Gas Mask by H.O.C.

Gas Mask by House of Cultivar

Welcome back to toasted n’ posted for a very special day. Aside from being the beginning of May, we have a strain that I’ve been dying to try for ages. Years ago, when I first visited the House of Cultivar facility, I was dazzled by a framed portrait of some Gas Mask flower in their entryway. For years, I’ve been starved of an opportunity. But, not today.

This evening we will be tearing apart Gas Mask and putting all of its gaseous goodness on display for your education. Gas Mask is a supremely indica-dominant hybrid cross of Cherry Pie and Starfighter f2. I have reviewed Gas Mask by several brands and it has never lost momentum in my heart. I can only imagine the vivacious nuances that House of Cultivar will bring to an old personal favorite. Let us see what fragrant fumes we can consume.

As I open the vessel, I uncover a bouquet of acute potpourri bearing a hardened grape nose. Musky sweet spice falls gently like morning mist. As I process the aroma it seems to drop in temperature. The realm characterized by a dry briskness. Tangy gas born of muddled herbs disturbs the blanketing cool. Reminiscent of eucalyptus and hops; the dirty haze hints of Durban linger.

A thin citrus razor grazes my palette. My nose is tantalized by the slicing terpinolene-limonene edge. The scent gradually meanders from the assertive fruit leaving soft plumes of lavender in its wake. The fruity notes within the profile have a sort of jiggly gelatin presentation. They are individually present, but a light challenge sends the notes scrambling into shapelessness. The amorphous charms of Gas Mask are not lost on me, but I am determined to pin down its identity.

I decimate the largest flower under my nose, unshackling a fierce tacky gas. The resurgence sets the surrounding fruity syrup ablaze like pitch or tar. The refreshing pulp smolders to fuel the fuming furnace. The gaseous advance builds exponentially as a funky pseudo-mendo musk churns out from the voracious clouds. Offering timely salvation, a lavender magma bubbles to the surface. The floral citrus companion halts the rolling advance of the gluey diesel sludge. During its soothing stages; Gas Mask renews the vigor of its brittle sweetness and fruity tendencies. Gas Mask ceaselessly demonstrates its volatile potential.

Even for House of Cultivar, a strain of such dazzling physical appeal is rare. Frosty seemingly an understatement, these flowers are sandblasted with trichomes. Countless tendrils dawning a translucent milky white stretch their wide bodies to crane over the frozen flesh below. The lightly bronzed glands creep into the natural hues of the flower like a morning frost. The spectrum, though rich and diverse, is uniformly augmented by the twinkling psychoactive foam.

Crushing curtains of grape and eggplant billow down the sides of Gas Mask. Revealed in its ripples are thriving nooks of vibrant pear and a beaten pine. Weaving a colorful tapestry the colorful cliffs continue to shift in hue and form. Championing the chaos, are stand-alone orange stigmas. They stand far apart, one in number, standing straight upwards like a lightning rod. I’m not sure if lightning is what Gas Mask is intent on attracting, but it sure attracted my attention.

The bud structure resembles many small thumbs. A consistent pillar of thick flower rounding just slightly larger at the crown. The rotund crystalline castles appear dense, offering no visible gaps or compromise. Feeling is believing. Pressure from my fingertips is met with a squishy crunch from the well-timed cure. The outer 20% of the flower compacts rather quickly, but the core of Gas Mask is a seriously solid kernel. This strain is a delight to play with and experience in various light settings.

Leaf to flame, smooth dry herb paves an entryway across my tongue. This road ushers in a caravan of fruity spices and raw zest. A smoky citrus-grape expanse burgeons the parade of pungency. Mellow beads of tart cherry leak into the sloshing bog of sweetness. My tongue becomes bruised and battered from being peppered with corrosive advances.

The profile simmers into burps of dusty earth and hearty slurps of syrupy hash. As the bowl chars, the flavors seem to compound. My eyes water as I brace against the amplified pungency. Hot lashes of hash-dusted grape chip into and scathe my tongue. With time, the jagged delivery settles and Gas Mask adjusts to find balance.

The grape and floral influences become exponentially apparent. My palette is no longer scarred, but soothed and mended by the strain’s now gentle nature. The profile continues to blossom to entertain a muddy cocoa wake imbued with a taffy creaminess. A delightfully smooth finish to contrast the turbulent introduction.

A bubbly warmth rushes to my skin’s surface. My flesh tingles with a distracting euphoria. The same disorientation ricochets through my skull numbing everything it touches. I feel my conscious gradually erode away. I’m oddly comfortable with the smiling husk I’m becoming.

My mind falls numb, my skin draws taut. I feel as if the Hulk is dragging my eyelids behind my head. The continual fountain of physical gratification slowly draws my attention away from that fact. My facial features feel plump, namely my lips and eyes. Inexplicably, they feel larger than normal. Perhaps I am unable to analyze this sensation because my mind has effectively been converted to feathers. An unnatural buoyancy overtakes my head, I feel to be a puppet strung to the clouds.

The sensation of featherweight lightness continues on to imbue my extremities. My formerly heavy flesh feels to have the weight of balsa wood. Random gasps of adrenaline course through my heart. I’m shocked awake from my enchanted stupor by the stimulating spikes. I feel the faintest pulses of thought begin to reform in my mind. I find Gas Mask constantly pivots between these two modes becoming more cumbersome with every exchange. The delivery of this high sits somewhere between a metronome and an anchor. Enjoy a casual decline into decadent entropy.

Gas Mask is not a strain to be taken lightly. With a teetering high and a potency capable of scalding off your tastebuds, you’re in for a treat. A ferocious tribute to classic Cherry Pie attributes. I could smoke this strain all day long, I’m just sure prolonged exposure to such a powerful indica would make that day quite short. House of Cultivar’s Gas Mask tickled my tongue and served my memory well. Get some for yourself! As always, thanks for reading.

Gas Mask score: 93/100

Aroma – 18

Physical – 20

Flavor – 17

Conclusion – 19

Sensation – 19

Stay high and stay blessed.

Kushman Bonglegs

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