A Whole New World

June 5, 2019 by Truett Smith in Tobacco Talk

I had smoked Virginia blends before, but not many. At that point, I'd primarily explored the world of English mixtures. It's not that I didn't enjoy Virginias, but none had captivated me. I was a rookie to the nuance and subtlety of flue-cured leaf and, even more so, tobacco in general; it was early in my pipe smoking journey, and there was much I hadn't tried.

That winter evening, though, as I reclined in front of the fireplace, pipe in hand and book in lap, I popped a tin of G.L. Pease's Sixpence. I methodically rubbed out a flake and packed the bowl. After the charring light, the embers dancing into a dome above the rim, I administered a final tamp, crossed my warmed legs, and cracked open the tome.

I'm a poor multitasker, so typically when I read, I too often find myself so engrossed in the author's words that I neglect my pipe, requiring more relights and a longer-lasting bowl. This time, however, the opposite occurred. Mere paragraphs into a new chapter, a mixture of sweetness, spice, and the gentle depth of liquor arrested my attention. My eyes still moved over the words in front of me, but my imagination was not immersed in the pages. Instead, my mind focused on the flavors that flickered and danced across my taste buds.

Mere paragraphs into a new chapter, a mixture of sweetness, spice, and the gentle depth of liquor arrested my attention.

I had never tasted tobacco like this before, and my delight quickly turned to skeptical suspicion. I must have packed the bowl differently this time. Or the flavors from dinner must have mixed perfectly with the flake's components. Perhaps, the warmth and comfort of the fire had influenced how the tobacco burned or affected my perception of its taste. There simply was no way that tobacco could taste this good without some other extrinsic factors at play.

Regardless, I was committed to enjoying the bowl, sure it would be the best experience I would ever have with Sixpence — replicating all the variables would be nigh impossible in the future. I closed the book, leaned back, and finished the bowl in slow, peaceful elation.

The next evening, I was determined to prove my theory. This time I went for a walk before dinner. No book, no fire, no prior flavors to affect the smoke.

I've never been more glad to be proven wrong. The Virginias, Perique, and notes of liquor were married in the same mysteriously delicious way as the night before. I had finally caught a glimpse of what the vast family of tobaccos could offer. There was another world out there awaiting discovery. I was anxious to explore.