Maui Wowie by Pure Funk llc.
Welcome back to toasted n’ posted for a deep delve into the some of the rarest genetics around. Today, we turn to Pure Funk, who’s had a mother that they’ve been protecting for upwards of two decades. A landrace strain, mostly thought to be extinct, has been preserved in its prestige at their Port Townsend facility. Maui Wowie is a signature, pure-blooded sativa that has been rolling off of tongues for longer than I have been alive. Alleged to have originated in the southern regions of Maui, it has since achieved fame spread far wider than the island chain.
I breach the vessel to encounter a sweet and creamy tropical haze. The inspiring intensity soaks my nostrils with stabbing succulence. Petering out to become soft and soothing, I chase trails of ambiguous fruit juices down my maw. A muddled tincture of melon, strawberry, pineapple, and coconut offer echoing claps of wood-roasted sweetness. Mild spices weave the murky blend into cohesion to present a dominant buttery coconut glaze.
Zesty and tangy, the constantly morphing profile delivers itself like the lashing snap from a drawn rubber band. Acute, tart, and overwhelmingly fresh; each breath into Maui Wowie seems to improve respiratory function. A light-speed steam bath that leaves your sensory functions washed over with ease. Perhaps island life is infused into the very aroma of these flowers. Lingering behind the battering bouquet, is a light grassy mildew funk. The skunky cushion draws out piney, cocoa, and nutty lines from the aerated tropical blast.
In hopes of inciting more chaos, I snap the monstrous flower beneath my nose. In reverse order of the previous, this resurgence seems to lead with points of arid spiced earth. Nutty, woody, and ripe with tropical essence; my palate becomes tickled as it absorbs the rejuvenated freshness. A bounty of fruit once again reemerging with the buoyant slickness of coconut at the helm. The rolling neutrality of this fruit dissolves to spirit campaigns of spurting strawberry, the prickled zest of pineapple, and skunked blueberry. Wringing out from loafed pulp are dank arms of rain-sodden mulch. A woody muse that unearths a carving sprite of lime froth.
I’ve come across many Maui Wowie imposters in my past; stringy and spindly flowers desperately reaching to embody a breath of the tropics. My confidence is spurred on by the immediate physical differences between this specimen and its preceding imposters. Still honed to an elongated spear tip, this phenotype is reinforced with considerable bulk. A stretched mass of rippling vigor that is studded with webs of glistening amber resin. The flush flesh is compacted together by its knotted nature and resin-flooded ridges. Unlike the airy and spread specimens of past, this strain seems focussed in both presence and architecture.
Shadows of whispering sage spill over the flower to be overturned by bursting pockets of pear, moss, and parakeet. The electrifying contrast illuminates the defiant shades giving them a feathery effervescence. Colors that are typically assuaged into a salad of muddy verdancy are now highlighted like the veins of volcanic fissures. Raking fans of lava plume from its most sunken depths. Claws of fiery orange stigmas bridge outward in tangled tapestries to add a brittle warmth to the drained frosty demeanor. Wrought with restless textures; both the riotous petals and the hairy peach flames are washed into anonymity by the frothing stampede of trichomes. This production is far and away the frostiest Maui Wowie that I’d ever seen in person or through publications.
Leaf to flame, my tongue becomes misted in a woodland bite. A crunchy rag wrung out to bleed out spiced island juices. Nutty kernels of banana spined by a pineapple hardiness paint this sensation. The roasted rolling tang of mango offers some relief but it isn’t long before the pineapple once again rakes across my tongue with sinus-pinching magnitude. Serrated lime juices bead across the woody plane of Maui Wowie. Alternatingly tart, earthy, zesty, and tangy; the lacerating beads becomes augmented as they dribble across the porous board of peppered candy. A bright and hashy finish consumes each breath. While the shapeshifter that is Maui Wowie takes many forms during its incendiary journey, it is constant in its thorough delivery of musky raw funk.
A chromatic saturation begins to influence my surroundings. The wood grain of this table graduates evermore stark and the black of my laptop has been paved to a new light-drowning depth. As I analyze this bewildering touch of vividity, I feel an unnatural curiosity take hold of my mind. An endearing fascination with nothing, as if I’d be contented to wholeheartedly observe someone sweeping a floor or painting a wall.
If minds were truly operated by cranking gears, mine had just been lubricated by a bucketload of grease. Even pondering burdensome subjects, I am freed by a sense of brevity and ease. A chorus ringing in that all things are temporary and within that there is tranquility. The aura of ease trickles down through my veins, tenderizing my muscles into a gelatin numbness.
While intently focused on the most menial feats of existence, my actual level of comprehension during this transient state is powerfully impeded. Critical thinking and high level decision making should be left alone while coasting aloofly on island joy. Discarding all matters of seriousness, I allow the whims of Maui Wowie to draw my featherweight soul from my body and whisk it away into the clouds. While distanced from my body, styrofoam skewers replace my bones. I feel like I’ve inexplicably lost 40 pounds while reserving all of my mass. As the soaring sensations expire and I’m reeled back to reality, density returns to my form alongside my wandering consciousness. Gradually re-equipping my senses, I was surprised that the spiritual catapult wasn’t more taxing. I feel mildly groggy, but all too willing to prime myself for another ride.
Consistent with some of the aspirations of previous productions, Pure Funk certainly brings the strongest Maui Wowie to the table. A strain that is nearly impossible to find in quality flower is now available to Washington State thanks to the dedication of a man named Rusty. I admire anyone dedicated to preserving the treasured genetics alleged to be lost to time and hybridization. As always, thanks for reading.
Maui Wowie score: 90/100
Aroma – 19
Physical – 20
Flavor – 17
Consistency – 18
Sensation – 16
Stay high and stay blessed,