THE BAYING OF DOGS

At tea time yesterday I lit up a bowl of Field Master pipe tobacco, which is no longer in production, so you can't have any. It was a bright sunny day, and I had deliberately put the maskless cretins of Marin and San Francisco out of my mind. Nor was I considering the multitudes crowding public swimming pools, beaches, and lakeshores. Because, really, if they want to kill themselves and infect their friends, neighbors, and relatives, who is to stop them? The Freedoms, man! The Freedoms!

And in all honesty I don't care that much if idiots I do not know or wish to ever meet die horribly. It's all good. Just stay the hell away from me and the hospital where I will end up being treated.

It's time for an interesting smoke.

FIELD MASTER
Latakia, Turkish, Virginia, Burley.
Blender: Carl McCallister.
Sutliff Tobacco Co.

No longer made.

A medium American-style English blend.

The Latakia is most noticeable, right after first light. Burley accentuates Latakia, and so may seem more evident, but without the Virginias it would simply be an odd old-fashioned American tobacconists mixture. As it is, it's quite enjoyable, with a definite English / Balkan slant. Had it been a Cornell & Diehl product there would have been more Burley. Given that I often find Burley blends somewhat hard to enjoy, I am glad it is't.
It's earthy, creamy, and smokey.
Very tasty.

Goes well with Pu Erh tea. Also regular black tea. But if you smoke more than a few bowls each day, it will leave a peculiar feeling at the back of the mouth. So I recommend it, especially with a few years age on it, but with reservations, and it's no longer in production, so good luck on that.


The name is taken from fox hunting. The Field Master is the experienced member of the hunt who knows the terrain well and rides ahead of the rest. His horse is a reliable mount not likely to misbehave or throw him when faced with ditches, ruts, or hedges. Given that I have never hunted -- the unspeakables in pursuit of the uneatables -- and on the whole despise that and similar overly hormonal past times, the imagery does jack for me, and there is no resonance that I can appreciate there.
But it's pretty good tobacco.

Fox hunting is not an Olympic event, has not spread outside of the Anglo world, and has only caught on in a limited way in the American South, among pretentious dickwads who fancy themselves gentry.

Afternoon tea, and the occasional spot of sherry, have a much greater appeal. With a satisfying smoke. Perhaps with comfy armchairs, or rattan furniture under the deep veranda while the tropical downpour shrouds the rice paddies and distant jungle edge in a dense grey veil.
Dammit, this place is full of mosquitoes!

The roaches are the size of a shoe!


Nyamok, lemot, lalat, sangatat, lipas, pipit pipit, pantjok, katjuwak.


Little pesky black flying bugs make a sit-down dinner impossible during the first weeks of the rainy season. They're everywhere. Even the tinned English mutton stews have lost their flavour at this time.
We need to shoot another goat.

Field master.




YOU SOCIAL BUTTERFLIES

Yeah, okay, the rest of you can happily go spread the plague among yourselves in large groups. Me and a few friends will just sit quietly by ourselves at twenty to thirty feet apart, with our computers and teapots, and our briars filled with something that many "sensitive" people shy away from. Pipesmoking is the definition of social responsibility and consideration.
We're doing it for the common good.

TOBACCO INDEX


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