GREEN ICING KITTY

Nearly a decade ago I discovered McClelland's Honeydew, and my life would never be the same. For a while I felt like an Irishman. Not moist and mildewy, but fresh and springlike. Laughing in, bathing in, and underneath, the emerald rain, emerald rain, emerald rain.

In 2012 life was more innocent and optimistic. And with that being the case, I even attempted to convert several of my peers, mostly sour old social sociopaths, to my way of thinking.


I tried to introduce the local pipe club to McClelland's Honeydew that year.

A subtly sweet, fragrant flake tobacco in the Irish tradition.

"The sweet, fragrant Honeydew was all gone by the time Susan Cushing offered the

container to Sherlock Holmes, but he was undoubtedly familiar with this fine Irish

flake’s gratifying flavor, pleasing aroma and gentleness on the palate."

Silly me, I thought the members of the pipe club would be sitting ducks for that!

There are three things that immediately spring to mind when first opening the tin: This is strictly a tobacco for people who do 'Brazilian Sugaring'; many rich white women have their bosoms and noses surgically modified; and what colour lipstick is appropriate while smoking this?

It was actually a very decent tobacco, but the melon dressing distracted immensely from that. And it took me over a year to finish the tin. Despite still having a tonne of McClellands tobaccos stashed away -- the company ceased business nearly four years ago but I've always acquired more than I could possibly smoke -- it is quite doubtful that I have even one tin of McClelland's Honeydew anywhere in the apartment. Most of the added "flavour" would burn off.
Though haunting traces of it remained.

I actually rather miss it.


Again, that's "Brazilian sugaring", bosoms, and lipstick.


Many of the same mental associations, but to a far greater extent, as Deep Hollow, which was tangy stoved red Virginias cased with vanilla and something else. Too sweet, but lovely tin art. One should NEVER judge a tobacco by the tin art. Having learned my lesson earlier from the sneers and disdain of the pipe club members (some of whom actually like aromatics, poor bastards), I refrained from sharing any, even though I couldn't really smoke it myself.
I am a sensitive man, and easily hurt.


I am presently looking for replacements. "Evocative" replacements.
Firedance Flake by Samuel Gawith isn't it.
Good lord almighty!

The most degenerate thing I'm smoking now is Glen Piper by McConnell. Mature Virginia leaf souped up with rum, chocolate, and something fruity. The dressing does not dominate, it smells in the tin like stewed fruits, and the smoke is a little bit sweeter than it would have been without the added flavourings. But it's a perfect Autumn day tobacco, ideal for indoors during rainy weather. Purists of course will find it disgusting.

Flavoured tobaccos are indicative of moral rot.
The secrets you hide under the bed.


Probably 'Rouge Coco' by Chanel.

TOBACCO INDEX


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