Lemon Crème by H.O.C.

toasted n’ posted proudly presents…

Lemon Creme by H.O.C.

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Lemon Crème by House of Cultivar

Welcome back to toasted n’ posted where we delve into the dankest genetics that Washington has to offer. Today, we have a peculiar treat by the name of Lemon Crème. This sativa dominant cross is the child of Lemon Jack and Sour Cream. Lemon Jack is engineered as a cross of Lemon Skunk and Jack Phoenix. Sour Cream is a mysterious strain born of G-13 and Sour Diesel. With these high octane endorsements, I cannot wait to see the firepower that Lemon Crème brings to the table. Time for dessert, let’s dive in!

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I expect the worst as I brace for the incoming storm. I cautiously unfasten the lid to discover a field composed of juicy wood-chips and Dumdum lemon lollipops. The flavorful canopy is rebounded endlessly off of a skunky trampoline. I swirl about in the milky wake of vanilla cast onto the stale damp of recently fallen rain. The culmination builds to emulate a flat can of 7 Up. Tentative herbal zest crackles upon my senses. I detect a light muddling of chamomile and pine. The note seems shapeless, lost in the teetering balances of the invigorating citrus cream.

 

I break the bud in naive hopes of drawing out any withheld ferocity. I am shaken by jolts of gassy, sweet, tang. The true strength of this strain emerges when you begin to snap stems. I become overpowered by teases of lancing citrine mist. Bleeding out of the fresh wound is sappy, gooey, pasty, sugar. I churn in the rich rinds of the gluey, skunky funk. It isn’t long before I am rendered helpless to the stunning, flat, foulness. I admire the dramatic twist on a such a profile of demented fruity candy.

 

Gentle cones of rippling leaf shimmer as they pour out of the vessel. Each flower is well filled out by crowding petals of broad, thin foliage. The bulbous towers crawl haphazardly upward upon their lopsided bases. While the verdancy does carry a mild-mannered firmness, the plant matter is largely defenseless to my encroaching touch. Lemon Crème exhibits a dark demeanor, it is dominated by swirling shades of enlightened olive and sanded crocodile. In extremely rare crescendos of color, you may spot patches of murdered purple twisted by a mossy motif.

Large, sweeping tendrils crane over the shadowy face of Lemon Crème. Each stigma dawns a jacket of peachy-orange as they ensnare the crystalline crust. The bulky and bright strands draw me in like the prey of an angler fish, only to leave me tangled in its knotted fangs. Glistening like countless fish scales, droves of trichomes stand in proud contrast to the somber flesh. The charm of the milky stalks casts a subtle glow upon the dark faces of Lemon Crème. Certain regions are completely consumed by the glassy amber tide. The resinous blizzard is by far its most dazzling physical characteristic.

Leaf to flame, I am swallowed by plumes of smoky, sweet, woody, citrus. I tend to my wounds caused by the scathing bolts of torched, raw, skunky, pine. Smoldering over the blackened profile is an ashy cream. The bulky relief trails over the tangy zest of fruity bark. I am struck by a firm peppery kick. I am reeled back to consciousness by a divining blend of tea leaves, chamomile, and roasted patchouli.

 

As the bowl chars, Lemon Crème discards a majority of its creamy citrus to prolong the crusade of the peppery herbal burn. The intensity of the spicy, syrupy, sizzle builds. Stoked higher by the tail of every breath. The roaring flames are reined in by the neutralizing slap of a naked popsicle stick. The aftermath is a stew of invigorating minty kicks against a pale, stretching, damp, musk. The flavor is long-lasting and complex, I savor every last sip atop the seething furnace of Lemon Crème.

I feel my world gradually recline with each hit. A snowballing warmth occupies my skull, heralding an invisible flood of congestion. My thoughts feel bloated, inflated by a foreign gas. My balloon encased mentality strafes blindly upward. I chase the tails of elusive inspiration as I am carried off into the sky.

Electric tingles surge throughout my skull as a dormant cool preserves my physical form. I become paralyzed; lost between the vigorous warmth and dormant cool. All vehicles of focus escape my reach. I am led down a predetermined path of meditative introspection.

While I do credit Lemon Crème for being uplifting and reassuring, I struggle to label it as a productive high due to the utter lack of control offered within the experience. I feel as if I am locked into a lengthy Disney Park ride; rolling along the predesignated path into the murky chasms of this high. I am proud to report that this high exhibits virtually no drawbacks; whether it be a foggy perception, anxiety, or draining comedown. I feel to be let down gently, cradled downward by the tender whims of Lemon Crème. When the high subsides, I am left feeling refreshed, energized, and ready for another round!

 

With most lemon crosses, the limonene component is extremely dominant. However, with Lemon Crème, I’ve found that the citrus is a lingering supplement. A delicate muse that steps forward only when needed, offering its slick allure. This strain is smoky, woody, and rich with creamy kisses. The high is palpable and does not leave you staggering with exhaustion. I thoroughly enjoyed this strain, though it is not quite up to the common caliber of House of Cultivar. As always, thanks for reading!

Lemon Crème Total Score: 83/100 points

Stay high and stay blessed,

Kushman Bonglegs

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