- Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 504
Welcome to The Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 504! We have a special format for tonight’s show. We will have Brian moderating two well-known pipe artisans asking each other questions and discussing pipe making. This is the final episode in a three part series with Jeff Gracik, and Jody Davis. Jeff makes J. Alan Pipes and is an expert, artisan pipe maker for nearly 20-years. Jody is a renowned pipe artisan, and the lead guitar player for the Grammy-nominated Christian rock band, The Newsboys. The guys will take up the entire show except for the mailbag at the end, and REALLY BIG ANNOUNCEMENT! Be sure to listen to the entire show. Sit back, relax with your pipe, and enjoy The Pipes Magazine Radio Show!
- Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 503
Welcome to The Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 503! Our featured interview tonight is with Fred Janusek. He is a Doctor of Pipes, and professor of mathematics. Fred is in his early 80s, and he has been smoking a pipe since college in 1957. His first pipe was a very shellac-covered Yello Bole. This show will be the first installment of “Storytime with Fred Janusek”. These are some great stories back when pipes were everywhere, including men’s clothing stores. At the top of the show, we will have an Ask the Tobacco Blender segment with Jeremy Reeves. Jeremy is the Head Blender at Cornell & Diehl, which is one of the most popular boutique pipe tobacco companies in the USA. Sit back, relax with your pipe, and enjoy The Pipes Magazine Radio Show!
- Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 502
Welcome to The Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 502! In our featured segment we have Fred Hanna returning. Fred is a well-known pipe collector, author, and speaker at pipe shows. He has a PhD. in psychology and teaches the same at the Chicago Campus at Adler University. He is also author of the book, “The Perfect Smoke”. This is the sixth in a recurring series with a long form discussion of pipe and tobacco questions sent in by our listeners. For this episode, the guys will discuss how high they fill the pipe bowl, how pipe smoking has changed them, and pipe smoking in the old days. In the opening “Pipe Parts” segment, Brian will review one of listener’s pipe collection. Sit back, relax with your pipe, and enjoy The Pipes Magazine Radio Show!
- Review: Cellar-Diving with GL Pease JackKnife Plug Vintage 2011
This cellar-diving kick is really paying off, considering the time and effort that went into stocking the coffers with tobacco meant to be enjoyed with some age on its side. This month’s candidate for review is a tin of JackKnife Plug dated 6th April 2011, among the first production runs of this blend from the New World Collection. Having done a release review for it and its fraternal twin JackKnife Ready Rubbed back in 2012, and seeing as this tin is just reaching its eleventeenth birthday, it seems a fitting time to revisit what Mr. Pease hath wrought. Opening the tin with no small amount of anticipation, one can really appreciate the way patience can pay off with tobacco. The aromatics release with a whoosh of pressure, itself an immensely satisfying sound while peeling back the lid. The scents fill the air immediately, strong and sweet tones that flood the entire room: up front, the rich bitter sweetness of a Terry’s Dark Chocolate Orange, baker’s chocolate; developing over some time with nuances like rich mulched earth, brand new leather shoes, a phenolic tinge reminiscent of Dettol or pine tar, and an underlying meatiness of a lightly-charred steak. Over the course of a couple of weeks making my way through the tin, the aroma tempers down to a more familiar chocolate-covered cherry cordial with layers of parchment and a briney umami saltiness like soy or Worcestershire sauce. It’s tempting, with all this chocolaty aroma, to take a bite out of the brownie-like bar of tobacco, a feeling I’m surely not alone in contemplating. The presentation does however invite closer inspection of the tobacco, such a tangible thing when in bar form. This 11-year-old plug is only lightly dusted with the whitish ‘sugar crystals’ often found on aged Virginia blends, and peering into the layers from outermost to innermost there is a general uniformity of color and texture all the way through—again, and not to belabor the point, but the color is a rich, bitter dark chocolate-brown that perfectly mirrors the aromas. The composition of this blend is clearly no accident, no haphazard mashing together of leaf. Greg clearly set out with a goal in mind: exploring the breadth and depth of the character that could be created when working with the darling of the pipe tobacco world at the time, dark-fired Kentucky. Dark-fired enjoyed a bit of a heyday with the release of these GLP offerings, as well as a host of others such as MacBaren’s HH Old Dark Fired. Speaking on the composition of JK Plug versus Ready-Rubbed, he notes: The blend is identical, with one small exception. The plug is constructed with a core of brights, and the darker tobaccos surrounding it. This allows the brights, theoretically, to express themselves with more purity in the blend. They’re not under as great an influence from the fire-cured and red tobaccos. Doing this with the [Ready Rubbed] wouldn’t work well, because of the way the tobacco clumps, so the blocks are not stratified in this way. The same tobaccos in the same measures are just layered and pressed for the same length of time, then the blocks are sliced and tumbled. It’s the same technique used for the Old London mixtures. It was also clearly intended with aging in mind; again, in Greg’s own words: When I first designed the stuff, I had no idea what the future would bring. There was certainly no reason to think it would do anything but age wonderfully, but you never know. The plug form causes internal anaerobic fermentation, while the outer layers are still exposed to plenty of air. The other night, I opened an 8-month old tin of the final prototype. The aroma was intoxicating, and the smoke was HUGE. I think it’s safe to say it’s going to age really, really nicely. And quickly. I would have believed the tobacco in that tin to have been 5 years old already. With more than a decade under the hood waiting to prove or disprove this theory, the bar was sliced thin and thick, folded, rubbed, and stuffed into a variety of bowl geometries to tease out its flavors, and the results are resoundingly positive. The verdict? JackKnife Plug has the character and complexion of the heartiest of English blends, while being completely absent of Latakia or Oriental leaf. It ages like a peaty single-malt of the finest provenance, developing layers and depth that belie the relative simplicity of its ingredients. I quickly gravitated toward a wider, open-chambered pipe for tasting, one that I would generally use for English blends, as it naturally accommodated the finer nuances of the smoke—and the smoke is certainly huge. The top of the bowl starts with a piccolo-like overture from the Virginia-Perique nexus, with a peppery nose prominently laying the groundwork for what’s to come—think Shostakovich’s 6th, first movement (in fact, this piece is a good parallel overall; perhaps without quite as much of the bombast of later movements). The sweetness is surprisingly underplayed, however—the Perique quickly becomes a background spice, lending sour notes while falling in step with the harmony of the Virginia’s more leathery tones. The sharp edges are all well-rounded over here; far from being able to bite, this smoke develops a thick, steak-dinner mouthfeel almost immediately, one which lingers for a good while after the pipe is finished. By mid-bowl the full composition really comes together, with the darker smokiness of the Kentucky burley stepping center stage even while some of the sweetness sneaks back in. In fact, for beverage pairings I favor an extra-sweet iced tea or soft drink as personal preference. The umami of mid-bowl builds and builds through to the heel, as the chocolaty and nutty tones segue into barbecue woods and steak char, with a touch of Worcestershire still interwoven from the Perique’s spice. Somewhat surprisingly for such a stout blend, the nicotine does not overwhelm—it’s a solid medium-plus, though, best enjoyed after a meal. While my preference with the plug […]
- Cellardiving with GL Pease – GLP Westminster 2007 Review
Having been rather pleased with my last foray into the further reaches of my cellar, it seemed like a good theme to stick with for a bit. Last month’s Sunset Breeze was a pleasant surprise; honestly, I’d expected the aromatic to have faded into a shadow of its former self. That it hadn’t done so speaks highly of the blender’s art and quality of the ingredients. With that in mind, I went digging through my modest collection to find another artful blender’s offerings—the estimable G.L. Pease marque this time. The treasure I came up with is a tin of Westminster from March 2007, placing it amongst the first production runs of this blend, and what a treat it was to find. The blend itself is Pease’s homage to the fabled pre-Murrays London Mixture. While my own journey with pipes commenced much later than the halcyon glory days of many of these fabled 60’s-to-80’s-era blends, many of which continue to inspire new iterations with every generation of pipe blenders—such as The Balkan Sobranie, Three Nuns, and the panoply of the old House of Dunhill blends—I have had the good fortune to taste samples of many of these storied labels at various pipe club gatherings or from friends’ cellars, and a few have even found their way into my own collection; however, they are few and far between, and I am not a collector of them as a rule (excepting, of course, my precious vintage Escudo). Which is a rather long-winded way of saying that I am blissfully not tied to holding this up as a blend comparison, but rather able to freely enjoy it on its own merits, of which there are very many to be sure. Time has been much more than kind to this tin—in fact, I would say it has been downright magnanimous. As far as English blends go, Westminster certainly deserves its place as a modern gold standard. As the tin commends, it truly is a perfect every-day English: rich, but restrained; sweet, but just enough to offset the sour; mild, and easy on the palate. The end of a bowl simply begs for a refill, and it carries well at any time of day—with the morning tea, afternoon work, or evening contemplation. Peeling back the lid on this 15-year-old tin releases a whoosh of vibrant, colorful aromas: flat cola, well-oiled shoe leather, corn starch come to mind, along with the faint muskiness of hide glue, the sense-memory of pencil shavings (and perhaps even some chalkboard dust), and nut shells. Of that last one, indulge me some excessive specificity: having recently spent some time on a pecan orchard, I can testify without reservation that I can detect the scent of last year’s fallen and fallowed nuts from the tin. Don’t condemn the purple prose; consider that this is all just a very specific way to express the earthy, vegetal richness found in the opening bouquet. The Virginia in the blend certainly has given it long, sexy legs, all its earthiness aside. The rough cut is a departure from the vintage Dunhill presentation of fine ribbon, of course, but suited perfectly to the ingredients here in order to balance “breathing room” for aerobic activity against the tightly-pressed cuts and their more anaerobic endeavors. Allowing the tin some breathing room, the initial boisterousness of the Virginias unsealing settles down and the aroma attenuates to a more subtly complex, Scotch-like smokiness. The aroma of the prepared bowl from the charring light to the heel does not disappoint; it lights and puffs effortlessly, with breathy, easy sips from the bowl conjuring fall foliage, dusty libraries, spice bazaars, and warm summer rooftops, and of course all that earthiness that was prattled on about earlier. The tannic piquancy of the Cyprian Latakia is highlighted by the other Oriental components, weaving perfectly within the structure of the Red and bright base—yet there are no overbearing solo measures in this orchestration; every part is in equal and complementary proportion. It also holds a remarkable consistency of flavors from beginning to end, with the first light as flavorful and every bit as complex yet subtle as the last sips from the heel. Additionally, it has an exquisite smoothness on the palate, even after repeated bowls, with an aftertaste of steak and char. Recommended accompaniments are a sturdy English breakfast tea for morning or noon, veering toward a Scotch or Cognac for evening times. While some may find it too mild, for my taste that works in its favor. I personally tend to prefer the Latakia component on the restrained side, and Westminster is a masterwork of balance in this regard. Far be it for me to suggest one tamper with perfection, but in our hearts each of us is a tinkerer by nature, and so the blend does lend itself admirably as a base to add a pinch of this or that to; a common refrain one finds on the forums is adding a bit more Latakia to the blend, and I find that a pinch of Basma adds a nice creamy complexion to the smoke, and Drama adds…well, a nice amount of drama. By his own reckoning, Greg Pease embarked on the creation of Westminster as a way to recapture the experience of the pre-Murrays London Mixture, if not a re-creation of the blend itself. From his Briar & Leaf Chronicles: “In addition to being a delightful smoke, Westminster has allowed me to revisit, and in a way relive the past in a way that no other of my blends have. My old tins of London Mixture are magnificent, and are part of my little treasure box. One day, if all goes well, a few ancient tins of Westminster will take their place.” Since its release in 2007 it has been a mainstay of the brand, and as mentioned before is rightfully considered a benchmark blend against which others are held. Opening this tin from its 15-year slumber, and noting every flavor nuance as […]
- Peterson – Sunset Breeze Review
The holiday season has crept upon us again, and with it the urge, in me at least, to indulge in some unabashed aromatic smoking. In normal times, the holidays are a reason to enjoy feasting and the company of family and friends; aromatics of course make for a pleasant atmosphere for smokers and non-smokers alike, while the pipe itself hearkens to a sense of tradition and hearth concomitant with the season. In these uncertain days, while we may not be able to enjoy all of those things in the traditional manner, I do hope that our readers are able to find a reasonable facsimile thereof in some small measure. Looking back on this past year, I find something missing: Peterson special editions. It used to be I looked forward to them annually—summer, limited, and especially the holiday blend. Sadly, they are no longer, but some cellar diving did unearth a curiosity: a jar of Sunset Breeze dated 2014, my favored blend from their standard lineup, which it seemed only fitting to compare to a new production tin. With the K&P portfolio of blends being acquired by Scandinavian Tobacco Group in 2018, would it be the same old blend? Would it even still be palatable? My worries proved unfounded, as upon opening it, it smelled every bit as sweet and almondy as it should, identical in nature to a fresh tin, if only the slightest bit muted. Preferring the ideology of a tropical sunset to a winter’s chill, it all seems to come together perfectly for this smoke. Peterson tobaccos have never let me down, at least not in terms of smoking enjoyment. I am, however, more than a little heartbroken that their holiday blend series is a thing of the past. From my first tin in 2009 to the last, extremely difficult to obtain tin from 2019, the special editions were a sort of side adventure that I anticipated embarking on, both for the aromatic creations—some of which were remarkable, some wacky, some forgettable—but also for the tin art; tins that I now keep various trinkets, sewing kits, pens, and other odds and ends in, but which also encapsulate memories of those years within—the year I went to the Chicago show, the year I started writing for PipesMagazine, the year old Romeo passed on, the year I broke off an engagement. I daresay we pipe smokers tend toward being a sentimental lot, if anything. Just looking at the blood-orange red tin of Sunset Breeze evokes for me the sense-memory of its delicious amaretto aroma. The bouquet of the fresh tin as well as its color is, as expected, a bit more vibrant and bright as compared to the jarred sample, though the latter has retained the larger part of its aroma, if a bit more tempered and a smidge darker of leaf. Inhaling deeply nets a full bouquet of almond, orangey citrus, light cherry hints, and the faint nuttiness of the burley threading it all together. Pomander balls, those clove-studded oranges my aunt was famous for making, come to mind—recommending this blend suitably in the range of the traditional scents of the season. Speaking of the leaf, comparing the two vintages reassures me that STG has taken great care in its stewardship of the Peterson marque—aside from the darkening of the color, the cut and texture of the leaf from the samples are remarkably similar, and the aroma of the casing is spot-on the same. I see the same melange of lots of dark Cavendish with burley and Virginia crosscut, artfully arranged in the Peterson manner. From charring light to about mid-bowl, it’s all about the room note. The nose aroma for the smoker is enticing and spicy with a promise of sweetness, and is certainly a crowd-pleaser for bystanders—as prescribed, always an excellent choice to recommend for lighting up at any gatherings. Care and patience are rewarded with Cavendish-forward blends like these, for they can be a dangerous temptress, urging the smoker to puff a little too fast while chasing the translation of aroma to flavor, only to be rewarded with a sharply bitten tongue. To that end, I find that a double espresso, or at the very least a strong black coffee, makes a perfect accompaniment for tending the start of the bowl to balance out the alkalinity of the blend as well as a counterpoint to the flavors—perfect for the after-dinner cup. The second half of the bowl is the real reward for the patient smoker. The components of the blend by now have fully orchestrated and mingled into an earthy, slightly floral melange, redolent with the amaretto sweetness, and it is here the smoker will find those tastes they’ve been chasing while sharing them with the room. The nuttiness of the burley is perfectly suited to the almond casing, and is just slightly sour and sweet enough to satisfy the post-prandial craving. Smoked sparingly, it leaves a light and pleasantly soapy and nutty aftertaste on the palate, not unlike an almond in the shell. It’s always good enough to beg another bowl, so I’ll often find myself packing several in succession; usually smaller sized pipes, and there’s always a cob handy, which suits the blend well. I also find it does best prepared bone-dry for smoking. Enjoying the pipe after a holiday feast also makes a perfect time for contemplation. For my part, I’ll be spending what is likely the last holiday with an old friend, a companion for the past couple decades who’s been around the world and back with me, my cat Le Stryge. We’ll reminisce about the tastes of yesteryear, and not give too much thought to the year ahead, at least for now. We’ll give some thoughts to those who have left us, blessed us by their passing, and though it will be a quiet Christmas with just the two of us, we’ll be contented, him purring in my lap and fur smelling faintly of amaretto smoke.
- And Then There Were Three
The late Bill Unger, long-time secretary/treasurer of the North American Society of Pipe Collectors and editor of the Pipe Collector newsletter, was often quoted as saying, “If you have one pipe, you’re a pipe smoker. If you have two pipes, you’re a collector.” The question of what makes an aggregate of pipes an actual “collection” is something that I’ve often struggled with, and every attempt to pin things down has found me in the weeds. Collectors of most objets d’art tend to have some sort of focus, and to take the stance that my focus is on “pipes” has always felt a bit like a cheap way out. I have friends who collect a certain shape, or a certain maker’s work, or pipes from a specific country or era. One specializes in straight grain, always seeking the next incremental step towards perfection, while never accumulating too many pieces. I, on the other hand, have never been a specialist, but the term generalist doesn’t adequately describe my proclivity either. Over the years, as my tastes have changed and evolved, I’ve chased many different styles of pipe, resulting in an embarrassingly large gathering of briars that range from the most traditional to the frankly weird. Is it really a “collection” when the only thing that ties its elements together is not a thread but a mooring rope? Once, I was most interested in bulldogs, especially the squat bowl variant. One of my first good pipes was a GBD in this shape; so early along my collecting journey, I didn’t even know what the shape was called, but I was attracted by its almost UFO-like styling – I just found the shape engaging, Learning more about classic shapes, I began to look at other bulldog variants, and found myself gravitating towards the bent versions, especially rhodesians, with their round shanks, squat, voluptuous bulldog-esque bowls, and that wonderfully comfortable half-bend. I gathered quite a few of them, ranging in size from small to quite large, and thought I’d found my niche. Of course, this wouldn’t last forever, and soon other shapes caught my attention. The prince, long and elegant, with its wider bowl and gentle curve seemed like maybe it was the perfect shape. Its slender shank and long stem result in a light pipe that keeps the smoke out of your eyes. I’ve also often posited that there is no better “pointing pipe” than the prince. Then came the lovats. Their compact shape, short saddle mouthpieces and capacious bowls seemed to be my ideal. And, speaking of compact shapes, the little “brucianaso,” exemplified by the Castello #10, was so appealing, I found myself chasing them at a time when they were exceedingly rare. The billiard, at one time, seemed sort of boring to me, but it is such a classic shape, and when cut really nicely, has its own beauty and charm. Now, I have quite a few of them. And there are the apples, with their thick, curvaceous bowls that feel so good in the hand. And the Castello #55 pot, one of Carlo Scotti’s personal faves. Get the picture? Like a butterfly, I have always flitted from shape to shape, extracting the nectar of whatever form appealed to me at the moment before moving on to the next flower. But it was always the more classic shapes, the pipes from England, France, and to a degree, those from Italy that held my interest. Then, in the late 1990s, something changed, and I became attracted to some of the Danish styles, not so much the wild “freehand” shapes, but the modernist interpretations of classic pipe forms that came from the minds and hands of the early masters. The direction of Danish pipe making was born out of a functionalist design aesthetic, where minimalism and function, elegance and nuance held priority over the ornate. These makers took familiar forms and rendered them with sleeker lines, softer curves, and a more minimalist approach. Some were additionally inspired by nature, bringing new words to the vocabulary of pipe shapes. I was intrigued, and as more of these shapes found their way into my group, they scribbled another page of an increasingly disorganized book. They didn’t displace my beloved classics, but expanded my appreciation in yet another direction. Oh, and those crazy freehands? What can I say; some of those shapes are so wildly conceived, how could I ignore them? The butterfly finds flowers wherever they are. Mostly, I’ve just accepted, or ignored my rather mercurial tastes, but once in a while, something happens to bring my “strategy” into question. The other day, I was enticed by a beautiful piece by American maker Ryan Alden. I’ve known Ryan for years, and have bought a couple of his pieces, but this pipe lived outside of his norm, and mine. I had to have it. (It’s the sandblast piece in the accompanying photographs.) I’m not even sure I know what to call it. Urchin-esque? Squat apple? Cinnamon bun? Tomato? Nothing quite fits, but, as soon as I had it in hand, I realized that a couple other pieces I have bear similar profiles, like the pictured Bengt Carlson rusticated and bamboo-shanked piece by Taiwan’s Jerry Zenn. Will these three pipes become the cornerstone of a new direction, a new sub-collection? I’m not sure, but at the moment, I kind of hope so. I certainly have more than one pipe, so in deference to a dear departed friend’s memory, I’ll just try to accept his definition and find peace within my capricious nature. I am a pipe collector.
Years ago a friend, knowing that I collect GBD pipes and related ephemera, gave me a lovely 7oz tin of GBD Black Cavendish Mixture, manufactured for them by Sobranie House. I’d never seen this tobacco, so it was certainly a welcome addition to the collection. The tin had been opened for some unknown length of time when he’d acquired it, and while the label and exterior of the tin were in fairly good shape, there was a lot of oxidation internally, and the contents had long since become drier than bones in the desert. I was reluctant to try it in that state, so it has remained displayed on a shelf until recently, when the curious chimp on my shoulder finally got the better of me. I grabbed the tin from the shelf, and gave it the once-over. The plastic overcap is discolored from age, but still perfectly pliable, and it pulled away without incident. A small paper label on the enclosed aluminum pull-top indicates that the tobacco was “Matured In Rum,” so that spirit was definitely used in some part of the process. A translucent paper disc under the pulltop reveals the pedigree of the tobacco’s Sobranie manufacture. The back label reads, “To obtain the full pleasure of majestic Virginia-the skill of hereditary craftsmen in London select the pick of the world’s finest tobaccos-then handle it with time tried care to produce the required richness and pleasantly deep satisfaction. Guaranteed entirely free of any adulterant or artificial flavouring. TOBACCO AT ITS FRAGRANT BEST” Clearly rum is considered neither an adulterant nor artificial. The original printed 200g weight declaration on the label had been covered by a paper sticker at import showing a net weight of 7oz, indicating this tin to likely be from the late 1970s or early 1980s. But, what about the tobacco? Black Cavendish means different things to different manufacturers. In the US, it’s a term usually applied to cut leaf that has been heavily sugared and steamed or roasted for hours at a relatively high temperature to darken it and partially oxidize and caramelize the sugars. Usually, additional flavoring agents, commonly vanilla, are applied after the heating process. But, as this was a Sobranie of London product, it was more likely moistened, hot-pressed in steam jacketed presses and held under pressure for days or weeks before being tumbled in a heated conditioning drum to return the leaf to ribbon form at the correct moisture content. My guess is that the rum was applied before or during the cavendishing process. Examining the contents revealed that much of the rust had fallen away from the sides of the tin, both as large and small flakes, and as countless tinier particles too small to see, let alone fish out with tweezers, so the first order of business was to find a way to get rid of as much of it as possible. Since rust is at least somewhat paramagnetic, a bit of grade school science came to the rescue. I spread the tobacco out in small quantities in a shallow bowl, picked out the larger rust flakes, and then carefully raked through it with a strong magnet, removing most of the smaller particles. The tobacco was then carefully sifted to remove a large amount of dust, and hopefully whatever tiny rust particles remained. At this point, a little over 110g of desiccated ribbons remained, so all that was left was to carefully condition the tobacco back to a smokable 12-13% moisture. Rehydrating tobacco this dry and frangible can be tricky business. It has to be done very delicately to avoid breaking the ribbons up even further, and in measured amounts to prevent over-moistening. In a dry environment, tobacco can give up its water very quickly, but it is much slower to absorb it, so just spraying it with water is ill-advised. My normal method would be to put it in a bowl covered with a damp towel and let the leaf take up moisture gradually; this can take days of monitoring, rewetting the towel as needed, and waiting. Feeling a bit impatient, I chose instead to put a carefully measured amount of water in a small atomizer, and began delicately misting and turning the ribbons until they were evenly coated. Then, it could be safely transferred to a jar and sealed until the leaf had time to take up the added water, a process that can take several hours. After an hour or so of messing about with the stuff, and a few more hours of impatient waiting, it was time to give it a try, of course, in a GBD pipe. I picked a sandblasted Sablée lovat that has always performed its best with virginias, and gave it a go. The verdict? It is delicious. Despite the years of abuse the tobacco had suffered, hints of rum punctuate a deep, rich virginia goodness. Background notes of stewed figs are present, and an earthy, almost malty sweetness, with an elusive tartness that keeps the palate interested. The room note is subtle and engaging, not at all cloying. There’s no way to know how far this rehydrated tobacco deviates from what it would be like had it never endured such abuses, but if I’m ever fortunate enough to find a sealed tin of this stuff, I’ll sure as heck give it a go to find out. Photos by G.L. Pease
It started out like any other day, then the world changed. I woke up, made my morning espresso, waited for the fog to clear, and set about my affairs. Part of my morning routine usually involves a pipe, of course, so I trundled into the office, chose a pipe, and grabbed the tin of tobacco I’d been enjoying for the past few days. I’m not normally a creature of habit when it comes to what I fill my pipe with, but for some reason, I’ve found myself exploring this blend exclusively since popping its top. I filled my pipe with the same haphazard disregard I always employ, sat down to check the morning’s email, and struck a light. This tobacco has been consistently great, just as it has been when I’ve smoked it in the past. I don’t tend to smoke blends that don’t make me happy, so there’s nothing unusual in that. As I took the first puffs, everything was as expected. Rich flavors from the Virginia leaf took center stage, the Latakia, orientals and Perique playing harmoniously on my palate, doing the same joyous dance I’ve come to expect from this blend. A gentle tamp of the ash dome, another kiss of flame, and BOOM, a Spinal Tap moment, like someone had just turned the amplifiers to eleven. It wasn’t sweeter, or cooler, or brighter, or more complex, or more of any of the usual descriptors we might apply to a great smoke; it was just more. It was huge. It was delicious. I was tasting things from the tobacco that I’d never fully noticed before, so much so that I put the morning tasks on hold so I could just sit and do nothing but enjoy the incredible experience. My friend Fred Hanna has written about the Magic Pipe that is so good it makes every tobacco taste great. This ain’t that. The pipe is a rather modest sandblast billiard that I’ve smoked many times. It’s well broken-in, has always been a fine smoker, and I expected nothing more or less from it this time. Predictable and reliable. Too, I’ve occasionally posited, in jest, that there are Magic Tobaccos that taste great in any pipe, no matter the pedigree. This ain’t that, either. This tobacco is not some rare, vintage blend with decades of age under its unobtainium cap. It’s just a solid performer that, while being somewhat sensitive to technique and to a lesser extent the geometry and flow characteristics of the pipe, has always been, like the pipe, predictable and reliable. This was different, though. The synergy between this tobacco and this pipe cast some sort of spell that could not be ignored. There are things that might help to explain this phenomenon. Most notably, perhaps, is that every time we smoke a pipe, the results sit on the shoulders of every previous smoke. Objectively, today’s smoke will always be influenced by yesterday’s tobaccos. All tobaccos leave their spirits behind to haunt future bowls. How dramatically these phantasms haunt the current smoke depends on many factors, but one of the most significant influences is how different the style of the current tobacco is from the lingering ghosts of tobaccos past. I’ve had really interesting results when switching a dedicated Latakia pipe over to Virginias. The decreasing, subtle contribution of the Latakia’s smoky tastes can make the first few bowls more complex, and definitely interesting. Conversely, I’ve often used several bowls of Virginias to “sweeten” one of my Latakia pipes that has gone a bit flat. (Try it. You might like it.) To paraphrase Heraclitus, no one ever smokes the same pipe twice. More subjectively, though, our expectations can play a role when we choose a pipe. We subconsciously remember the last few times we’ve smoked it, and can enter the experience with a bit of bias, a sort of sensory anchoring heuristic. My old friend Duke used to say, “If you think it will smoke well, it will.” There might well be some nugget of truth in his optimistic aphorism. I remember one evening at a pipe dinner, I smoked a bowl of very well aged Drucquer Red Lion in a beautiful Barling Quaint belonging to my friend Brian. I could not talk him out of the pipe, no matter what I offered up in trade. I shared the tobacco with him, he granted me the booby prize of letting me smoke his Barling. It was thirty years ago, but the memory is as fresh in my mind as if it was yesterday. Duke’s Law at work? I’ll never know for sure, but the smoke was transcendent, and certainly memorable. So, always seeking increased understanding, I waited a couple days, lathered, rinsed and repeated, tailoring my rather tatty, moth-eaten cloak of objectivity as best I could to make it fit, but still hoping for the same experience, even while half-expecting a more typical result. And, there it was. Amps on eleven. Smoking bliss writ large. I haven’t had the nerve to try it again, fearing that these two data points, while certainly establishing a line, may still be anomalous. Even my dedication to inquiry has its limits, and the fear of disappointment looms in the fragrant clouds of yesterday’s exquisite smoke. What remains is to decide whether to further the experiment, and possibly dedicate this pipe to one blend, and one blend only, or to just cherish this matched pair of memories, as I do the reminiscence of Brian’s Barling, carrying on along the Magical Mystery Tour of pipe smoking while chasing the next occurrence of synergy, silently hoping that it doesn’t take another thirty years. Meanwhile, the pipe patiently rests… Photos by G.L. Pease
- Once More, Dear Lads, Once More
Ah, the joys of spring. April showers bringing May flowers, trees budding, birds flitting in fits of joy, and hope springing eternal. As our friend e.e. cummings said, “always it’s spring and everyone’s in love”. Ah, love, yes, above all love. Have you ever fallen in love? With a pipe, that is. Yes, dear brothers of the briar, a pipe so fetching you are mesmerized by its glimmering beauty. Let’s go back some years. The Pundit was in an Alabama brick and mortar pipes and tobacco shop (memory says it was The Briary in Homewood) when naturally, the subject of pipes and tobacco took center stage in the conversation. The genteel chap behind the counter asked me if I had ever thought of owning a Claudio Cavicchi pipe? Well, no. For back in those youthful days I’d never even heard of a Cavicchi pipe, let alone a Claudio Cavicchi. “Oh,” said the gentleman behind the counter, “we have only a couple here. One is a gorgeous Canadian.” The Canadian was a blond beauty. I was moonstruck with thunderbolt love and pulled out my thin wallet. I threw in a pouch of Virginia tobacco to break in my new beauty. “You won’t be disappointed,” he called out after me. That Cavicchi hit me like a dancing string of lightning. It was a shimmering slim magnificence, purity of line and spirit. I became fascinated and wanted to know everything I could about the actual Mister Claudio Cavicchi. Lo, he was but a humble Italian farmer. But upon studying nature in his daily life, and experiencing renewal and growth from the Earth, Claudio one day decided he could craft pipes as well as crops. He became an artisanal pipe maker, a craftsman of world-renown, a master of design. Dear reader, there is a world of science and physics involved in his pipe creations and immaculate stains that just make the pipe’s grain glow. His meticulousness gave rise to his unique grading system ranging from a single “C” to a quintuple of “Cs.” More “Cs” translates to higher grades of briar. Claudio also creates his seldom seen Perla as well as the extremely rare “Diamante,” both absolute zeniths of the Cavicchi line. But as youth are often unpredictable and sometimes dismay us elders with unique logic (strengths, my dear lads, for you usher in the new and keep us elders on our toes and we thank you for doing so!) so was I in those years so long ago. And for reasons I still cannot fathom, I let a pal talk me into trading my lovely Cavicchi Canadian for some sort of English pipe. Looking back in time from this wizened vantage, I must ask myself: what in the world was I thinking? “Nothing, apparently” is the only reply the universe has so far provided. That trade bothered me many years. Until this spring, that is dear reader. For reasons I cannot fathom, luck favored me again with the recent discovery of another beautiful blond Cavicchi Canadian. Yes, the price had gone up a bit, but that didn’t matter. I had to have the Canadian’s return to my precious herd. It was ordered along with another pouch of Virginia, just like the first iteration of so long ago. The new blond beauty smoked wonderfully well, just as did the original I let get away. Only this Canadian was a slightly better Cavicchi grade. Rest assured, it now holds down a permanent place in the Pundit rotation. I can see the wrinkles on your faces: But it’s just another Canadian, and why the Virginia tobacco to christen a new pipe? Well, my friends, if you have not yet tried a Cavicchi, it’s like the briar and leaf Meister behind that pipe and tobacco counter in Alabama said so long ago, “You won’t be disappointed.” For Claudio has that most sacred and, anymore at least, rare power: an agrarian connection to the land. A farmer who, to know success, attunes himself to nature’s rhythms and mysteries, beguilements, and cycles. As Pearl S. Buck said in The Good Earth, “and roots, if they are to bear fruits, must be kept well in the soil of the land.” For after all, what is briar but a root ball transformed by wood sculptors? If you need more encouragement, check out two wonderful pieces on Claudio: In The Workshop With Claudio Cavicchi June 22, 2016, by Shane Ireland in Makers and Artists …and Chuck Stanion’s A Closer Look At Claudio Cavicchi Dec. 17, 2018, in Makers and Artists at SmokingPipes.com I love these lines from Chuck’s insight into Cavicchi’s artistry: “This is a craftsman who knows pipes from many perspectives. He knows what makes a pipe smoke well and what makes a pipe look beautiful. He knows how to charm the briar to his bidding.” Now, concerning tobacco, if you wonder at Pundit’s preference for pure Virginia, please refer to the late and lamented McClelland No. 5100 Red Cake. I learned the Virginia break-in trick from a veteran pipe smoker, a medical doctor in fact, who taught me to always break in a new pipe with Virginia because of its ability to rid a new bowl of any lingering baddies and thereby prepare it for just about any sort of future tobacco blend you throw at it. His choice was McClelland’s 5100 Red Cake. That’s because Virginia tobaccos (along with burleys, perique, and Cavendish) play such a significant role in today’s blends. In olden times, pipe smokers pulled out a pouch of pure burley, loaded up, and smoked through the day. Today’s blenders are magicians, true chefs of tobacco blends. Now the Pundit is no tobacco blender, but I’m at least smart enough to abide the advice of veterans. If you’ll allow me to linger on the topic of blends, I’ll share with you by way of the Chicagoland Pipe Show that Virginia slices are a good choice when breaking in tobacco blends as well. And dear reader, […]
- The Everyman Pipe
Here is the thing. As we all know, there are skilled artisans and wonderfully-crafted pipes in today’s pipes and tobacco marketplaces. And over time, the Pundit has managed to purchase a parcel of these prized pipes. Lately, the Pundit has become particularly interested in Peterson Pipes from Sallynoggin. It has to do with history and quality. As most any pipe smoker knows, Peterson is the oldest continuously operating pipe factory in the world. At 150 years young, and now under the leadership of Laudisi Enterprises, the parent company of Cornell & Diehl tobacco, Laudisi Distribution Group, Low Country Pipe and Cigar, and Smokingpipes.com, Peterson continues to surprise and satisfy its huge consumer base year-in and year out with innovation, such as its newest sandblasting techniques. Without sounding too much like a PR piece, the Pundit thinks of Peterson pipes, especially those in the Pundit herd, as Everyman pipes. No, neither are Petes the most expensive nor are they the least costly. They range from a reasonable price point to the upper range, without hitting the stratospheric heights of some well-known brands or venture into oligarchy regions like other brands we know and dream of owning. And it is hardly a bad call when you go with a Peterson in the Sherlock Holmes series. With the Holmes, which the Pundit has owned since they first arrived from Dublin in the late 1980s, it is difficult to be disappointed. Simply stated, I don’t have a bad smoking Holmes. Period. And you can take it from the Pundit, they have been put through smoking severities. Any pipe good enough for Basil Rathbone in his masterful Holmes performances, and the worldly intellect of the famous detective, Sherlock, is more than adequate for the Pundit. In fact, I have yet to have a bad turn with a Holmes pipe. They smoke, as an old-time pipe-smoking pal once told me. Yes, the Pundit has pricey pipes corralled in the herd, such as Dunhill, Ashton, Cavicchi, an old Charatan, and others. Please forgive the Pundit for being in a Peterson moment. St. Patrick’s Day in March got me thinking about my everyday smoking life. Blame it on the Ides of March, or March Madness. The Pundit answers to any of those excuses! It’s become something of a riddle or a conundrum. My Petes call daily, but that means I must put the Dunhill or Ashton either into a weekly rotation or ignore them altogether, which is difficult. This also works to hamper my thoughts of some very fine-smoking Algerian briars that are more than 50-year-old performers. At the time they were purchased, those ebauchons were at least a half-century in age. It has been a sacrifice worth making, but lately, the Pundit has been a bit perplexed about his older, familiar companions in the stable. I have been a Sherlock Holmes fan since reading The Hound of the Baskervilles, and other stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Doyle created a transcendent fictional pipe-smoking character and an erstwhile compatriot, Dr. John Watson, as Holmes’ sidekick. Watson first appeared in Doyle’s A Study in Scarlet, published in 1887. I have always admired these Holmesian quotes from The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, published in The Strand Magazine between July 1891, and December 1892: “You see, but do not observe;” and “It is a capital mistake to theorise before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts.” For a better look at the Peterson Sherlock Holmes collection of pipes, head over to Peterson’s Sherlock Holmes Pipes: An Infographic September 4, 2019, by Andrew Wike in Pipe Line: A Closer Look At Peterson’s Sherlock Holmes Pipes: An Infographic Now let’s recognize some notable pipe-smoking authors who died in April: Saul Bellow, the novelist, and playwright, winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1976, was born June 10, 1915, in Lachine, Quebec, and died April 5, 2005, in Brookline, Mass. Douglas MacArthur, General of the Army, was born Jan. 26, 1880, in Little Rock, Ark., and died April 5, 1964, in Washington, D.C. Evelyn Waugh, British journalist, novelist, travel writer, book reviewer, and biographer was born Oct. 28, 1903, in West Hampstead, London, and died April 10, 1966, in Combe Florey, Somerset, England. Günter Grass, 1999 Nobel Laureate in Literature, was a German novelist, poet, and playwright, born Oct. 16, 1927, in Danzig, Germany, and died April 13, 2015, in Lübeck, Germany. The Pundit has admired this quote from Saul Bellow: Unexpected intrusions of beauty. This is what life is. Now, fellow pipe travelers, we are in the throes of beloved early Spring. Flowers are blooming, birds are singing, and the Pundit is preparing his pipe travel bag. Fellow travelers, you do have a pipe travel bag, eh? The Pundit’s bag always stands at the ready. You never know when you have to hit the hiking trails this time of year, between April showers, and May’s flowers (please overlook the schmooze). The Pundit’s pipe bag contains nothing from the precious herd, but a bristling bunch of corncobs tried, and faithful friends. Next comes a plethora of pipe tobaccos, from Sir Walter Raleigh (yes, indeed the old burly-based sweetie) several C&D favorites (Autumn Evening, a beautiful aromatic, and Opening Night), and numerous pouches of burleys and aros. You never know when you might just want a more robust English blend for a long, long walk in the woods. Here’s hoping you have a great start to spring. Pack that pipe travel bag and keep on hoofing. One last quote that I have always found impressive and prescient: It’s from General MacArthur in 1951, giving his retirement speech before the U.S. Congress. In it, he recalls a hoary ballad popular in the barracks and the plains of West Point in his cadet days. A portion of the narrative related that “old soldiers never die; they just fade away,” the venerable, highly decorated and admired general said. And now, if you don’t mind, the […]
- One True Sentence
Hitherto in the long back time when the Pundit fashioned himself the new Hemingway, ahem, he learned of a new pipe offering, known as the “Author.” Oh, almighty thundering yes, the Pundit must have it! It was as if Homer, Plato, Shakespeare, Mark Twain, and Hem all said in a heavenly roar: “Go forth and write young Pundit with your new pipe, the Author!” To say the gates of stary lights opened and cherubim played angelic instruments isn’t too far removed from reality. The Pundit was as stunned as if he had been kicked by Faulkner’s mule (for the uninitiated you will just have to look that up). Overnight, the Pundit ordered two or three of the Authorial pipes, mainly from Savinelli, where I first learned of the pipe style. The Author is just a perfect pipe for the writer. It has been referred to as the big brother of the prince or a subspecies of the apple shape. Its origins are not factually known, but it has been made quite popular by Savinelli’s 320 shapes over time. Other manufacturers make the Author as well. But the Savinelli to the Pundit’s eye is the leader of this pack. That’s probably because his first Author was the Savinelli 320KS. The Author is a superb smoking pipe with its plump bowl and sporting a cylindrical shank that is often as long as the bowl is tall. The usually thickish stem fancies a quarter bend mostly, tapering off and rounding at the lip of the mouthpiece. And what is very nice is that the bowls are thick and deep, allowing for wads of your favorite blend for a long, pleasant smoke. Just right for writers, such as Hemingway, who famously is alleged to have said: “All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.” Ah, yes. It ain’t as easy as Hem makes it sound. It’s not as hard as, say, a gandy dancer section gang putting in railroad tracks, of course. But writing one true sentence is the internal battle that makes it difficult. Joan Didion, one of my favorite authors (who didn’t smoke pipes, but allegedly smoked cigarettes) said this about her toils at the typewriter: “The impulse to write things down is a peculiarly compulsive one, inexplicable to those who do not share it, useful only accidentally, only secondarily, in the way that any compulsion tries to justify itself. I suppose that it begins or does not begin in the cradle.” This was from her highly popular collection of essays, Slouching Towards Bethlehem. And now that the 15th annual International Pipe Smoking Day (IPSD) has come and gone, it is an excellent moment to reminisce with a cozy Author, pen and pipe in hand. Also, if you will, please pardon the Pundit for a bit of pipe personification and a teeny bit of sentimentalism. We pipe smokers know a thing or two about friendships and love. How many times have you turned to your favorite pipe in a fit of worry? You pack it with a delicious Virginia combo blend and retire to your favorite chair. You and your friend chase off the concerns and relax. That’s what friends are for, right? I can’t count the times I’ve gotten out a beaten, battered old-timer, scraped, nicked, and a bit cranky. I fill the old boy with a tasty blend and fire him up again and again. He never fails to perform. Ever. That’s one of the reasons I panicked not long ago when I could not find a dear meerschaum given to me by my brother-in-law years back. It had to be in with the herd but wasn’t. After a high and low search, my sorrow became quite real. The meer was not here! Not in a box of pipes I keep for emergencies. It wasn’t in a closet with the remainder of the herd. It was gone! But how could that be? I do not trade, sell, or get rid of a pipe. That’s why this was so unusual. Just when I needed the meer to cheer me up a tad, it was lost. After a few days of fruitless searching, I decided this required a deeper dive into the herd. You may not be the meer nerd I am, but I love coloring the white goddess over years of puffing. I sort of keep track of time and the years by how the meer is growing patina. This ancient meer was dark, and as beautiful as a setting sun. It has been with me through the good and tough times. I actually named this meer the Ice Goddess for some reason known to me years ago. Ah, but she is gone. She is still among the missing. My search continues. I keep one space open in a pipe rack. I call it the “missing pipe formation!” Now for a few notable March births and deaths of pipe-smoking authors: Edgar Rice Burroughs, a sci-fi author, was born Sept. 1, 1875, and died March 19, 1950; He is probably best remembered for his 1912 pulp fiction, “Tarzan of the Apes.” Raymond Chandler, son of an American father and Irish mother, was born July 23, 1888, and died March 26, 1959. He was best known for his detective novels, one of his earliest, “The Big Sleep,” introduced the detective, Philip Marlowe, who appeared in later detective novels by Chandler. And now for the crème de la crème, Johann Sebastian Bach, born in Eisenach, Germany, March 31, 1685, and died July 28, 1750. Best-known and perhaps best-loved for his orchestral music such as the Brandenburg Concertos and keyboard masterpieces. Check out Chuck Stanion’s outstanding piece on Bach in his August 30, 2019, Pipe Line column on SmokingPipes.com And a parting quote from the famed classical composing maestro and pipe-smoking Bach: There’s nothing remarkable about it. All one has to do is hit the right keys at the right time and the instrument plays […]