Sunday, January 06, 2013


I remarked to Dante that if one had a choice of service with a warm smile from a pretty woman, or haphazard attention from a not very bright uncle, it was always better to go on a night when the person who is pleasing to the eyes is working.
He agreed. As, naturally, any man would.
And I will admit that I tend to go to that restaurant ONLY when the pretty woman is working. The food seems to taste so much better that way.

That, possibly, also affects my present perception of Greg Pease's latest tobacco product: Navigator. I smoked a big, BIG bowlful after dinner.
But I had let enough time pass that the residual taste of the bitter melon chicken rice (凉瓜雞球飯) was long gone, though not the memory of the keen intelligent eyes and sincere smile.

[Sixth in the Old London Series.]

No, the person in question does NOT resemble red Virginia, neither in ribbon cut form nor lightly pressed flake. But if they began featuring charming women on tobacco posters again, she would be in the running.
Certainly my first choice.

'Smoke a blend of predominantly red VA, with a touch of yellow, brown, and something aircured plus a demure and mysterious extra note;
smoke GLP Navigator!'

I think we can all agree that my skills as an advertising copy writer leave something to be desired. But don't worry, she would be fully clothed. Shirt and v-neck sweater (it was cold last night), plus jeans. Although we'd have to shop around a bit for the jeans, leastways a better fit.
The sweater made her look very fresh and collegiate, and crisp white cotton shirts evoke innocence and clean living. The hair was perfect. Long, black, clean and shiny, with a clip keeping it out of her face.
She'd be the ideal poster-girl for a pure and generous tobacco.

Navigator tastes velvety in the mouth, with a good balance of boldness and complexity. Yet it is more subtle than you would at first think. This is the type of mixture that, if you smelled someone else smoking it, would inspire you to reveries, and might colour an entire period of your life, or bring back brilliant memories of an era long ago.

The pipe was a biggish Barling billard, and it sang. Perhaps overly optimistic of me to load such a large pipe to the brim with a product laden with nicotine (flue-cured leaf and Kentucky tend toward wallop), but an hour and a half later I was happy as a clam and high as a kite.
Nicotine stimulates quite a bit.
Navigator, a lot.

It was a splendid evening, what all Saturdays should be.
Good food, good company, good cheer.
Plus something evocative.

I'm wondering whether I should first order eight tins, or twelve. Or place two separate orders.
This tobacco will age well, I think. And it will likely end up in my regular rotation. Smokes down cool and clean, delivering graduating spectra of complexity, then quietly departs, leaving naught but happiness and a fine white ash.


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