Poontang Pie by H.O.C.

Poontang Pie by House of Cultivar

Welcome back to toasted n’ posted where we dive deep into the dankest that Washington state has to offer. Today, we will be appraising a strain from House of Cultivar. An Oni Seed Co. strain: Poontang Pie. Poontang Pie, despite its silly name, packs some pretty serious genetics. This strain is the offspring of Tropicanna Cookies, Grape Pie, and Papaya. If this brewing tropical storm doesn’t get your mouth watering, I’m not sure what will! Let’s dive in and test the fruits of their labor.

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I brace for the lash of Poontang Pie as I cautiously unscrew the jar. To my surprise, I am received by an inviting potpourri. Sweet pulp lathered in spice and pronged with electric citrus zest. An acute peppery bite bodes forth tides of hash-smitten fruit. A twisted sash of tacky grape melody winds around, infusing the profile with its flat yet entrancing call. The taut tartness of plum skin wrangles the aloof bouquet together. A medley of fragmented fruit peels left to stir with drizzles of mossy damp. Gentle and vigorous, the subtle slurry enamors my senses.

In pursuit of annihilation, I break the largest bud under my nose. Unraveling from the wound are soft tendrils of slippery grape. They extend to drag my palate deeper towards the prisoning nexus of fragrance. Tangy peels of tangerine and nectarine struggle to pierce the stranglehold of feathery grape. Bursting pockets of lime gas rushes in from the background. The acidic razor mulches the tropical salad into an ambiguous uplifting muck. Though it wears many faces; Poontang Pie proves to remain zesty, bright, and savory.

Poontang Pie is sculpted into a lumpy skyscraper. Composed of erratic bolts and lumpy nodes, I want to dive towards the inviting physique. The landscape holds a meadowy lime glow sporadically disrupted by rebellious streaks of electric violet. Shadowed mauve irradiates in the wake of contrast, eventually diffusing into shelves of petrified pear. Like the whirling colors inside the crystal ball of a mystic; Poontang Pie veils itself behind a swirling veil of somber saturation.

Long arcing blades of tanned beige grass bridge out from the seductive savannah. Thin stigmas weave wired knots into the atmosphere. The red tones are drawn outward by the sunken loam beneath. Wild arrays of hair give this strain personality and the appeal of explosivity. Softening the chromatic clashing are frozen rivers of psychoactivity.

Thousands of lighthouses stand in rank, twinkling as if trying to communicate a message through Morse Code. The trichomes stand tall, with milky heads, and in impressive numbers. Amused by the spread and drastic aesthetics of Poontang Pie, I test its density with a few well-poised squeezes. The fuzzy masses offer virtually no give as my assault is met by a stubborn bulwark of leaf. I hope these flowers are as flavorful as they are stubborn.

Leaf to flame, my tongue is challenged by smoked cream and seething pulpy plumes. Chalky orange grit mists across my tongue, melting to embed molten seeds of woody grape. Blistered by refreshing sweet steam, the same wounds are salved by feathery milky bolts of clementine acidity. Sylvan humidity provokes the gentle fruits to boil to dramatic magnitudes. In exposed gasps, a grassy funk emerges to ground the soaring tropical profile. The profile gently molts, finishing into forested vanilla chomp.

Jungle warmth bewilders my senses. Dimensions of my mind become swollen, inflated from metaphysical humidity. My eyes rise to crest their sockets, my lips feel inordinately plump, and my face feels flush. I feel as if I’m being mentally extracted to a tropical island, my body temperature continues to rise in response to the sweltering invisible sun. Jets of strange cool patrol over my eyes, showering me with tranquil cool.

My blood boils to a warm sludge of euphoria that trudges through my veins. A real-time conversion to a gingerbread man, my innards become caramelized by the easy-going pleasure. My body decompresses and shifts, eventually leaving me in a vacant-eyed slump. Paralyzed by the ecstasy of the pressure leaving my joints and spine. Unbound by physical grievances, my mind is allowed to soar to inebriated delights. My mind is blissfully sophomoric; aloof and charismatic. I have an intense affinity for silliness, this high seems to invoke a sense of childlike wonder. Discard your inhibitions and rediscover your heart with Poontang Pie.

Poontang Pie was a true treat. The signature appeal of Tropicanna Cookies reinforced with creamy funk and a woody bite. I feel fortune for receiving such an intimate opportunity to become familiar with this powerhouse of genetics. I commend this strain for entertaining a dominant citrus lead without allowing that note to consume the remaining terpenes. This complex strain is one I hope to revisit soon. As always, thanks for reading.

Poontang Pie score: 91/100

Aroma – 16

Physical – 19

Flavor – 19

Consistency – 17

Sensation – 20

Stay high and stay blessed,

Kushman Bonglegs

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