Black Jack by H.O.C.

toasted n’ posted proudly presents…

Black Jack by House of Cultivar

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Black Jack by House of Cultivar

Welcome back to toasted n’ posted for another in-depth look at the finest faces of cannabis! Today, we have an exciting strain known as Black Jack. Black Jack is the aromatic child of Jack Herer and Black Domina. I can only imagine the battering high that must emerge from the famous Jack Herer when paired with a hashy Afghan meteor. This strain is acknowledged as a 50/50 hybrid, perfectly polarized between an enlightening sativa and a dampening indica. Without delay, let’s see what victory truly feels like when you hit Blackjack!

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I cautiously crank open the lid, anxiously awaiting whatever fragrance lay inside. After a brief stillness, out comes gushing jets of sugary tang. I am buried under spoonful after spoonful of luscious tropical pine. My nose feels marooned, washed up on the shores of a Capri Sun. The tropical breeze is leashed to piercing citrus and a crisp mountain air. The rich valley cradles a nest of sweet, wafting, fragrant citrus.

My palette is tormented by tickles of driven, spicy, sugar. Caramelized citrus cream churns with bursting pockets of mild grape. The ripe reduction wraps its thick arms of milky sucrose around every fiber of flavor. The forced conjuncture emanates a prickly aura of vanilla. The nullifying candied cream clears the way for its many fragile fruity pursuits. As I dwell in this slumbering realm of vivacious tang, the notes become wildly augmented by lances of curdled citrus and incendiary pine jets.

The notes become an indecipherable stew of provocative pleasure; my palette is butchered by blades of pungent gas and pounded into a spicy pulp. The savory sausage of aromas spews out streams of rebounding syrup. The slurry brandishes notes of bubblegum muddled into a fruit salad. I find timeless entertainment in the boundless beds of feathery candy.

In hopes of enraging this careful muse, I break the bud directly under my nose. I experience a gassy nuance to the tide of foul island sugars. The enchanting stream follows up with a hardy wooden bite. Like a grove of pineapples and mangos left to rot in the hot sun, the profile becomes pungent and raw. Once agitated, the fragrance seems to bear a ‘sticky’ quality. As if the scent was literally clinging to my nasal passages like so many stalagmites. The adhesive attempts to infuse my flesh with its tangy, brisk, zest.

Black Jack paints a landscape of writhing tanned verdancy. Beaten pear crashes into petals of drained lime and softened olive. In recluse pockets I discover wild strands of weathered purple. Barreling out of every crevasse are flailing orange stigmas. The frail limbs find strength in number as they crane together to form a glass-like lattice. The pale orange imbues the flowers with a unique cheesy glow.

Sparkling beneath the craning canopy are ceaseless avalanches of snow-white trichomes. The resin glands boulder over one another conjuring a stampede of milky psychoactivity. Stalwart trichomes stand in brilliant contrast to the sun-beaten meadow of greens. The stalks stand in close succession as if they are eagerly awaiting to be granted entrance into a concert venue.

Most carry bulging bulbous heads, the corpulent globes appear like overfilled water balloons. These elements combine to amass sprawling boulders of fragile density. The stems are shored up, safeguarded by sweeping fans of scraggly petals. Due to the close arrangements within the bud structure, one may assume this strain to be a dense beast. However, even the slightest touch will send the demeanor of Black Jack crumbling. Squishy and soft, these flowers surmount into raging leafy cones.

Leaf to flame, I am whisked away to a chain of spicy and sweet tropics. I relish a sweet berry tang reminiscent of blueberries and strawberries. The brittle berries are skewered by a firm branch of volatile pine. The rupture wreaks of a woody, forest-driven musk. The firm hand is wrapped in a peppery candied cinch. Bitter lime leads into a bed of simmering funky fermented fruit.

The challenging pulp simmers at the base of my throat. I struggle to reign in the creamy bolts of serrated citrus. On the back of a cool wind rides in fiery kicks of banana and mango. I am bathed in a syrupy sweet fire born of a tropical island spirit. As the bowl chars, the profile discards the most delicate fruity nuances. The transformation finishes into a furnace of smoldering afghani earth. The weighted berry magma kicks over a dry wooden grit. There is provocative spice and licks of fruity mysteries until the last breath.

A timid fog encroaches over my mind. My brain feels massaged as I stagger around the disorienting cool. I am comforted by the obscurity; a veil of unshakable comfort separates me from my anxiety and worries. The quieted chill carries an invisible weight as it crawls over my skin. I become gradually impervious to negativity and doubt. The achieved mental state desires nothing but positive influence.

A warm exuberance builds in my skull and begins to shake loose the weighted ethereal fog. A hot tingling races through my ear canals, pulsing my senses awake with a rocky awakening. My eyes are prodded open, my sinuses purged clear, and my tongue felt born anew. All the better to receive more of the decadent flavor. I am led by a brilliant spear of uncompromising creativity and wisdom. I find balance between this soaring emphasis on personal perspective and the fortress of cool comfort. While my mind continues to prosper, my body still succumbs to the entombing stillness.

Black Jack is supercharged in every aspect of its existence. This strain carries all of the things we’ve come to love about Jack Herer with bulky fruity emphasis. I would suggest this phenotype leans towards sativa-dominance, but the wealth of physical comfort is not to be dismissed. The aroma is so rich it may blister your nostrils, the flavor is complex, and the high will leave your mind reeling in recovery. I highly suggest you take on this dose of sensory overload in the form of Black Jack from House of Cultivar. As always, thanks for reading.

Black Jack Score: 94/100 points

Stay high and stay blessed,

Kushman Bonglegs

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