Punch Breath from La Bodega
Punch Breath takes the concept of the purple flower to the next level, thanks to a complex lineage that delivers bits and pieces from all over the globe. The essence not just typical berry, but carries a sugary-tartness, with spicy vanilla musk. It’s not just purple, but wears glimmering shades from pink to blue. It’s not just a narcotic indica stone, but one that carries with it all the far-out weirdness you’d want from a balanced hybrid. It’s just...better.
Our shimmering nugs from La Bodega were solid and spongy, with a whole technicolor assortment of frosty hues like a handful of sparkling dark blue sapphires and amethyst. The bold orange beard prominently contrasted the rest, making it looks like a “festive bud” worthy of special occasions. An aroma of tart, floral “grape jelly” greeted us with sweetness that turned more vanilla, musky and minty in the grinder.
She was a head-shaker at first, squeezing the eyes like ripe lemons, forcing us to tilt back, lean against any nearby surface, plastered momentarily by extreme gravity. Even for those of us who had smoked prior during the day, it was a rich and foggy eyed experience that left us gasping for air and teetering. “It’s as someone released a weight from within my head, that plunged straight inside to my feet,” noted one critic. “This is like sparking a bowl for the first time in a long time.”
A bonanza of waves pushed us down, down, down into the ground in slow-motion collapse but with calm, irresistible force--then subsided over the next hour. We were zoned out but not completely awash, responsive but slow, happy but not always able to speak. The randomly-firing neurons conjured a psychedelic experience and eased creativity as long as we didn’t have to move. From jamming to writing, to even working on a house project (be careful with a hammer) productivity felt especially rewarding, and epiphanies fell way outside the box.
Nearly three hours later, the cloudy effects were waning but we were ready for more. Not burnt out or ready for bed, oddly, the day still felt fresh (although the mind-crushing oblivion during the first hour could push anyone over the edge in the evening). “I wasn’t expecting this magnitude of stress relief” reported one critic, “but everything was easy-going, even the roughest parts of the afternoon. I’d pick up a satchel in a heartbeat.”