You ever see those decadent chocolate commercials, with the hot chick making sex faces while eating a candy bar?
That's the stupid look I have on my face right now. (I know, kinda frightening to think about)
With my recently developed love of ODF and Irish Flake, I decided I needed to up my game. For IPSD, I scoured the offerings of our site sponsors and zeroed in on this flake as my next conquest.
Yesterday, it arrived. A soggy, heavy brick of combustible love. With the threat of Lakeland imminent, I decided a new pipe would need to be christened for the occasion. I chose one of the $20 Stanwells recently acquired, a shape #86.
Before bed, I opened the package and removed a single flake. About six inches long and an inch wide. Mostly dark brown with a very few tannish streaks running through.
It was moist, stiff and bendy, a bit like your leather belt after a long afternoon of working in the sun and perspiring.
"Tin" note, well I'm just not good with those. I rarely get them like other people. Little to no Lakeland in the nose. A bit of the dark fruit region of smell, but, to me, unremarkable.
This morning, I cut the flake in thirds. It still felt moist, yet had gotten somewhat brittle at the same time. An oddity of physics.
The 1/3 flake, folded and stuffed, filled the pipe about 85%, a perfect fit. On the side, a quart of ice water and a hot mug of java with a touch of cow juice.
Lighting the weed became an exercise in patience. Char, tamp, puff, char, tamp, puff. Poke, prod, light. Soon, I began getting a whole minute between lights, then, two minutes. A wonderful, deep and rich fruitiness began emerging between the fire attacks.
It took almost 15 minutes to get the embers fully into a nice groove. If the ghost of Grandma was present, it was only a faint whisper. Not an invasive frontal assault, but a fleeting extra dimension added to the fruity goodness. Another ten minutes in and the deeper, cigar-ish notes joined the party.
I've never been a cigar guy, but have learned to enjoy their influence on occasion. By the time I hit 40 minutes in, the stewed fruits and chocolatey cigar tones were screaming a full, well balanced symphony, conducted by the distant memory of Grammaw Kendal. (insert that stupid chocolate girl face here) :P
My butt became heavier and my head became lighter, another anomaly of physics. The hot, neutral coffee was a perfect accompaniment to the flavor and the occasional ice water refreshing.
I don't even know if a new briar was necessary. I'll keep this pipe dedicated, but my guess is that any ghost would be under the radar of most smokers. I believer the Irish Flake licorice/anise ghost would be heavier.
If you long for the flavors and scents of yesteryear and don't mind brandishing a flame for extended lengths of time, you should treat yourself to an ounce of this tobacco and decide for yourself.
I think I might have missed a flavor. I better go load the next piece....
That's the stupid look I have on my face right now. (I know, kinda frightening to think about)
With my recently developed love of ODF and Irish Flake, I decided I needed to up my game. For IPSD, I scoured the offerings of our site sponsors and zeroed in on this flake as my next conquest.
Yesterday, it arrived. A soggy, heavy brick of combustible love. With the threat of Lakeland imminent, I decided a new pipe would need to be christened for the occasion. I chose one of the $20 Stanwells recently acquired, a shape #86.
Before bed, I opened the package and removed a single flake. About six inches long and an inch wide. Mostly dark brown with a very few tannish streaks running through.
It was moist, stiff and bendy, a bit like your leather belt after a long afternoon of working in the sun and perspiring.
"Tin" note, well I'm just not good with those. I rarely get them like other people. Little to no Lakeland in the nose. A bit of the dark fruit region of smell, but, to me, unremarkable.
This morning, I cut the flake in thirds. It still felt moist, yet had gotten somewhat brittle at the same time. An oddity of physics.
The 1/3 flake, folded and stuffed, filled the pipe about 85%, a perfect fit. On the side, a quart of ice water and a hot mug of java with a touch of cow juice.
Lighting the weed became an exercise in patience. Char, tamp, puff, char, tamp, puff. Poke, prod, light. Soon, I began getting a whole minute between lights, then, two minutes. A wonderful, deep and rich fruitiness began emerging between the fire attacks.
It took almost 15 minutes to get the embers fully into a nice groove. If the ghost of Grandma was present, it was only a faint whisper. Not an invasive frontal assault, but a fleeting extra dimension added to the fruity goodness. Another ten minutes in and the deeper, cigar-ish notes joined the party.
I've never been a cigar guy, but have learned to enjoy their influence on occasion. By the time I hit 40 minutes in, the stewed fruits and chocolatey cigar tones were screaming a full, well balanced symphony, conducted by the distant memory of Grammaw Kendal. (insert that stupid chocolate girl face here) :P
My butt became heavier and my head became lighter, another anomaly of physics. The hot, neutral coffee was a perfect accompaniment to the flavor and the occasional ice water refreshing.
I don't even know if a new briar was necessary. I'll keep this pipe dedicated, but my guess is that any ghost would be under the radar of most smokers. I believer the Irish Flake licorice/anise ghost would be heavier.
If you long for the flavors and scents of yesteryear and don't mind brandishing a flame for extended lengths of time, you should treat yourself to an ounce of this tobacco and decide for yourself.
I think I might have missed a flavor. I better go load the next piece....
