THE TOBACCO FOR A FIT OF EXISTENTIAL ANGST

Okay, I did it. I tried a second bowl of Dark Red in my pipe. And, like the first time, it tasted wonderful for about the top third. Oh my, I am in flavour country now. This stuff is growing on me. Like having dried dates rupture their oozy juices all over my psyche. Mmmm, orgasm. After that first part, however, it took more effort to get a pleasant effect, the realization that it was completely monodimensional and didn't even taste remotely like tobacco hit me, and I started questioning my behaviour.

Why must I suffer so?

What the hell IS that room note?

Was I only doing this to piss off my coworker?

Why did I feel the need to apologize to a regular who dropped by?

How many microwave pulses of eight or nine seconds each time would it take before this tobacco had actually dried to smokeable level? I mean, was it so full of goop and propylene glycol that, like Molto Dolce, it would not die, unless you recited ancient Egyptian spells over it?
Was it afraid of cats?



Yep, the last third tasted like toxic waste again.

Dark Red is bound to win lots of fans.

Many people will like it.


And, precisely like the last time, it threw off my entire day's smoking schedule. By now I should know not to do such things. I would much rather smoke four or five bowls of good tobacco than spoil the entire rest of the day with nuclear waste dump mouth. Some people smoke nothing but aromatics, often re-using the same pipe over and over again till the damned thing is drenched and dripping rancid juices, and those same perverts so rarely use pipe cleaners that you are surprised that their mouths aren't filled with canker sores and festering gum death. Plus drooling pus.
Many of those people love black cavendishes.
There's nothing better ever made.
Taste-bud barbarians.
Perverts.


There are at least four people I will recommend this tobacco to.

TOBACCO INDEX


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DARK RED, STRONG BAD

In order that that I could be completely fair, and not accused of slamming it because it's an aromatic, I actually stuffed some of Lane Ltd's new black Cavendish "Dark Red" into my pipe and smoked it.

First half of the bowl was really enjoyable, and not just because I felt sleazy blowing it out and my coworker kept exclaiming "dang, you trollop, what the heck, shee that craps nasty smells like pimp in here you're a monster".
And similar blandishments.

It was sort of like inhaling an entire box of the dried California dates that relatives used to send over when we lived in Holland. Later they started mailing us gift boxes of fruit preserves for Christmas instead, and I still fondly remember the neon green one. What fruit was that?
My mom would have preferred me not to eat it.
The unnatural hue freaked her out.

It wasn't bad at all.
Kind of fruity.


The second half of the bowl was not so enjoyable, verging on bitter and putrid, but not in a very good way.

That was five days ago, and the bowl of that briar still has a whiff of massage parlour.

Gonna repeat the experiment this coming Sunday, same pipe.
There may be a follow-up post.
Or not.


In any case, because the whole thing reminded me of perspiring wrestlers, here's a video of every gringo's favourite luchador:


DOOMP, DOOMP, DOOMP, DOOMP, DOOMP.
DURLAKTO, DURLAKTO, DURLAKTO.
THE SYSTEM ... IS DOWN!


[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zx1eDmuYQg8.]


Aromatic pipe tobaccos still confuse me. There's something about the honest old-fashioned reek of unflavoured leaves that is immensely evocative, why would you bugger it up with a teenage hooker smell?

If you don't like the taste of tobacco, maybe you shouldn't smoke?

You could just use a nicotine patch......

Doomp, Doomp, Doomp.

Doomp, Doomp, Doomp.

Doomp, Doomp, Doomp.

Doomp, Doomp, Doomp.

Durlakto.

TOBACCO INDEX


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IT'S FULL OF EELS!

All I want to do today is recover. Oh, my head. This is the inevitable result of a meeting of the local pipe club, which necessitated smoking eight bowls full yesterday, instead of my normal three or four. Eight bowls. My nipples do NOT explode with excitement, to misquote the Hungarian gentleman from the famous Monty Python tobacconist sketch.

Yandelavasa gudenwi struvenka.

Many of us at the meeting were of an age, and much was discussed; the present derivation of Latakia tobacco, classic English shapes, garlicky hummus, and Japanese robotic progress, which last subject must inevitably lead to perversion, because they are making them look more and more like normal receptionists.

Additionally, most of us agree that now is the time to lurk around playgrounds luring in another generation of smokers, so that when we are old and decrepit, there will be nursing home staff willing to roll us out to the designated smoking area five blocks away in the rain.


"Come here, little person of whatever gender, would you like a fine Nicaraguan? It is made by a hip and well-respected company!"


At least, I think most of us agree. Too many of us have jobs that require our presence during normal playground hours, so maybe not.
And some of us melt in the rain.

Besides, we do not really know what pipe tobacco miss Hello Kitty favours.
It probably is NOT the horrible ghastly fruit-loop aromatic that Steve had in his pipe later, when we were enjoying a drink at the Oxxy. Conversations suddenly fell silent, and shock and horror spread, when the loathsome aroma made itself known. He apologetically explained that someone had offered him a sample, and, without even knowing what it was, he promptly loaded a pipe for later.

Everyone nearby remonstrated with him. Dude, unless you want us to think that you have short stumpy fingers and Nazi tendencies, you will pronto stop smoking that. Here, have something with Latakia instead; it will counteract the sleazy odeur.


I felt particularly vexed, because I vett these people before letting them loose on the unsuspecting innocents at the Oxxy. And I had indeed warned him about their disdain for perfumed dreck. But I'm sure it was an honest mistake, he had naively assumed clean habits and sound morals from a fellow pipesmoker.

Which is wrong.


Both Frank Sinatra and Hugh Heffner smoked Mixture 79.
Some people are right nasty swine, despite appearances.

If your grandpapa smoked cherry blend, good riddance.


Boys and girls, if someone EVER offers you Lane's 1Q, Molto Dolce, or Dan Tobacco's Blue Note, do not take it. Stuff like that gives you diseases, and leads to moral turpitude.

Only classic Latakia blends and fine Virginia-Perique mixtures are worth smoking; when one of us offers you some, accept gracefully and light up.


Irrespective of the horrid weather, I will be heading down to a convenient playground later in the day to enjoy a pipe or two on the periphery after lunch. If any of the usual healthy lads and lasses are playing volley ball there in the rain, I shall make encouraging noises from the sidelines,
and beckon invitingly with my umbrella.

No, I will not have my Hello Kitty backpack with me.
That only gets used on work days in Marin.
But I will have extra tobacco.
A rubbed flake.



Despite her personal preference in perfume, Ms. Kitty probably likes conservative English mixtures. Something by Samuel Gawith, or Greg Pease's Westminster, which is the very epitome of what a Londonian pipe tobacco should be. Balanced, civilized, and highly recommended.

Min luftkussens-fartsug es fuld mit aler.

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RATHER LIKE A GENTLEMAN'S AFTERSHAVE ...

This blogger kind of overdid it on the pipes today. And yesterday. And the day before. Reason being that where I work is a smoking environment.
And I had a tonne of Virginia mixtures......

Including some mighty queer shiznit.


One of them appears to be topdressed with a perfume containing primarily bergamot and clove: Astleys No. 2. Which also contains a smidgen of Perique, and rather reminds me of Germain's Plum Cake.

[Both are in their own way very enjoyable, being made of top notch leaf, and carefully composed. The tobacco still speaks, rather than being bludgeoned into silence.]


Back in the last century, many tobaccos had odours imported from the snuff trade. These are, on the whole, extremely pleasant when compared to the whorehouse reeks common today. The modern aromatic mixture is a vulgar tart when compared to restrained courtesans of the past.

Evenso, it's mighty odd stuff.

None of these things could appeal to the drinker of Starbucks frapputti.
Who would insist upon tobacco with vanilla caramel wild heather honey plus hazelnut. A well as almond essence, kiwi-passion fruit, and mango.

And might utilize a pipe of nightmarishly artistic design.

Something horrible and garish, neo-Gothic.

Gandalfian, frou-frou.

Icky poo.



Normally I would not touch any of the perfumed crap.
But sometimes a man has to experiment.

I do not own uncivilized pipes, however, and certainly no Bohemian freehands; those are for immature and very silly persons.




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MUCH TOO SWEET!

On one of the pipe-smoking internet sites a war is ongoing between people who insist they were defrauded, and someone whom I believe to be a Dutch-speaker who may have (and probably did) defraud them.
As you can guess, I am not unbiased in this affair.

I am extremely partisan.

Primarily because in his many photos, the Dutchman looks like an arrogant dick and poseur, at whom I would instinctively sneer and whose company I would not seek, whereas the photos I've seen of a pipe-maker and collector whom he did not pay and sicced the hounds on make her seem like a bright and in fact adorable young woman.

Oh yes, that first picture got me going full-bore internet snoop.
Lovely face, kissy cheeks, sensuous lips.
Expressive eyes.


There are, however, at least three reasons why I will never send her a marriage proposal.

1) She's already taken.
2) Lives on the other side of the country.
3) Smokes aros.

The true gentleman never poaches; it is not likely that we'd ever meet; and aromatics somewhat appall me. Still, in this rather bitter war between various pipe-smokers and a fellow Dutchman, I favour her side.
Female pipe collectors and pipe makers must be treasured.
They are infinitely precious.


The tobacco she admits to smoking at the time one of the pictures was taken is Molto Dolce, by Sutliff. Which is described reliably as an oily blend with a "rich creamy texture of vanilla, caramel and honey".
Contains Black Cavendish, Burley, and Virginia.
In a ribbon cut.

Okay. That sounds incredibly nasty.

I myself have on recent occasions smoked aromatics, as a matter of professional curiosity. A few were actually quite satisfying, albeit far too moist and requiring six or seven eight or nine second pulses in a microwave to make them usable.

A few others were somewhat confounding.

And several were so unbelievably horrid that they induced despair and angst, good lord how could anyone think this was worth offering to the public why do they hate us?

Even though Sutliff has roots in the Bay Area, I do not consider them as deserving positive mention or loyalty. I shall say no more about them, because the truth hurts and I do not want to get sued.


In all honesty: bugger the aros.


Tobacco should never smell like Hello Kitty's underwear.


Aromatics are a very large part of the business, more's the pity, and a merchant of smokeables would be foolish to disregard such products, or their legion of misguided (and possibly insane) aficionados.
But there is no real reason to encourage them either.
Many need electro-shock or medication.
Some of them, a dominatrix.
Water boarding.

Just because all the finest priests bang altar boys is no reason for you to emulate those sainted men. Creatively frustrated housewives still drink International Coffee, do you? Curious infants often stick found objects in their mouths, is that a good idea?

Congressmen bend pages.

I'll admit to sometimes enjoying certain aromatics, but I am a trained professional and a deviant. You should not try it yourself.


Here's a short list of flavours that can be found:

Cherry, English Toffee, Vanilla & Honey, Nuts & Vanilla, Pistachio Melba, Coconut Almond, Apple, Chocolate, Apricot, Butter Pecan, Buttered Rum, Bananas & Cream, Dulce de Leche, Butterscotch, Vanilla Latte, Orange, Tiramisu, Praline, Mango-raspberry, Pumpkin Spice, Jamaican Rum, Midori Melon, Hazelnut, Fruit Tart, Toffee, Honeysuckle.


If your tobacconist suggests any of these, kindly disregard the dear man. Either he's addled, or out of touch with reality.

And maybe he's married.

TOBACCO INDEX


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ARE AROMATIC TOBACCOS LESS MANLY?

Some readers come here by looking for answers to all the wrong questions. Usually what they find stares them right back in the face, and wiggles its tongue out at them. "What", they may have asked, "can I do to get the lovely Kumiko to jump into the sack with my dessicated old self?" And the answer is "pray for a miracle, you nasty old prune". Trust me. I have a direct line to Kumiko. She can't stand your ass. Loathes it, despises it, hates it utterly, and wishes you not only stop breathing heavily whenever she's around, but stop breathing altogether.
She doesn't know WHERE you got that naked picture of her from.
But she suspects that photoshop had a role in it.
Never-the-less, it's embarrassing.

Naked pictures are always embarrassing. There are none of me. I am never naked when there are cameras around. Or cell-phones.
I don't even own a cell-phone.

Imagine how painful it would be if I was naked, and someone else had a cell-phone. And it rang.

"Oh hello." "No, nothing." "Nah, I'm just here with my friend... who is a naked middle-aged man with a pipe in his mouth and a silly smirk on his face." "Describe him?   
I couldn't. You'll just have to see for yourself."


CLICK!!!!!!!!!


And within minutes her father decides that I am not the right man for his daughter. Yeah, she's old enough to make her own decisions now. And her own ghastly mistakes. It's her life. But no. This one is just wrong.
Time to hang up the wanted posters. Hire a hitman. Or hitwoman.
Cell-phones can be a problem when there is nudity.
Always, ALWAYS, wear something.
Hide your sinfulness.
Don't smirk.


PUMPKIN SPICE CAVENDISH? GOOD LORD!

Anyhow, the other day someone found my blog by posting the query "are aromatic tobaccos less manly?" To which the answer is 'yes'. Yes, they jolly-well are. Aromatic tobaccos are a sign of posturing depravity, weak spine, and a lack of vital juices. The Kremlin had a hand in their development, and generations of men who were fooled into smoking that garbage eventually became nauseating old sex-maniacs, waggling their hairless behinds in sleazy hotel rooms, shaking their wattles at innocent schoolgirls, and desperately hoping the mega-dose of Viagra wouldn't fail them this time. Anyone who smokes aromatics habitually has no taste, no intellect, and quite likely possesses all the manners and morals of a prancing Yorkshire hod-carrier.
Likely they will catch diseases from toilet seats.
Rot from the inside out before dying.
Vote the solid Jesus ticket.

Almost all the people I know who smoke fruit-flavoured pipe-tobacco have shallow little minds, countless depravities, rotten gums, and stained underwear. They whip themselves nightly. There's a collection of spiked rubber garments under their beds. They weep without reason.
They have existential crises.

A real man smokes either English mixtures -- Latakia and Turkish on a basis of Virginia leaf -- or restrained and civilised flakes or VaPers (Virginia blends with a smidge of Perique tobacco).
A real woman does likewise.

Aromatic tobaccos are, by definition, not real.
Good tobacco does not need fruity sauce.
Aromatics are syphilis set aflame.


Yes, some very good friends smoke aromatics. I keep telling myself that they're doing so ironically.



One of the nastiest things I know is fifty percent Mango Cavendish, with the rest golden cherry-vanilla ribbon. It is a very popular product. I've never been able to finish more than half a bowl.
A perfectly beastly tobacco.

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THERE'S TOXIC WASTE IN MY SWAMP

While I spent all day in Marin, in the distinctly un-gentle company of cigar smokers, my ex-girlfriend stayed at home engaging in what she euphemistically calls "sleep bleeding". Rather than detailing what that precisely is -- because some of my male readers are uber-sensitive individuals -- I shall merely say that Aunt Flo visited.
As she does once a month.

This is something I would like to have happen to the cigar smokers in Marin. Instead, they enjoyed a nice sportive show on television, and many curse words were uttered. Not sure if I should call that "fun", as watching a ball game on the boob tube is a far worse trial than any amount of "sleep bleeding", but those freaks thoroughly enjoyed it.
I tried to drown out their insane shouting by running the buffing wheels all afternoon, restoring several pipes, but in the background was the constant carnivore feeding sound of America's past-time.

[Fortunately I have Mondays and Tuesdays to myself. To the very best of my knowledge, there are never any sporting events on those days. Or on Fridays (also a day off).]


Now, lest you assume that this is no more than my usual screed against the stogey-chomping psychos of Marin (and elsewhere), and a sneering boast that pipe-smokers represent the very acme of sensible behaviour, the Ultima Thule of civilization in all its splendiferous glory, I hasten to claim 'not so'.

[Yes, I am a pipe smoker. And I like to think of myself as 'splendiferous'. But not all are thus.]


NOT SO!

The owner of the pipes I restored favours a syrupy mixture which is fifty percent mango-flavoured tobacco, and over a third black vanilla Cavendish.
It is nauseatingly sweet, and deposits a hard gummy tar, in addition to burning hot and randomly carbonizing briar. I would describe it as the AntiChrist of pipe mixtures, if I didn't know that there were plenty of far worse products out there. But it IS the "sleep bleed" of tobaccos.
Some people just naturally have extraordinary bad taste.
All that sports addles their tiny brains.
They crave self-abuse.


These are male trollops with diseased habits.
And highly aromatic pipe tobacco.

I am a very temperate man. My tobacco is unscented, and completely honest. There is no candy store reek adhering to my indulgence.
I am horrified by the concept.

I am clean-minded.

And clean.


Sleep-bleeding. It's what I'm thinking about.
But there are worse things.



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FLUFFY BRITISH FRUITS

Regular readers remember that this blogger dallies with pipe-tobaccos that many more mature men might give a miss.
Though that may mean regrets and unsettled dreams.
Why?
Because I can.
And sometimes remarkable discoveries are made.


GERMAIN’S PLUM CAKE MIXTURE
PIPE TOBACCO made in the British Isles

Tin blurb: Cavendish, Virginia and air-cured tobaccos blended with a special black cavendish, flavoured with wine and spices to our 80 year-old recipe.
“A UNIQUE SMOKING EXPERIENCE”


Thin shaggy ribbons that become powdery white ash.

The initial tin-odour verges on bizarre. Sweet, like dessert wine, with hints of licorice, mint, and hair growth promoting scalp tonic.
Perhaps also anise extract, and your maiden aunt’s talcum powder.
Very vegetal, like an old-fashioned apothecary shop.
Seemingly the wine-gum of tobaccos.

Like many products manufactured by J. F. Germain & Son it requires quite a bit of drying first. Which is no problem, so for hours my office had a faint hint of this floating about. At end it was more incense-like than perfumy.
I’ve smoked several bowls now, and have thoroughly enjoyed them.
This is not a standard aromatic, but falls in the category of fragrant oddness to which both the lamentable Ennerdale and the fulsomely praised 1792 Flake belong.
It is far more smokeable than Ennerdale, much milder than 1792.
Unlikely that this will knock your socks out from under you, unless you smoke it fresh out of the tin and huff it like a teenager.
Don’t do that.

Dry first. Don't pack tight. Smoke slow.
If you do not do these things, you will experience regret.

The preparation of this product obscures the derivation of the constituents. Allegedly this is a mostly Virginia compound, with only a little air-cured leaf. But you would not think so. And the teasy ribbons will remind you of various ancient Dutch tobaccos that were only mildly dosed at best.


It will grow on you, and you might find yourself liking this more with each subsequent smoke. Particularly if you have a fondness for civilized aromatic tobaccos – Germain’s Plum Cake Mixture highlights what a bunch of crude vulgarians so many other manufacturers are. But this is not a nicotine powerhouse, so it won’t appeal to smokers of plugs and flakes.
Fans of Latakia had better avoid this.

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TOBACCO COMPANIES, TOBACCO BLENDS

This post is about pipe-tobacco, and consequently there will not be much here for many of my regular readers; sorry, but I promise that there will be the usual zany antics later on - in particular something quite perverse in time for Purim.

[NOTE: There are several links scattered throughout the text below - clicking them will bring up my own posts on that subject (EXCEPTIONS: GLP and C&D).]


TOBACCO COMPANIES

Since the nineties several of the old tobacco houses have changed, due to the deaths of guiding hands and profound legal and tax developments in Britain.


DUNHILL

Dunhill blends have not been made in the British Isles since the late nineties, and have been unavailable for the past few years nearly everywhere.
British American Tobacco, which had owned the blends since Rothmans ceased to exist, quarreled with the company to which they had farmed out the manufacture.

Dunhill tobaccos were made in England till 1981, when Rothmans (who had acquired the company from Carrerras in 1972) moved manufacturing to the Murrays factory in Belfast. While a lot of later smokers praised the Murrays product in comparison to what Orlik put out, it should be remembered that the early Murrays tins were quite unsmokeable - sourcing and quality control improved considerably over the years.


RATTRAYS

Now manufactured in Germany by Kohlhase, Kopp und Co. KG (who also do Astleys, formerly of 109 Jermyn Street, as well as the blends of Robert McConnel) according to the recipes developed by Charles Rattray in Perth. The Germans are doing a decent enough job. The one thing they cannot reproduce is the microclimate of the Scottish home of these blends - moisture content in the air, temperature ranges, and the eccentric non-standardization of manufacture combined to produce some very fine tobaccos. What Charles Rattray never realized was that combining different batches of the same blend had more impact on smoking quality than his much vaunted panning method. A variety of ages united to produce richness, whereas uniformity of age and heat treatment makes for a mono-dimensional smoke.

[PLEASE NOTE: The Rattray Virginias are described in this later post: RATTRAY'S VIRGINIA TOBACCO: OLD GOWRIE, MARLIN FLAKE, BROWN CLUNEE, HAL O' THE WYND. They are excellent, still. If you age the tin for a year before popping the seal, you will have a treat. There's enough Rattrays of various ages stashed under the bed, in the book shelves, and on the desk to last quite a long while. Good stuff. ------- ATBOTH, August 12, 2013.]


SAMUEL GAWITH

Still the same, still in Kendall, boruch Hashem. An ancient company with all of the eccentricities of previous generations smoothed out by age, still producing tobacco as they believe it should be. Except for a few monumentally odd aromatics, they are right. They also make snuff.
Supplies are spotty at present - no explanation.


GAWITH HOGARTH

Less pronounceable a name than their cousin Samuel, but no less respected. More steampressing, and more aromatic disasters, but a fine company.
They also make snuff.


MURRAYS

The originators of Erinmore. Which has been described as the painted whore among the tobaccos, the veritable clapped-out harlot drenched in cheap cologne that shakes a syphilitic tit at the unwary. The factory closed in 1998 and the blends moved to Denmark. If you ever wondered why Dunhill Flake seemed reminiscent of a perfumed tart, now you know - same factory and same machines as Erinmore Flake.
Which, despite my austere Calvinist tastes, I am actually fond of, though I will not admit it.

Erinmore Flake, calmly smoked, burns down to a fine white ash, and leaves scant funk. If smoked fast, the top-dressing boils into your cake, and you will experience profound regret.


J. F. GERMAIN & SON

This company makes some very fine tobacco, both under their own flag and for Esoterica Tabaciana. Unfortunately it is becoming harder and harder to find either - blame the continentals for that, as the Europeans have become as daft as the Californians and wish to cripple the tobacco industry entirely. A good place to start the final assault is small eccentric family companies, in the estimation of Brussels.
Supplies are spotty, there is no explanation. And that is likely to continue.


BALKAN SOBRANIE

Yes, it was only a matter of time before I brought up that name - you were anxiously waiting its appearance in this text, weren't you? The company was started by an Eastern-European Jew with Russian and Southern Slav connections. He made very fine cigarettes and a limited range of pipe-tobaccos. The Balkan Sobranie Mixture in the white tin was more famous than any other product, and is no longer available. Nor could it be reproduced exactly in any case - European Tobacco laws would prevent it.

In order: Syrian Latakia, Yenidje and other Orientals, a medium flake, a lighter Virginia ribbon, a dark toasted or steamed flue-cured leaf, and something I cannot identify that wasn't tobacco. Probably deertongue, but I wouldn't stake my life on it. Combine everything except the Latakia and meld with light heat, then add the Latakia, age for a few days, and press it into the tin - which means more heat. Like many tinned tobaccos, the moisture level was upped to make it more malleable and less likely to crumble and fragment with this treatment.

Note that the preferred Syrian Latakia in the sixties and seventies was choice Shek El Bint with far more smoke-curing than is used for any Latakia-style tobacco nowadays. Consequently that exact flavour will not be possible. Yenidje may be replaced with other Greek or Macedonian tobaccos - again, not an exact match. Prilep might not be a bad choice, with Samsoun and Smyrna for a better spectrum. It is worth experimenting, but don't get your hopes up too high.
For more about the Balkan Sobranie Mixture than you would ever want to read (no exaggeration), click here: BS CLICK

[NOTE: Because this post discusses Balkan Sobranie, as of this writing it will be the very first post that you see - simply scroll down for other articles.]



Even though these companies and many others have disappeared, the situation is comparatively rosy. Here in the States we have three companies that make enough fine English tobacco to sink the empire.



GLPEASE

Greg Pease worked at Drucquer and Sons in Berkeley nearly a decade after I left that firm. He learned far more than I ever did. Drucquers was known for its English mixtures, and Greg continued that blending tradition on his own. To such commendable result in fact that his nickname on the internet is "The Dark Lord".
G. L. Pease owns Latakia in the same way that McClelland owns flake.
He has in recent years also done some very fine things with pressed tobaccos and Virginia mixtures.

[For all other posts mentioning his tobacco, click here: GLP. This post will also be shown - just scroll down to whatever you have not read yet. Same rule holds for some of the links embedded elsewhere in this post.]


CORNELL & DIEHL - CRAIG TARLER

Despite having a peculiar fondness for Burley tobaccos, Craig produces some of the best blends in the business. As well as manufacturing Greg Pease's blends. If you are so inclined you can purchase many blending tobaccos from his company, or simply order the blends that your local tobacconist does not stock.
I particularly recommend Red Odessa.
Yale Mixture and Old College are also very fine products.
His flakes are excellent and deservedly well regarded.


MCCLELLAND

By now this company has the hoary veneer of respectable age, having been founded over a quarter of a century ago, and many of the other tobacco houses having disappeared since then. This company is famous for pressed Virginia, on which they more or less base all their products. They also employ heat and steam for particular effects. Many house blends at local tobacco stores are bulk McClelland mixtures; many other retailers depend on blending tobaccos supplied by McClelland. Not everyone likes them. But without them, pipe smoking in America might have disappeared.
You can find out everything you need to know about them elsewhere.



With GLPease, Cornell & Diehl, and McClelland in the market, we need not worry overmuch at present. These three are keeping America's smokers more than adequately supplied with high quality pipe-tobacco.



BLENDING A BALKAN MIXTURE

Balkan Sobranie Mixture as made by Gallagher was probably around 36.00% Latakia, 24.00% Oriental (Yenidje etcetera), 32.00% Mixed Virginias, and 8.00% Black Virginia (steamed and baked, rather than pressed or fired), or an unflavoured Black Cavendish.
Black Virginia is quite unavailable nowadays, and unflavoured Black Cavendish is extremely hard to find.

If you simply want to blend a good Balkan, you may increase the proportion of Latakia or Virginia - the Oriental is nearly at full capacity anyhow, and as long as you use some remarkable Virginias you can not go wrong.

Fluffed flake should not be much more than the other Virginias unless you are aiming for a slow and almost boring blend; ribbon Virginias increase smokeability, but also heat and tongue-bite.
Plain Cavendish is smooth, and doesn't add much flavour - it can be used in lieu of too much yellow ribbon.

Toasted Cavendish (actually fire-cured Kentucky) up to one twelfth of the total adds depth and body. Any more and you might end up with something too acrid.

If you use Perique, be discreet. Optimum percentages are between four and eight.

Avoid dark pressed (black) flake as a blending tobacco. It doesn't really work, as it is only narrow-range compatible. Which means Virginia mixtures and nearly nothing else.


Final note: Do NOT create a Latakia dump. While Latakia is a remarkable tobacco, it works best in concert with others, not as a solo. Anything over fifty percent is both juvenile and excessive - maximum 45% is plenty. You can increase the dark component of your blend by adding unflavoured black Cavendish (if you can find any) and Toasted Cavendish (which is actually similar to Burley and other air-cured leaf).
Doing so will produce something remarkably Scottish in character, which is probably what you want anyway.


LABELS

For further reading, do please note all the labels underneath this post. Clicking any one of them will bring up all posts which have those labels appended - today, this post is on top of the heap (and you have already read it) so simply scroll down to the next one.

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STINKY WHORE

Long-time readers know that I sometimes gibber about pipe-tobacco.
I haven't done so in a while and I need to catch up. Hence this post.
Normally I am a severe puritan when it comes to tobacco (Balkan blends, and the occasional pressed Virginia), but I do sometimes experiment with aromatics, though I will usually deny it - one doesn't wish to be known by ones predilections.
Nor do I speak lovingly of such flavoured products, instead delivering stern sermons on the sanctity inherent in natural mixtures made fragrant only with Oriental leaf.
I am a purist, a prude, and, admittedly, a hypocrite.


I have smoked aromatics, and I still do. Just not very often. It's a mood thing.
I have described some aromatic tobaccos as innocent dewy teenagers, fresh and affectionate. Yet others have been older ladies, more worldly but discrete. Tarty but not overly sinful. And a few have been very knowing little temptresses. It's all a question of perfume.


Today I floated my nose over a tin I had not smelled in a while.


SWEET CHEESES INTERCOURSE!

In fact,
WHOLLY TISH!!


This stuff smells like the whore of Babylon. This is no innocent young thing, this is the clapped out sex-hag from hell. Overly painted, spike heeled, and with a studded bullwhip to boot. Diseased and greasy. Good heavens what a totally foul and loathsome product.
Stuffing this in your pipe regularly will give you a case of the pox, probably a medicine-resistant version that will end up progressively disfiguring you. Your wife and kids will leave you, you will loose your job, car, and house, and the parish priest will excoriate you and chase you from the church with holy water and Latin curses. Your dog will shy away yelping in terror.
Smoke this, and you prove yourself beyond salvation. You deviant!


DA VINCI
By Dan Tobacco

Description: "A delightful blend of light Virginia grades combined with Black Cavendish. Infused with Tuscan red wine, this blend has a pleasant aroma."


I shall not speculate as to the tobacco component - no tobacco deserves to be this intercoursed up. It whiffs like a Panetone gone very bad indeed. Soddenly sweet, with notes of stale Ripple and Thunderbird, spiced with a Hello Kitty overlay and a strong sopping of rancid butter. Plus unsubtle hints of caramel, coconut, and vanillin.
Faugh!

No, I did not buy this tin. Last year Tom at the pipe store had opened it, to sample. He had one bowlful. One. Then one of the owners tested it also. Once. And that was that. It sat in the sample bin for several months. No one else dared touch it.
Their lurid descriptions made it a pariah.

Today, finally, someone smoked another bowl.

A fresh-faced young man came in to the store looking for an aromatic. Some degenerate, I shall NOT say who, suggested that for a completely unique experience he should try some of this mixture. Which the young man did. He did not particularly like it, though he granted that it was interesting and unusual. Then he purchased two ounces of black vanilla Cavendish and left.
Afterwards, having finished my own pipe (I had been smoking Presbyterian Mixture), I reached for the tin of Da Vinci to see if it was as horrid as I remembered.

It was worse. The fruity slut-funk in which this poor syphilitic orphan was soaked does not age well. And now there is also an additional reek of sweatsocks. Or is it cheesy armpits? Whatever. Nasty.
Kill the perverted trollop and put her out of our misery, she is beyond saving. Feh.

I suspect that the last tin of this will remain on the store shelves for many years. Unlike other discontinued pipe mixtures, this will never fetch a high price on e-bay. It is utterly undesirable. You could not bribe me to take it off your hands.
But I will gladly pay to see the expression on a customer's face, when he pops the lid and realizes that he's been had.

Maybe, just maybe, I should buy it as a curiosity.
I can always assault little old ladies with it if I get bored.

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A TAWDRY OLD TART

The trollop was great fun. But this girl is a bore to be with, and wears too much cologne; the cousin is not nearly as zesty as the bouncy trollop herself. More like a haggard German bar-woman, who probably has a brute named Günter as her boy-toy cum strong-arm guy. She is past her prime, if she ever had one.
Really, one wonders what others see in her, and thinks it would have been better not to have given in to that sassy come-hither winking; she looked better from a distance. Even her perfume seems cheap.
Alas.


ERINMORE MIXTURE
Murray Sons & Company Limited
Made in the EU under authority of Murray Sons & Company Ltd, Belfast.


Yes, it is very reminiscent of the Erinmore Flake (that being the enjoyable trollop referenced above). But on the whole, it seems like a rather pointless exercise in blending. Not that it is bad, just not in any way exciting.
The tobacco itself is not good enough or bold enough to make the famous whore-house reek tolerable, it tends to burn a bit hot, and while the smoke is satisfying enough as such things go, it is not worth going back to. It is a very well made but utterly pedestrian product.
After three bowls of this I wonder how I'm going to finish the tin.

[For a review of Erinmore Flake, see this post: http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/07/my-dalliance-with-trollop.html ]


Erinmore Mixture is mostly blonde and brown Virginias, some black Cavendish, and that whorish odour. There is probably also some air-cured leaf in the blend, though nowhere is that mentioned.
It may take me a while to smoke it all. I shall not buy any more of this.

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CHANGE OF PACE - ONE SLUTTY LITTLE VIRGINIA

Sometimes, instead of the zesty Oriental, your eye falls on a perky brunette.
It's only natural, all men flirt with strange girls - at least, that is what I tell myself.

The sweet young thing in question, however, has the weirdest taste in perfume. I thought she was supposed to smell of single malt, but for the life of me I cannot figure out what that reek is. It ain't whiskey. Or at least not whiskey alone. Perhaps after rolling in the whiskey she drenched herself with eau de teenage slut so her parents won't notice the liquor.

I am talking about a flavoured pipe tobacco, of course.


FOUNDERS RESERVE
Blended at THE MALTHOUSE Tobacco Manufactory
Aged 12 Weeks
Blended, matured, and packaged in the E.E.C. by Dan Tobacco Manufacturing Ltd.

The tobacco consists of broken flakes and shreds of a pleasing mottled appearance that break and crimp nicely for the pipe. Lights fairly easily, and smokes down coolly and cleanly to a fine white ash. The taste is mild, sweet, not particularly exciting. The strange fragrance does not stick in the pipe. Like all Virginias, and particularly the eccentrically aromatized flakes that Dan Tobacco produces, it is at its best puffed slowly - so slowly that instead of savouring the flavour, one might almost forget that one is smoking.
It is a pleasing smoke, but not a memorable one - except for that smell....... No one in their right nose would identify it as "an outstanding blend of sweet Virginia that is infused with Scottish Single Malt Whisky".



I normally don't care much for perfumed tarts.

When I first opened the tin several weeks ago, I thought it smelled of molasses mixed with rotting autumn apples - there was a sweet and over the top pong, you see.
Now that it is a little dryer and the cake essences have evanesced, it is more reminiscent of dense plum pudding - one made with an excess of dry fruits and rum.
Despite the dark brown fruity image, the taste is remarkably light. Almost refreshing. And biteless.
A decent thoughtless tobacco which will not unduly upset the angry women in one's vicinity.


Last night, while smoking this tobacco at the Cinch, a very striking lesbian told me how much I reminded her of her father - he also smoked a pipe, and his tobacco was very similar to mine. She wished her girlfriend would take up the habit. Indeed, pipesmoking, and pipesmokers, were all very fine by her.
That, as much as anything else, qualifies as an endorsement.

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MY DALLIANCE WITH A TROLLOP

Relevant and purely imaginary quote: "Good heavens, Cletus, it smells like a Turkish cat-house here". There are three things that mark a misspent pipe-smoking youth. One of which is Erinmore Flake.


OVER-RIPENED FRUIT

In the spring on 1974, when I was still fourteen years old, our cat discovered my pipes and tobacco where I had hidden them, under a cabinet in the downstairs drawing room. That evening my mother lectured me on the evils of smoking - it took her all of three cigarettes puffed in slow succession to deliver the lecture - and then my father spoke sternly to me. The gist of his discourse was I had to keep my pipes clean (always use pipe-cleaners), and good pipe tobacco needed no additional fragrances; perfumed tobaccos that smelled like a Turkish cathouse were garbage, and should be avoided like a dose of clap.
This is Pshat.

Since then I have not smoked Erinmore Flake.

All pipe smokers of a certain age have experimented with it - it is hard to avoid buying this product at least once, as the friendly and colourful tin with its garish red blazoon on a yellow field beckons one from across a counter, lures one with its cheery appearance, shakes an appealing visual leg at the easily distracted young rake. And like an adventure with a drug-addled whore, one very quickly regrets the decision. From close up, the perfume is strictly drugstore bargain, the make-up thick and smeared, the hotel-room mildewed and depressing.


[All of which is Moshol, please understand.]


For me that 'regret' came one day in March of that year, when I smoked two full bowls of Erinmore Flake one after the other. And threw up violently as a result. I was sick as a dog. Utter misery.

In all fairness I should mention that this may have been caused by not using pipe-cleaners, and inadvertently swallowing some of the gurgle in the shank. This was before my father's words of advice. Pipe-cleaners, in this allegory, are either condoms OR a course of penicillin - either way, this is the Remez.

A few days afterwards I repeated the experience. Two bowls. Followed by nauseated heaving.

I never did finish that tin.


[An infuriating waste of money - did I ever mention that I am a cheap-skate? It's a Dutch characteristic I have never shaken, and have no intention of giving up. Throwing away money on a tin one will not finish is a souring experience.]




Erinmore Flake, with its fruity reek and foul habits, was the veritable tart among the tobaccos, the whore of Babylon, the shameless Catholic Church among the sober Protestants. I loathed it. For years those attractive yellow tins mocked me, from dark corners of tobacconists, or neatly stacked shelves, on two continents. Where-ever I saw an Erinmore tin, it seemed to wink and say "how about it, big boy, I've had my shots".

I resented the implied familiarity - I did NOT want to be seen in its company under any circumstances.

So, seeing as I have been in an experimenting mood these past few months, and having heard that Erinmore Flake will soon no longer be available on these shores, I naturally bought a tin.



ERINMORE FLAKE
Made in the EU under the authority of Murray Sons & Co LTD, Belfast
[Originally by Murray Sons & Company Limited]

Short slices of Virginia flake, cased with pineapple, and possibly also licorice and prune extract.

It is not nearly as funky as I remember it, because it is no longer the same. Erinmore Flake was one of the trademarks moved by British American Tobacco to Orlik in 2005. It may have been changed somewhat after the transfer, but it is as likely that Murrays toned it down after the eighties. It actually smells fairly pleasant now. If smoked slowly, the pewy stink burns off after the first few puffs, and a pleasant Virginia taste comes through which is rather enjoyable. It burns down cleanly to a fine white ash.


[If NOT smoked ultra-slow, it leaves your mouth feeling like you've got a case of oral clap. Be forewarned.]

--- --- --- --- ---



WHY YOU SWEET THING, ARE YOU ALL ALONE TONIGHT?

I would not recommend Erinmore Flake, will not publicly admit to liking it, and shall not smoke it at the Occidental for fear of being labeled a disgusting pervert, but it certainly isn't bad. I'm over half-way through the tin, and will definitely finish it. It has all the illicit appeal of a dewy teenager alone in the house and tiddly on her dad's bourbon. Yummy.






Erinmore Flake is slightly reminiscent of Dunhill Light Flake - probably because they have for a long time been produced by the same factory; the tins presently available come from Orlik Tobacco Company
( http://www.orlik.com/sw3035.asp ).
Before Orlik started making the Dunhill Flake, it likewise was manufactured in Belfast - Dunhill have not had an actual plant since 1981, when Rothmans International consolidated production of all their pipe-tobaccos at Murrays.

[It being remembered that Carreras International bought Murrays in 1953, and acquired Dunhill in 1967, then were themselves purchased by Rothmans in 1972. Production of Dunhill pipe-tobacco was moved to Belfast in 1980 and 1981. Rothmans merged with British American Tobacco in 1998, B.A.T. shut down the Belfast location and farmed out manufacture of pipe-tobaccos to Orlik in late 2004. By 2005 Belfast started disappearing from the shelves, to be replaced by Danish product. In February of 2007, B.A.T. sold all brands save Dunhill and one other (something unmentionable) to Orlik. Orlik is now the largest producer of pipe-tobacco in the world.]


I suspect that the recipe in the seventies had an inclusion of air-dried leaf (Burley or Maryland), which allowed it to suck up more of that Hello Kitty teenage hooker aroma. Straight Virginia (flue-cured) just doesn't soak up the cheap cologne very well. The product looks the same, but is a fish of a different kettle.
This, of course, is the Drash of the shiur.


A further indication that this is not the same product as the Erinmore Flake sold in the seventies lies in the complete absence of any involuntarily recalled memories. It does not stimulate flights of remembrance, I do not automatically go back in my mind's nose to the park near the Kleine Ven in Valkenswaard where I upchucked the first time, nor to the bench in the small courtyard along the Eindhovensche Weg where I was sick the second time. I do not feel the warm breeze outside the apartment buildings in the newer neighborhoods, nor see the streetlights through the branches of the trees.
I have to deliberately work at bringing those scenes back to mind, the tobacco does not do it.
This is the Sod.

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TRANSVESTITE NIGHTMARE

Yesterday evening I had a drink at an establishment which has a smokers' patio behind the building. While sitting there I had a view of the pool tables. One of the individuals playing pool was a very tall middle aged gentleman with a paunch, wearing bold fishnets, a short ruffly skirt, black panties, and an upper garment that left nothing to the imagination. Lipstick, eye shadow, and a blonde sheitel. I am not sure what his upper garment would be called. It exposed both his generous abdomen, and broad liver-spotted shoulders.
It covered only the falsies.


This morning, Thomas at the tobacco store happily kvelled that the blend he put together as a replacement of the cherry Cavendish was well received. The cherry Cavendish needs to be replaced because the constituent tobaccos are no longer available. The habitual smokers of the cherry Cavendish would otherwise be bereft.


I may have mentioned in the past that I smoke mixtures composed of Latakia, Turkish, and Virginia. These have a natural tobacco taste, there is naught added to pongify or whore-up the smell. They are not aromatics.

Many of us who smoke such tobaccos look down our long and aristocratic noses at smokers of aromatics. Perfume, faugh, we are purists.
Even Virginia smokers tend to be such. Natural tobaccos are clean and proper. Well-bred. Our kind of leaf, dontcha know.

Aromatics are like cross-dressers. You know how uncomfortable you feel when a person turns out to be the wrong gender for your perversion. If you're that drunk that you don't notice at first, it is all the more disturbing.
[Or so I've heard.]


Once in a blue moon, though, some of us head into the sleazy part of town for some rough trade - a furtive indiscretion with a perfumed tart. Sometimes it's an aromatic we smoked as a child, or a flavoured Cavendish that reminds us of a long summer. A vanilla cake, or a heather-honey Dutchman. Something soapy, or oily, or old-lady and tea cosy by the fire.
So do not be too surprised when I say that I have a sample of Thomas' most recent blend. It actually smells good - I'll probably stuff it into one of my pipes this evening.


Having already committed to a dalliance with fruity trollops, I decided to open up a tin of flavoured leaf I had on my desk.


Treasures of Ireland: SHANNON Sweet & Mellow




...Sweet Clyster-mighty!!!

What is that smell?!? I think it's supposed to be melon, but if it is, that is the nastiest meanest melon ever. A severe and murderous bitch-superior at a reformatory among the melons. Do they actually grow melons in Ireland? They shouldn't.

The tobacco looks very nice. A ribbon-cut compound of brights and darks, some black Cavendish evident, though probably not a dark-pressed flake - more likely stoved. The texture is very similar to some of the blends I smoked in the Netherlands, and the appearance and feel of the leaves do actually remind me of a few Niemeyer mixtures that came in tins, plus some German blends of the seventies.
As does the smell - as long as I keep my nose at least a full yard or more away. Maybe more than two yards. Good barf almighty. Pee-hoo. Turkish cat-house. Buckets.

That smell is phenomenal. It does not smell in any way like tobacco. Pungently fruity.
A fragrance that is ready for combat. An aroma that carries nunchucks and a shiv. Not so much a sweet young thing as a clapped-out old syphilitic, diseased and mean.
This is not a delicate little lady among the tobaccos, this is the brassy-voiced transvestite from hell.

I am scared to smoke it.

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SMELLS LIKE OLD LADY!

I mean that in a good way. It's a very positive statement. Imagine a little old person, steel-rimmed spectacles, kindly eyes, lace; someone who danced with too many fly-boys during WWII, when she was still a young girl in Somerset. And married the only one who came back in 1945. A spirited old gal. Spunky. Witty, too.

She still has all her faculties.

Except for her sense of smell.

Smell is one of the things that goes downhill fast. Just ask the manufacturers of Limburger cheese, they can't smell (or they would NOT be committing their horrid crime against humanity).

In consequence of her nose weakening so, she now wears a perfume that is, well, shall we say, somewhat... unsuitable (though it is very old-fashioned).

A bit soapy. A bit too sweet and floral. A bit like how a root-beer float tastes.

A perfume made with Tonquin oil.

Tonquin oil comes from a tropical tree with sweet pungent seeds that are used for adding scent or flavour to pomades, candies, and tobacco.
[Is the light going off in your head now? Do you see where this is leading? I lured you in with the provocative title, and now, having got you where I want you, I am going to gibber on at length about pipe tobacco.]



1792 FLAKE
Manufactured in Kendall, Cumbria, England, by Samuel Gawith & Co. Ltd.


Yes, it really does smell like a sweet little old lady. But it smokes much better than she would, even if desiccated, de-veined, fermented, cured, pressed, steamed, and sliced into dark fibrous sheets. It is a full flavoured yet relatively smooth smoke, that finishes surprisingly fast for a matured Virginia. Not too sweet. Tangy and complex to the tongue, round and pleasant to the nose.

Despite the pleasing aroma, Savage Kitten still forces me to smoke it in the kitchen near the open window with the door closed - she does not appreciate old women.
I expect that in another thirty years she won't mind my smoking it in the parlor - she may smell like that herself then.

Oddly, the fragrance does not particularly adhere to the pipe, as subsequent bowls of McClellands flake tobacco are scarcely influenced. Bowls of Dunhill's Durbar mixture, or Standard Mixture Medium, a few days later, will taste no different than usual. In this it is entirely dissimilar to such rancid abortions as Troost, Clan, Cherry-Vanilla Hodgepodge, or any other dreck-muck-sludge compounds much recommended by idiots and misguided sweet funk aficionados.

It is far better tobacco than anything the Dutch or Danes produce, a truly excellent compound, and well worth experiencing. It takes me about a year to go through a tin, and if it dries out during that time I remoisten it with a little whiskey. The liquor sparks up the fragrance and melds the flavour-components. At times I will hold the tin up to my nose merely to inhale deeply. Sheer heaven.
You might not like it; not everyone does.


MCCLELLANDS
[Dark, pressed, and dizzy.]

I've also been smoking McClellands Blackwoods Flake, Dark Star, and Virginia No. 24 of an evening. All are up to the usual high standards of McClellands, and being Virginias, they often do not alert Savage Kitten to their smoke until I've nearly finished the bowl. Unlike Oriental mixtures, Virginias are stealth tobaccos. The Blackwoods Flake is easier to smoke than the Dark Star, which pretty much knocks me sideways. A fine product.


DUNHILL
[Beware of bears.]

The Dunhill Durbar Mixture and the Standard Mixture Medium have too much Turkish and Latakia to pass unnoticed. I seldom smoke them in the house, even near the open window. Savage Kitten, who does not drink or smoke, describes them as noxious death-weed, and has threatened to emasculate me if her teddy-bear ends up smelling like barbecue because of them.
The bear is the oldest roomy, and apparently outranks me. Flaming Hell will burst forth on earth if the bear should smell of smoke.

I am far too fond of the bear to even think of causing that eventuality.
The bear at present smells warm and fuzzy, and very comforting.
Rather like a sweet little old lady.

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NARD VE KARKOM, KANEH VE KINAMON

Both Treppenwitz and Graham commented underneath my pervert odour post. Both asked questions.
[This post: http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/05/smelling-like-pervert.html ]

Treppenwitz asked:"I am looking for a good, aromatic, pipe tobacco. I don't want to smoke it, mind you. I simply want something that I can store in my home library for the sake of its aroma.

I have wonderful memories of the smell of my father's study from when I was a kid. He rarely smoked his pipe by the time I was born, but he maintained a few leather pouches of various tobaccos... just in case he should ever want to have a pipe. The result was that his study always smelled wonderful.

I have a nice selection of 'seforim' at home, but many of them are older volumes that have been bought at auction or rescued from shuls that were selling off their holy books. As a result, there is sometimes a musty smell near the shelves that I could do without.

It occurs to me that if I kept a few pouches of a nice pipe tobacco secreted here and there behind the books, it would be a wonderful improvement to the atmosphere.
So, any recommendations? And if so, how long would it take a leather pouch of pipe tobacco to lose its aroma?"


It's good question. A library should smell appropriately. I automatically think of the smell of the typical Chinese scholar's studyroom - hard inks made fragrant with camphor and resins, subtly perfumed paper, incense from Indochina made of fallen hardwoods from the malarial zone.

I have a selection of incense at home which is very pleasant, and which smells calm and not fruity. Easiest to get are sandalwood and winter pear joss-sticks - spend a little bit extra and get the better qualities, as they have finer ingredients and less glue. Black Sandalwood, which has a very scholarly smell, is also excellent - but fairly expensive. And not really a sandalwood - it's the aforementioned Indochinese hardwood. Good quality incense keeps away bugs, by the way.

Cedar, which is used to make cigar boxes, is also one of those old-fashioned smells. One could keep pipe-tobacco in a cedar box, as a friend of mine does.

But regarding pipe tobacco, I would suggest the Samuel Gawith 1792 Flake. It is made fragrant with Coumarin (Tonquin oil), which helps preserve the tobacco and keeps it bug-free. If the tobacco dries out, revive it with some alcohol. It will add a pleasant aroma for years that way.

Peterson's Irish Flake is also good in that regard, being slightly smokey and leathery (the effect of the fire-cured Kentucky pressed with Virginia), and for an old-fashioned perfume, I suggest Independence, by Dan Tobacco - I do not know how well it revives if it dries out (as inevitably it must). Samuel Gawith (England) and Dan Tobacco (Germany) make a range of high-quality tobaccos, several of which are aromatic - some extremely so.

Most mass-production aromatic pipe-tobaccos are much of a muchness. Fruits, vanilla, and chocolate-coffee-caramel. Some with coconut or almond toppings. These overpower, and attract bugs because of their sweetness, or may leave a sticky deposit if left in one place too long.

Avoid almost all Dutch tobaccos - some are the very definition of perversion. The Dutch are the whores of the flavour industry.

Heather Honey mixtures (many manufacturers), Rum-flavoured mixtures (many manufacturers), and Maple mixtures (many Drug-store blends) are neither entirely too objectionable nor exceptionally unstable.

Peterson and Ashton both make tinned aromatics which are of higher quality.


MacBaren's (a Danish company) makes several pressed rollcakes (small round slices) in tins. Some are more aromatic than others, but all are of excellent quality, and probably very suitable for use as "library besomim". Their Latakia Blend (actually no more than ten percent Latakia, the rest being Burley and Virginia) has a plummy smell, as does their Navy flake. Any tobacconist that caries MacBaren's should have a pamphlet describing the product.

Most 'Oriental' mixtures will add an old-fashioned smokey quality - the Latakia and the aged Virginias harmonize well. But they are not aromatic, and dry out eventually with little hope of revival. The Turkish component loses resinosity over time.

Scotch Blend nowadays almost always means nastiness. But traditionally it meant a generous proportion of strong Virginias with assertive condimentals (Latakia, Turkish, Perique). If you find a Scotch Blend that contains much black Virginia or stoved Virginia, it will add a raisiny whiney smell.

Avoid anything that reeks of cherries.

=== === === === ===


Graham asked:
"Where do pipe-smokers (non-Arabic) - smoke pipes nowadays? My late brother smoked pipes - but I've never seen people standing around on streets - smoking pipes."
At the tobacconist, at the Occidental Cigar Bar, or at Whiskey Thieves. On the front steps of apartment buildings, in the wicker seats under the awnings of coffee shops, in air-wells, or in the kitchen near the open window. We bellyache a lot.


"Do perverts smoke pipes? I'd rather think they smoke cheap cigarettes."
Anybody who smokes a cherry blend is by definition a pervert and should be kept away from little girls. Sailors, rapists, and Californians smoke cheap cigarettes.


"Are all women who smoke pipes also lesbian?"

No. Boruch Hashem.


"Is there a typical Jewish tobacco ?- I have seen old Polish Yiddish videos where all the wise men smoke a pipe."

No, but there is a series of tobacco mixtures with a Judaic theme put out by Cornell and Diehl (http://www.cornellanddiehl.com/ see here: http://www.cornellanddiehl.com/virginia_blends.html ).

Halav u'dvash - two types of Virginia, with fired Kentucky and a resinous fragrance added to make it aromatic.
Or Olam - Virginia, Perique, touch of Oriental.
Boker Or - Virginias, Orientals, touch of Perique.
Or L'Yom - Like Boker Or, but paler.
Shaarei Orah - A Burley based blend.

One could light up a pipe as part of havdalah, letting the whisp of fragrant smoke kiss the Sabbath adieu. Some Chassidic rebbes light a cigarette for davka that purpose. A cigar would be better.

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