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Caviar Marijuana

Posted on October 21, 2017 - 9:00 am

People get pretty pretentious when it comes to fish eggs. Think about it: the only true “caviar” comes from the critically endangered beluga sturgeon—a monstrous fish that swam alongside dinosaurs—and it sells for $290 an ounce. It’s salty and black and usually enjoyed by people who wear suits and snobby expressions, like James Bond. I’ve only eaten it a couple times, and I didn’t understand the hype; it didn’t taste any better than the fish eggs you get at sushi restaurants for a fraction of the price. But that sushi stuff is just called “roe,” and to some people, that matters, I guess. And to these people, it’s annoying when the rest of us refer to garden-variety roe as “caviar,” but really, we only do so because it’s a crap-ton easier than saying “salt-cured fish eggs that come from a species outside the acipenseridae family of fish.” Know what I mean?

And in a way, it’s ironic, because just as “caviar” has become a blanket-term for fish eggs, so too has it become a blanket-term for infused cannabis flower. But then again, people get pretty pretentious when it comes to pot as well. Technically, the only true caviar marijuana is made by soaking a bud of Grape God in Grape Rhino hash oil, and then coating it with Grape Rhino kief. If a different flower, oil, or kief is used, the end product is just an unnamed variety of “infused flower.” But the confusion doesn’t stop there: instead of “caviar,” some people (usually from the west coast) use the term “moon rocks,” or they think that moon rocks are buds coated with cannabis wax. But that’s not accurate either—true moon rocks are made by soaking buds of Girl Scout Cookies in an oil made from the same strain, before coating it in more GSC kief. So, thanks to all the vagaries and confusion, the three terms have become somewhat synonymous, and frankly, here at The Greenery, we don’t have a problem with that: “moon rocks” is just the Californian way of saying “caviar,” which is just the Coloradan way of saying “infused flower.” At the end of the day, none of it matters because caviar marijuana is ludicrously awesome and it gets you high as hell, so who cares what it’s called?

Anyway, at The Greenery, we’ve always sold caviar, and our customers love it so much that we’ve started making it ourselves. For our first batch, we used Dark Star flower from our own grow, but instead of dipping it in hash oil that’d been thinned with alcohol like most places use, we painstakingly painted each bud (yes, with an actual paintbrush) with pure hash oil that’s just as thick and golden as the gooey-goodness in Winnie the Pooh’s honeypot. And then we battered each sticky bud in our own kief, just like fried chicken, before letting it dry. The result was wonderful: our caviar came in at over 55% THC, which is mind-blowing, but the best part was the texture. Most caviar is oversaturated with oil, and when you try to grind it, it clogs up your grinder and makes a hot mess. But our caviar crumbles perfectly and it’s easy to handle or roll into joints: it’s the perfect trifecta of potency, and just a little bit goes a long way. The high is quick and potent, the flavor is rich and decadent, and the best part is that you don’t need to be James Bond to afford it: before tax, our caviar sells for only $25 per gram, or $20 for a one-gram, pre-rolled joint, and we always have plenty in stock.

So please, come into our dispensary at 208 Parker Avenue and come see this stuff. Come ask one of our budtenders to show you a sample or let you smell it, and we swear that you’ll understand the hype (unlike with those snobby fish eggs), because We’re Your Best Buds!

Kief Brick

Posted on September 30, 2017 - 9:00 am

Thirty years ago, my father had a poster hanging on the inside of his closet door: it said, “a puff of kief in the morning makes a man as strong as a hundred camels in the courtyard.” The poster was warped and creased with age, the font was straight out of the sixties, and a tall hookah was pictured on the left with smoke wafting from the bowl at its crown. And as a child, I had no idea what it meant. I assumed it had something to do with drugs, because those are the things you “puff,” but I ruled that out quickly because my father didn’t do drugs; he loved his polo shirts and his hard-to-read books and his government job. However, the years passed, and I finally figured out that the poster was indeed a relic from my father’s hippy youth. But I still didn’t know what “kief” was.

Fast forward to my freshman year: a guy named Drew gave me a homemade kief box as a gift. As a side note, they call them “pollen boxes” now because kief is still illegal in most backwoods states, but that’s irrelevant. Anyway, when Drew gave me the box, I opened it and looked inside. There was a fine screen in the bottom with another compartment below it. I asked Drew what the hell a “kief box” was, and after giving me an incredulous look, he told me to keep my weed in the box and shake it gently from time to time—Drew told me that the “kief” would fall through the screen into the compartment below, and that I could take it out and smoke it.

So, I did exactly what Drew suggested. And after an eighth or three of that good west coast weed, I’d collected a decent dusting of kief in the bottom of my box. I took it out, sprinkled it on top of a bowl loaded in my bong, and I smoked it. I sat back in my dorm room and I waited for the strength of one-hundred camels; I waited for the superpowers promised by my father’s poster. They never came, of course, but at least I figured out the riddle to that poster (by the way, Google says it’s worth $1000 now), and at least I discovered kief.

Kief is an Arabic word meaning “pleasure” or “intoxication,” which, if you think about them, are two pretty damn synonymous words to start with, so it makes sense that the Arabs would use only the one word. But the kief I’m talking about is something you smoke: it’s a naturally-made marijuana concentrate formed from the dried trichomes found on cannabis flower. And frankly, kief is one of my all-time favorite ways to get high. But it’s always been difficult to find, just like all the good stuff in life, because most kief is homemade and so good that most people won’t share it. However, that’s an annoyance from the past because The Greenery Hash Factory has started manufacturing and selling old-school kief right here in Durango, Colorado.

We make it simply and naturally—we put premium, boutique flower in our dry-sift machine (using a 150-micron filter), and we let friction do the work. The flower tumbles around for a while and all the wonderful kief falls into a collection bin below (it’s like that little wooden kief box of mine, but on steroids). We take out the powdery kief and compress it into a brick with a pneumatic jack, and then we cut it up into grams of “kief brick” that we sell for $30 before tax at our local dispensary. The batch I smoked just before writing this (yeah, that’s right) was made from Indiana Bubblegum flower, and the numbers are incredible: the THC came in at 44.9%, and the CBG came in at 3.1%. At this point, especially if you’re a regular reader of marijuana blogs, you’re probably bored to tears when it comes to information on cannabinoids like THC and CBD because it’s ubiquitous, however, CBG is an up-and-coming cannabinoid you should pay attention to—this odd little chemical is actually the parent of both THC and CBD, it’s thought to have anti-inflammatory properties, and it might even be a neuro-protectant (smoking high-CBG concentrates might actually protect your brain, despite what your mother told you).

However, just like I said in last week’s post, the numbers don’t matter much, nor does the science—it’s the experience that counts: our kief is incredible, and I’m pretty sure this is the stuff Tinkerbell sprinkled on the Lost Boys to make them fly. And smoking kief is like eating the frosting first and leaving the cake behind, because you’re smoking the trichomes without the sticks and stems you’re used to. It’s flavorful and rich, and the smoke expands in your lungs, like a genie trying to get out of his claustrophobic lamp. The high is complex and long-lasting, with warm body notes and a cerebral giddiness that seems way too intense for something that costs only thirty bucks per gram.

But it’s the flavor that’s remarkable.

All the terpenes for which marijuana is famous are found in the trichomes—these terpenes are what give marijuana its smell and taste, and when you’re smoking pure trichomes, the flavor is multiplied exponentially. You can taste all the fruit and citrus and pine notes as if they were highlighted by a big marker, and all the subtle nuances that were hinted at before in plain flower stand out in kief like the stars they truly are. And this stuff smells exactly like it tastes: pungent, like intoxicating potpourri.

Actually, you just need to see it for yourself. You need to smell this stuff in person. You need to smoke it and sit back, and experience if it’ll make you feel stronger than one-hundred camels in the courtyard. So please, come in to The Greenery and ask one of our budtenders to show you our kief; this stuff is just as good as it sounds, and we’ll share it too, because that’s what Your Best Buds are for.

Moroccan Hash in Durango

Posted on September 23, 2017 - 9:00 am

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The Berbers are a people of ancient Arab stock—they’ve lived in the mountainous Rif region of Morocco for as long as records have been kept. Their eyes and hair are deep brown, their traditions are exotic, and they paint their houses and streets blue to mirror the sky, to be reminded always of a god living above. And they make hashish, just as they always have, because it’s a part of Moroccan life.

In the Rif, the soil is red and rich, and the air smells salty because the Mediterranean Sea starts where the mountains end. And hidden in the highlands are terraced hills covered with flowering marijuana. The Berber men tend their crop until it’s time to harvest, and then they reap their fields the way their fathers taught them to. The harvested marijuana is set aside to cure for a month, and then the flower is trimmed from the stalk. The green bud is ground gently, and then placed on a silk drum—the silk acts as a filter: the pollen falls through while the plant matter stays trapped on the surface. The Berber men cover the flower with a tarp, and then start beating on it rhythmically with bamboo canes; they call this “making music.” When the hash-song is done, the men uncover the beaten flower and throw it away. They take the silk head from the drum and look inside; the brittle trichomes that filtered through the silk sit in the drum’s bottom. Light brown, pungent, intoxicating.

The men press the powdery hash by hand, heating and kneading it gently, and they smile as their Moroccan hash darkens. They roll it into balls, keeping the best for themselves, and then they send their hash out into the world; these Berber men make half the world’s supply. But oddly enough, marijuana is illegal in Morocco. Lenience is given to the Berber tribes because it’s easier than policing them, but once their hash leaves the mountains like snowmelt flowing downhill, it loses its protection. It’s coveted and fought over just like anything else that makes you feel good, and it’s always been ridiculously hard to come by in the States. I’ve only had authentic Moroccan hash twice in my life—I could tell by the tribal stamp pressed into the bricks I bought—and I didn’t want to think too much about how I got what I got, because most of this hash is smuggled out of Morocco in a very… personal way. But each time I smoked it, I loved the feeling Moroccan Hash gave me, and after each time I ran out, my smile turned upside-down.

But that’s over: now, The Greenery Hash Factory is making their own Moroccan Hash, and we’re selling it at The Greenery for thirty-five bucks a gram. And the craziest part is that the stuff we’re making is better than the stuff I’ve smoked before; maybe we should call it “Durangan Hash” and smuggle it into Morocco so they can see what they’ve been doing wrong for centuries. For one, we use the best marijuana in Colorado to make our hash—our cannabis is grown in a controlled environment with living soil by a badass Master Grower, not out in the wind and rain of a Moroccan mountainside (and we don’t have to worry about goats eating our pot, which is nice).

Secondly, we use modern technology to make our “music”; quality control is much easier to achieve when you’re using a dry-sift machine instead of bamboo canes. And when you do everything scientifically, from using an exact heat to caramelize the hash to testing the hash in a modern laboratory, you end up with a superior product. Our most recent batch of Moroccan Hash is simply awesome: we made it from Skunk #1 flower, and the THC came in at 65%, the CBD came in at 1.3%, and the CBN came in at 2.3%. Today, when most marijuana concentrates are made using a chemical extraction process, these numbers are exciting because we did it the old-school way, naturally.

But in the end, it’s the experience that counts, not the numbers or the three-letter-acronyms, and I swear to you that to smoke our hash is to know perfection. The flavor is deep and musky, like a velvety dark chocolate or a fragrant black tea. The high is focused and intense, with profound relaxation and a centered calm. It’s the high I’ve been looking for through the years since I held those tribal-stamped bricks of the real deal, but taken to another level in the hands of our hash craftsmen. So, come in to our dispensary and ask one of our affable budtenders to show you what I’m talking about; you can smell it and see it for yourself. From now on, we’re offering this Moroccan Hash to Durango and our neighbors because it’s just better than what has been offered before—that’s what you’ve come to expect from Your Best Buds, and that’s what you’ll get if you try our house-made Moroccan Hash.

What’s it like to get high?

Posted on August 19, 2017 - 9:00 am

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Three people have asked me this question before I sold them marijuana. It’s a strange feeling—knowing that you’re selling pot to someone who’s only heard stories about the high—and it’s an honor to answer it. But in a way, it’s a nebulous concept, one that seems ineffable once you try to put it into words, and I had to pause mentally each time someone looked at me across the counter and asked this question.

The first gentleman who asked me what it was like to get high practiced an Orthodox faith. He was kind and paternal. He’d already spent a few years in his eighties and he was in a wheelchair, resplendent in his tailored suit. He had sharp eyes and hair so white it was translucent; he sat in his chair and looked up at me and asked if the marijuana I sold would make him hallucinate. He’d tried every prescription drug on the market, searching legally for something to alleviate the pain associated with the neuropathy that’d already cost him a leg, and he was desperate. He’d never taken any sort of recreational drug because it was forbidden: no alcohol no nicotine no marijuana. And he didn’t know what to expect—he was afraid that he might see flying animals or go mad, just as the early propaganda predicted. I took my time and described the sensation, but I’ll get to that in a little bit.

The second gentleman who asked me what it was like to get high hadn’t seen many cities. Quite literally, he drove straight to our dispensary from a compound in Utah. This man was kind too, but his clothes were simple and unadorned. His hair was the color of dried clay and his demeanor was unassuming. He didn’t suffer from pain, but he was tired of living someone else’s life. Marijuana had been forbidden to this second gentleman as well, as had coffee and profanity, and he’d decided to just jump right in and smoke something salacious after thirty-five years of abstinence. But first, he wanted to know what it was like; he wanted to be sure that the marijuana myths he’d heard wouldn’t turn true after the first puff.

The third person who asked me what it was like to get high needed a translator; we used her adult grandson. He was a patient man, one who’d been smoking for years, and he held his grandmother’s hand as she walked in. She was an archetype: she wore a permanent smile and a floral print dress with large glasses nestled into her curled, grey hair. She walked around timidly, as if the wares we sold might leap out and thwart over sixty years’ worth of resolve, but she warmed up to me almost immediately. We talked through her grandson because my Spanish es no bueno, and her biggest fear was that she’d become instantly addicted; she wanted to be assured that there was a road back from the marijuana gummies I was showing her. And she wanted to know what it was like to get high.

Well… it’s wonderful. It’s pretty much exactly what Goldilocks was looking for: not too hard, not too soft, not too debilitating and not too ineffectual. After the smoke comes in and goes out, the tension disappears. Muscles relax that you didn’t know were strained, and you smile involuntarily. Your whole body, your very soul, heaves a sigh of relief, comfort, happiness. The world starts to look bright and beautiful and you see the good you’d overlooked just a moment ago. The clothes you’re wearing start to feel like pajamas, the music you hear starts to sound symphonic, and the food you eat starts to taste like the wonderment you’d find in Wonka’s chocolate factory. It feels like you’re standing in a ray of mana that’s raining down from above just for you, and as you bathe in it, life’s worries fade to the insignificant things they truly are; the pain dwindles.

And it isn’t addictive. This has been proven scientifically time and time again. The negative side effects are laughable: xerostomia (dry-mouth), an increased appetite (bring it on), and occasional anxiety (there is such a thing as too much of a good thing). In fact, and I tell this to worried customers all the time, marijuana is the second safest recreational drug out there. I’m sure you’ve read all the articles out there like this one, but just in case you haven’t, the super-smart people over at The Global Drug Survey have crunched all the numbers and compiled all the data (like emergency room visits), and they’ve ranked the nine most popular recreational drugs as per the danger associated with each one. Magical Mushrooms are the least dangerous, marijuana is a close second, and alcohol (you know, that socially accepted stuff) comes close to beating out meth as the worst stuff out there. Figures.

Frankly, I’m not sure why someone wouldn’t try marijuana—life needs to be lived—and when first-timers fall into my lap, I do my duty. I tell them the truth, and I describe what it’s like to get high honestly, sans flying animals and madness, and I make sure they leave our dispensary with the comfort that comes from making the right decision. As a budtender at The Greenery, that’s my job, and as one of Your Best Buds, it’s my pleasure.

THC Percentage

Posted on June 24, 2017 - 10:00 am

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Some days, life’s stressors need a little numbing, and something strong is called for, like a kickass Sativa that’ll fill your lungs and banish the bullshit. And for occasions like that, The Greenery sells Chemmy Jones. This stuff is ridiculous. We don’t always have it on our shelves because the demand is so high, but the THC level comes in at a world-record forty-percent, the flower smells like a science experiment, and the high hits you like a back-handed pimp slap. It isn’t a complex high, but it’s energetic and strong and perfect for the days when the tedium doesn’t seem to stop. But what about the other days? What about the days when you’re just looking to relax a little bit, and what about the days when you’d like to be high and functional at the same time?

Every marijuana writer in the history of marijuana writers has made a comparison between pot and alcohol because it’s such an easy analogy, and I’m about to do the same thing even though it borders on a cliché, so bear with me… Chemmy Jones is like 151 Rum—a spirit so strong it requires a metal flame suppressor on every bottle so they don’t explode spontaneously around candles. And sometimes, 151 is exactly what you need (especially if you’re in the mood to light your face on fire and become a YouTube sensation). But 151 won’t always work because your friends will start to worry if they catch you drinking it on a Tuesday. So, especially for week-days when others are watching, most people prefer beer or wine; beverages that’re enjoyable thanks to their lower alcohol content and flavor profiles. Likewise, there’s a pot for that: Flo.

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Flo is a strain that’s usually on our menu because we grow it (if you come into our shop and look to your right, you’ll see a large-screen TV showing a live-feed of our grow if you don’t believe me). And our guys know what they’re doing: Flo is flavorful and understated with a comfortable, happy high that’s perfect for summer days. If Chemmy Jones is 151 on a blurry Saturday night, then Flo is a cold Mexican Logger after work. For the record, Flo still packs a punch and it’ll get the job done after an especially trying Monday, but with a THC percentage hovering between eighteen and twenty-four percent, you’ll still be able to form coherent sentences after smoking it. Doesn’t that sound nice? Flo usually sells out quickly as well, but if you call or come in, one of our friendly budtenders can point you towards something comparable.

At The Greenery, we have a wide variety of strains that offer an equally wide variety of effects. We have deep Indica strains that’ll put you in the couch, we have strong Sativa strains that’ll leave your brain buzzing, and we have everything in-between. But I want you to know that if you always shop for a high THC percentage, you might be missing out on a few truly spectacular strains like Flo. Yes, I know the choices can seem overwhelming, and sometimes, it’s easiest just to buy the pot with the most THC, but I’d invite you to check out our menu before deciding. Each strain will have a little “+” symbol next to the name, and if you click on it, it’ll give you a complete description of the strain and of the high you can expect from smoking it, and it’ll display the associated THC percentage. But please, if you’d rather talk to a human, we’re always here. Just shoot us a comment via our “contact us” page, call us at (970) 403-3710, or visit us at 208 Parker Ave. We’ll do our best to answer any strain-specific questions you might have, and we’ll get you what you need, be it something over the top that’ll erase a bad day, or something mild that’s easy to enjoy with your Best Buds.

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Tag: THC

Caviar Marijuana

Kief Brick

Moroccan Hash in Durango

What’s it like to get high?

THC Percentage