A few weeks ago, a friend in RiNo was giving me shit for not reviewing a strain in his neighborhood for far too long. “You could walk outside right now and take your pick of shops you haven’t written about,” he said as we left a brewery at Larimer and 28th streets. Calling his bluff, I took a few steps north, and voilà: a pot shop appeared. Botanico, open for over five years, has been serving cannabis to patients on upper Larimer since before trendy watering holes and bearded men (like myself) overran the place. The least I could do was give it some business.
Once inside, I made my decision quickly — but not because Botanico’s lineup was full of pretenders. No, the Strawberry Banana, Grandpa Larry OG and Afghani Faceoff were all worth a return visit, but the New York City Diesel was whispering in my ear from the moment her jar was opened. I purchased a gram of the East Coast sativa for $12 and change, and put it away for a day sesh.
I had been jinxed when coming across NYC Diesel during my black-market days, always receiving bunk, malnourished versions no matter the dealer. Finally presented with a candidate that could do its Sour Diesel, Afghani and Hawaiian genetics proud, I was excited to try the strain responsible for much of the hip-hop coming out of New York over the past twenty years. Botanico’s foxtailed buds were a deep forest green, heavily showcased thanks to limited pistil coverage and shining resin glands. Sad that I had to destroy such a beautiful specimen, I nonetheless broke up the Diesel for a joint during football Sunday.
A few pinches released sweet smells of berries and bubblegum, but equally present was an intoxicating funk similar to that of Cheese strains. Not many traces of Diesel showed up, even after I nearly inhaled a calyx through my nostril, but it smelled delightful all the same. A joint during halftime of an irrelevant (aren’t they all?) Chargers game tasted fruity and earthy like its Afghani and Hawaiian parents, and the sour notes, absent during more than a few sniffs, bounced around the back of my tongue for a full-tasting hit.
The high was mellow at first but rippled through my body within a few minutes, easing the debilitating soreness from leg work at the gym the night before and molding that inevitable stupid-faced grin I get every time I smoke a strong sativa. Still sharp mentally, I didn’t care to move much after finishing the joint, sinfully reclining more each minute on my weekly day of hedonism. A nap was inevitable, I thought, but the lulls never took hold. Great for pain relief or relaxation without a sleepy comedown, Botanico’s NYC Diesel delivered the performance I hoped for — and $12 a gram ain’t bad!
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