At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010


For the past three hours I have been sniffing my digits. It's all because of the Jews.
While I was hanging around the tobacco shop this morning a young couple came in. The husband asked whether there was any Commonwealth Mixture by Samuel Gawith to be had. "No", said Thomas, "we've been having a hard time getting that; we don't know why". The young man fessed that it was difficult to find in Israel (Jerusalem) also. He bought some Westminster (GLP) and Balkan Flake (SG) instead.
While Thomas was ringing up the purchase I remarked to the young man that he certainly knew his tobacco.

Certain pipe-tobaccos are almost like a signature perfume.
Years ago someone remarked that the smell of a particular Latakia-rich mixture which I was smoking at the time reminded her of her dad - she loved to bury her nose in his sweaters and just inhale deeply. He had smoked something very similar until her mom persuaded him to quit. The smell was just so very evocative to her. Her face looked softer as she indulged the memory.
I don't think she liked her mom very much.

You must have noticed by now that I associate tobacco smells with certain fond memories (and also with several nice young ladies) from the past; smell is a very potent mental stimulant.
That pattern quite likely also holds for the young couple at the store.
My guess is that while the young gentleman's eyshes chayil may have, consciously, been not entirely approving of her husband's habit, her subconscious self is deeply, even passionately, appreciative of his signature odours. The reek of rich smoky Latakia mixtures probably prompts, without her even being aware of it, fond feelings towards the man she married - no one else has quite that same whiff.
In the dark of night when the merest whisp of Syrian perfume drifts in to the bedroom, her dreams turn warm and gentle. The faint and resinous nose-echo is comforting, reassuring.


My shipment from C&D recently arrived, so last night I made new batches of two of my own blends.
I shall wait a week to smoke the more complex mixture, which, because it contains cigar leaf (Besuki), I am letting sit for several days to meld.
The simpler blend, which needs less time to 'marry', I smoked this morning.
My fingers still smell of the tobacco with which I filled my pipe. Mmmmmmm.

Cornell & Diehl provide some fine very blending tobaccos. Kudos for their sourcing.
My fingertips bear evidence of the high quality.
Matured flue-cured tobacco, Red Virginia, Smyrna, Latakia.
You sweet young thing, you smell divine! Snifffffffffff!


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  • At 6:20 PM, Blogger Steffy said…

    Not quite as obscene a tobacco post as usual. Maybe there's hope after all.

    Now, if you can learn to think of human relations OUTSIDE of a tobacco context......


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