Napali Pink by House of Cultivar
Welcome back to toasted n’ posted where we delve into the hottest new strains. This evening’s strain is Napali Pink. Far from the familiar regions of Nepal, this strain actually highlights heritage from Hawaii’s Nāpali Coast. This tropical hybrid is ripe with heritage; Nāpali Pink is the cross of Powerline, Hindu Sun, and Afghani Pink OG. Bred by Hawaiian Seed Co., this strain has been profiled under House of Cultivar’s Chem Diesel family. This cut may not fall so far from Nepalese influence after all.
I open the jar to find a tepid herbaceous freshness dragging along a limonene grit. My palate becomes dusted by dry flecks of chamomile and lemonade mix. An enlivening crisp partners the odd notes to emulate the ripe rebound of premature banana. Acute and simple, aerated floral qualities occasionally uncover cheesy pockets. Mild bites of funk surface between the bobbing waves of tropical bite. Crumbles of tea leaf tumble across frosted earth; a floral kiss spun across a hardened cool. A puckering tang leaks gently out from the fractured fruit tundra. The muffled lusciousness of the gaseous citrus bodes that there is much yet to be revealed.
On the tail of great discovery, I crush the flowers under my nose. I become skewered by gelatinous needles of raw, funky, citrus. A grenade cached within a pineapple; my senses are hammered by sharpnel of honed kumquat, slick kiwi, and marshmallowy orange. A push pop born of malicious magnitudes, its mulched essence scars my tongue to invite in a seething pseudo-chem air into my vulnerable wounds.
Caught between hazy and chem, the blooming invigoration is extremely familiar but impossible to grasp. A lost leyline of lime, chem, floral grape, melon, and coconut. The ambiguous rub of tropical spice becomes more elusive the more time I spend in hopes of decoding it. The exhilarating chase leaves me marooned upon a mountain of chocolate covered oranges. Shells of milky sweetness crack to reveal spurts of citrus excitement. Pockets of pulp bursting with breaths of ripe banana green and spiked tangerine resonance.
Nāpali Pink isn’t quite pink, but it does demonstrate an uncommon demeanor. Most notably are the hairline spires that stand proudly outward across the flower like so many radio towers. Quite capable of receiving any signal, the countless antenna grant the flower an eerie reaching appearance. Are they whiskers, feelers, or nooses meant to attract and snare? Could this be a carnivorous cannabis plant? Such outlandish thoughts tend to crawl into one’s mind when staring down a spectacle so bizarre. Weathered schemes of peach and tangerine color the daunting stigmas, wiry claws frozen by time and dehydration.
Beneath the startling lattice are a drained scheme of meadowy color. Frosted petals shift from pulsing parakeet to proud pistachio and modest mint. Studding the reaching architecture of Nāpali Pink are flush ranks of stout trichomes. A low-lying veil of ice crafts a complete shield over the hazy flesh below. The icy ranks reflect an milky white glow back unto the already pale demeanor of Nāpali Pink, granting it additional auras of ghostly allure.
Its spirit revealed through its stigmas; these explosive flowers pursue arrowhead points beginning from bulky bases. The awkward towers range from bulbous arrowheads to spiney starved spikes with several heads. Such inconsistency calls for me to wonder what density could possibly be offered within such variance? A firm squeeze confirms that while aloof and sprawling, the petals of Nāpali Pink are determined and well-set.
Leaf to flame, a lagoon of biting lemongrass slurry pools to encompass beds of abrasive floral grape. Arid coughs of earth kick out chalky clouds of hot lime and banana leaf. The tilling sweetness calls me again to draw the comparison to powdered lemonade mix. The shocking sensation shines in both terms of taste and texture. The sharding citrus stabs my tastebuds to awaken them to the hardened tart hail of limonene and caryophyllene.
As the profile chars, it becomes exponentially chemmy and peppery. As a counterbalance, the depth of the smoldering berry bog sinks to muster the dampening strength of blackberry jam. The finishing licks offered by the roasted flesh of Nāpali Pink are formidable. The detonated bed of berry and pepper forgoes all sweetness in an ultimatum of woody fire.
I wish I had more to say about this flavor profile, however, Nāpali Pink remains quite consolidated at all times. It shifts and changes directions a number of times, but never strays or disperses from its few isolated currents. The summation of which pivots between green tea or pink lemonade until the flower reaches its incendiary finish. It is fascinating how vastly different the agitated tropical aroma fell from the finishing notes of flavor.
I sit in peace pondering when the effects of this strain would take hold. Seizing mid-breath, I become frozen in time as alien adrenaline hammers through my heart. Wired and gasping, my spirit struggles to summit the ever-rising peak of riotous stimulus. I trace phantom lumps as they squirm and wriggle through my brain. My blood vessels feel as if they are expanding so that more power could be channeled to my brain. Still ascending to an immeasurably disorienting altitude of thought, the pace seems to have slowed. I am now able to pluck occasional sentiments out from the heavens.
A warmth crawls through my ears and eyes as I find myself lured into a cozy realm of introspection. Still propelled by otherworldly confidence, my frantic search of discovery is now directed inward. I feel the spines of warmth snake down my sides, supporting my posture with a reassuring cradle. My muscles feel stronger and more purposeful while imbued with the powerful focus of Nāpali Pink. Even the mildest tremors in my hands and fingers seem to have ceased to match the prowess of a decorated surgeon. Hand me the scalpel, I’ll get it done as long as I have plenty of Nāpali Pink.
I’m not entirely sure what I think about Nāpali Pink. There are so many kernels of competing fruit-driven sweetness at play, I think the commotion adds up to just that. Especially when painting an experience with so many tropical and ‘light’ flavors, you risk the culmination to become bloated and numb with complexity. The sensation is certainly sativa-inclined and I think the theme assuaged aches and physical steadiness make it a strain worth note. Aloha and as always, thanks for reading.
Nāpali Pink score: 80/100
Aroma – 17
Physical – 17
Flavor – 16
Consistency – 14
Sensation – 16
Stay high and stay blessed,