- Baynard Woods
- Goji OG offers a pretty mundane high.
But we all know the feeling — sometimes the way a blunt hangs on the wind, lingering far longer than the walker smoking it, perfumes the air, invisible, and brings back some lost moment. It’s been more than five years since I’ve had a cigarette but sometimes the whiff of distant tobacco contains all the great cigarettes ever smoked, while eliding, erasing all of the millions of forgotten, rote, mechanical, habitual and unnoticed cigarettes — which are, of course, the essence of the brutal dependence of the regular smoker.
Goji OG is, for me, another entry in the column of rather forgettable, rote weed. It’s perfectly serviceable, something I will enjoy, when I notice it. It satisfies the desire for weed, but in its satiation, it disappears, without engendered further desire. Despite the exotic name — and it comes by it honestly, having been bred from Nepali OG and Snow Lotus — Goji OG’s high is mundane.
In a world of high-powered, head-fucking smoke, this could be a plus. Sometimes you want a solid session weed that gets the job done. But the thing is, Goji OG does a little more than that. It’s strong but the high just never quite does what you hope it will. It’s like a fancy, expensive IPA that thinks it is exceptional just because it has a lot of hops thrown in to comply with a trend. Or like one of the newer brands of bourbon, which are small batch and whatnot but are half as good as Jim Beam, say, at twice the price. No, what Goji OG is like is the New American Bistro restaurant that is good and locally sourced and hip and cool and ultimately bland, our modern-day “farm-to-table” version of La Maison de la Casa House that Calvin Trillin complained about a couple decades ago — the high-end continental restaurant in every town that people took visitors to, but never ate at otherwise and whose bland meals they could never really recall.
I guess this strain is supposed to smell like Goji berries but since I’m not a chinchilla or whatever, I haven’t ever smelled the eponymous berries before so I can’t comment on the accuracy of the name, but it is fun to say as if it is a single, rhyming word. And the buds do carry a pleasant smell like lemon on top of sage on top of lavender on top of cut grass and they are perfectly presentable with orange hairs and crystals and all.
For me — and this is highly subjective — this bud has everything, perhaps, but heart. I may even end up buying it again, but as likely as not it would be because I didn’t remember it the first time.
Nose: Sage and lavender and lemon and mowed lawn
Existential dread: 4
Freaking out when a crazy person approaches you: 4
Drink pairing: High-priced, mediocre, small-batch bourbon
Music pairing: Anything by Mumford & Sons