Orange Cream 2.0 by H.O.C.

toasted n’ posted proudly presents…

Orange Cream 2.0 by House of Cultivar

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Orange Cream 2.0 by House of Cultivar

Welcome back to toasted n’ posted! Foremost, I would like to apologize briefly for my hiatus. My senses are of no use to me when I’m sick in bed for two weeks. Jeez, happy to be back with the palette back in commission. To kickstart my tastebuds I have an enchanting strain by the name of Orange Cream. I have no real details on what produced this flower or its cannabinoid contents, but I suppose some of these factors we shall determine during our analysis! Can’t say I’ve had to good fortune of crossing with an ‘Orange Cream’ strain of any design, much less from House of Cultivar. Let’s break into the nitty gritty of the sticky icky.

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As I plunge into the jar my nose is consumed by a brilliant zest. Rays of dispersed citrus pierce my nostrils like warm beams of sunlight. The luscious light drips with flavor and tickles my palette with a lively sour. Beneath the honed assault, I discover a cradle of sodden hoppy earth. The candied citrus drools down into a decadent reservoir. A mild, funky mulch snakes around in the pool of puckering sour. The culmination of these notes conjures a milky stream. The rich tides usher boulders of sour essence deeper into my sinuses.

I continue to blissfully drown in the moor of luscious fruit. The invigorating flavor builds exponentially alongside the flower’s fragile effervescent qualities. The mixture looses needlepointed pops of citrus zest. The miniature fireworks of flavor resound in endless waves, gradually numbing my palette to its crackling advances. The stampede of tender flavor is corralled inward by barriers born of smoky chilled wood.

I must venture further and discover what qualities may be provoked once we dare sunder these safeguards. I crack the beefy bud under my nostril, bracing for the abuse that surely lies in wait. Immediately, a profound resurgence in the direction of the bubbly sour. The sweet syringe stabs so intensely, you’ll want to curl your toes. I haphazardly lap up every lingering drop of the tangy vivacious expanse.

The body of the orange notes seem to carry an augmented weight. A smooth, creamy burden that keeps the zesty fruit from dissipating quickly. The anchor of smoked vanilla forces the citrus to dwell. Contrary to the smoldering orange, the fizzing sour is on the rise. This note shows no signs of stopping as it continues to grow and become wildly powerful. I can no longer regard this titan simply as sour. This behemoth is now a gassy, ripe, explosion! A ferocious tangent of fruit-born glue that electrifies the senses. I pray my taste buds do not struggle so greatly while attempting to wrangle in the flavor of this delectably powerful strain.

My first thought at a glance of this strain was whether or not one of the parents was an actual orange. Expansive scaffoldings of wirey stigmas rake across the entire face of each flower, imbuing the petals with its ambient glow. The hairs themselves wield a drained bronze hue, a delicate golden orange. The warm aura augments the color of the surrounding foliage to make the entire flower look as though it was touched by King Midas. From each frosted petal to every fully formed trichome; there is no room in the design of Orange Cream for disappointment.

Beneath the disarming glamor, the flower is predominately a salad of light pear and firm pine hues. Each domineering party has a tendency to dip into dark shades; even the pine may transition to purple at certain crescendos. The most dramatic color changes appear as highlights fringing each petal, a visual spectacular. I am lulled into a dark comfort by the purple depth, but then carried back up to reality by the golden bubbly zest. Appearing much like bubbles are the seas of countless trichome heads bobbing across every available ridge. They stand in quick succession of each other, most with fat globulous heads. The resin glands demonstrate a milky spirit influenced by the tangerine physiology of Orange Cream.

Typically, strains that appear to be this bulbously plump and carry such a thick lattice of hairs are quite fragile. However, as I apply more and more pressure to Orange Cream I cannot seem to get the foliage to shift. The stems give ever so slightly, but the leaf does not relent in the slightest. The flower has been extremely well cured which does help me penetrate the verdant fortress to some degree, but this scintillating spectacle bears the similar hardened demeanor of a 70% indica-dominant hybrid. The calyxes stack like castle towers; narrow winding spires fortified by a rocky will.

Leaf to flame, my tongue is charred into a sweet, smoky surrender. Hoppy cream draws out rich hillocks of gelatinous orange from the scorched earth. Each hit registers like a spoonful out of one of those hybrid yogurt-fruit cups. I choke down the scorched dessert as a molten afghan whip waves in the background. The syrupy snare teases a charming floral lick. Rounding out the coarse introduction is a refreshing chemmy-spinach afternote. A cleansing leaf that works to cleanse your tastebuds so that they may be virgin recipients to the incendiary citrus. The flavor is quite consistent and will satisfy any cannasseur seeking a strong punch to the chest with a light accent of orange. Throughout the entire production the flower was bold, raw, and earthy.

A bright bubbling takes place in my brain, as if my head was a can of freshly popped soda. I wonder what this mental carbonation will bring? A sense of unbridled giddiness builds with the sprawling fizz. This sensation embodies the old adage: “Ignorance is bliss.” At this moment, I couldn’t even offer a sliver of my attention towards what anyone else may think of me. There is something seductively dangerous about this unique brand of conjured carelessness. My selfishness is refined into a beam of unbreakable focus. I feel as though I could stare a hole through a wall. But much like Cyclops, of the X-Men, this gift can be difficult to wield. Rest assured, the onset incurs no anxiety and is easily scaled back.

Numbing circles begin to impress upon my temples, as if I was wearing very snug headphones. I adjust to enjoy the odd pressure, allowing it to ingrain itself further into my skull. The physical reward coaxes along the mentality of selfish brevity. I can’t be bothered to be drawn from my line of self-obsessed focus. That being said, I seem utterly distracted as a whole. This high seems like a disastrous companion for work or any dealings of a serious nature.

A body high soon gives chase. While still outshined by the towering waves of intense cranial pleasure; I feel a numbing euphoria drip downward through my shoulders and arms. I relax all of my muscles and throw myself into the forgiving arms of Orange Cream. The only deterrent from forfeiting the entirety of my consciousness into this blanket of tangy warmth are the bobbing surges in my acute focus. Orange Cream delivers intense mental rises soothed by a physical melody.

Creamy and steamy, just how I like it. Orange Cream surely did not disappoint. I was charmed by the smoky woodland laced with oranges and hoppy brush. A citrus chili that ushers in an era of unbreakable intensity and kind euphoria. The high is long lasting and I could stand around smelling these flowers all day. As always, thanks for reading.

Orange Cream 2.0 Score: 90/100 points

Stay high and stay blessed,

Kushman Bonglegs

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