Grapefruit by Pure Funk llc.
Welcome back to toasted n’ posted where we will be walking into the New Year with a flood of great strains from Pure Funk llc. Based in Port Townsend, this small batch craft cannabis farm is not one to be overlooked. Led by a passionate man named Rusty, this man does everything he can to keep some of the classic and thought-to-be extinct strains alive and thriving. The buffet begins with Grapefruit, while there seems to be much conjecture online, the community settles on that it is at least a sativa-dominant descendent of Cinderella 99. I’ve never found myself to be fond of C-99, but maybe I’ve just never had a good representation. Cheers to the 2020 and to Rusty for pursuing his dreams relentlessly.
I plunge into the vessel to be buffeted by righteous plumes of smoky tartness. Icicles conjured from refreshing pulp crash through my sinuses. Becoming flash frozen by tropical cool, beads of the tree fruit tincture bleed out from the misted shards. Erupting through the consolidated cool are lashes of enlivening tang. A potent assault of grapefruit, lime, and acute cherry roars across my palate.
The riotous pulp is guided by a hard floral line. A molten bed of skunk warms the reinforcing potpourri. Grainy, sweet, peppery, and rich; the enchanting finish offers some relief from the still-warring zest. I begin to uncover more refuge in the form of a delicate chocolate froth. A gritty and savory familiarity to wafting hot cocoa. A buttery coconut bark shaves off from the tropical dimension to stir up one groovy smoothie.
Far more complex than most sativas; Grapefruit already offers two distinct realms and I hope my perilous inquisition can unearth more. I snap the leafy monolith under my nose. Mortars of plum, grapefruit, and cranberry are let off. The boisterous blubber of this cornucopia is equally trying and soothing. I am driven back by the rubbery funk of the armaments, helpless to fight back against the onslaught of tropical jam. Held prisoner by its molasses charms, I am only awoken by spurts of the initial blistering zest. The smelling salts revive me from my love-drunk stupor, numb to the sizzling sour.
Grapefruit continues to evolve in the form of a willful fog garnering a caltrop freshness. The temptations of this Trojan Horse begins with a creamy chill to salve recent wounds. An essence that is equal parts pain and pleasure. Pouring out like a cotton cloud; a haze of peach and tangerine. The gleeful spin spews across the fermented skunky earth spinning a tapestry of delights. The skunk note seems to disperse itself among the legion of fruit to imbue them each with their own tail of lingering foul. Long after I remove my nose from the flowers, I feel that they are still physically hanging in front of my face. Venture too deeply into Grapefruit and you risk being lost to its musky charms.
Full-bodied and voluptuous, Grapefruit is one of the most stable ‘sativas’ I’ve ever come across. A snowballing pyramid basked in a chartreuse aura, this flower positions its plump calyxes like hand cut stone blocks. A seamless mass of intimidating density, I must continue to remind myself that this is a sativa. Plastered unto the platemail are brittle barbs and thickets of ripe tangerine color. Webs of stigmas net over the tantalizing tower as to restrict its ambitious growth.
Grapefruit offers a riveting display of color, a spectrum of weathered greens crash against the hard mossy edges of sugar leaves that had been pinned down by the rolling exterior. The crown of the flower is composed of hardened nodes of pear and pine that are drowned out by a blizzard of trichomes. The translucent stalks stud the mettle of Grapefruit; a thousand lamps offering to illuminate the mysterious lagoon of greens below.
Rebellious blossoms of sandy lime dominate the lower portions of the flower. A sandstone neutrality furthered by the matted orange brush cocooned around it. Challenging the fortress, I give it a determined squeeze. Met with minor retreat, my grasp finds Grapefruit to be meaty and packed tightly. This isn’t one of those inflated sativas that appears explosive in the jar just to be bloated and full of air.
Leaf to flame, I am tickled by the consistency of Grapefruit’s personality. Charred lilac and lavender fan forward a skunked berry incense. Pinned between ripe and raw, my tongue becomes glazed over by the tickling fabric of amorphous grapefruit. The citrus sting unlocks a cache of spiced candy and mild effervescence. In the form of lime, suds emerge to percolate and quell the rampaging tartness. A nutmeg spice cast over walnut and bark attempts to corral the grapefruit stampede with warm gingerbread whims.
With time, the tide turns and the hardy earthen elements override the needling citrus. The resting resurgence compiles into a blackened peppery cough with gooey caramel relief. Reminiscent of being homebound on a snowy day, there is a kindled kindness that reminds one of simpler times and natural comforts. Never has such subsequent stings of incendiary tree fruit been so soothing and consistent. There is no harshness to be found within the gracious offerings of Grapefruit.
An instant optimism cracks over my mind, the inspirational egg dribbles down to coat each of my thoughts. I feel motivated and driven, even if not yet in any particular direction. The chronic aches and pains of existence disappear in a brilliant flash and my internal gears are firing without hindrance. My senses are enhanced, noted through how the echoes of charming foulness aren’t dissipating from my palate, but becoming more profound. My entire environment seems to have been drawn up a few levels of brightness, as if an invisible sun had just bloomed in the room. The world greets me with an unnatural warmth, I feel completely uninhibited.
Grapefruit seems quite conducive to attitudes of glee and carefree expression. I’m not sure if anyone frolics in fields anymore, but if they do, this strain was built for it. While ultimately the sensation remains aimless in ambition, it coaxes you to move around and refrain from letting life keep you down. There is something mystical about endorphins that urge you to get mobile and gather more. If more sativas were this unassuming and pure in intent, I do not think there would be such an anxiety-wary stigma.
Holy smokes, Batman! This Grapefruit was everything I’d hoped it would be. A rich interpretation of its namesake, there are so many levels to enjoy. In a strange way, this strain is far more similar to Tropicanna Cookies than it isn’t. The strains only differ in the directions of lime grapefruit and roasted orange. Their powerful resonance and signature funks that chase the citrus are near-identical. I can already tell these next few days are going to be a real treat. As always, thanks for reading.
Grapefruit score: 93/100
Aroma – 19
Physical – 18
Flavor – 18
Consistency – 20
Sensation – 18