Indulge Your Pleasure
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G. L. Pease - Jul 22, 2013
- 6 min read
G. L. Pease
I knew a guy whose pipes all had little grey, rectangular tags dangling from their shanks by thin white strings, each one showing the date of the last smoke, what was smoked, and a number and letter grade reflecting an overall rating of the experience. Once he’d hit upon the "right" mixture for a given pipe, it would be dedicated to that blend until either eternity’s clock stopped ticking, or the world ran out of the tobacco. There was a little notation on the hanging tags for that, too. It was a strange and almost macabre scene, like a gallery show of the tags encircling toes of the most recent unknown members of the choir invisible, having anonymously checked in at the county morgue. Something about it, too, seemed clinical and overly forensic. Dunhill LB Shell #3, laid to rest after a bowl of Stonehenge, 13 November, 2002, B+4.
As I got to know this guy, I began to understand that his obsession was not so much a disorder as it was part of the deep pleasure he derived from his pipes. He kept cases of pipe cleaners of all types—bristle, fluffy, thin, long, short—cleaning his cherished briars with care after every smoke, occasionally buffing or waxing, and inspecting with lights and loupes and scopes to ensure he didn’t miss anything. It was a relaxing ritual for him, a time of respite from his otherwise harried life, and his pipes remained immaculate, pressed and starched, waiting patiently in their stands for him to call them into duty for his next pristine smoke.
In contrast, there was an old fellow who predictably came into Drucquer & Sons’ every two weeks for two 8oz tins of Blue Streak at Midnight, the most syrupy, intensely sweet aromatic carried by the shop. He’d arrive on schedule, clenching one of his few old pipes between his teeth, its bowl encrusted by years of tar and soot and ash that had erupted from its depths, boiling over the side like lava, giving the thing an appearance more like pumice than briar. He’d hammer the helpless thing on the cork knocker in the ashtray on the counter, the dripping dottle only reluctantly releasing its hold to fall out in a smoldering lump, and he’d run a single pipe cleaner down the length of the shank, withdraw it, and fold the now blackened thing in half, tossing it atop the souring remains of his last smoke. He’d request his two tins, ask for one to be opened, fill his bowl from the sample jar, pay for his purchase, and quietly leave. As soon as he was clear of the front door, whoever was closest would scramble to the ashtray to rid the shop of the foul mess before environmental remediation was necessary.
I once offered the old guy a bundle of pipe cleaners, on the house, which he politely declined. “No, thanks. Don’t need ’em. I just use one when I come in.” I offered him samples of other blends he might find enjoyable, but which might leave his pipes a little less distressed. He wasn’t having any. He knew what he liked, and was completely content.
It seems impossible to imagine two more different pipe smokers. One, fastidious with his briars, the other indifferent. One, an explorer, sought ever new pleasures, new combinations of blend and briar that would seduce his gustatory delight, the other, having found satisfaction in a single tobacco and a few old pipes, had no desire to leave the comfort of home. Yet a single thread tied both of these men together with an un-disentaglable knot; they each enjoyed the hell out of their pipes.
No matter where each of us may be along our respective trajectories, from budding tyro to masterful veteran, there are lessons to be learned from each of these guys. From one, we grasp the idea that exploration can be exciting, that finding that special synergy between a given pipe and tobacco combination is well worth the time and effort invested. There are magical moments to be experienced, and when they happen, it’s a truly wonderful thing. (For me, this is part of what drives me to constantly create new blends, to experiment with different pipes.) The other reminds us that there are times when the satisfaction of a comfortable smoke, one not steeped in the complications of analysis, can be its own reward. The first approach is fishing to catch something; studying the tides and temperatures, researching what’s biting and where, and being armed with an impressive regiment of flies, lures, baits and the perfect rods and reels for the job. The other approach is just a relaxing day of fishing.
Pipe smoking is a mysterious thing. Superficially, it seems simple enough; fill a bowl with shredded leaves, apply some form of fire, and puff away to flavorful bliss. But, ask 100 pipe smokers about almost any aspect of pipe smoking, whether it’s tobacco selection, what makes a good pipe, vintage or contemporary, long or short, straight or bent, classic or modern, sandblast or smooth, tapered or saddle, conical or cylindrical, or how best to pack or clean a pipe, or break in a new one—even something as mundane as whether it’s best to use match or lighter—it sometimes seems that there are at least 101 answers. It gives us a lot to talk about. As a group, we do seem fascinated with discussions of minutiae, and if we look through the pipe literature of the past and present, there’s no shortage of evidence of this. For as long as there have been pipes, there have been at least as many ways to enjoy the smoking of them as there have been smokers themselves, and for many of us, those conversations are undeniably part of our pastime’s deeper pleasures. But, sometimes, perhaps, those vanishing points, as fascinating as they might be, can get in the way of the real reason we took up the pipe in the first place. More than once I’ve been told by someone wiser than I, “You’re over-thinking it. Just smoke the damn thing and enjoy it.” It’s good advice, reminding me that sometimes, it might be best to take a page from the old guy’s book and just go fishing.
Whether a smoker has a rack of cobs, enjoying the steady and reliable companionship of a single favorite, readily available tobacco, or an elaborate cabinet displaying a collection of fanciful briar sculptures, taking exotic smoking journeys from a cellar filled with irreplaceable vintage tins, the pleasure found in their respective smoking is the only thing that truly matters.
Indulge your pleasure, in whatever form it takes, and find equanimity in the knowledge that for others, it might be quite different. Smoke what you like. Like what you smoke. That, and not getting too mired in the details, is really all there is to it.
Your turn.
-glp
 Since 1999, Gregory L. Pease has been the principal alchemist behind the blends of G.L. Pease Artisanal Tobaccos. He’s been a passionate pipeman since his university days, having cut his pipe teeth at the now extinct Drucquer & Sons Tobacconist in Berkeley, California. Greg is also author of The Briar & Leaf Chronicles, a photographer, recovering computer scientist, sometimes chef, and creator of The Epicure’s Asylum. See our interview with G. L. Pease here. |
Written by G. L. Pease
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October is that deep-breath month we take when the sizzle of summer begins to fizzle and fades into the joys of autumn. The month always puts me in the mood for a walk in the mountains. With pipe, of course. Fall colors depend upon weather, shorter days, and cooler nights. These events limit sunlight, starving deciduous trees of chlorophyll, its sugary food. So, following the natural chemistry of deciduous trees leads us down a trail of transformative annual colors. Greens change clothes from green to reds, yellows, purples, and a painter’s palette of art-worthy other hues, showcasing special autumnal moments in the natural world. And no, the Pundit is not a arborist. He just thinks he is. Each fall deciduous trees in the mountains do their best to festoon hills and ridges with so much beauty. When the mists rise over the ridges, and lift away, beneath lie the changing hills and valleys. During this short, in-between season of nature in its rainbow of natural blush, it seems as if the slopes rust from tiptop to their root tips, in nature’s full kaleidoscopic fashion. Back in the Pundit’s flyfishing days on burbling mountain streams in fall, it was de rigueur to make sure pipe and tobacco pouch were firmly housed safely in flyfishing vest. On one of these precious long ago days, Pundit waded an Arkansas mountain stream, a beautiful four-mile stretch of water known as the Norfork. The river was a tailwater of the famed White River, a trout fisherman’s paradise. Here rainbow, brown, brook, and cutthroat trout frolic for a variety of watery bugs, such as hatching mayflies. I had just purchased a special German-made trout knife that hung around the Pundit’s neck for quick access. The shiny blade was housed in its nice leather pouch, sans button-down leather flap to hold it secure. Pitching a fly line into this water one fall day with knife—and a pipe clenched tightly—Pundit found a willing customer nibbling one of my special hand-made ties. Excited, I fought the big trout and watched it leap in attempting to dislodge the fly hooked in the trout’s hard upper lip. There was wild acrobatics swooshing up and out of the stream with more leaps and frantic tail flapping. And—as the Stoics warned, do not become attached to things, for they are not forever—I hastily leaned over to haul in the big boy with my net when suddenly, away into the wine-dark water flew my lovely knife vanishing ‘neath the billows like Odysseus’ Ino (Goddess of the Sea) veil. With sincere apologies to the ancient Greek poet Homer. Like our mortal hero lost at sea, I yelled expletives. So aghast I was, I believe I heard dark Poseidon himself reply, “Go! Go, rove your high seas if you must, and take your blows!,” for right then I lost my most precious pipe as “a wave suddenly took it and Nymphe Ino’s hands received it” away into the fast-running water. Dear reader, pause a moment if you will, and imagine my shock at the burbling, green-blue stream so immediately thieving away my treasures, along with the now dislodged trout as if for good measure. Just a moment earlier I was a placid hunter in the god-loved lands of the Phaeacians. Now I was a forlorn man. A complete loss! Total discombobulation. In addition to losing the big one that got away, Pundit lost a fine German-made trout knife and a very pricey pipe. Lesson one: Never purchase a German-made blade and hang it around your neck in an open leather pouch while flyfishing fast-moving trout waters. Lesson two: When flyfishing fast-moving trout tailwaters below power-producing rivers, smoke only inexpensive cobs—they’re the best smokers for the money. And if they drop into the “sucking ebb sheeting with foam” of our finest fast-moving trout waters, at least you haven’t lost expensive blade and pipe, which continue to float in the mists of dreams to this day! These days, Pundit is content to stroll about in the color sensation of the moment in mountains, pipe firmly in hand. Flyrod left at home. My enjoyment today sitting next to mountain cascades is watching others wade the streams, whilst I confidently puff and marvel at the splashy canopy of colors. Which reminds old Pundit of one of his favorite poems by one of his favorite poets, Robert Frost. A couple of lines if you please, maestro, will do here: From the poet’s autumnal poem, Nothing Gold Can Stay: “Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold.” If you are a poetry, buff, ahem, you can read the short poem at https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/148652/nothing-gold-can-stay-5c095cc5ab679 Now for a few more short takes. This time of year, I enjoy pure Virginias. Okay, call me flaky, that’s perfectly fine. I love Virginia flakes as well when ridge-chilled winds rush into the valleys. I am among those who bemoan the demise of the cherished McClelland blends, most especially the famed nonpareil 5100 Red Cake Virginia. And, of course, the much-lamented loss of McClelland’s annual Christmas Cheer of outstanding broken flake Virginias. I first found this fabulous blend in 1992. One more to whet the tobacco appetite is Iwan Ries IRC slices, another favorite this time of year. This is a fine Old Belt flue-cured Virginia flake with a dollop of perique. You can find its review at https://www.tobaccoreviews.com/blend/2725/iwan-ries-irc-slices Now, a couple of old pipe smokers of the past: Günter Grass, Nobel Prize winner in Literature and a prolific German author of novels, poems, plays, and graphic art. He was born, Oct. 16, 1927, and died April 13, 2015. And Evelyn Waugh, British journalist, novelist, and travel writer, was born Oct. 28, 1903, and died April 10, 1966. A parting quote from Waugh sums up the autumnal comings and goings: “Change is the only evidence of life”–Brideshead Revisited Photos by Fred Brown
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Welcome to The Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 522! Our featured interview tonight is with pipe maker Jason Patrick. Jason is from the Chicago area, and he started making pipes in 2019. Some of his earliest memories are of his grandfather smoking a pipe. He started pipe smoking in his early 20’s, and soon decided that he wanted to make them. He started with standard shapes, and then branched out into Danish-style freehand designs. He likes to listen to our show while kayaking. In Pipe Parts, 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!
It’s no secret that I love old pipes. Like a well broken-in pair of jeans, there’s something they bring with them that makes them sort of special. They carry an unspoken history with them; the places they’ve been, the tobaccos they’ve seen. Sometimes, this history is evidenced by the knocks and dings they show, or the aromas and tastes of tobaccos long since forgotten. Depending on how poorly it’s been treated, this can make an old pipe rather less than desirable, but a well cared for briar from eras past can be, or can become, a cherished favorite. Some collectors I’ve spoken with have insisted that old pipes are better than new ones. How often have we heard, “They just don’t make ‘em like they used to?” There may be some validity to this, but I’m not convinced this sort of universal statement is true, or even necessarily a positive one. Let’s look a little closer, first at pipes of olde, and see if we can make some informed speculations. At the zenith of the pipe’s history, at least with respect to popularity, pipes were made and sold by the millions. Manufacturers across all quality levels procured briar by the ton, not by the piece, and the best makers performed whatever magic they felt appropriate to ensure a good smoking result, always with an eye towards differentiating their pipes from those of their competitors. Some air dried their briar for long periods, others force-dried their briar more quickly in klins. The final processes of sorting, grading and finishing was sometimes a closely guarded secret amongst makers, with only the finest pieces finding their way down the line to being sold as top grade pipes. Additionally, various techniques were often employed after the pipe was machined, such as Dunhill’s famous “oil curing,” used as part of the finishing process for their legendary “Shell” sandblasts. Sasieni was said to “oven-cure” turned bowls, subjecting them to tortuous heat over a prolonged period; those that survived the ordeal were reputed to be very dry smokers. Of the more budget friendly brands, the Dr. Grabow “pre-smoked” pipe, employed what is likely the most dramatic “curing” method. Using a technique developed by Louis B. Linkman in 1933, finished pipes were filled with tobacco, smoked gently to the bottom by his Automated Smoking Machine, the process repeated several times. This was, if nothing else, a stroke of marketing genius. Inexpensive as they were, the briar used to make Dr. Grabows was arguably not especially consistent or well cured, which would result in at least some pipes tasting bad out of the gate. The smoking machine could mitigate the potential harshness of those early bowls without suffering the torment a human smoker would, allowing lesser quality briar to be made into acceptably good smoking pipes. One thing is certain. Of the millions of pipes made each of those golden years, some were certainly exquisite, many were likely dreadful, and the majority fell somewhere in between these extremes. Pipes then, especially those in lower price categories, were seen as tools, simple items to buy, use, and occasionally discard. It’s probable that the worst of them simply never survived to share their horror with us today. Even if a pipe was good and smoked heavily, it would eventually reach the end of its useful life, either through just being “smoked out,” or suffering a broken tenon or bitten through stem or other misfortune, and find itself cast aside. Only “special” pipes, the favorites, the best of the best, would be lavished with sufficient care to allow them to survive the decades in relatively good nick. So, when we find old pipes, at least those from the makers with good reputations, they are more likely to be accidentally curated specimens rather than overall representative examples. If we add to the equation the fact that old pipes, again, if well cared for, have already been thoroughly broken in, we are likely to find some true gems amongst the antiquities. So, are old pipes really “better?” What about today’s low volume pipe makers who operate in a rather different environment? Because today’s demand for briar is significantly lower, suppliers can be more careful in choosing and cutting burls. They’ll cut blocks to maximize their quality, or at least their grain consistency, rather than to achieve the burl’s greatest yield. Too, they can spend more time ensuring that the wood they sell is carefully boiled and dried sufficiently to deliver consistently good smoking. The pipe maker can then do whatever is in their bag of tricks to further increase the probability that the pipe they make is an exceptional one, lavishing great care on all the subtle details of its creation. Additionally, with today’s ease of information exchange, and perhaps somewhat less of a tendency towards competition, a lot of experimentation has been performed and shared, along with some pretty detailed analysis of what has worked in the past, and what may not have. The result is that more is probably known today than ever before about what makes a great pipe, and what doesn’t, which certainly benefits us as pipe smokers. In terms of artistry, witnessing the exploration some makers have taken in creating new shapes and forms can be a remarkable adventure in its own right. And, there are more choices to be found for interesting stem materials, including improved vulcanite that is less resistant to oxidation than much of what was available in the past, and custom-cast acrylic that presents the smoker with more choices of color and style than ever before. Though probably not universally true, even amongst “high volume” manufacturers, today’s lower demand can result in greater care in briar selection, with advances in technology arguably creating increased consistency in construction. There are many factory pipes at affordable prices that rival the best the past had to offer. I’ve got a lot of beautiful old pieces in my collection that are brilliant smokers, including the one I’m puffing […]
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Great read Greg. I think most of us lie somewhere between these two extremes. I tend to nanny my pipes, like the former, but only smoke a handful of blends, like the latter. For what its worth, my Blue Streak at Midnight is GLP Westminster.
Really enjoyed reading this! I’m afraid I have to admit that I identify with the second pipe smoker. I have purposely surrounded myself with a number of inexpensive pipes that I could probably be content to smoke till they explode and just toss them in the garbage. As I add some expensive pipes to my collection, I am having to learn to be more like the first smoker. I’ll tell you this though. After a 16 hour day, a bowl of Carter Hall in a cob is a wonderfully relaxing thing. Doesn’t ask much from you but gives a great smoke every time.
I agree, I have some decent blends in my meagre collection right now and I keep turning back to the good ole’ CH. I’m thinking its a phase right now, but who knows, maybe I’ll just be ordering a tub of CH per month for the next 30 years and be happy with it. Sure would be cheaper!!
Great article, and a great summation of the fact that in the hobby there is a myriad of ways to enjoy oneself- and that’s the point- enjoy yourself. 1 pipe and 1 blend and smoke ‘er till the pipe evaporates? Why not! 7,000 pipes and a closet filled with more $ invested in baccy than Joan Rivers has in plastics? Why not!
Its particularly pertinant to me right now, as I seem to be in this mode of deciding whether I’ve got x pipes devoted to x blends, or if I just have a handful of pipes I like and some tobaccos I like, and I throw them together with a little fire and enjoy myself.
Also, for some people, gettting mired in the details is half the fun! 🙂 Another great read from Mr. Pease.
Smoke what you like. Like what you smoke. I could not agree more with this statement.
This presents an amazing contrast. I, for one, am always pondering whether to ditch all of the expensive experimenting, which may be “looking for nirvana,” and settle on the three blends I’ve found that suit my taste for their flavor and room note.
While part of the fun is in the endless variety, when does one stop? I guess that’s what makes for interesting “horse racing.”
Nice study in contrasts – I’m much more like the first gentleman, having charted out my tobacco purchases in a spreadsheet, which I’m in the process of upgrading to a relational database… but lately, it’s been nice to just grab a pipe and a jar somewhat at random and then just sit and enjoy a bowl or two.
You pretty much nailed it: to each, his own. I am not quite as obsessed, but I relish diversity and am quite eclectic, having never settled down to one or two blends or any particular pipe. I have 77 pipes and 71 different blends in my cellar, and I seem to always be chasing that next new tobacco. Thanks for the perspective, and another interesting read.
I fish to catch fish and I smoke a pipe just to smoke so for me it’s keep it simple, two blends and a few pipes and get about the business of making smoke.
What’s that pipe at the top of the article? that looks like something I’d like.
Great read Greg, thanks. I definitely identify with the first pipe smoker. Since the beginning of my journey, I have always taken very good care of my pipes, loved a variety of tobacco, and have had many different taste changes in terms of the pipes I smoke and the blends I reach for. I search for the perfect pipe and tobacco pairing and when I find it, Nirvana is where I am taken. I could never mis treat one of my pipes and let it get filthy, I am just not made up that way. I normally have at least 22-25 blends open at any given time because I live for variety. I don’t remember if I have ever smoked the same blend twice in one day, and the thought of smoking the same blend year after year is definitely foreign to me.
I have a neighbor 3 doors down, he smokes one Dr grabow pipe, his Captain Black Gold and he is happy as a clam. When he burns out his pipe, he buys another. He has been doing that for over 50 years. He loves his way, I love mine.
This was a great read Greg. I have seen both types of pipers. I tend to lean on the clean side as I want to be able to get that best possible smoke I can. I do not keep a pipe log or tag my pipes though. That really takes dedication.
“You’re over-thinking it. Just smoke the damn thing and enjoy it.”+1000
I definitely enjoy trying new blends in various pipes. Though I will not be inventing my own grading system any time soon.
A lot of my enjoyment from pipe smoking comes from not getting too lost in the details. That’s why I can still take an old pipe around a camp fire and if i happen to burn the rim, so be it!
Nicely put Greg, wonderful read. Reminds us that as pipe smokers, there is no right or wrong way, just what’s right and works for you. From the one extreme to the other, and everywhere in between, it’s all about enjoying your pipe.
Well said, nice article.
Thanks for the comments, gents. We’re all somewhere along the continuum. Personally, I drift back and forth, sometimes going for the simple approach, sometimes the more involved. Either way, it’s been, and continues to be a great journey.
.
-glp
Another fantastic post, GLP. It’s always such a treat to stop by the site and enjoy your writing.
I thoroughly enjoyed this article, and the pix are top notch, as usual. There’s a part of me that takes comfort in the predictability of a regular blend — an old, reliable friend and known quantity. Yet, I am compelled by some primeval human instinct to hunt, sample, and return to the hunt. If I didn’t yield to this impulse, I’d feel I was missing something.
Another great read from Greg.
Greg
Great essay and a lot of fun to read
I could just see that codger with the messy pipe angling out of his mouth
Well done
Allan
Not a big fan of trying new blends as you almost always end up disappointed. On the other hand I am not focused enough to keep track of what I smoke in a given pipe. I have Virginia pipes and English pipes but have no further distinction.
Wow! I am somewhere in between. I have yet to find a blend I hate. I love flavor, food, drink,smoke. I have several pipes,mostly of my own making. I love to try new flavors. It can be hard to make up my mind on any one blend.
I’m definitely more like the first guy–always trying new blends and new pipes (albeit cheap pipes). And though I enjoy the journey, one of my goals is to be like the second guy–someone who has found what he likes and sticks to it. Unfortunately, the deeper you dig into something, be it music, sports or pipe smoking, the more you see that the road never ends. Some things benefit from being “mono”–monogamy for example. But for me it looks like I’ll always be a wanderer in the pipe world.
Greg I always enjoy reading your writings. I find myself in between the two gentlemen. While I enjoy trying different blends in different pipes, there are times when I just want to pack a bowl of something very familiar in an old great smoking pipe and just go fishing.
Great read Greg… That is what there is to it, enjoy the little joy…!!
Best regards
Too little attention to the details of pipe smoking seems to create a swathe of negative backlash wherein preventable mistakes take over his pipe experience. Too much attention to the details and the pleasure is lost. I find more value in over-attention than less as whatever the arguable causality that the former finds, he at least knows what works for him.
Was sitting out with my father over Thanksgiving on the porch. He had his Stanwell Zebrano, covered in tar, in a bear trap clench smoking the same 1Q he has smoked for 20 years. He puffs deep and often; no alterations, no relights, no tamps. In contrast, I have an immaculately cleaned Nording horn filled with some Sutliff No. 5. I am carefully packing, redoing it at one point, getting the prelight done. Finally it is ready and I gently hold the pipe in my hand. I notice my dad, a man of few words and many opinions, is looking at me like I am the weirdest guy on earth. “What?” is all I say. He smiles and says, “Randy, you think too much about it. Just smoke the pipe.” We sit back and enjoy the autumn weather. Two types of smokers.