…Blogged by LoudTwitter.

…Blogged by LoudTwitter.

…Blogged by LoudTwitter.

Planta Danish Black Vanilla Flake, Peterson 2008 St. Patrick’s Day XL02

Originally uploaded by Echoloc8

A lovely-smelling tobacco blend in the tin, a truly interesting tangy vanilla room note–almost too tangy for Amy’s nose, truth to tell. Quite strong in its propensity to bite the tongue, though, so it’s one to sip slowly and respectfully. Might be a wonderful component in a blend, come to think of it.

Not, sadly, the best pipe selection in the Peterson XL02, however: while it’s got a nice large bowl, and its attractive green finish is a pleasure to see and to hold, the breaking-in process for this pipe has been long and frustrating. Lots of gurgle and heat, from a bowl that seems to be too well sealed on the outside by the varnish. Petersons have a bit of a rep for being hard to break in, so I will continue to persevere, but this combo is a trying one, at least at this point in my smoking career.

-Rich

PS. This review is/was an experiment in uploading a picture to Flickr and thence creating a blog post. Results were mixed: I’ll have to fiddle with the formatting.

Still, sometimes a break is appropriate: a caesura for purposes of reflection, for processing those lessons. After taking a day off from pipes to let my palate and my ego recover, I loaded up my standby Wiley pipe with Gatlinburlier Chimney Smoke, a toasted Burley Cavendish blend that I suspect is cased (flavored) with something akin to dark maple syrup. I have a pouch of it next to me as I write, and it’s redolent with strong vanilla and dark chocolate notes, with subtler hints of marzipan, black cherry and other berries.

For all this, Chimney Smoke is not a terribly sophisticated blend: a basic “aromatic,” i.e., flavored tobacco, that most tobacconists carry in some form; black Cavendish is a common, popular favorite. The Gatlinburlier advertises that Chimney Smoke is “a spice-fire Black Cavendish tobacco. Dryer than most toasted Cavendish,” and that dryness (and possibly whatever was spicing the fire) may explain part of its draw for me: I’ve tried several similar blends (The Briary’s Black Gold, for example), but the Gatlinburlier’s blend tastes better, has a friendlier room note, and smokes cooler.

In any event, I loaded up with Chimney Smoke, lit, and it was like the Wiley had been reunited with an old friend: easy, delicious smoke, blood-warm briar in my fingers, a contented sigh from Amy nearby. The tobacco burned gently and politely, stayed lit well, puffed easily, tasted delightful. Chimney Smoke was the tobacco I purchased along with my first pipe, recommended by Amy as the blend her own father had smoked, back in the years he partook. So its smoke has a scent laden with memories and associations already, and a room note that makes people sit up, take notice and smile. It pairs excellently with both Appleton rum and Jack Daniels.

An evening with Chimney Smoke was exactly what I needed, especially given that this week’s been fuller than usual with life’s slings and arrows: comforting, familiar and luxurious. Like most cased aromatic blends, the bowl started with an explosion of room-note aroma, mellowed to more complicated and subtle flavors by the middle of the bowl, and made its exit with the woodsy, unassuming Burley base tobacco taking the bows.

The education of a palate, like the internalizing of the finer points of a skill like smoking, can be rocky territory to explore; when traversing such rocky terrain it can be quite useful to stop, reflect and simply rest amid the enriching well-known. Such familiar and “conquered” territory suffers not at all in the comparison to newer, more complex and challenging fare: on the contrary, there is no pleasure quite like that of coming home again.

-Rich

Enjoying a bowlful from my Randy Wiley pipe.

Ladies and gentlemen: welcome, welcome and welcome.

This is my new blog, devoted to the pleasures, from the earthy to the artful to the arcane, of pipe smoking. I’ve been enjoying the pleasures of ‘baccy and burl for a little over a year, when my lovely wife Amy took me to a little shop in Gatlinburg called the Gatlin-Burlier, where I bought my first pipe, filled it with their delightful vanilla-bomb aromatic blend Chimney Smoke, and plunged headlong into an amazing pastime: one that is centuries old while undergoing rebirth, praised for its contemplative benefits while pilloried as a destroyer of health, and parochial as a corncob while multicultural as a silver-and-cloisonné hookah.

An expert I am not: I am learning more every day about how pipes and tobaccos of myriad qualities, types and styles pair and smoke. A collector I am not, though I currently have eleven pipes among which to select, and love each for one reason or another. A connoisseur I am not, though I enjoy every smoke to the maximum extent I can, and my palate becomes more educated with every pipeful.

And, finally, an activist I am not: there are real reasons to be wary of indiscriminate tobacco use, especially the overly-tampered-with, largely-synthetic drek used in the typical cigarette, and especially especially for youngsters. That said, I proceed here fully aware that screams of varying degrees of hysteria will echo from all quarters about the evils of tobacco use. What I preach is “live and let live”: you stay out of my face, and I’ll cheerfully refrain from blowing smoke (no matter how wonderfully fragrant and delicious) in yours.

What I am is an enthusiastic newbie! My purpose here is to rhapsodize about the pleasures to be found, lessons to be learned, and treasures discovered in pipe smoking, my hobby and budding passion. This is a private space, however, and while spirited, respectful debate will be tolerated, ugliness and willful idiocy will not. You, dear reader, are welcome to read along, ask questions, and even recommend the occasional blend or pipe-maker for trial.

Please share the journey with me: smoking pipes represent a vast field of history and detail, and I plan to trek it with gusto.

-Rich