The Glory Days
Well, well, well... it’s about damn time I spoke my mind about what used to be my favorite twist—GH Rum Twist. Used to be, mind you. Now, it ain’t nothin’ but a sorry excuse of its former self. Ain’t that just the way things go? Take something fine, something real special, and run it through the wringer ‘til it’s damn near unrecognizable.See, this twist was my first real step into the world of pipe smoking. Back then, I was lookin’ for something flavored, something to ease me into the craft. When I first got my hands on a pouch of the good old Rum Twist, I knew I was in for something special. Openin’ that mail box, the aroma hit me like a goddamn runaway train. Rich, sweet, oily Virginias laced with a kiss of rum and a whisper of spice—cinnamon-like, warm, inviting. Hell, the smell alone was so potent it damn near turned my stomach ‘til I got used to it.
The Smoking Experience
It was a sturdy beast, that twist. Not the kind of thing you just hack away at all willy-nilly. Had to work at it, cutting those dense coins with a cigar cutter, slicing through each one carefully. The tobacco itself? Moist, but not goopy like them overcooked aromatics. Thought it wouldn’t need much dryin’—ha, what a fool I was. Two hours weren’t enough, left me burnin’ through matches like a madman just tryin’ to get the damn thing lit. Four hours, though—that’s where I found the sweet spot.And the smoke? Pure bliss. Bold, aged Virginias leadin’ the charge, with rum and spice sneakily lurkin’ in the background. Straightforward, yet full of character. Strong, but never harsh. A man’s smoke. And the room note? Lord have mercy—it was somethin’ special. Sweet, old-timey, damn near nostalgic, like sittin’ on a farmhouse porch watchin’ the sun set over the countryside. That was the real Rum Twist, the one I cherished.
The Fall from Grace
But the 2024 version? Now that’s a goddamn tragedy. When I opened this new batch, I knew somethin’ was off right away. The smell wasn’t rich or inviting—it was foul, like burned charcoal and rust. No sweetness, no rum, just the stench of disappointment. And the look? Darker, spongy, a whole different beast entirely. But I ain’t one to judge on appearances alone, so I figured I’d give it a fair shot.Prep was easy—too easy. The coins practically crumbled on their own, takin’ all the effort out of the process. My gut told me it didn’t need much dryin’, so I left it for just 30 minutes. And sure enough, it took to the flame like a moth to a damn lantern. But that flavor? Flat. Weak. Just a ghost of what it once was. The Virginias were still there, but they had no soul, no backbone. And the room note? About as memorable as last week’s newspaper.
GH’s Dishonesty
Now, I ain’t sayin’ this new version is outright terrible—it’s just mediocre, and that might be even worse. Not worth the damn price I paid for it, that’s for sure. But what really sticks in my craw is the damn dishonesty. GH’s customer service playin’ dumb, actin’ like nothin’ changed when it damn well did. First, they claim it’s just the natural variation in tobacco crops—then, when pressed, they admit they changed some of the cooking equipment. Makes you wonder what else they might be lyin’ about. Maybe they’re usin’ lower-quality tobacco now. Maybe they’ve changed the flavorings. Who knows? All I know is they sure as hell won’t admit to it.I could respect the truth if they’d just come out and say, "Yeah, things change, and so does our process." But this dodgin’ and weavin’? That’s unprofessional, and it’s downright insulting to folks like me who’ve been loyal to their product for years.
The Unlikely Return to Greatness
I just wish they’d see the error of their ways and go back to how things once were, but I reckon that ain’t gonna happen. The way I see it, Rum Twist as we knew it is gone for good, and GH ain’t got the sense or the spine to bring it back.So here I sit, reminiscing on what was and mournin’ what’s been lost. GH Rum Twist ain’t what it used to be, and I reckon it never will be again. Guess all I got left are them sweet memories—memories of a time when a man could light up a bowl and taste greatness, instead of some factory-produced shadow of what once was.
Damn shame.
