Unfortunately I did not record the name of this place because it is definitely a place to stay away from. I only got a gram, which means that I was throwing a dog a bone.
In the old days, people would give me a gram if they really wanted me as a customer. This doesn’t happen so much anymore, unless you know the growers or the budtenders personally. I have walked out of many places since then: some of them were because the prices were ridiculous and others because the herb was crap. The small quantity that I bought is evidence that I was overall uncertain about the quality of this place that shall forever remain nameless.
The crisp chemical smell of Sour Diesel reminds me of a cup of coffee on a sunny day. It’s distinct aroma snaps my mind awake and my eyes grow big. The crystals powder this bright green bud well. Yet the red hairs are sparse. It is like the blanket of crystals replaced the hairs. Overall, the buds were big and meaty.
It had pretty mild flavor; the aftertaste tasted a bit burned. The high was mild in both the body and the head. It was so mild that I hardly noticed. I know Sour D can be much better than this… I may have to go out and find some that is actually decent to get rid of the memory.
The Walking Raven
2001 South Broadway
Denver, CO 80210
Completely let down by what I bought last week, I went out in search of some Sour Diesel that was better, exponentially better. Fortunately for me, I had a roommate who loved this place and got me a satchel when she went. She was a budtender, so she was already skilled at identifying quality cannabis.
From the first smell, I knew that I could count on Maggie, my roommate. It smelled absolutely stunning. The tart, pungent aroma once again snapped my attention, as if the aroma were a drill sergeant had just walked into the barracks and every cell in my body was the platoon.
I am sure, however, that this Sour Diesel does not- I repeat does not smell like a barracks. Instead, it smells like a mountain lake in the summer. I lay on its shores and fill my lungs with whiffs of a pine forest and I feel the warmth of a sun-baked sky as I watch the clouds go by. The only sound is the waves as they gently lap against the shore. Seriously, I could smell this stuff all day!
For all of its aromatherapeutic benefits, it did lack in the size department. Just like what they say about those poor, less endowed guys out there, “it ain’t the size of the satchel, but the strength of its smell”. Or something like that. Another way to say it is that I got a bag o dingleberries. Little light- and dark- green crystal-enveloped dingleberries.
While the smoke was a bit harsh and not very tasty, the high was nice. It was like the faint sound wafting down the hallway of someone playing a violin. It is easy to focus on a task-at-hand while enjoying a ride on a Super Mario Bros. style cloud.
As for the redeye, there was none for me, and I could clearly see the whites in my eyes. This Sour Diesel is perfect to enjoy some Saudade on a warm summer day. It is indeed not always the size of the satchel. I get it now.