Pipe Therapy
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G. L. Pease - Jun 15, 2023
- 4 min read
Last week, I had one of those days when things just don’t go quite right. I’d ordered some specialty coffee from a supplier I’d heard good things about. Specifically, I ordered a pound of Sumatra Mandheling in a dark roast, one of my faves. I ordered whole beans, as I always do, or at least I thought I had ordered whole beans. Perhaps from overly enthusiastic fingers, or maybe it was just because it was still early and I hadn’t yet fueled up on high octane and my neurons were misfiring, I pulled the “Buy Me” trigger without carefully reading the description. Two days later, nicely packed and delivered to my door was a pound of pre-ground coffee.
I don’t buy pre-ground coffee for a couple reasons. First, as soon as the beans are ground, flavor and aroma begin a race against time. Some of the carbon dioxide (CO2) created during the roasting process is trapped within the bean. This actually has the beneficial side-effect of slowing down oxidation. Once ground, this trapped CO2 will dissipate quickly, and the coffee will begin to oxidize. Additionally, many of the aroma and flavor components trapped in the beans are volatile, migrating out of the grounds more quickly than they do while still encapsulated by little chemical shells within the bean. Sadly, this combination of oxidation and dissipation of volatiles results in ground coffee losing much of its more delicate and interesting character fairly quickly, and there’s nothing to be done to stop it. Time always ultimately wins that race.
Equally important, at least to my weird brain, is that whim often takes the driver’s seat in the morning when I’m choosing which method I want to use for my morning cup. Chemex? French press? My cherished mini Bialetti? Each method works best with a different grind, and with pre-ground, I’m stuck with whatever granule size I would find in that bag. Right, then.
I called the company. They listened compassionately, and very kindly offered to replace the unopened bag of pre-ground with one of freshly roasted whole beans, once returned, but, considering it would cost me postage plus the time packing it up and making a trip to the post office, I decided it didn’t make economic sense. And, I was perilously close to running out of beans, so, I just ordered another pound, this time of the right stuff, and decided to give the pre-ground a go. Freshly opened, it was quite nice in the press pot, less so in the Moka. We’ll see how long it holds onto its goodness.
If you’re questioning my sanity at this point, you’re in good company; I often do. But, I know coffee heads who are far more obsessive about their brew than I am. Why not get a Keurig and be done with it? Not going to happen. There’s something deeply comforting about my morning coffee ritual—preparing the apparatus, bringing a measured quantity of water to temperature, weighing and grinding the beans. It’s one of the little routines that anchors me to the reality of waking consciousness, especially on those mornings when the night’s dreamscape was particularly vivid and fascinating. (To be truthful, I’m really not a morning person. In a chat with an east-coast buddy, I was amused by the fact that his 3am rise time is about two west-coast hours before I’m even thinking about sleep.) Plus, in today’s world of immediate gratification, instant communication, and so many things being driven into a frenzy by technology’s incessant interruptions, I enjoy things that slow life’s pace a little. Like making coffee. Like cooking. Like smoking a pipe.
Admittedly, I’m equally impassioned with my pipe smoking rituals. I like to take time selecting the pipe that I want to smoke, and pondering the blend I want to fill it with, sometimes selecting a different pipe if the first one doesn’t “feel” like the right fit for the blend. This process sometimes goes through a couple more iterations, and on the most indecisive of days, can take almost as long as smoking the thing. Bonus if the tobacco happens to be a flake, or especially a plug, since I then get to think about how to prepare it, and in the case of plugs, it’s a good excuse for playing with knives. It’s all part of the process, part of the experience that makes each smoke just a little bit more special.
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As pipe smokers, we’re pretty fortunate. We’ve always got a go-bag at the ready when we need a temporary escape from the Island of Instancy. Pipe smoking is not a hurried thing. It’s something we can count on to bring moments of sanity and solace in an increasingly crazy world. It gives us a good excuse for taking a little time to focus on pure pleasure. It’s a delicate thread that connects us abstractly with a long and colorful history, with many great thinkers, artists, scientists, literary giants, and with each other. It’s a little bit like magic.
Sometimes, it even helps us forget that we pushed the wrong button.
-glp
Photos by G.L. Pease
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. 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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. We’ll have JD with the “From the Country Squire” segment talking about all the new things happening at the store and in the business in general. At the top of the show, we’ll 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 century’s 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 hasn’t 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 microscope—Sutliff’s 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. It’s 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 night’s beach party. Once it’s 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, I’ve 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 prepare—I prefer mine with a bit of drying time. The out-of-this-world tin art for this episode in the series is Major O’Meara smoking a cavalier. In the absence of confirmation, I’m going to hazard a guess he’s 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 pushed—this is where one’s 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 Rustica’s 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 I’ve 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 Katerini’s 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 doesn’t 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 it’s 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 can’t effectively catalog them all. Our pet adding machines are exceedingly good at this, however, and someday soon they’ll 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.
