nicotiana

It happens sometimes, especially when stranded in the days that are so warm that my energy pales in comparison and inactivity seems likely if not desired, that pipe ennui kicks in. Nothing seems quite like the right thing to load up a pipe.

A week prior, I had gone through my routine of acquiring new-old tobacco. That is, I went to the anomalous walk-in closet in the room we use as an office and storage dump, pounded twice on the wall and picked up the jar that rolled out.

Regular readers may know the drill. This room is almost half closet, a big L-shaped walk-in that seems to serve no purpose and was probably part of a forgotten half-started renovation years ago. I store tobacco in there (“cellaring”) inside little half-pint Mason jars along with the fishing gear, old clothes, books, boxes, heirlooms, bulk spices, broken routers, family photos, Christmas lights, pickled tomatoes, guns, bicycle wheels, and probably pieces of NASA satellites or UFOs that came down in the yard years ago. No one goes in to clean it because that would be an all-day job if not longer, plus you might disappear or get crushed by an avalanche of falling stuff.

Ironically, this closet represents both our hopes and our discarded attempts at vainglorious activity in the past. There are skis in there, somewhere, as well as mountains of boxes and gear which frequently collapse in the middle of the night, increasing entropy just that much more. There are also far too many flats of jars, many of which are loose in the heaps of miscellany.

To make things more entertaining, the labels have fallen off of half of them, which means that there is a bit of serendipity or hazard in reaching in to find the hard, round, and smooth surface of a unit of my tobacco stash. When someone gifted me an aromatic, for example, I would mix it with strong Burley and file it away. Ten years later, when I knock and the jar comes rolling, oftentimes the mixture is improved. The Burley has mellowed and simultaneously, so has the aromatic, so I end up with lightly flavor Burley where the sugar has either caramelized with time or been eaten up by exciting bacteria and fungi, leaving less of the acidic hot air it tends to produce.

My procedure has evolved over the years. Once upon a time, I used to be brave and actually go in to the closet (note: do not do this; we may never see you again) to root around and find something new to smoke. Sometimes I would take an old hockey stick and poke around to see if I could snag something; this was before the heap got piled up so high it blocked the weak light of the decorative button lamp in the closet. Now, having learned that strategic cowardice is both common sense and makes my actuary happy, I just amble over to the closet and stand with my back facing the wall next to the door. Then I swing hard and fast three times, pounding on the sheetrock, and usually this dislodges a jar. I open the door quickly, since only Satan knows what lives in that closet, and reach in to grasp the first jar that comes rolling my way. Then I flee to safer quarters to figure out what I have captured.

This last venture however brought a surprise. I managed to, in the process of reaching into the closet, knock my elbow hard into great Aunt Marybelle's antique dresser which sits next to the door and curiously resembles something Walmart might have sold in the early 90s, placing its heirloom status in some doubt. As I howled from the sudden sensation of my funny bone being very unfunny, something soft and crinkly fell from one of the top shelves and lodged in the crook of my arm. For a moment I thought it was one of the spacesuits the little greys wore at Roswell back in '47, but then I realized that it was square and suspiciously felt like a package of Five Brothers. When nature gives you top-notch aged Burley, you accept the wisdom of Fortuna.

You can smoke Five Brothers just fine on its own, since it is a birds eye cut medium Burley with casings of anise, honey, and molasses. It has a pleasant flavor like late-season wheat or slightly stale sourdough toast, and they made it moron-simple to pack and enjoy. The stuff comes out like cotton candy, then you cram a bunch in a pipe, tamp and light, and you are off to the races. Some complain that it is a bit too strong, so if you are not a raging nicotine maniac, tread with caution. This leads to the most common use of Five Brothers, historically, which was to shore up weaker blends to make them a tad stronger without going into the full-bore passage between the worlds that a powerful Burley can do for you. I bought these some years ago with that practice in mind back when Pipes and Cigars were selling five-packs for something like thirteen dollars. Then again, back then thirteen dollars could buy quite a bit, where now it seems to be the going price for two screws and a washer.

Conveniently on my desk sits a tub of Prince Albert, the tobacco that combines bulk pile Burley with a top-note of chocolate, vanilla, cherry, rum, and possibly raisins. Back in the day, they probably just went around the office and stole all the snacks, then boiled them and poured the result over a dry heap of Burley. When they smoked it they figured it was great, since these additions seem to mellow the Burley as well as give it a nice chocolatey flavor, but then they were afraid to mess with the formula. Whole generations of executives passed down the word that you could change the organization chart all you wanted, but if you played around with the magic recipe, they were going to haul out the Civil War era rifles and shoot you against the wall of the factory. For that reason, Prince Albert has stayed consistent and mysterious since the time when your grandad was a wee little barn with a clean police record. He probably shored up his bowls with Five Brothers, and the practice continues today in my house.

When you get a tub of Prince Albert, the magic topping is rather intense. They pack the stuff densely in the tub after spraying, so when you first rip off the plastic wrap and pop the lid, you will get a dense blast of raisiny (probably to emulate Perique) and chocolate goodness. I take out the little cardboard divider, then stick the lid back on securely, and shake. I do this a couple times a day for two weeks to drive away the most intense part of the topping, namely rum or a rum-like extract. This off-gasses and each time you open the tub, fills the room, so it is unwise to do this around hungry people because Prince Albert smells like a really tasty brownie and will spark a run on the refrigerator if not an outright riot. Once you have prepped your Prince Albert this way, the topping drops back to a complementary role vis-a-vis the Burley, making for a pleasant but not overpowering blend.

When you mix it with Five Brothers take care because this shag is as dry as the humor on C-SPAN and as finely cut as the distinction in a corporate regulation. Take a generous pinch, then drop it on a handy plate or in my case piece of cardboard from a box of sardines, and add to it an even more generous pinch of Prince Albert. Wad that up, stick it in the pipe, tamp with thumb, and light. Note for the old school smokers: they fixed the font on Prince Albert so that the “c” is clearer, de-obfuscating the name for all of those far-sighted smokers who kept asking for “the Pringe” when they went to their local tobacconist.

To my palate, the Five Brothers/Prince Albert mix tastes a lot like milk chocolate. The rum and fruit flavors fade into a background sweetness and the vanilla-chocolate topping rides a wave of buttery Burley flavor for a succulent melts-in-your-mouth calming smoke. The Five Brothers kicks the mixture up to a gentle medium-to-strong, making this the kind of all-day smoke that a working pipe smoker could use. If you are a carpeted office weekend smoker, this might be too strong for you. If you spend your days in the field or pounding away at something challenging, this blend will be approximately the right strength to keep you focused without ending up in a cross between occult symbolism and quantum mechanics in your mutterings.

Smokers have enjoyed this mix for generations, just as they tucked a pinch of Five Brothers into their favorite aromatics to tone down the topping and kick up the intensity. For many of us the emphasis on the exotic and varied of internet pipe-smoking pseudoculture misses the point, which is that a pipe is an extension of life and how we must live it. It can be a companion during heady labors or heavy labors, or even quiet moments of uncertainty or boredom. It helps us live as better versions of ourselves, and for that many of us reach for the tried and true not looking for experience to change us, but to enhance what we know to be real and infuse our life-experience with rich, chocolatey goodness.