Ghost Busting
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G. L. Pease - Apr 11, 2023
- 6 min read
“O, begone ye ghosts of tobaccos past! Out, out, I say!” Obviously, I’m not talking about treasured memories of long-gone blends, but of the sometimes everlasting impressions left in the briar after years of smoking particular tobaccos. I feel like I’ve written a bazillion words about this. It’s somewhat fewer than that, but it’s something I’ve prattled on about many times, in columns, in articles, on forum posts. Years ago, I published an article about a drastic, but fairly effective way of exorcising smelly poltergeists from estate pipes using activated charcoal and the heat of an oven. It works, but carries some risks, and can’t be used on pipes with any sort of decorative application, so I have been reluctant to apply it to any pipe that was somehow special. I’ve talked about salt and alcohol, about boiling high proof spirits and using retorts to thoroughly cleanse a bowl. Hell, for all I know, I may have briefly mentioned engaging the services of a young priest and an old one to perform certain arcane rites.
The fact remains, however, that for years, I’ve been pretty steadfast in my opinion that once a briar has been tainted with strongly aromatic tobaccos, there’s little hope of ever fully redeeming it, that it will always taint the smoke in a way that I would find objectionable. Have I changed my spots? Maybe a little. But, it has more to do with me, my expanding smoking tastes, and perhaps a tendency for greater acceptance than it does with the very long persistence of memory that pipes seem to possess.
My prejudice against aromatics started pretty early. The goopy, syrupy blends that were so popular at the local mall tobacconist just didn’t do it for me. Sure, they smelled okay, even kind of nice in the jars, or when someone else was smoking them, but to me, they delivered nothing beyond hot air and frustration with keeping them lit. I tried a lot of them with no real joy to be found, ultimately growing to almost loathe the stuff.
When I ultimately cut my “adult” teeth on things like Dunhill’s Standard Mixture, Balkan Sobranie and Garfinkel’s fabled Orient Express #11, quite a few of my attitudes about what works for my tastes and what doesn’t were cast in mental concrete, nearly as persistent as the ghosts that haunt some of those old briars. So, for many years, I smoked almost exclusively Latakia mixtures, and when I encountered one of those aromatic-ghosted pipes, I’d recoil in horror. To my palate, the combination of heavy, cookie factory aromatic remnants and latakia is just wrong. Unpalatably so. Sure, there are excellent blends designed from the go with Latakia and some sort of topping, but cookie dough aromatics and classic mixtures work as well together as strawberry preserves on a fine steak. I love strawberry preserves. I love steak. I just don’t want them on the same plate.
My early relationship to Latakia felt almost like an arcane initiation into a secret society that would exile me if it was discovered that I’d strayed from the proscribed orthodoxy. I was not alone. Many of the cadre of pipe folk I socialized with at the time were equally dedicated to the smoky stuff. Sure, there were others who tried in vain to convert me to follow their ways, to lead me astray from my chosen path, but I remained steadfast, a knight of the cause. I was a Latakiaphile.
Admittedly, once in a while, I’d sneak a bowl or three of some VA blend, enjoying the interplay of the latent Latakia aromas and flavors from my pipe as they mingled with the sweetness of the Virginias, but I’d always return to my comfort zone before the smoke cleared. This went on for years. Had I saved all my old tins, those that once contained a Latakia mixture would outnumber everything else by a factor of hundreds.
When I finally began more studious exploration (largely fueled by developing my own blends—it’s hard to believe it’s been 25 years), digging my teeth into a broader palette of different blend styles, not to mention the pleasures to be found in so many non-Latakia vintage tobaccos, I slowly began to emerge from my rut, even taking real pleasure in other styles: Virginias, virginia/perique blends, burley blends, even some aromatics.
The diversity and range available became somehow important to my pipe smoking journey, and diving deeper into those waters, I found these blends ticking boxes that I hadn’t even realized I’d missed. As the chains of Latakia mixtures loosened, I was exploring with a much more open mind, perhaps some epistemic humility, and ultimately enjoying the ride. I’ve even developed some aromatics blends. One thing that has not changed, mostly, is my opinion on aromatic ghosts, at least with respect to latakia mixtures. I still do not want strawberry preserves on my steak. Mostly.
Going through some old, dusty boxes recently, I came across a lovely old Pierre Morel “Fleur” that I’d got years ago. Uncovering this gem, hoping for a nice bowl of some smoky goodness, I was immediately reminded of why it had been sequestered in that box in the first place. I recalled the hot summer day the pipe arrived, and my excitement when I opened the parcel to reveal my new treasure. The heat from being in the post truck liberated a scent that rose from the open box without warning. Years of strongly flavored aromatic tobaccos had left an indelible mark. Undaunted, I went to work, reaming it to the walls, cleaning the shank thoroughly with many pipe cleaners and 95% ethanol from the lab, followed by not one but three cycles of a 24 hour treatment of salt/alcohol. There was some improvement, but the ghosts still rattled their chains loudly, and even after quite a few smokes, it was still intense enough that I put the pipe in that now dusty box, and forgot about it.
But, things are somewhat different today, chez moi. First, as I mentioned above, I’ve made some peace with aromatics. Admittedly, they’re still not my top choice, but I do enjoy them on occasion. Second, the palette of “natural” tobaccos that I enjoy has many more colors than it once did. Would it be possible to revisit this pipe, and rather than fretting so much over exorcising the spectre, find some way to coexist in harmony with it? Certainly, I wouldn’t fill it with a rare and ancient Balkan mixture. Steak, after all. But maybe a ripe Virginia would play nice with those latent aromas. I chose a slightly aged VA/perique flake with a rich, full profile and plenty of natural sweetness, rubbed out a bowl’s worth, filled the pipe, and applied a tentative light. The first few puffs were all about the tobacco, but a little further into the bowl, there it was; the creaking doors, the rattling chains, even a little howling.
“I know you’re there. You can pack up the haunted house special effects. Halloween is months away. Just hang out quietly while I enjoy this smoke, or I’m calling in the priests.”
It worked. The smoke was certainly different from what I expect from this tobacco, but the augmented flavors were actually quite pleasant. Yep. Old dog, new tricks. I won’t say that I’ll be regularly inviting the ghosts in for tea, but if they happen to wander in, I might be in a bit less of a hurry to give them the boot.
-glp
Written by G. L. Pease
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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, he’d 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 “technique” 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; it’s 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 wasn’t until a few years later when, still full of curiosity and romantic notions of pipe smoking, I wandered into a real tobacconist’s shop, and learned my “method” 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 I’ve 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, it’s 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, “Here be dragons.” The other day, I came across a short video on-line in which a well-meaning tobacconist suggested packing a bowl of an “English” mixture “nice and tight.” Perhaps somewhat ironically, I was smoking, or trying to smoke a bowl that I’d filled on auto-pilot, packed too tightly, and not only was having the devil of a time trying to keep it lit, I really wasn’t enjoying the acrid smoke the tobacco issued during the brief periods in which it was actually burning. “No, no, NO!” 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. Defiantly, I grabbed a pipe nail, shoveled out the dense, asbestos-like clog from the bowl, swabbed out the shank with a pipe cleaner, more out of habit than need since I hadn’t actually smoked enough of the mass to foul the shank, and started over, this time paying proper attention to what I was doing. (For as long as I’ve been doing this, I still screw it all up sometimes.) Much better. This got me thinking about a couple things that are so important to the maximal enjoyment of our pipes, yet not often enough discussed, namely how different tobaccos respond to variations in filling density, and moisture content; two separate but related parameters. Once I’d been shown the proper way to fill the bowl, or at least a proper way, everything had changed for me. I also began drying my tobacco down as a matter of course. Suddenly, there was greater cooperation between leaf and flame, the smoke was rich and flavorful, and it burned mostly to the bottom of the bowl with few relights. Given that, at the time, I smoked latakia mixtures almost exclusively, there didn’t seem to be a reason to explore beyond my “new” approach. It wasn’t until my attention turned in the direction of Virginia blends that I had to look a bit deeper. The same technique that worked so well for me with latakia mixtures resulted in bland, and often harsh smokes with Virginias. I attributed this to the tobaccos, convincing myself that I just didn’t like the stuff. At one of our pipe club meetings, I was talking with a friend who smoked Three Nuns exclusively. When he offered me a bowl. I thanked him, and told him that I just didn’t seem to get along well with Virginias, that they weren’t for me. “Maybe it’s the way you pack them. Here, let me fill your pipe for you.” I watched as he rubbed out a few coins to fine ribbons, moister than I was then accustomed to, and filled the bowl carefully in stages, pressing it tighter than I would have. Prepared for a nightmare, I was instead treated to a pipe dream. The tobacco smoldered slowly and almost continuously, delivering a rich, cool, sweet and delicious smoke. After that, I spent some time exploring the impact of these two variables, moisture content and packing density, on different mixtures and blends, always with similar results. Latakia mixtures, and to a lesser extent, those with a high percentage of oriental leaf, taste and smoke better when they’re on the dry side and the bowl is filled loosely, while Virginia blends tend to work best with a little more moisture and a denser fill. Burleys seem to work best somewhere in between, except for cube-cuts, which don’t like to be packed with much pressure at all. (Gravity fill, tap the bowl to settle the cubes. Repeat until full.) For such a simple act, pipe smoking is filled with undefined complexities! The point behind all this? Often […]
