It was time for the penultimate blend. I opted for #2.
As per usual, I sliced open the packet, tried not to peek at any contents, and focused only on the contained aroma. This, it would seem, resulted in what felt literally condimental. I was getting a combination of cranberry (now common in this study) and ketchup. It made me realize... somebody should release a cranberry ketchup. It would be the shit, especially on turkey or chicken hoagies.
Easing the contents from their housing, I realized that this leaf was the darkest yet. This suggested age, no doubt, and the loose flaking suggested American make. Likely McLelland, much like my guess for #1.
I continued the trend of divvying up the packet for myself and Alex in 2 small pipes to invoke either consensus or - more common - disagreement. We both assumed that what we were about to light was McLelland in origin, and that Alex would probably like it while I wouldn't. And we were (probably) both half right.
He lit up and the emanating cloud, sure enough, smelled like a barbecue smokehouse, plus a bit of tobacco. Before I could strike a flame, he told me that this wasn't as good as #1. I soon agreed. It took to light in no time, but my compliments largely stop there.
With this one, the retrohale was pleasant enough, with just a hint of spice. But while this pleasance was agreeable, it frustrated me that I detected little to no Red Virginia. That's the problem with such a leaf: it packs so light a punch that it's easy to drown out. Maybe the magic of this blend was that it faded so quickly to the background that all our conversations failed to return to whether or not we enjoyed the blend. Thus far, this was the only blend on which we agreed: 2.5/5.
As per usual, I sliced open the packet, tried not to peek at any contents, and focused only on the contained aroma. This, it would seem, resulted in what felt literally condimental. I was getting a combination of cranberry (now common in this study) and ketchup. It made me realize... somebody should release a cranberry ketchup. It would be the shit, especially on turkey or chicken hoagies.
Easing the contents from their housing, I realized that this leaf was the darkest yet. This suggested age, no doubt, and the loose flaking suggested American make. Likely McLelland, much like my guess for #1.
I continued the trend of divvying up the packet for myself and Alex in 2 small pipes to invoke either consensus or - more common - disagreement. We both assumed that what we were about to light was McLelland in origin, and that Alex would probably like it while I wouldn't. And we were (probably) both half right.
He lit up and the emanating cloud, sure enough, smelled like a barbecue smokehouse, plus a bit of tobacco. Before I could strike a flame, he told me that this wasn't as good as #1. I soon agreed. It took to light in no time, but my compliments largely stop there.
With this one, the retrohale was pleasant enough, with just a hint of spice. But while this pleasance was agreeable, it frustrated me that I detected little to no Red Virginia. That's the problem with such a leaf: it packs so light a punch that it's easy to drown out. Maybe the magic of this blend was that it faded so quickly to the background that all our conversations failed to return to whether or not we enjoyed the blend. Thus far, this was the only blend on which we agreed: 2.5/5.