GMO-si-do by 50 Fold

GMO-si-do by 50 Fold

Welcome back to toasted n’ posted where we spark great cannabis and even better conversation. Today, we will be revisiting one of my favorite farms by the name of Fifty Fold. Fifty Fold is one of the first brands I’d ever reviewed and I’ve found it difficult to separate from my obsession since. Our quest leads us to one of their latest productions, GMO-si-do. Proposed to be a hybrid, this strain is the cross of GMO and Dosido. With a THCA percentage of 32.36% this is surely going to be one funky monkey.

I unfasten the seal, petrified by the lore and legend of these parent strains. Bringing the fight to me, creamy arms of vapor channel the fermented musk of tangy herb. Breaths of rustic sweetness that lean into a mellow funk. A slurry of softened berry juices is whipped into the frothy tangent of skunk. Milky rivers of pseudo-cheese influence strikes upon minty tones to propel the magnitude forward. The equal hands of grassy, creamy, and funky bring my mind to muster memories of willful brie. Brittle woodchip zest crackles upon a flat grassy wind in its wake.

Brazenly pursuing the funky freshness of GMO-si-dos, I sunder the bouquet under my nostrils. The sour essence of crispy onion roars out from the fracture like water freed from behind a demolished dam. Reinforcing the rawness of this assault is the blubbery earth chorus of mushroom. A succulent funk stews to coordinate a tremendous tribute to the GMO namesake. Lines of grassy sour are ignited to uncover rolling gassy licks of caramel bounce. Savory hillocks coaxed forth by thunderclaps of peppered herb and the lubricated foulness of chessy vanilla grain.

GMO-si-do carries a striking appearance. Fragile bolts of crystalline lightning dash through thundering clouds of violet. The brittle ferocity of this strain causes it to stretch thinly in several opposing directions. The way the tongues of calyxes arc outward, the explosive vegetation seems to foxtail.

The bud sites flourish with frozen foliage, however, the hammer-fisted nodes are pocketed at such distances apart that some areas of the flowers are left rather exposed. Matching the general tone of fragility, are the seldom few stigmas that wriggle out from the calloused heart of GMO-si-do. Hairline strands of questionable vigor shakily reach out to the atmosphere. Beige tendrils in such scattered scarcity that you may fail to acknowledge them at all.

Breaths of beaten pear roll through the somber storm. The accommodating shade carves out serpentine trails of illumination through its dark heart. The highlighted veins are swiftly strangled by the encroaching brush of saturated purples. Hardened kernels of plum scale over a protected wine underbelly. Asphyxiated eggplant hues mend the gaps between the compatriots while providing the perfect backdrop to the scintillating resin. Scaling the teetering towers are blizzards of egg white. An army of lighthouses influenced by the odd golden green that manages to survive within these realms of shadow.

Leaf to flame, the scorched flowers unleash ripe burps of mushroom. A meaty and savory foulness caked in earthen grit. A hardy bite dripping with leathery dry herb and the pinching embrace of a curdled grassy sour. The musky procession molts into a smoky charcoal skunk. The ashy black smacks over a hardened mossy damp to construe notes of berry cool. The odd chilling funk slips forward on a film of buttery garlic. A greasy veil that coaxes the profile to emulate a spicy smoked truffle oil. As the profile resolves, it returns towards its herbal berry tendencies with an additional snap of oaky bark.

Stony silence crawls across my face and a vacancy washes over my eyes. Vision is directed inward towards a familiar darkness and guiding warmth. A thrilling equilibrium where the mind becomes increasingly tethered to the heart. The beat scaling to the negativity or positivity of my thoughts. Rolling slopes of adrenaline that leave me helplessly hurdling between motive and sloth.

I’m rendered immobile by the teasing cyclone, the dramatic shifts in mood offer clamoring jolts of imprisoning euphoria. As time draws on, the peaks and valleys wear away to a numbing median. Drained and weary, I struggle to keep my head from slipping off of my shoulders and onto the floor. My eyelids fall helpless to immeasurable phantom gravity. Molten rock hardens in my ear canals, insulating me from outside influence. If the body is a temple, mine had just become a sealed pyramid. I am comfortable to spend eternity wandering the peaceful depths of GMO-si-do.

That profile was richly wrought with the enchanting foulness of mushroom, onion, and herbal butter. Though, I am rather disappointed that the signature traits of Dosido were bulldozed over by the presence of GMO. This strain is refreshing and unique while harboring some powerful effects. After much deliberation, I suggest that GMO-si-do is considerably indica dominant familiar to a 70/30 split. As always, thanks for reading.

GMO-si-do score: 77/100

Aroma – 14

Physical – 17

Flavor – 15

Consistency – 16

Sensation – 15

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