It’s a beautiful Saturday night outdoors. The humidity has dropped and the temperature has released its death grip. The kennel’s worth of dogs in the subdivision are quiet and the guy up the street and around the corner is out of town, so you aren’t forced to listen to his music at twice the recommended levels for a quiet night. Spread before you on the deck furniture is a cornucopia of cannabis products (all legally purchased from your Feel State dispensary, of course!). Flower from the finest growers. Edibles manufactured by masters of their craft. Solvent and solventless concentrates that promise a bounty of terpenes. You’re about to reach for one when…BAMPH! Lord Shiva himself magically appears and says you can not begin until you answer this question, “If you had to choose one method of consumption for the rest of your life, what would it be?”
Since this is my fantasy situation, I will go first. Edibles are hit and miss with me. I’m either too stoned or not stoned enough. Part of it is my metabolism. As a younger man, I burned through calories like Chuck Norris on one of those exercise machines he was always hawking. Part of it is homogeneity. Take for example the peanut butter cookies I purchased from a dispensary in Maine. Each cookie was 40mg and there were 2 cookies in the bag. I ate the first at a friend’s place and waited a good hour before eating the second. Twas the second cookie that did me in. Motor functions went the way of the dodo, and I had to be helped back to my apartment which fortunately was only a flight of stairs away. But what a flight.
Concentrates I never got into. I’ve dabbed exactly twice in my life and both times it buckled my knees. Literally. I looked like the profile of Michael Jackson where he is standing on his toes. For me, dabs hit too hard and too fast. Plus, anything that requires a blowtorch to activate should come with an advanced safety certificate from the National Safety Council. Now, I’m well aware of the Puffco Peak and Plus, but that doesn’t change the fact that dabs turn my legs into elbow macaroni. Besides, the brain produces less and less cells as you age.
For me, it will always be flower. There’s something about the tactile experience of breaking up a fresh nug and releasing the noids and terps that always brings a smile to my face. I would go so far as to call the experience religious because of the ritualistic nature of preparing bud for consumption, and the tools used to do so. My grinder long ago lost its shiny silver paint and revealed the copper colored metal below, but its teeth are still sharp. The holes in the screen separating the main chamber and the kief tray are a little clogged, but functional. I’ve used the same green, lacquered tray for the last 25 years. Bowls and bongs have come and broken, but the methods of preparation are always the same, and church starts promptly in the morning.
What would your choice be?
Feel free to reach out to me at firstname.lastname@example.org with the one method of consumption you would choose for the rest of your life or just to chat about all things cannabis!
Photo credit: Weedmaps