On your daily route, it’s easy to drive by landmarks without giving them much thought. After all, you’ll see the same things tomorrow, so why think about them now? It’s the same principle that has you wanting to go somewhere new for dinner rather than the Chipotle by your house, which is good, but just so familiar. That’s my explanation for why it took me so long to stop at The Herbal Cure at 985 South Logan Street, whose Rastafarian murals are a regular sight as I drive south on I-25. But once I finally visited the store and discovered what was on the other side of those murals, I realized how much I’d been missing.
The wood-paneled walls and the chairs made of recycled skis in the shop’s waiting room told me that this place won’t be changing its atmosphere anytime soon. And why should it? The giant saltwater fish tank made it seem like I was waiting in the flat of a chill but successful stoner, and that’s exactly the atmosphere I like at a dispensary. My budtender was happy to talk about strains, without any prompting from me. “If you want potency, take the Purple Cheddar,” she said. “But if you want flavor, try the Lavender Jazzberry Jam.” I’ll try any strain that sounds like something that Willy Wonka would grow, so I bought a gram of the Jazzberry for $14 after tax and went home humming the Oompa Loompa song for way too long.
Lavender Jazzberry Jam is a house strain that can only be found at THC. Comprising Afghani Skunk, Blueberry and Lavender genetics, this beauty has syrupy bubble-gum aromas that would be right at home in a candy shop. Its sugary sweetness didn’t completely kill off the skunkiness, though, as each sniff was rounded out by a Pepé Le Pew after-scent. The dense, bright-green nug had excellent structure and limited pistil coverage — meaning more room for a coating of pearly trichomes. I was already expecting prime flavor, but the superb bud quality had me ready for a moon-landing high.
Still, an evening joint, while delicious, was much more subtle than the lollipop I’d anticipated smoking after the saliva-inducing smells of honeyed lavender and sour beer. But those lofty expectations didn’t ruin the sesh, by any means, and the high was perfect for early-night smoking. My body was relaxed but not melted, and I had enough energy to do more than one load of laundry while getting my ass thoroughly kicked online at FIFA by a seven-year-old. I eventually crashed hard, but not until I’d enjoyed every minute of Lavender Jazzberry Jam’s elation. Don’t plan on operating machinery after a few bowls of this candied treasure — no matter how good of a gamer you think you are when you’re stoned.
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