Any dispensary’s top shelf can be amazing (at least, most in this state of high standards), but none is perhaps so rare or mysterious as the menu at Epic Remedy. Highway Cake is no less than one of those unorthodox strains of scant documentation, with a moniker that raises so many questions: Is it a cross of the fruity, skunky Wedding Cake with the sweet & sour Highwayman? Perhaps merged with the Northern-Skunk of Highway Delight? 

We were up to the investigation, glistening fluffy sample in-hand. The buds were a marvelous assortment of bright greens and lavender, shadowy grays and purples, all saturated in sugar. Occasional wiry, abstract hairs snaked out like lost tentacles. Inside, the sugary essences joined a strong, creamy perfume of blossoms and earthy tones, all exploding defiantly from our grinder.

Our first hit was a gobsmacker. The face felt a little like a “puffed out donut” for a few minutes, the eyelids notably heavier. But the force was suddenly just “there,” tingling all over the body, suddenly overtaken in a flash. The mind raced but not in a panic, as if recovering from some time of warp-jump. We were subdued, peacefully captive in our own thoughts. 

The body settled into an eternal buzz, one that permeated every movement for the next several hours, a buzz “ever-reliving the moment you realize you no longer have control over stuff like basic balance or concept of time.” Swinging between relaxed chill and eager anticipation for something to happen, the high was otherwise very amiable and cozy, quiet and disarming. Conversation was a “little sparse” because were so ultimately zoned out, only half-aware of what we could see happening before our own two eyes. 

Critics also noted generous pain relief, some of it masking severe pain for the short-term. For instance an arthritic hand was “loosey-goosey, fluid, back to 70% of use up from 20%.” We were still pretty slow, of course, and more like molasses after a few hours had passed. By the end of the afternoon, it felt like we’d chilled even just a little too hard. “Fresh coffee never tasted so good,” reported one critic. With a little pick-me-up, the relaxed, lackadaisical trance lasted well into the evening, making slumber effortless. “Next time it’s my birthday,” gushed one very sleepy critic, “I want this for my cake.”