toasted n’ posted proudly presents…
Pink Prosecco by House of Cultivar
Pink Prosecco by House of Cultivar
Welcome back to toasted n’ posted where we sample only the most exotic recreational cannabis. Today, we have one especially elusive strain. Pink Propesecco, there is little to no information about this strain available on the internet. While it could be a rebranding of Pink Champagne, I would never expect House of Cultivar to be that lazy. Considering the immense effort they put into developing their own genetics, I’m sure this is just one of their many monster home-brews. One last thing before we get started; do you remember when I would hammer you with like fifteen full-sized images in a row?! Well, I’m totally going to do it again, but you’ll be happy I did.
I loosen the airtight cap, a dewey sweet stream trickles outward. A soothing mist is cast upon my senses. An aromatic weight builds and reinforces the mist into a thick, creeping fog laced with a subduing bubbly sour. The sudsy sour tickle is gentle, but violently fragrant. The exponentially blooming aroma slices out a light trace of flowery strawberry. The body of Pink Prosecco is woodsy, robust, and mildly hoppy. A delicate candy spins in the wake of the effervescent sour waters. To get this party started; I pop the cork and tear the fattest mamma-jamma under my nose! Overtaken by my brutality, Pink Prosecco spews out its essence. Sweet, creamy, candy pours from its wounds. The domineering sour augments itself to near-skunky magnitudes. This swarm of notes drips down into a decadent sugary stew with a sharp aromatic expanse. This newfound identity continues to evolve. The character of Pink Prosecco is unleashed, it becomes a lighthearted, gassy, stabbing brand of Hawaiian Punch. Pink Prosecco seems to refine and embolden its identity with time.
Rich olive peaks crash into tectonic sapped sage. Pink Prosecco proves to be a luscious landscape of color. Pudgy, fiery bronze tendrils rake across the crystalline surface to dramatic effect. All of these colors cast upon the walls of this shining monolith act as an impromptu Rembrandt. Subtle concentrations of violet peak out from behind the thriving verdancy. Pink Prosecco appears to be dense at first glance, but it relatively spacey and light once you begin handling it. It is clear now, this strain is lightyears away from Pink Champagne. While the calyx is sprawling, but tightly clustered. You’ll find the crystal dusted nodes to be quite firm once you assert your grip upon it. As I release my hold, my fingertips are overtaken by a sappy insurance. This bud is extremely sticky and scraps will cling to your fingers until the last possible second. I am dazzled by the bewildering blizzard of trichomes embedded into the face of Pink Prosecco. Amidst the avalanche is a sea of milky stalks sporting exemplary globulous heads. There is not a segment of this flower that isn’t sandblasted with an unrelenting frost. Pink Prosecco proves to be a rich bouquet of color nested in a crew of flirtatious bronze stigmas.
Leaf to flame, I take a gulp of the rich sugary stew. A cloying, flowery, berry expanse blossoms on my tongue and dwells on my breath. I truly feel as if I just took a suffocating gulp of tropical juice. The profoundly pungent fluent sour of Pink Prosecco drowns my breath in a harsh veil similar to an Spanish Olive. Sedating floral notes sweat out of the scorched foliage and ferments with the deferred earthy qualities. Sugary, rich hoppy sprites dance upon my tongue and stampede their soft song into my pallet. The earthen sucrose continues to snowball to a hashy finish. As the bowl chars, a woody charcoal afterimage stalks the saccharine savage. The two eventually molt together into a resonant kushy eruption. Methodical magma settles in aggressively in the aftermath of the explosive birth of the pungent sour flower.
I instantly engage in a very cerebral high. Though I do feel a trembling physical sensation progress in the shadow of the enlivening rise. My mind feels to be sparked awake, enthralled by the exotic flavor and sativan drive of Pink Prosecco. I feel the reassuring embrace creep down my spine with a signature tickling warmth. Sensual heat creeps across my face and relaxes my eyes. A general sense of ease is asserted upon me, I feel motivated and confident, but ultimately steered towards no activity in particularly. Here I lie, in a pleasurable stasis. Lowly adrift upon a pond of benign thought and wavering nostalgia. While I feel this high to be largely defined by sativa characteristics, I find that Pink Prosecco’s ultimate objective is to layback and chill. I approximate that this would be an ideal strain to share with a close friend as you giggle and recount the sorted past. From the storm of trichomes to the snowballing flavor; Pink Prosecco continues to snowball in regards to the high as well. I feel the epicenter of euphoria physically manifest into a ball inside my skull. A mollifying aura pulses from this sphere and alleviates all stress. I feel comfortable in my own skin and presentable to the world! Though, I still don’t feel particularly compelled to move or go out adventuring. I enjoy the layers of complexity found among the conflicted sentiments of Pink Prosecco.
Okay, so 17. But look at those damn heads! Pink Prosecco is a mysterious one with decadent layers of truly unique flavor. I can confidently say that you will not find such a brilliant combination of terpenes closely imitated. I don’t often drink alcohol, but this strain was bizarrely reminiscent of champagne. Once again, not the strain Pink Champagne. I still do not feel as if I was able to do this strain true justice as far as conveying the complexity of its soured bubbly identity. House of Cultivar simply does not stop churning out absolute heat. As always, thanks for reading!
Pink Prosecco Total Score: 90/100
Stay high and stay blessed,
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