White Larry by Bubba
Welcome back to toasted n’ posted where we explore the furthest and dankest corners of Washington in hopes of grand discovery. Where does our search lead us today? Right into the heart of White Larry. As its name implies, this indica-dominant hybrid is the culmination of Larry OG and The White. The Larry OG parent, in particular, is a little bit of a mystery. I suppose what separates it from being your typical OG is that it was Larry’s special cut of OG crossed with San Fernando Valley OG. Let us now reap the fruits that only generations of California know-how can sow.
I approach the sleeping beast, taking a last breath before combat. I tread carefully onto a bed of musky sweet pulp. Rustling dryness fans out a gust of skunky citrus. A storm that is both smooth and savory, thus far, it is a lullaby for the senses. With every whiff, I become further enamored with the exciting chill offered by White Larry.
My palate is grazed by a gentle gassy tang. The introduction is akin to the rush from inhaling over a freshly opened Sunny Delight. Furthermore, a snappy zest emulating kumquat or premature tangerine. Sheets of stabbing citrus wrapped around a cleansing green leafy blade. An armament anointed in a syrupy oil of misted tropical cool.
In fervent discovery, I destroy the flowers under my nose. My insolence is matched by scathing results. Tacky glue fumes blister across the bitter citrus skin. Foul tangy bites echo across the corrosive body. The roiling profile is slick, pasty, creamy, and unequivocally rich. The tender introduction lulls my defenses into a stupor only to skewer my heart.
The odor is assertive, domineering, and oddly refreshing. A sensation measurable to how a firm slap will wake you up. Piney sweet spice scatters across the savory fruit slurry. A finishing medley of tea leaves, peppercorns and a melted Flintstones orange pushpop. The tumultuous culmination eventually finds some center as it settles into a whirring helix of tropical herbal cool.
White Larry builds into broad turrets. Wide at the base, the knotted density curls into an angular peak over a short distance. None of the buds seem more than a gram in weight, perhaps an inherent trait of the phenotype. The petals knuckle into tight fists of deep green. This strain embodies classic OG structure that has been reinforced with the ironclad charms of The White. Testing the density, I unleash a firm squeeze. I make minimal progress before the planetary nodes shore up against each other to form an impassable obstacle.
The salad of verdancy wears a drained asphyxiated glow, appearing to entertain hints of blue. Olive and moss shades blanket over the transition, rippling to reveal ranks of amber pylons and rebellious lime streaks. The trichomes seem to enrich the dark desires within the green hues, mirroring the intensity of its sunken disposition. A flash-frozen sea of stout whiskers barbs over the shadowy crust. Dusted bronze hairs stand outward like a chin of fresh stubble. White Larry is a scattershot of tickling color and rampaging resin.
Leaf to flame, a powder keg of crisp citrus erupts over planes of hot hash. Watery spice accentuates rocky lances seething sour. The quills recline to reveal a nutty caramel sanctuary. A dehydrated orange tang recused to a creamy melody. I relish the buoyant tenderness of the peppered milk and beached wood bouquet. The profile stirs to become endlessly smooth and smoky.
White Larry musters the gentlest kick of ripeness at the last moment. Piercing herbal menthol lingers on my breath in monument to the vivacious flavor. After several bowls, White Larry proves to be incredulously smooth. I have to look down just to confirm that I’m actually taking a hit. Sure enough, no matter how ambitious my lungs were, the clouds prove to be infinitely accommodating. Flower this friendly and clean is extremely rare.
My train of thought is brought to a gradual halt. Time itself feels to have slowed. Measurement of my existence is only gauged by the creeping drape of sedation falling across my face. An additional pound of weight feels to be added to my skull with every passing moment until my skull becomes an teetering bowling ball. The encroaching euphoria worms itself into my brain. A slug of bloated warmth slithers through the channels of my brain. I wriggle and squirm as the otherworldly warmth asserts its dominance.
My eyes wash over with a milky glaze. I forfeit control of my eyelids as my ocular cavity molts into marshmallow. I can hardly feel my face as the featherweight fluff spreads to occupy more territory. An infectious virus of padded kindness swarms my being, recasting my cells in its ethereal warmth. My palms tingle with cushioned electricity as if a million little puppet strings were attempting to pilot my extremity.
White Larry is a peculiar strand of creamy OG. I wish more kush strains were pushed to perform on such a creamy and nutty stage as this one. Still equipped with wrenching citrus missiles, I believe that this strain offers more than your common OG. My favorite thing about this flower, aside from the prolific high, was how meticulously smooth every hit was. There wasn’t a single cough across several grams from a dry pipe and that says something. Whether it was because of the strain or the hands that grew it, White Larry is a very special plant. As always, thanks for reading.
White Larry score: 91/00
Aroma – 18
Physical – 17
Flavor – 17
Consistency – 20
Sensation – 19
Stay high and stay blessed,