Recently I acquired several samples of Gawith Hoggarth blends, nine different ones to be exact. As I smoke them I will share my impression of each, though I hasten to add that I make no pretense of having the kind of refined palate requisite to being an expert reviewer.
The first is Broken Scotch Flake. It consists of flue-cured Virginia sweetened up a bit by some sun-cured of the same. I had high hopes for BSC, but its most remarkable attribute turns out to be that of an unbelievable boringness. The stuff smokes cool enough for a Virginia mixture, but lacks any definitive character, good or bad. No single taste predominates, nothing whatsoever asserts itself to make you either love or hate this tobacco. Broken Scotch Cake is the John Kerry of pipeweed--just there, but does nothing.
Imagine shredding up a tractor tire and packing that in your pipe. Trust me, if my imagination approximates reality, then Sliced Black is akin to smoking black rubber. It tastes terrible. However, the blend burns nice and cool, with virtually no bite. What distinguishes this tobacco from a tractor tire is the addition of maple, licorice, and other dressings. The nicotine content is powerful, perhaps to the point of giving you instant cancer. Nasty, nasty, stuff.
So far I'm not impressed with what Gawith, Hoggarth & Co. has to offer. Yet, this is only my second sample. I have seven more to go, so I still hope for the best.
Friends, I wanted to like GH tobaccos, I really did. So far, however, my sampling makes me wonder how this company stays in business.
If, for health reasons, I ever wanted to give up pipe smoking I would smoke either Curly Cut Deluxe or Kendal Mixed for one solid week straight. Thereafter I would never light up another bowl of tobacco as long as I lived. I'd become a liberal and self righteously condemn all pipeweed to the pit of Hell.
Take your choice, either one is terrible. Both burn cool, but bite your tongue badly. Kendal Mixed tastes a lot like Granger, but only worse. Curly Cut Deluxe reminds me of hay top-dressed with rat urine. I'm speaking imaginatively, not literally. Clarity is important!
I am a Calvinist. As such I believe the Lord has ordained whatsoever comes to pass. Providence, therefore, is the historical execution of God's eternal decree. The Puritans used to speak of the Lord's "difficult providence," meaning those things which He brings into our life that cause suffering of any kind. Sometimes the suffering is intended to try our faith, other times its purpose is to chastise us for our trespasses. Thus, I must be more wicked than I ever thought. Scotch Flake, another 100% Virginia blend, accentuates the guilt of personal sin like no other tobacco ever could.
As for Kendal Kentucky: Well, there are a lot of horse farms in Kentucky. And you know what drops from those horse butts, don't you? That's right, GH's Kendal Kentucky. Whoa, Nellie! This tobacco stinks.
Silage, pure 100% silage. I would feed this to the pigs, in which case the manufacturer would be more properly named: Gawith Hogfarts. Brown Flake is essentially unscented Virginia leaf processed in such a manner as to leave it with a taste similar to sweetened oinker scat. It's room note is that of a cheap European cigarette. Otherwise BF isn't too bad.
A granddaughter takes her 80 year old grandfather to the doctor for his annual exam. The physician says, "I'll need both a urine and a stool sample, sir." Granddad, being hard of hearing, looks at his granddaughter in a befuddled sort of way and asks, "What does he want?" "Your shorts, Grampa, give him your shorts."
Dark Flake is smokable, I'll give it that. Furthermore, it possesses what seems to be a GH trademark, namely coolness. The absence of any significant bite is a nice touch. However, prior to lighting Dark Flake smells liked dirty underwear and under the flame it tastes the same.
This is the perfect rest home visitation blend. Nobody will ever know you're smoking it.
Alas, dear brothers of the briar, here is the ninth and final sample of my GH blends. I thought that I had thrown this one in the trash along with the rest of them (in which case I would have reviewed it as the best tobacco I never smoked). Such, however, was not the case, therefore I felt obligated to light up a bowl and, thus, inflict upon the ever-patient readers of The Churchwarden yet another less than charitable review.
Surprisingly--to me at least--Sliced Brown started off promising. The flavor, while not exactly great, wasn't too terribly awful. The smoke seemed characteristically cool and offered no offending bite whatsoever. But in due time SB asserted itself as a demonic blend straight from the devil's own smokehole. The nicotine content is so strong that it will make your head spin around and force you to vomit. Sliced Brown will be tossed in the garbage like the other GH samples were. They're all reprobates and deserve eternal condemnation in a landfill somewhere.
©copyright Perry S. Fuller, 2005
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