toasted n’ posted proudly presents…
Frankenstein by Farming Full Circle
Frankenstein by Farming Full Circle
Welcome back to toasted n’ posted where we bring the strains of legend to life. We have an exceptionally ‘monstrous’ strain to review this evening. Here we have Frankenstein, by Farming Full Circle. Farming Full Circle is a relatively new operation out of Marysville that utilizes the control of a modern greenhouse combined with the awe-inspiring, unmatchable, power of the sun. I first heard of Frankenstein during one of my favorite movies of all time, Grandma’s Boy: Alex:
“I want you to take the Frankenstein shit, the deer shit, the green monster, the bling and the bling-bling… and I want you to roll it all into one joint.”
“No one’s ever been brave enough to try that.”
“One man is. Roll it.”
Outside of one grandma wandering around with arms extended and a blank expression during the movie, I don’t know what to expect from Frankenstein. Even my regular online sources offer a little more than a perplexed shrug at the lineage. The most I’ve been able to ascertain is that Frankenstein is an unknown bastard indica that is renowned for aiding experienced patients in surpassing their tolerance ceilings. Igor, pull the switch! It’s time to bring this dank Frank to life!
I pop the pouch to discover a realm of peculiar candy. I cautiously step into the sweeping, musky, rot of the forest. Caramelized tree trunks gradually wither, shedding feathery hints of its dry, gritty, sylvan husk. I trace the aroma to find an effervescent herbal medley coating the rim. The culmination of the fragrances is like Sprite stirred with wasabi. As the developing nose continues to burp away its lively flavor, I find a warm humidity that is locked away within its fibers. A slick, sweaty, sugar drenches every element of the profile. Reining in the snowballing forest sweetness is a light floral kiss riding the back of a flat green expanse. I become enthralled by an herbal briskness and a lung-expanding aerated tang of tilled soil.
In hopes of provoking the peaceful beast, I break the bud under my nose. I notice an immense resurrection in the direction of a sweet, gassy, pillowy pine. The tangy fumes rocket outward, inspiring its compatriot fragrances to new heights. I am washed by coughs of tangerine citrus zest honed by a floral edge. The pungent crusade eventually breaks off into a slick, hashy, tarry derivative.
While Frankenstein is regarded as nearly a full-blooded indica, these flowers appear surprisingly soft. Looks can be deceiving, but I watch delicate petals churn onto their sides as they stitch together the winding charms of Frankenstein. Hovering above the sylvan sea are elongated, thin stigmas like so much unclipped thread. The wispy tendrils wear a flushed orange jacket. Beneath the reaching bolts is an enlivening display of greens.
Crocodile, pickle, and pear war over the face of Frankenstein for dominance. Much like the face of the famous monster, its face is a woven patchwork of somber hues. Shifting shelves of white resin sift across the faces of Frankenstein, some in sheets, appearing as though the flower was peeling in recovery from a fierce sunburn. The stalks remain relatively stout as they hold their crystal-clear globulous heads.
The mildly opaque trichomes bring a yellowish aura out of the frosted flesh. As for my challenge to its density, I was surprised. The flower is still relatively spread and ill-equipped to resist applied pressure, but the petals part in reinforced chunks to expose its core. The petals seem to shift in predetermined clusters, like shifting about the branches of a super dense hedge.
Leaf to flame, I become emblazoned by a smoky, sweet, sour musk. My palate becomes overcast by dried grape leaves smothered with lemon vapor rub. In its roaring wake, an aggressive herbal jet storms my nasal passages. I combat the overwhelming pungency the best that I can. I become flash-frozen by a dusty sour cast over a bed of tea leaves and wasabi peas. Smoldering beneath the peppery salad is a decadent syrupy pepper driven by pseudo-citrus influence. My tongue is soaked by a resounding chorus of warm mist and revitalizing prods.
Just like the mad doctor’s experiment, the high takes a while to become active. I felt like I was there standing on the rain soaked rooftop waiting for the perfect bolt of lightning. An ethereal link snaps at the base of my neck, the invisible fracture welcomes in a torrent of euphoria. My mind is a sinking vessel in a sea of mind-numbing pressure. Expecting the complexity of Frankenstein to blossom exponentially, I was surprised. The potency continues to build, but it does not pick up additional directions.
Frankenstein continues to awkwardly trudge down the extremely polarized path of physical reward. My skin vibrates with an invisible tingle that sets it alight with kindled kindness. My eyes wander aimlessly, like two pool balls hurled into a fog bank. For how uncoordinated my senses are, my mind is surprisingly clear. I can engineer my ideas at a casual pace, but my means of execution are largely inhibited. My sense of drive dissipates as I lay mentally dormant on the shores of an invisible paradise. An imaginary sun bakes my skin as I let myself be swallowed by the surmounting sands of physical comfort. The high is very well executed despite its simplicity.
I feel that because of my young age, I am often reduced to chasing ghosts of old legends because of today’s diluted genetics. I feel truly grateful to receive such a qualified example of Frankenstein to kickstart my personal impression of it. The aroma is unique, the flavor is consistent, and the high is something to write home about. Overall, my first bout with Frankenstein was a very positive experience. I’ll surely be chasing down this monster strain with a torch, time and time again. As always, thanks for reading.
Frankenstein Total Score 85/100 points
Stay high and stay blessed,
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