#3: The "Adultification" of Cannabis

For years medical cannabis patients and casual users have good-humoredly been the butt of stereotypes, jokes, and misperceptions.  The established medical and pharmaceutical communities have widely portrayed MMJ as at best an excuse to get high with impunity.  In order to push back against this, it’s necessary that those of us involved in the cannabis market contribute to its societal normalization, both “medicinally” and “recreationally” (and there’s much to the notion that the two are often synonymous). 

     That said, more than a few things in today’s market play into this reductionist, adolescent view of “weed” and those of us who enjoy it.  If the modern budtender can’t get out from under the image of the be-dreaded nature child or the stoned-out bro in a snapback hat, the industry as a whole will continue to be marginalized- even as it generates stunning levels of profit.

     I’ll focus on two major areas of concern: lineage and provenance. 

     By lineage I specifically refer to its reflection in strain nomenclature.  In separate articles I plan to weigh in on an appellation system, similar to that which we most commonly associate with wine, and on educating consumers and patients in proper cannabis taxonomy (e.g. that everything growing outside a hemp field- what’s sometimes called sometimes called “drug cannabis”- is in fact indica), but at this point what I mean by “lineage” is the system of names given to strains that allow one accurately to identify their forebears, and therefore their likely effects.

     For instance, G-13 x Haze gives rise to G-13 Haze; Super Silver Haze x Sour Diesel, to Super Sour Diesel; Sour Diesel x OG Kush, to Sour Kush.  This is an easy way to know family trees, as well as a convenient way to name new crossings.

     It’s tempting sometimes to give fanciful new names to strains (OG Kush x Durban Poison = Girl Scout Cookies?), and indeed all the names were coined from air at one point or another, but at this juncture, when cannabis is increasingly liberated, we hinder the growth of its general acceptance by impetuous complication of incredibly valuable lineage information.  This is knowledge that allows the consumer to make a more accurate, nuanced decision when choosing a strain.

     Of more concern than this, however, is a growing trend to give “proprietary” names to strains commonly known otherwise.  In some cases total renaming is proper and overdue: tacky names like Green Crack, Pink Panties, and Dogshit come immediately to mind (here in Oregon the state are appropriately banning this sort of thing, along with copyrighted material like the aforementioned Girl Scout Cookies).  In most cases, though, these strains are renamed for other reasons, such as to give the perception of distinction from other farmers’ produce, a desire to lessen ambiguity when a location has multiple batches of a given strain, or even the purposeful burying of a name subject to consumer fatigue (viz. Blue Dream’s not uncommon rebranding as Blue Haze- which at least points to the strain’s lineage).

     In fact, in all these cases, the end result is the muddying of waters already dense with new information.  To give a new name to an old thing is a bit disingenuous, unless the change is made explicit.  If necessary, we should reintroduce buyers to a tired old strain by excellence of produce (and it’s usually inattention to quality that leads to disinterest in the first place), not a shell-game.  Trying not to confuse customers by renaming Cinex from one farm Rippin’ Cindy because you’ve already got Terra Canna’s brilliant Cinex on your shelf can only confuse them further.  You don’t walk into a beer section and get confounded that so many things are labeled IPA, because you know to look for the brewery; and how much more confusing would it be were each brewery to call its IPA something unique?

     The solution to this is transparency of provenance, and, especially, educating consumers on why it is so important.  It’s time we start selling growers as much as flowers, by which I mean displaying farms of origin so that consumers can begin to follow them at least as assiduously as the strains they produce.  Provenance makes all the difference, because in mediocre hands a brilliant strain will produce mediocre fruit, whereas in brilliant hands even the most unfashionable flowers can shine.  It doesn’t take much effort at all to open people’s eyes to this basic fact.

     As we learn together and amass a common base of accurate, empirical knowledge on the subject of cannabis, as we try to divorce this magnificently multifarious herb from ignorant jokes and a century of slurs, it’s important that a standardized frame of reference be created.  We need to learn our farmers and what they grow for us.  We need to pay attention and realize that irresponsible renaming of strains, whether to the novel or the vulgar, is ultimately self-defeating: at best, it’s a short con to sway the uninformed.  Sure, folks won’t ever stop wanting to get high, but as segments of the marketplace grow up and eschew childish trappings, if you choose to stick with the Dogshit and the bait-and-switch, they may well stop coming to you to do it.

#2: Using Terpenes to Evaluate Cannabis

An understanding of terpenes is the best tool you can acquire for the appreciation of cannabis.  Indeed, far more than often-unreliable cannabinoid test numbers, it’s the terpenation of a given crop that will not only shed light on its potency, but also indicate the type of experience you are likely to have once you ingest some.  This is why budtenders will urge you to “follow your nose” when choosing which strain best suits your needs.

     Terpenes (the word terpenoids is sometimes used interchangeably, though, strictly speaking, the words are not synonymous) are the hydrocarbons that give plants, and a few insects, their smell.  Ever wonder how cannabis and blueberries, or pine trees, or clementine rinds, can have nearly identical smells?  Because the same compounds are responsible for the smells in each... the same terpenes, I should say.

     The word terpene derives from turpentine, which is named after the Mediterranean relative of the pistachio from which it was first derived.  Pine trees were soon found to be better suited to the task, and the name became associated with them.  Having learned this, you’ll not be surprised also to learn that one of the more prevalent terpenes in cannabis is the one most associated with pines, the eponymous pinene, or alpha-pinene (though, again, technically, the two are quite distinct from one another).  When you smell properly-grown Durban Poison or Jack Herer, that wonderful coniferous aroma you’re getting is pinene.  Among other properties, pinene induces bronchodilation, meaning it widens the bronchial passages.  To walk in the mountains in a fir or pine forest, take a deep breath, and marvel at how pure and sweet the air is, is to experience one healthful benefit of terpenes.  The trees are actually opening up your lungs so they can receive more air: nature’s asthma inhaler!

    Though terpenes are physiologically- and psycho-active, they don’t do much on their own.  Lavender oil won’t put you to sleep, but it does calm you down.  Lemon oil won’t keep you up all night, but it does quicken the wit a bit.  This is precisely how terpenes function in cannabis.

     Think of your herb as a spaceship.  The THC is the main thruster, the big glowing plume of fire pushing it across the sky.  The terpenes, then (and, to be accurate, all the other cannabinoids and the entourage effect entire, but those are topics for another day), are the directional thrusters, the little jets on the sides that determine course.  Alone, they don’t do much, but in concert with the main engine, they can direct the ship to wildly different destinations.

     Piney, sour, citric, and diesely smells tend to obtain in narrow-leaf strains (commonly known as sativa; we’ll discuss how the modern taxonomy suggests that all “smoking weed” is in fact cannabis indica at another time).  These smells are a good indicator that the herb in question will be stimulating, as bright in effect as its nose would suggest.  Mental focus and energy can be expected from these strains, but sometimes also jitteriness and paranoia.

     Conversely, smells of blue and red fruits (think: blueberry, blackberry, or cherry), hops, white flowers (think: stargazer lily), or the skunky funk immediately recognizable to aficionados of OG Kush, herald a much more relaxing, often sedative experience.  These aromas are common to broad-leaf (usually called indica) strains.  The drawback here might be unwanted couchlock or passing out.

     In the end, how important is a a strain’s nose?  Extremely.  I’ve never smoked cannabis that smelled great that I didn’t enjoy (a 12.4% Super Lemon Haze comes to mind), and I’ve rarely smoked something that bored my olfactories yet rocked my world (e.g. several strains north of 30% THC that just did not deliver). 

     So, moving forward, pay close attention to the relationship between the smell of your cannabis and the way it makes you feel.  This will allow you to establish a personal frame of reference and thus greatly expand your ability to think about herb in something approaching a systematic, maybe even scientific, way.  You’ll notice that, even if you find my descriptors and distinctions to be total bullshit, there is a consistency to this method of evaluation that bests any other short of just going ahead and smoking the stuff.  There’s simply no better way to preview the quality of a given cannabis.

#1: Getting Started: Mission Statement

Now, it's been awhile since I've been out in the public square, and that's doubtless for the best.  However, with the emergence of liberated cannabis here in the fair state of Oregon, I saw an irresistible new career choice open itself up to me.  After years in the wine trade, and years writing about the same, via a short foray into spirits, I found myself borne inexorably back to that which was my favorite all along.  Long before I could call out a wine's continent, long before I had any idea about the difference between gin and genever, I had a love affair with cannabis.

As a Kentuckian, I hale from a state with its own storied, proud cannabis history.  As an Oregonian, I  live in a state where the sensible adult can conveniently and legally procure some of the world's finest cannabis and cannabis-derived products, in a myriad of styles and media of delivery.  As of September 2016 we here in Oregon already have nearly two decades of successful medical cannabis that have left both the children and the fabric of society intact and unharmed, and as of October 2015, "recreational" cannabis has been legal as well.

Colorado, and, to a far lesser extent, Washington, captured the national eye with their pioneering efforts in cannabis liberation.  That always felt a bit ironic to those of us here in Oregon, where, along with the hallowed grounds of northern California, the world's very finest modern cannabis has long been developed, nurtured, and propagated...

(fingers crossed and knock wood that our southern neighbors get it right this November, thus allowing us to have an entire, unbroken Free Coast, where decades of cannabis subjugation will have given way to a wonderful new era when we can really begin to explore the vast potential of this dizzyingly multifarious medicinal- and, yes, of course, recreational- plant)

What has this meant?  Once you get past the stoner jokes and stale, wanly amusing clichés, you arrive at the truth of the matter.  You arrive at the thousands of people who have their lives back thanks to cannabis.  You arrive at parents who can speak to their children once more; you arrive at strong, able young men striding into your dispensary, who months earlier were confined to a wheelchair and could barely use their hands; you arrive at women of breathtaking eloquence and conviction who had previously been so lost in pharmaceutically-induced dementia that they hadn't been able to speak for years.  It's not a joke.  And it's not an exaggeration.  Cannabis is a plant of stunning therapeutic potential.

And thank goodness that we can also freely admit that it's a hell of a lot of fun.  One of the main therapeutic aspects of cannabis is just that- the induction of happiness.  Seriously.  That's one of its main functions.  It makes us happy- how brilliant that it also makes us healthy!  Jack Herer was right when he told us, years ago, that "hemp" could save the world (and we'll get into "hemp" versus "weed" very soon)... How else to describe a plant that can do every single thing petroleum can, that is sustainable to produce, that has hundreds of clinically-verifiable medical uses- including the destruction of cancer cells in certain instances, and that is loads of fun and lovely and aromatic to boot?

It's time to get on the right side of history and realize that cannabis is no different than coffee or wine grapes or cacao or hops or any other specialized high-end agricultural product.  The same ideas of terroir and variety, aging vs. freshness, mass cultivation vs.  hands-on attention, obtain in cannabis as we've come to learn obtain in wine.  I would argue that the future of cannabis is similarly bright, with regional specialties, "single-vineyard" offerings, specialized breeding programs, and the concomitant boon to tourism.

It's a damn fine time to be a lover of the herb!  Follow me, and I'll show you some things that will allow you to enjoy and experience it in the best possible way.  Skål!