Everything is a mess. Our engagement party is over and 75 or so of our closest friends have come and gone, the lone exception being local comic and actor Andy Juett, who is asleep on the couch. My fiancée has put an index card on him that says “Nice a**, golfer f***” that’s apropos of nothing. There’s a foreign pipe that was abandoned outside, a pack of Marlboro Lights that’s filled with what I’d guess is Maui Waui, and chairs clustered on our lawn like children playing soccer. Every cup, can and bottle is partially full, a feast for fruit flies, save for the discount tequila.
I’m not dealing with any of it. I’m smoking Sour Chunk. A lot of it.
Sour Chunk by the numbers: $15/gram, $250/ounce at High St. Cannabis Station, 3944 High St., Denver.
To be fair, there are far better choices for hangovers. If you’re someone who pines for the face-smashing high of the East Coast Sour Diesel we rarely see here, this is a working facsimile, but it’s far too racy if you’re only looking to roll back over. So I smoked more Sour Chunk.
For complexity of flavor, it has quickly become a favorite, as it challenges your palette like a well-crafted stout beer. Much of that is owed to the Deep Chunk that adds a layer of nutty chocolate and fresh roasted coffee beans behind the mild fuel of the ECSD. It smokes like a city — rich and smoky, addictive in nature.
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Unlike the turd-esque Banana Kush from my last review, this Sour Chunk has actually been cured and “loved” in the same way an Etsy crafter would list “love” as the first ingredient in their artisanal jam. With just the right amount of purple flecks intertwined with light orange hairs, the give when squeezed is exactly what you’re looking for: stale marshmallow. Even with a tight cut on the trim, I’m not begrudging them.
The first two hits ameliorate the stale beer and tortilla chip funk my mouth has going on, with a light pine flavor a pleasant surprise that holds through. My head isn’t ready for the initial wave, much like I’m unprepared for it to be a Monday. Sour Chunk is precociously playful to start, like a puppy that just learned how to fetch. I’m too tired to play.
After finishing the bowl, I’m firmly in the more indica-like Deep Chunk territory with some cerebral aftereffects lingering from the Diesel, perfect for watching some “Rick and Morty” and struggling through a headache. I need the mental tabula rasa to forget the disaster lurking one floor below me. Ten minutes into the episode I crash, sleeping so oddly on my neck that my range of motion was diminished for over a day. So I smoked more Sour Chunk.
One of my favorite strains this year, I’d recommend Sour Chunk to anyone who is sick of the Girl Scout Cookies hype train — particularly all of the substandard cuts running around. You’ll get the same mental engagement with a legit punch behind it, not to mention what I’d consider superior flavor. Later that day, it even helped me clean the yard.
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