobacco-ey magic - I stood and just looked at them for quite some time - almost a meditative few minutes. And, they're sliced razor thin - the finest cut I've yet come across. And, BLACK - and utterly sublime to smoke.
They do indeed look divine,
De Luxe ain't no lie,
eh?
I like the wafer-like appearance with rounded edges,
elegant and inviting.
Glad to hear it was a proper smoke too!
The problem with some, but not all, of these old tobies is the desire they can create - the moment is fleeting, and, once gone, never to be regained - could I but get Bulwark with many decades of age, on a whim, I would smoke nothing else.
I've heard that from several people, about the Bulwark.
And your next strophe deserves a refrain because it struck a deep chord with me and I can totally relate to what you wrote and how the glorious old baccy can actually carry you away and surge the spirit full of intense contemplation.
Smoking the Condor Twist, Pig-Tail, Warhorse, and a few other 'Strong' and 'Robust' creations I wander through time, and maybe I develop a greater appreciation and understanding of men who laboured, loved, lost, sacrificed and suffered in ways we will never know - other than from a purely academic, soft 21st century cosiness. The Warhorse took me to the fields of Sussex, early mornings, dew on the grass, hay fork in hand, and a long day or hard labour ahead, bread for lunch, and a long walk home in the dark, before rising to repeat it again, and again, and again - possibly only interrupted by the needs of internation squabbles and the need for cannon fodder. Likewise the Condor Twist - the docks, rivets, massive plates of steel, the siren calling to work in the morning and signalling the end of labours in the evening, the tightly packed tennements, and the monotonous repetition, until the call of national pride and the Drill Sargent's bark change your world forever.
I stood in the Titanic dry dock one evening a few summers ago - I was the only person there, just at closing time - the goose bumps rose on my skin, I became an insignificant speck in the history of humanity, and the ghostly whisps of fragrant tobacco rose from the gentle breeze of the evening air, eminating from stubby clays, long broken - briefly I was liberated from time and place - there was no chronology, chronological order - I was surrounded by busy ghosts and all human emotions were at my finger tips to touch and experience.
This is what the Old Tobies do for me....they are not just a faded leaf a pretty package, and nice tin
:clap:
Very well said,
and I feel the same way.
I cannot convey that feeling with the same concise depth that you have written here,
but I do feel it,
and I thank you for putting such feelings into words.
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This thread also brings to mind a weird particular conundrum associated with pipe forums,
it's so great to share our loves with like-minded people who can understand and celebrate along with us, and gain a better knowledge of what's what by reading wise words, and feed our enthusiasm with even more intensity --- but the double-sided sword is that much of the stuff we heartily enthuse over may better be left in the shadowy dust, because such enthusiasm can inspire other people to be enthused, and after a while there's no secrets left, and many more eyeballs are scanning for the same things, and some of those eyeballs have a bigger wallet than you, and perhaps it all drives prices to rise, and suddenly that once loved obscure thing is beyond reach and has joined the ranks of the big buck legends, and a scarce thing becomes even more scarce.
Obviously,
I belong to the open-info school of thought,
but can't help notice that vigorous and engaged discussions of these things may ultimately be detrimental to my concerns as a collector,
good thing I'm more of an enthusiast than a collector!
I'm reminded of Fred Hanna's Marcovitch,
and what an obscure forgotten blend it was,
until he pulled back the curtains and gave us all a glimpse...
http://pipesandtobaccosmagazine.com/2011/04/marvelous-marcovitch/
...it was a secret no more,
and whenever a well-preserved tin pops up it usually fetches good coin.
I was delighted to learn of Marcovitch, to read of first-hand experience from a man with such a good palate, describe his love for the stuff, with an overwhelming enthusiasm, such stuff too, carries me away, and sweeps me into a sort of whirling dervish,
ecstatic joy.
See also,
Neill's great follow up on topic:
http://passionforpipes.squarespace.com/neills-blog/2010/8/11/the-marcovitch-mysteries.html
Good stuff all around.
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