Panky Rang by H.O.C.

Panky Rang by House of Cultivar

Welcome back to toasted n’ posted where we chase the wildest flavors in the Pacific Northwest. Today, we will be diving into an extremely small batch production from House of Cultivar known as Panky Rang. Allusions to southside pimps aside, this sultry strain is the cross of Sweet Jones and WhoOody. Further unraveling the cryptic name of Sweet Jones, we discover that it is a cross of Purple Kush and Sour Pez. A cross section of Diesel, Kush, Afghani, and fruit; what more could you ask for?

I sprint into the atmosphere of Panky Rang as I’ve long awaited this moment. Punished for my eagerness, my nostrils are chewed up by the stretched syrupy jaws of tart confectionary. Taffy grape aggression stampedes over nested spires of raspberry melon sour. Mangled fruit, slippery with the spiced salve, emanates the floating flat bitter of melon skin.

An ambrosia salad with substituted components of rubber and taffy. At the bottom of the gelatinous muck of relaxed sweets, I uncover a base of nutty wood. Dry chomps of bouncy grease invite the comparisons to a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. A mild meaty crunch layered beneath a puckering pomegranate-grape combination punch.

Already enchanted, I dismantle the flower beneath my nostrils for good measure. Panky Rang is naturally pungent and invasive, but I am additionally staggered by the resurgence. Scalding fumes of tart funk escape through the fracture. Fringing on gaseous, hot nettles of sharp pine potpourri pollute the profile with a incendiary berry glaze.

Rains of keen fruit precipitate spiced sharpnel of plum, pomegranate, grape, and raspberry. The grape note soon outpaces the rest of the bouquet, burying its accompaniment behind its bloated walls of suffocating zest. Pressured by the puckering advances, the intensity is eventually assuaged by the passive and absorptive nature of blubbery melon. Panky Rang offers many facets, but the most notable are its resurfacing tangents of sizzling satisfaction.

Typically, strains that are so devoutly purple are bound to the typical dense standards of indica architecture. Panky Rang, while resembling marbles carved from the night sky, are remarkably leafy and scraggly. A storm of honed petals sweep out from tumbleweed mania. My eyes struggle to trace the lattice to its invisible core. A fortitude falsified by thoughtful layering of delicate foliage, this swallowing shadow of eggplant allure is held together by little more than mystery and magic.

A rippling tapestry of plum swaddled by gleaming constellations of trichomes. Driven to tones of blinding white through stark contrast, the radiant stalks map the otherwise veiled texture to the shadowy mass. Globes of frost scale the underbelly of each sweeping petal, igniting it with piercing illumination.

Further accentuating the fanned flames are the lonesome encampments of cardboard bronze brush. Stigmas of awkward length and worn leathery orange signal out in hopes of disrupting even small spheres of the unrelenting night. Many strains that entertain purple shades still entertain verdant plots and psychedelic transitions, however, the eggplant ferocity that paints Panky Rang is as all-consuming as the emptiness of space.

Leaf to flame, my tastebuds are tested by a peppered sour eruption. Lime juice soaks kernels of roasted cardboard nuttiness. A peanut butter funk with seeping syrupy undertones. Diffused grape juice mist flows over billowing currents of robust herb. The inconsistent earthy rigidity balances the unwieldy fruity magnitude.

Revealed through the chaos is a stern floor of rocky cool that draws freshness and rejuvenating moisture out from the scorching coughs of berry spice. The woody notes resurface in the wake of the rich char; a beefy jerky muddled with a tropical chutney. Reveling in the cinders of satisfaction, I am distracted by the development of a raspberry caramel melody. Terminating into tangy burps of plum and smoky hash; the taste of Panky Rang is remarkably consistent and clings to your breath for eons.

The sensation introduces itself with warm intentions. Achieving instant serenity, my mind drops all of its defenses with an exasperated sigh. I wring the weighted sponge of my heart free of burdensome sludge, at least for the moment. Shelves of collected calm collapse down onto my often frenzied mind.

Pinned down by the emotional rubble, I’m finally able to map the scattered sentiments. While formulating from the fragments, I become consumed by an existential peace. I’m gradually dipped into an ethereal pool of tepid numbness. Overtaken by shapeless inebriation and reassuring comfort; I surrender as I begin to dissolve into the atmosphere.

Unraveling into mist, my limbs disintegrate into beads of untraceable moisture. As my body continues to jettison off fringe components, I feel a fledgling flame bloom in my chest. Soon, the tentative furnace remains the only hint of my corporeal form. The ghostly metamorphosis would be worrisome if it wasn’t so immensely charming. Thoroughly enchanted throughout my entire self-designed deconstruction, I willingly evaporate into the ambient comforts of purgatory.

Sticky, sweet, and packed with some heat. Panky Rang has incredible allure through its ferocious dark color and zesty essence. I highly recommend getting your hands on some of this small batch strain because it is quite unique. It is always fantastic to see what new experiments wander out of the labs of House of Cultivar. Keep popping those seeds! As always, thanks for reading.

Panky Rang score: 88/100

Aroma – 19

Physical – 18

Flavor – 15

Consistency – 20

Sensation – 16

Stay high and stay blessed,

Kushman Bonglegs

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