It's cold, COLD, as I pound frigid phalanges unto Chromebook QWERTY. Thirty-eight degrees, to be atrociously exact. I'm re-thinking something of great import as this Kristoff Kristania heats-up and gets-going in my should-be-but-ain't gloved hand. I revoke my own fashionista decree of no pull-over sweat-shirts. I do-so post-haste. End of. All else stands, re: color palette. Greys (from light to dark in accordance with the level of casual-setting and onto black for more formal affairs. Navy blue whilst acceptable should be used both sparingly in quirky environs or for work. Dear sweet Moses in a basket floating-by. I am freezing.
Ah, but the Kristoff Kristania.
(This morning there was ice, ICE, on my windshield.)
Ah, but the Kristoff Kristania.
(This morning there was ice, ICE, on my windshield.)
The first manual bit a' construction noted is a cap quite softer of packing that the rest-of-shaft -- and the shaft's pretty soft. Must be the cold weather. I kid. But really: soft pack density. No hard-spots. Visually the seams are even, veins minimal. It's a nice-looking darkly-oiled thing. Rich to the eye. Its draw is a lush thing with a tick dampness, satiating and saturating fully and preferring double/triple puffs. As the half-way point approaches, I notice the density becoming denser.
Combustion-wise, the pace errs toward quick, but evenly-so on a line which is even as well. Ash ain't a builder. Verily a smoky treat as clouds build around me of an antique-white complected Cavendish aroma. For its quickness, it remains a cool burn. In the nigh final-third and onward, there is an apparent wanting to plum go-out and a re-light is mandated.
There are some surprising (given the budget-offering label) complexities of molasses sweet and spicy woods and meaty meandering dalliances of leathers in their nuances. Transition-wise we ain't seeing much but there is a move from roasty-toasty to more of a sweet smolder. A long-legg'd finish displays all this nicely and in uniformed turn. Ending a bit shy of cleanly with a tick of astringent tendency (this proves to be fleeting). A retro-hale is a peppery sharper than completely comfy zetz of black pepper which ultimately settles in a sweet mouth-coating.
Tasting notes see a primary of pepper-spiced hickory, molasses, and espresso. Not far behind is a bitter-sweet chocolate, heavy on the vanilla-lilt. Sarsparilla. Too, there is a compost-heap thing eventually building into a dense core. Under-belly is that compost till said core-style delivery forms. The Cavendish from the room-note forms a partnership with said, said core. Very dense and compact. Balanced in the way a cannon-ball is balanced. Flavors, body, and strength all balance quite well to a medium, and robustly-so. After the already mentioned re-light, roasty-toasty re-emerges and brings in some slight almost bitter scorchy.
Maybe it's my peasant tastes, but I find this Kristania to be the unforeseen cream of this particular crop at least insofar as flavor. Construction-combustion doth leave something each to be desired. Perchance (back to flavor) this is because it sits more firmly in Kristoff's typical wheel-house comfort-level than the previous Connecticut and Brittania offerings. Although I likes it even mo' than the Original Criollo, I believe. I'd love to know what you gentlepersons think. Sorry, that's a lie.
FINAL GRADE: B+
A 90-100 B 80-89 C 70-79 D 60-69 F 0-59
IN ADDITION:
Whilst waxing fashionistaly, I see virtually no use at all for flannel shirts. I put one on, got colder, COLDER, I say.
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"18 Again"