It was old Herr Jäger, former aide-de-camp to prince Cajetan de Bourbon-Parma, Austro-Hungarian anecdotist extraordinaire, passionate dog-lover, habitué of the Austin Book Shop at Kew Gardens, NYC, that first introduced me to this tobacco, so many, many years ago. Seeing me smoke some anodyne popular blend out of a paper pouch, he suggested I try his: Wilke No 13.
I was still a teen and I had never encountered Latakia before. I had no idea that a pipe tobacco could taste so...magically good! I was suddenly transported to the Manègeplatz at Schloss Schönbrunn, a young guardsman smoking his pipe next to his Carinthian charger, waiting for the Old Kaiser to go out for the Corpus Christi procession. Felix Austria!
Latakia is the tobacco of day-dreams.
Looking like Fred Astaire going to his First Communion, I hot-tailed it to Wilke's Smoke Shop, a small, dapper tobaccy temple in Madison Ave near 47 Street??RIP!??and encountered, for the first time, BULK tobaccos measured out on old brass scales, Wilsonian-era vitrines laden with imported briars, and the most unforgettably delicious smell I have ever smelt: tobacco, oak floor, carnauba wax...
Wilke No 13 is an old American-type English blend, with a bit of Burley to buffer it and a smidgeon of scented cavendish to frou-frou out the Syro-Macedonian stench. It is remarkably pleasant, though slightly generic to my jaded palate, after all these years. I can't taste the Périque at all.
New York and Boston gentry smoked blends like these in the 20's, and the high-quality tobaccos used in these compositions are a far cry from the general-store Lumpen that most men smoked back then. Before the avalanche of tinned blends reached us from Northern Europe, this was a good smoke. I thoroughly enjoyed the trip in nostalgia, and I certaily wish Wilke's was still there in Mad Ave, en lieu of the Yuppitorium that has taken its place. You might prefer to spend your money in Lake-District foofaraw. But for me, nothing can take away the memories.