I ready my meerschaum and matches, as is tradition when coming into contact with a mystery blend; however, under the circumstances, perhaps a ceremonial pipe may have been more appropriate.
Hawke's Indian Moon was presented to me, meticulously wrapped in foil ― so a proper tin note is difficult to discern ― but, after unloading the compressed cake; comprised of deep brown, reddish brown, and a few strands of pine-colored shag ― I thrust my nostrils into the jar.
The aroma is mild: raisin is prominent, with hints of milk chocolate, light smoke, and... cedar. Aha, a clue! A burley blend, perhaps?
The moisture level is perfect; so I prepare my bowl, and take a dry draw: Earthy, musty, with the familiar notes of cedar, clove, nutmeg, and all spice, with the additional touch of fresh straw.
My first match takes no issues with turning this blend into a satisfying stream of cool, dry, wispy smoke. The experience is reminiscent of a warm summer afternoon in Arizona.
The room-note is savory; taking me back in time, to when I was a child, burning leaves out behind the smokehouse. The air is thick with the aroma of curing spices, aging morsels, and traces of smoldering Latakia leaf.
However, the first sips of the blend are pure burley: dry, nutty, and masculine ― melding swiftly into a smooth, savory, aged wood ― with no distinct bite. This is a meat and potatoes blend; not mom's pot roast and boiled spuds, mind you; but rather, a special evening out at the local steak house. As the feast comes to an end, the flavors further mingle into a matured, yet potent, dry-aged experience.
Hawke's Indian Moon is as pure Americana as a George Catlin painting: bold, proud, and bigger than life. It's a straight forward, unapologetic, blend that is best shared (and savored) in the company of those you respect, encircling the sacred fire, and giving praise to the Great Spirit.