Cornell & Diehl Haunted Bookshop

In his ultimate wisdom, Plato once asserted that opinions are the medium between knowledge and ignorance. Okay, so accepting the plausibility of that argument, what is one to conclude when the spectrum of opinions readily available on a specific topic of discussion are contradictory in nature? Perhaps the most pragmatic approach is, that in consideration of other’s opinions, while giving them proper audience and thoughtfulness, we remain open-minded but true to self. Maybe the real truth that we all eventually arrive at is highly subjective and somewhat dissimilar in nature. In plain terms, the wisdom acquired is not in fact one dimensional nor is it singularly or universal in make-up. It is the product of our own personal synthesis.

Wow, too cranial and too deep sir for a tobacco review; perhaps? Nonetheless, if this concept is valid, then the answer to the question at hand, “what is one to conclude”, then easily grasp that the true knowledge of the subject (a tobacco review) is actually the embodiment of a collection of opinions. There is no right one, there is no wrong one. There is merit in the multiplicity of impressions submitted for consideration. Each must be given proper license to co-exist in service to all interested camps of thought, thereby serving the better of the whole. Clear?

An individual review of a tobacco blend is just that. Although, please work with me on my feeble attempt at some tongue and cheek on this particular one. For all purposes, it should be the honest subjective reflections of the ensuing experience on the part of the reviewer of record. There neither again, will one find a correct nor an incorrect response or appraisement; only an opinion. Hopefully we’ve defined how that all works via my overly ambitious intro.

So where am I going with all this heavy-browed conceptualizing? Quite simply, I found myself toiling over the various postings, blurbs, and formal reviews (i.e., opinions) of the principal blend, Cornell & Diehl’s (C&D) Haunted Bookshop, with hope of gleaning some insight for the hobgoblin lurking inside. It struck me rather clearly that, folks either most definitely like this phantom, or they perceive him to be one step above ghastly excrement. The compilation of published stats model voices of ardent support attesting to, “yeah, it’s great, I give a thumbs up” with equally strong opposition by those professing to, “nah, this stuff most certainly sucks”, revealing to the newbie smoker about a 50-50 split. The spread in the rankings occupy the full spectrum of the range if you will. Some postings are tendered by scathing epitaphs, leaving the kiss of death with the proverbial “0” rating. Others more exuberantly wave the “5” star banner praising its heavenly spirit. Oddly enough, there appears to be no middle ground. What a perplexing head scratcher for the clueless neophyte taster.

Within the context of my expansive study into the world of Burley, I am choosing at least two highly published and representative blends per manufacturer for my subject sampling plan. Cornell & Diehl (C&D) offers an impressive collection of Burleys @ 30 within its massive line of product offerings that carry the “recommended” distinction. This one, Haunted Bookshop, and the tougher grand daddy Old Joe Krantz were the test blends of choice. Subsequent to this writing, an independent review of the latter old fellow of note will follow. For the namesake alone, Haunted Bookshop, with its somewhat mystical nature and general popularity, is the focus of this initial dance with C&D Burleys.

Although a fairly young company, C&D operates with a true appreciation for the fine traditions and history of American Burley. In doing so, C&D has amassed a comparatively established and notable position in the market for the presentation of quality mixtures. Several of these product offerings are attributable to the late Bob Runowski. Specifically my research disclosed that Runowski talent lies behind at least dozen of C&D’s top-selling American Burley blends. An impressive accomplishment appreciated by countless scores of Burley aficionados.

As with my present tasting exercise, I find that C&D’s particular base Burly has its own selective character. I learned that the specific Burley strains that C&D uses are primarily grown and cultured in the great states of Kentucky and Tennessee. Now understand that Burley is grown virtually world-wide. However, like wine, although the seed may be universal, the “terra”, the mantra, the essence, the natural influences of the soil and climate themselves in which the mother plant is grown, naturally impart a distinct and highly recognizable character. Impressions native to the particularly biochemistry of the mother earth and ambience find their way through to the finishing taste. Of course, the processing techniques deployed by the manufacture can and definitely do impact the final product’s personality, much can be deferred to its original DNA and environment.

Upon breaking open this spooky, sinister tin, I spied a very full and healthy pile of interestingly dark and broody-looking tobacco. Maybe the spirit in the can was making its ethereal introductions. This is a rather complex and hairy matrix of coarse cut, ribbon, and what I discovered intact shards of pressed tobaccos. The palate of hue is deep browns, earthy, mottled lighter browns, and some very distinct and deeply coffee-tinted flakes. The base Burley makes up the bulk of the wooly mass. Spread out intermittently were the remnants of pressed pieces, I assume that to be the Red Virginia. And in final, the coarse and darkest pieces in this bushy ensemble, that being the infamous Perique, are thrown about in a random fashion. On a side note, the blend I found to be is very dry right out of the can.

Haunted Bookshop has some very nice tooth with respect to the tin note haunting. Without a doubt, the standard woody-nutty Burley essence proudly materialized, smacking me loudly in the face. As I inhaled deeper and more discernibly, I gathered a really pleasant softly sweet grass, citrusy, raisins/prunes, doughy fragrance that was peppered lightly with a distant spiciness. I smelled it twice more just to be certain, yes, an array of perfume hovering divinely that I rather liked.

The aforementioned dryness and the random clustering of the assorted cuts on this mixture made packing the pipe a little interesting. For me, it required finessing as the various pieces of tobacco gave challenge due to its loose and errant nature. Haunted Bookshop apparently was not done with its ghostly flight as I had to work somewhat to keep limbs from flying here, there and everywhere as I inserted the whole into the bowl. Once this spirit was in control, I found that the tobacco to be full up and rather springy in its posture.

With the initial flame, which was in a MM cob, the soul of the blend finally spoke. The smoke it produces is thick, full and very dry. The Burley, and especially the flamboyant Perique, came immediately to the forefront with vengeance jangling its chains. The Kentucky and Tennessee Burley showed their character sure enough; portraying themselves as charming benevolent fellows of a rich mellow dark engaging woodiness. A woodiness I would describe as weathered, being very much different than other Burleys I’ve yet tasted, decidedly aged and tempered. A few compliments of musty real-world earthiness and the obtrusive peppery belt from the Perique really animated my olfactory senses. The Perique did eventually tame down, enclosing its magnetism with a more tolerable final zingy, smoky note thankfully.

Interesting enough as the blend continued to toast, I was picking up a unique taste. The standard light chocolate, dark prunes, nutty flavors were on the tap per par, but it was all cradled by a sort of a subtle yet lovable wintergreen minty twist. Never have I had a mint tone come through on a Burley, nonetheless, it was consistently what I was registering; interesting. By any means, nothing too overt by but in all actuality a really nice finishing accent all the same.

As for the Virginia, it used as a compliment and a toner because the degree of presence was very fleeting in my humble opinion. Occasionally I did register the usual sour sweet-tang and hay/grassy influences. It came in sprays somewhat disjointed and independent rather than intermingled. With a spirituous howl, it seemed like the Virginia threw in a voice periodically in order to proclaim stealthy attendance. By and large, the red Virginia is strategically metered from within the matrix of spirits just to mellow the rash staunchness of the natural Burleys and softly feather-out the recognizable thrust of the bold Perique.

I should state this very important point, nevertheless. When I smoked Haunted Bookshop within a briar the blend definitely melded together more superbly. The internal force from within the tin was less malevolent. Essentially, its character was less racy and rough. The join of flavor was much much more balanced and smooth, manifesting in a more enjoyable experience. Note to self, burn this one is a briar. Definitely I would score this higher with that particular venue as a final comment.

Haunted Bookshop burns naturally cool and slowly. Texturally, the smoke feels gratifying inside the mouth although dryness is somewhat of a specter. The effect of the Perique I felt persistently kicking at the back of my throat. As this blend burns it leaves a black-silvery ash that blankets the whole cake to the very foot of the bowl’s chamber. Some proclaim that the level of nicotine screams at them on this one. Being a cigar smoker, it’s very difficult for me to say, as pipe tobaccos tend not to influence me in that respect.

The resulting room note is pleasantly sweet, (as in Burley-speak) and smoky. The classic burley attributes hang smugly, moaning with its dark fruits, burning wood, toasted chestnuts and a bitter campfire incensy feel. However, they seemed to dissipate quicker than other Burley blends I’ve trialed. Overall this ghost I would classify as an aroma that is tolerable and amiable in demeanor. On another note, I didn’t get any of the cigarette- like impressions that others seemed to have attested to. Short of the tin smelling remotely like the Burley inside a fresh pack of cigarettes, I gleaned no similarities whatsoever.

In summary, Haunted Bookshop in my opinion, here we go again, is a noteworthy blend. Taken as a whole, I liked the distinct nuisances that C&D have mastered here with this product configuration. It is not what I would badge as a complex blend, yet it does present some interesting attributes. A tobacco that offers memorable qualities that I will more than likely find myself re-visiting in the future. Whether this ghoul continues to disturb my rotation of house Burleys, we will see given my ambitious agenda venturing into quality Burley-dominant mixtures. Give it a try, unless it scares you, to formulate your own personal opinion, therein will lay the truth for you and you alone. On a final note: Could it be that Plato was remiss on one very important point of conjecture? Namely, our own opinion, standing perceptions, and therefore our own collective wisdom on a subject matter, in this case a puzzling tobacco, are inherently a personal matter. Maybe the case for Haunted Bookshop stands as an unearthly monolith to that assumption? This rancorous and baffling haunting hereby has been spoofed.