Wedding Cake by H.O.C.

Wedding Cake by House of Cultivar

Welcome back to toasted n’ posted where we review our cake and eat it too. Today’s strain will be Wedding Cake, masterfully groomed by the folks at House of Cultivar. Wedding Cake is a smash hit from many companies out here in Washington, so I will be interested to see if this production in particular ‘takes the cake.’ For those unfamiliar; Wedding Cake is loud-mouthed indica dominant descendent of Triangle Mints. Triangle Mints is an augmentation of the legendary Triangle Kush. Triangle Kush, in my experience, has held up as one of the gnarliest and gassiest kush phenotypes in existence. I’ll scramble for my gas mask as we slice into Wedding Cake together.

I grasp the jar carefully, well aware of the dangers it may hold. I’m surprised to discover a crumbling aroma of baked vanilla and granola clusters crowding the rim of the aroma. A light-hearted citrus disperses into the air, carefully encircling the crystalline boulders. A grassy note of afghan grape is cast out, luring me to a bed of soft hash. The zesty moisture of hash patty muddles with the cracking sun-baked sweetness. The profile is juicy, plump, and invigorating. Among a subtler set of traits, I find a satisfying creamy hearth that warms my heart every time my nose takes a sip. The fragrance delivers itself like a cup of hot cocoa for the lungs. Wafting from the ‘mug’ is a delicate pepper that coerces a brisk herbal breeze to spin at the edge of the breath.

I sunder the sand-blasted beast in hopes of uncovering hidden characteristics. I am greeted with a similar, yet more pronounced, cinnamon bun sweetness that greets you with a gentle grasp. However, in seconds that treaty melts away into a fierce armament of noxious gas. A pastey glue kick endorses the war party as globs of its twisted sap plop onto my tongue. My pallet is suffocated by the awkward potency of this note. The gluey tincture simmers to expel small smirks of lemon and berry.

It isn’t long before the gaseous eruption is all that I can detect. The rich fermented sap bulldozes over every note from the hashy vanilla forest. The sickening charms of Wedding Cake coat my fingers, encrypting its inescapable odor into my skin. I can only imagine how viciously this will translate into taste.

Wedding Cake rolls out of the jar with the bloated squish of a muffin. Nearly as decorated in sugar, trichomes cast a misty veil across the entire production. The colors of the flower are encased and encrypted through the sheets of resin like a kaleidoscope. A pale aura brings a weathered silver glow to every strand of color. Wedding Cake is painted largely with a worn plum hue, the defeated dark crawls up every petal in near-retreat from the scintillating trichomes. Similar to how the mauve tides are driven back, so are mellow shades of pear and olive. Gentle green hues consumed by the merciless foamy white that encrusts every ridge of these flowers.

Weaving out from the frozen surface are tender golden stigmas with frilly bulked form. The soft orange claws rake out from the bud like a distress call from the restless milky occupation. Building into rotund spear-tips, these awkward pyramids demonstrate considerable density. The freshness of the flower offers a little relief, but not much past that. I am met with an impassable bulwark and a slew of sticky sap tracing my fingertips.

Leaf to flame, I am basted in smooth aromatic floral spice. Slick trails of hashy syrup pour over a bouquet of somber grape and bristled citrus. Shearing through the profile, I sink my teeth into the rich grainy rind of corn and wheat. Baking from the fluffy sweetness is a creamy vanilla smoke. The rich tail is wrapped in skunky leaf and acute pepper.

Barreling out of the skunky blanket is a rocket of iron gas. Strong-willed fumes send my senses spinning, outmatched by the corrosive citrus and bewildering gaseous tang. The chalky pulp hangs on my breath for what seems like an eternity. Wedding Cake may be more effective than breath mints. The culmination of these notes is actually quite like a vial of orange Tic-Tacs doused in diesel fuel. As the bowl chars, the presentation shifts to crisp menthol leaf. The advances are halted by the charred flatness.

The high kickstarts a writhing invigoration in my head. The onset shakes loose all stagnancy of being. Hesitation drips away like a metaphysical mucus. I feel a pressure leak out from my head, I feel as if there is now more room for my brain to operate. Accompanying my mental sigh of relief is a tender warmth that inflates my extremities. My limbs are bloated into incapacitation by the bone-melting grace of Wedding Cake.

The same mind-freeing decompression that I was applauding, now seems to be eroding my newly thriving pool of thought. My brain is ushered off into a state of tepid limbo. The space is now occupied by an unfeeling ooze that insulates me from worry or care. I feel myself being gradually converted into a breathing bean bag chair. My head is no more than a smoldering boulder of lightweight lava rock.

I can hardly keep my eyes open when recoiling from each lancing hit off of the lemon smog. With every comeback it feels that a curtain falls lower and lower over my eyes. I am racing towards an early bed time. My body still resonates with the riddling chill as my mind continues to melt away into dormant mush.

Wedding Cake proudly lived up to my expectations! This strain performs tremendously in the dimensions of flavor and visual appeal. I am in love with the gaseous tangy nectar that I discovered at the core of this flower. I knew I was getting into serious trouble as I attempted to quantify the trichome-flooded ridges. I know a lot of folks chase this strain and House of Cultivar does the legend every bit of justice! As always, thanks for reading.

Wedding Cake: 92/100 points

Aroma – 17

Physical – 20

Flavor – 20

Consistency – 18

Sensation – 17

Stay high and stay blessed,

Kushman Bonglegs

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