It’s a beautiful 80-degree bluebird day here in Idaho, and I wanted something porch-worthy. I was staring into the ranks of Mason jars in my cellar when the jar of 2021 Robert McConnell Scottish Flake caught my eye, partly because I could barely read my own handwriting on the lid. Those tiny jar tops don’t leave much room for notes, and to be honest my penmanship hasn’t improved much since the 3rd grade. After deciphering it with a top hat and a seeing stone, I figured it was time to give this blend another shot.
Back in 2021, I wasn’t very impressed when I first tried it. But today, I was craving something complex—and Scottish blends seldom disappoint a man in search of complexity.
I packed a bowl in my Jason Patrick poker. Not one of those stubby barrel pokers that weirdly took off around 2018, but a tall, elegant gentleman’s poker with a long, skinny bowl.
The smoke itself? To be honest, it didn’t wow me. The tin boasts of “mature red Virginia and Kentucky from North Carolina, black Cavendish and Turkish,” with Latakia in the mix. On paper, that sounds fantastic. But in practice, what dominates for me is the Dark-Fired Kentucky.
That’s the problem here: a good Scottish mixture usually works like an orchestra, you can taste the fixins’ all playing their parts, from the delicate woodwinds of Virginia to the smoky brass of Latakia. But in this orchestra, there’s a rock-and-roll drummer doing a thunderous solo. I keep waiting to hear the Latakia or Perique peek through like violins and woodwinds, but all I get is that Kentucky pounding away like Phil Collins in In the Air Tonight.
Is it a bad blend? No. And that’s not a bad drum riff either. But I was expecting nuance, and instead got something heavy-handed. For me, that’s why this Scottish Flake falls flat.
Back in 2021, I wasn’t very impressed when I first tried it. But today, I was craving something complex—and Scottish blends seldom disappoint a man in search of complexity.
I packed a bowl in my Jason Patrick poker. Not one of those stubby barrel pokers that weirdly took off around 2018, but a tall, elegant gentleman’s poker with a long, skinny bowl.
The smoke itself? To be honest, it didn’t wow me. The tin boasts of “mature red Virginia and Kentucky from North Carolina, black Cavendish and Turkish,” with Latakia in the mix. On paper, that sounds fantastic. But in practice, what dominates for me is the Dark-Fired Kentucky.
That’s the problem here: a good Scottish mixture usually works like an orchestra, you can taste the fixins’ all playing their parts, from the delicate woodwinds of Virginia to the smoky brass of Latakia. But in this orchestra, there’s a rock-and-roll drummer doing a thunderous solo. I keep waiting to hear the Latakia or Perique peek through like violins and woodwinds, but all I get is that Kentucky pounding away like Phil Collins in In the Air Tonight.
Is it a bad blend? No. And that’s not a bad drum riff either. But I was expecting nuance, and instead got something heavy-handed. For me, that’s why this Scottish Flake falls flat.
