Shaved Ice by H.O.C.

Shaved Ice by House of Cultivar

Welcome back to toasted n’ posted where only the dankest strains are roasted. This evening’s strain, Shaved Ice, is one I’ve wanted to try for some time. I have always been fascinated by crosses with three parents under the assumption that more is always merrier. What a trifecta we have within Shaved Ice; Sunset Sherbert, Fruity Pebbles OG, and OGKB. I’d have to strain my mind to imagine any other profiles I’d want stacked on top of these!

I enter the vessel, becoming instantly charmed by fluffed plumes of strawberry that wash away into an ambiguous gooey berry tart. Feathery jets of fresh fruit, prodded with a tame pucker. The contorting electricity teeters between raspberry and grape. The alternation between the soft pulp and the aggressive zest is simply enchanting.

Hungering for more of the elusive scent, plunging so deep into the jar that my nose is physically scraping the buds. A sour confectionary encircles the finish, a tickling complexity that rekindles memories of the aftershocks that chase a swig of Sunny D-light. The nostalgic note molts towards a funky lime identity, shedding flakes of crisp floral cool as it dissipates.

In fervent pursuit, I crush the decorated nugs under my nostrils. My palate is smacked by a tart fruity accentuation backed by a half-hearted vanilla cream. The sentiment crashes to the surface like a dislodged ice shelf. As soon as I was beginning to doubt any outward presence OGKB influence, a tender gaseous limonene lance acts to propel the mammoth missiles of glacial fruit. The tangent detonates into floral berry spice, quite similar to a potent jar of raspberry or blackberry jam.

The more I crumble and desecrate the frosted flesh the more reinforced the gassy notes become. Honing from a frothy cream to a sharp citrus razor the profile seems to be stockpiling ferocious intent. The note becomes exponentially bewildering, I become concerned by the magnitude. Just then, the sharp candied musk is assuaged by the pacifying introductory stew of strawberry, grape, and lemon.

The reintroductions of Kush heritage are evident in this strain’s architecture. Shaved Ice huffs into plump arrowheads rippled with sweeping petals. These flowers carry many of the reaching ambitions of a sativa, but the structure is far too compact and bulky for me to commit to that belief. A simple squeeze confirms that you will need a drill or supreme force of will to crack these monoliths.

There is a rotund softness to the demeanor of the swollen calyxes as if these flowers were indeed made of scooped ice shavings. Contributing to the comparison, the dormant color scheme draws you immediately to its frosted ridges. The bolstered stalks storm the arcing petals as if they were driven in on a blizzard. As your eyes greet the crowns of these flowers, you will find that they are almost entirely obscured by the clumped glands of fogged glass.

Peeking from beneath the thorough trichome glaze, is a spotted salad of forest realm verdancy. Rooted in stern moss, the spectrum becomes playful and warm as it entertains pockets of pear and rebellious streaks of fern. The domineering sheets of resin become imbued with the softened green songs of its subordinates; embellishing the lanterns with a tepid golden glow. The sun-kissed foliage strengthens in contrast to the stigmas above. Though scarce in number, the bulky strands carry strong presence. Unpredictable tumbleweeds of knotted saffron color structure strange glyphs. A parade of sacred symbols that only Shaved Ice is meant to understand.

Leaf to flame, my tongue battles spikes of floral spice seeped in loud citrus syrup. A peculiar limonene advance that emboldens and augments to become sharp and gaseous mid-breath. The serrated expanse is delicately balanced by rosie potpourri zest. I am tested as I struggle to absorb the corrosive tang.

The attrition is assuaged by the kind rinds of a dry apricot musk. Dusting claps of a dehydrated sandy sweetness. Drafting behind the neutralizing fruit are pleasant winds of roasted nutty wood. The enlivening grit unfolds into a basket that serves to contain the amorphous storm of testing traits. The profile finishes into a lukewarm wine; a watery sour drawn from cherried grape.

My mind becomes gradually warmed by the blooming influence of Shaved Ice. A winding tightness cranks in my cheeks to draw a grin across my face. Flushed inebriation pumps through my veins, I become carefree within the padded incubation. A flustering fuzz builds between my ears, sound becomes distorted or muffled. Perhaps my environment has simply been drowned out by the roaring potency of augmented thought.

Within my analytical spree of introspection, I emptily await an alien spike of inspiration to send me reeling off into whimsical productivity. The anticipated rush fails to arrive and I stare vacantly as time slips over my frozen emotional state. My dislodged sense of self is not uncomfortable, but offers a brief vacation to an overheated engine. Processing power commonly plighted by social pursuits and workplace minutia has become unburdened. I relish the quelling cool as it resounds throughout my body, calling for the ego to rest. Rest and reset.

Shaved Ice is a strain I would potentially classify as an indica hybrid despite its many tropical and citrus influences. The high warms you into a cozy stupor so that it may lock you away into an inebriated state of charmed emptiness. Everyone loves to regard Fruity Pebbles crosses as being playful sativas, but I cannot emphasize the ‘OG’ enough. I thoroughly enjoyed this strain and I wish someone would design a shampoo after it. As always, thanks for reading.

Shaved Ice score: 86/100

Aroma – 16

Physical – 19

Flavor – 18

Consistency – 16

Sensation – 17

Stay high and stay blessed,

Kushman Bonglegs

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