Purple Punch 2.0 by 50 Fold

Purple Punch 2.0 by 50 Fold

Welcome back to toasted n’ posted where the dankest strains are put to the test. This evening’s strain is Purple Punch 2.0 by Fifty Fold. This interpretation of the strain shares the same lineage as the original, I must imagine that the ‘2.0’ heralds this as the ultimate phenotype. Only time and flame will tell if the classic combination of Grandaddy Purple and Larry OG has been reinvented in such a way that it deserves a new moniker. Let’s dive in.

I cautiously free the genie from within the vessel. Punishing my foolishness are the plumes of creamy grape that erupt from the mouth of the agitated glass volcano. The spewed soot is frothy, sweet, and woven into cohesion by a blubbery fruit bounce. Refreshing and kind, the suffocating fumes wash over my palate with median strokes of floral grape and hashy tendencies. Rising from the snowballing confectionary is a challenging rod of pickled blueberry sour. Writhing with enticing herbal damp, the puckering fruit draws a serrated zesty line. The hardened ferocity breaks off into burps of misted dewey melon that cling to your breath like frightened climbers.

In hopes of disrupting the milky confidence of Purple Punch 2.0, I crush the flower beneath my nose. I am slapped by a musky popsicle stick that offers an dry and nutty resurgence of the flavors it had absorbed. My invasion most notably uncovers a fusion of feathery tang; a powdered berry sweetness snaking through a bog of pseudo-vanilla froth. The avalanche of pillowy fruit is again dispelled by a cask of perplexing pucker. The profile is remarkably consistent, even after agitation. This strain heaves all of its delectable essence at you from the get-go.

As if they were pulled from a chasm of deep freeze, these flowers come completely encrusted in ice. Thick veils of trichomes crimp into an unruly chainmail as they attempt to shield the identity of the foliage. The haphazardly mounded resin barely manages to hold onto its many overburdened shelves. Discerning through the relentless blizzard of creamy white, I am able to identify the individual plumes of this royal mantle. Purple Punch 2.0 is a stampeding storm cloud of menacing grape. The rich spectrum is marbled into swirls of hardened eggplant, enriched violet, and pulsing plum. These typically modest hues are augmented wildly through contrast to the roaring white psychoactive foam.

The flowers present themselves as rolling mountains; fierce spires carved by aeons of erosion into wonderous monuments. A natural-born fortress fit to protect the most tantalizing of treasures. Nearly consumed by the crashing rapids of riotous resin are the rare strands of peachy bronze. Cemented into serpentine arcs, the stigmas are pinned into staggered glyphs that decorate the midnight grape tundras.

Skepticism calls for me to challenge the formidable density, I squeeze the bulbous bud with considerable force. I find fleeting relief in the far exterior as the collapsing flesh sheds scattered flakes of knotted frost. Past the more fragile renegade petals, you will find no forfeiture. The cloudy demeanor of Purple Punch 2.0 is misleading, you will quickly stumble into its impenetrable walls of shadowed steel.

Leaf to flame, my tongue is tickled by fumes of floral caramel. A chute of confectionary pouring onto a mattress of quilted grape. The rolling sour of the berry is woven across a tapestry of sappy hash and tight granola crunches. The culmination holds all of the spiky charms of raspberry jam laced with a dry lime bite.

Brittle hints of peppercorn stir with a woodland warmth that draws my mind to the hearth of a cozy cabin. I am shaken from my daydream by effervescent licks of lemon and melon-skin ripeness. My palate is cleansed by intermittent claps of splashed stone damp. At this profile’s furthest reaches, I uncover an elusive kick of cocoa atop a bed of lemongrass and fennel. The finishing breaths of Purple Punch 2.0 are rich with woodland cream reinforced by a subdued smoky berry kiss.

A seed of numbness begins to sprout at the epicenter of my mind. Awkward tendrils trudge and wriggle through my brain intent on stretching and rearranging my synapses. A circus of shifting moods occupy the freshly carved enclaves. The engaging rush propels me from jolly to melancholy and everything in between. I lean into the rollercoaster of emotional fluency, finding freedom in forfeited resistance. Swaddling pleasure enshrouds my body. I become enveloped in the tepid touches of its boiled reassurance. The fluidity of sensation creeps to a still sludge and the ethereal blankets harden into cocoon carapace.

A quiet cool washes out the humidity and steamed pleasures of the atmosphere. The emotional riptide becomes dampened and muzzled. In a willful pivot, I am imbued with immense focus. I feel overflowing with calm and my body converts into clouds. The world has become so still, I feel as though count raindrops as they fell. The sensation continues to unfold onto the tangent of zen for a considerable stretch. Eventually, the propelling wisdom and acute focus peters out and you are returned to your clumsy marshmallow vessel. The journey offered by Purple Punch 2.0 is draining, but not incapacitating. Feel free to line up successively for subsequent shots at this responsibly poised indica.

Just when I thought I’d tired of Purple Punch, they rope me back in. My typical frustration with Purple Punch is that the enchanting aroma doesn’t often translate to taste. This production from Fifty Fold, does not share that problem. Experience charming dry rubs of grape seduction and creamy delivery as you dip into the welcoming realm of Purple Punch 2.0. As always, thanks for reading.

Purple Punch 2.0 score: 90/100

Aroma – 19

Physical – 20

Flavor – 17

Consistency – 18

Sensation – 16

Stay high and stay blessed,

Kushman Bonglegs

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