I’m a high tolerance cannabis user, the edible experience is a matter of great consequence to me. I love flower; you won’t find me turning down a toke, but I’m a dabber. My consumption practices evolved shortly after moving to the Front Range from less enlightened geographical areas. For me, edibles are an after thought. Generally speaking they’re too expensive, taste like garbage and don’t get me high. That’s three strikes; they’re out.
For the less initiated cannabis user, the absence of consistency and homogeneity in infused products puts the end-consumer in a precarious situation; dubious products continue to flood the market. I have little confidence that purchasing two of the exact same products will result in the same effects, desired or not. Recommended dosages vary and are difficult to quantify. These products leave much to be desired.
I recently picked up some infused hot cocoa mix to try my hand at one of the exorbitant amount of marijuana edibles on dispensary shelves. Packaged very discreetly, the cocoa is perfect for your mother or aunt to slip into their luggage before heading back to the East Coast. The bag is undistinguishable when placed among my collection of chocolate drink mixes. This packaging is not child resistant and there is no way to discern the contents from that of non-medicated hot cocoa powder. As a one-time child I can most certainly attest that I would have unquestionably mistaken this packaging for a tasty cold weather Rumple Minze mixer. Mountain High Edibles packaging reminds you to keep out of reach of children.
The package includes one cup of dry powder containing 200 MG of activated THC. The powder has a heavy Dutch cocoa aroma. Powdered milk and sweet notes of sugar are very forward, while faint hints of cornstarch and salt follow on the back end. You can smell the herb too; it’s very muted.
The standard serving size listed on the packaging is no more than ten milligrams of active THC. Instruction calls for 7 oz. of water or milk per each ¼ cup of cocoa powder. By my calculations a recommended dose of this cocoa is 1/20 cup powder mixed with approximately one ounce liquid. By any calculations, no drink is worth this much math.
Luckily I don’t prescribe to the recommended dosage very often. It’s counterintuitive and doesn’t make for a very interesting experience. Give me the most and let me see what happens.
My milk has gone sour; I quickly remind myself that I had “better put some water on this damn shit”. One cup of cocoa calls for 28 oz. I’m going to half that; I’ll never get through it all before it becomes stone cold.
11:45 AM. First sip. I recognize that the cocoa is too hot just as it burns the taste buds on the tip of my tongue. Thirty seconds later it’s still too hot.
The first temperature controlled sip tastes exactly like hot cocoa and water that you wish was made with milk. The taste of cannabis is evident be not over powering. Each subsequent sip was chocolatier, less enjoyable and more difficult to get down.
12:04 PM. Final sip. This tepid chocolate water forced me to pull over and dry heave. I had to rinse my mouth out.
12:31 PM: Arriving at the Flatirons Mall this particular Saturday I immediately regret my decision. It’s the week before Christmas and the number of cars here should be enough to make me turn around. I don’t and soldier on. The THC might be kicking in; I think I am feeling a slight body buzz. However, I could just be catching a chill while walking through the parking lot without a sweater on.
Inside I’m whisked back to the mid 90’s when I used to ride a bus to the mall and enjoy slices of Sbarro. Valet parking and sushi are now available; this place is confusing me. This mall seems safe, it seems gone are the days of keeping a look out for abductors at the arcade. I don’t see an arcade.
I like to walk through stores and touch the clothes. I barely ever buy and I refuse to be helped by sales associates. First stop on my walkabout is Old Navy. Its good to see that they are still selling cargo pants. 7th and 8th grade boys everywhere will be dressed fresh to death come the new year.
Walking by a Pacific Sun causes me to do a double take. The store appears to be selling the same clothes it did decades ago. I wander in and engage one of the underclassmen selling cardigans.
I asked an enthusiastic teenager with a pile of shirts. “Do you carry Bullhead Jeans?”
“I don’t work here.” He replied.
The same question posed to a similar child resulted in less teenage angst as Genaro, an enterprising young man born in 1997 energetically brought me to a wall filled with nothing but Bullheads. They came in two styles: skinny and super skinny.
I causally mention how I purchased regular sized Bullhead jeans from Pac-Sun when his mother was in utero with him.
He reacted with genuine intrigue. “Whoa, I didn’t know that they were that old!”
1:47 PM. I feel all right, I haven’t thought about how much I would like a dab until right now. I’m skeptical that the cocoa is going to stone me.
At the Finish Line I am able to locate the exact Jordan’s I wore while running from police a few years after I retired from competitive basketball. The crown jewel here is the Air Max ‘95.
Brandon, a Sneaker Head who works to support his addiction is wearing “The Glove”, Gary Payton’s signature shoes. He sidles up next to me looking to make his sales pitch.
“I tell the kids, these shoes that you like (motioning to the Air Max ’95)…you could get killed for those when I was growing up.”
His sales tactics perplex me but draw me in. In 1997 when I finally received the ‘95s from my brother as a hand me down you might only catch a beating for them, the imminent threat of death was no longer attached to the sneakers. We chatted about Starter pullovers. He represented the Miami Hurricanes, I the Golden State Warriors. I left the store without making a purchase but promised to return should I ever have any money.
The mall has everything in the world and nothing at all. Inside Mobile Memorabilia among the many prints of Marilyn Monroe and Tony Montana, hangs a reminder that we as consumers are a curious bunch. The autographed Bee Gees albums selling for $895 is the perfect gift this Christmas for the biggest jerk in your life.
2:30 PM. This edible is beginning to make me judgmental.
The midday sun shines in through the floor to ceiling glass windows of the food court illuminating this cross-section of Colorado. Teens dressed too provocatively, guys in skinny jeans, bad haircuts and preggos pushing strollers make up about 75 percent of the gluttons refueling before pushing on to Hot Topic.
2:45 PM.I have enjoyed as much of this mall as I can without spending money. Any evidence of a buzz wore off somewhere between Spencer’s and the Gap. Leaving these suckers behind all I can think of is how sorry I am to have dragged my mother to similar locales over the course of my adolescence.
If you consume mass quantities of THC on the regular and are looking for a more introspective and subtle edible experience you should consume the entire package of cocoa mix. If you are just recently experimenting with cannabis I’m sorry this review wasn’t helpful.
Photo Credit: KWB