toasted n’ posted proudly presents…
Grape Taffy by House of Cultivar
Grape Taffy by House of Cultivar
Welcome back to toasted n’ posted, where taste and mind align. Today, we have a particularly provocative cross. This strain is Grape Taffy, the offspring of Grandaddy Purple and Harlequin. This strain was bred in hopes of designing a powerful CBD strain, but somehow these flowers omitted the cannabidiol preference and transmuted all of its potential into THC. While we all seem to be a little perplexed at the results, you will never hear me complain about a high THC accident. I expect the Grandaddy Purple to outperform the Harlequin, but considering we are in the heart of this whirlwind of unpredictability — who knows? Let’s get into another top shelf production from our friends at House of Cultivar.
I unscrew the familiar vessel, ready for decimation. I am not incinerated, but swaddled by an aloof, slight, berry curve. The identity starved fragrance is gently accented by an aromatic floral charm. Once I was lured into my false sense of security, I was introduced to a more imposing note. I am slapped by a slick of bewildering cream. Laced within the charms of the thick, funky, milk is the light tang of distant citrus. Spewing out from beneath this arrangement are jets of lively humidity, with a touch of mint. I chase every last drop of pseudo-minty influence until I encounter a dehydrated, stale, grassy pine knuckle. The characterless resolution is reigned in and revived by a bouncy, gummy confectionary.
When this buoyant candy is combined with the off-kilter creamy citrus and the weak-willed grape; it perfectly embodies Willy Wonka’s Grape Laffy Taffy. While I personally find that candy to be nauseating, I find myself enchanted by this light-hearted rendition. I would say that the Thai parent of Harlequin holds the lion’s share of influence in this production. In hopes of definitively unraveling this mystery, I take the massive flower and crush it under my nose. It is almost as if the surrounding room ‘gasped in awe’ as I mangled this immaculate trophy. Much to my surprise I do not witness much of a resurgence or backlash outside of a modest emboldening to the grape curvature. I’m curious to see as to how this will translate into the flavor.
While Grape Taffy is technically balanced as a middle of the road hybrid, it carries a considerable bulk. The flower before me is positively massive; reinforced at every crest and every fold. The bud structure embodies a sprawling OG Kush, concrete bulbs that ceaselessly dog-piled atop one another. The result; a sandcastle of steel resolve. Even the color of the foliage conveys a general sense of uncertainty. I strain my eyes as I peer into the molting camouflage of Grape Taffy, attempting to pull specific colors from the tossing muck. In large, the bud is painted by a shadowy, pained moss hue. Living beneath domineering hue, is a salad of bruised grape and muddied pine.
The lightest and most tender qualities of this strain seem to be the stigmas and the trichomes. Healthy, bulky, tendrils surf along the fortified cellulose, creating a sporadic storm of soft tangerine lightning. The scraggly bolts are hurled across the somber face of Grape Taffy, disrupting only the blinding shimmer of the trichome heads. The resin glands stand out against the effective ‘night sky’, off-white stars seeming galaxies away. I try to count the eyes in the celestial blizzard, only to realize how impossible the task is. Each verdant shelf of Grape Taffy carries its weight in resin, cradling each petal carefully as to not toss any overboard. It almost appears as if we interrupted this bud while it was shaving, face still lathered in gritty foam. Most trichomes hold their heads and those heads are often perched atop healthy translucent stalks. The resin glands of this strain were nurtured well, let’s see how the love translates into the smoke.
Leaf to flame, I am grazed by a stern, hashy, grape, musk. Grumbling underneath, a light exuberant fruity highlight. The tropical dirt kicks up a dry earthen burn. I am revisited again by a geist of grape on the exhale, this time, its spirit infused with infallible sugar. The lackluster grape impression becomes armored in the accommodating molasses. Echoes of stale, candied, grape are chased down my throat. On the edge of the subtle razor there lies an aromatic sizzle, lighting me awake.
I am continuously engaged by the incendiary stale charms of the fruity musk. The bulldozing brew emboldens until it becomes indistinguishable from the profoundly sweet Willy Wonka Candy. Grape Taffy mimics it down perfectly to the last dry berry cough. The bizarre candy outlives the grape, and thusly gouged of its identity. The lingering flavor was like chomping on a recently naked popsicle stick. Traces of forlorn flavor exist, but they are wistful memories. It’s easier to move on by simply packing another bowl. I’ve grown to appreciate the self-assured charms of Grape Taffy.
The high builds amicably as a bright tingle blossoming in my skull. A brittle warmth stems from my temples and continues to form an exoskeleton around my entire being. Once confined to the comfort of the construct, I am challenged by powerful jolts of energy and mental clarity. I feel as if I’m being injected with thoughtfulness and foreign empathy. As if I am my heart was being put to rest in a bed of charitable delights. Physically, I feel my mind’s eye being carried far away from my body. The sensation was alarming, but coaxed along by a reassuring euphoria. I am positive in this instant, that the universe would conjure nothing to hurt me, that I am impervious to negative intentions.
I must say, aside from the ascending mental state, the body high is quite unique. You may have been able to tell me that there was in fact CBD in this strain, solely on the evidence of how this body high conducts its business. I feel as if my bones and joints were rolled in a magical butter, greased into nonexistence. As all of my minor aches were temporarily freed from the realm of pain, I was free to explore my planes of thought freely. The body high is unique in that you feel so much comfort, there is an absence of the body. Qualifying it with a score in respect to a palpable sensation seems contradictory.
However you spin it, the high is long lasting. I feel as if my limbs are spring loaded and the solid ground has devolved to a trampoline skin. Like a demented moon man I pounce from foot to foot about my apartment. The piercing clarity is eventually overwhelmed by its self-engineered storm of inspiration. I am bogged down — unable to process such a volume of ideas. I feel as if my mind is gradually becoming cloudy, seeking shelter from itself. I believe it in my best interest to find a bed as soon as possible. I am quickly becoming a prisoner to an internal lethargic gravity.
I can’t be sure to say I held any expectations of Grape Taffy at the beginning of this article. While I do carry a personal affinity for Grandaddy Purple crosses, I’m never entirely sure what to expect from its children. Purple Taffy is gorgeous, bears a unique aroma, and a bountiful high. While this experiment didn’t turn out exactly as planned, I would argue that the high still has a lot to offer medical patients seeking a sanctuary from their day. While I largely enjoyed this strain, the flavor and nose still leave something to be desired. Try it out for yourself and let me know what you think! As always, thanks for reading.
Grape Taffy Total Score: 81/100
Stay high and stay blessed,