Blasted In The Best Way
I couldn't have picked a better weedy chocolate for a stroll down Austin Powers lane.
My first medicated chocolates were always homemade, and they always tasted richly of dank weed. I miss those dalliances, especially since sometimes it seems that today’s selection of medicated chocolates are largely devoid of the skunky undercarriage of their homespun predecessors. Honestly, as much as I appreciate what's happening in edibles right now, I totally miss medicated chocolates being exclusively weed flavored. And I love chocolate too damn much to be able to compartmentalize medicated chocolates and regular old child-safe confections, so forgive me if I over-evangelize Moon Edibles’ Blasted Toffee. In a market where medicated edibles are indistinguishable flavor-wise from other craft chocolates, this bar stands out, because damn, it tastes like strong-ass weed.
“I can attest to the high-quality aroma, mouthfeel, and cultivated cannabis flavor. ”
Moon products are, according to their website, “focused on high-potency, high-quality, and high-value.” Right off the bat, I can attest to the high-quality aroma, mouthfeel, and cultivated cannabis flavor. It’s as silky and sexy as any truffle you’d pick up at your local boulangerie, with a complex twang of the stickiest of ickies. It’s as if the densest, most crystalline, redhead of a weed nugget was speared by a dagger made of sticky toffee and taken for a swim in a chocolate fountain. The only thing missing was the telltale smack of firm toffee as it sticks to my molars, which, since I care about my teeth and my fillings are kind of old, doesn't feel like a big loss. It was refreshing to not have the nagging need to suck down five or ten more pieces because my dinosaur brain tasted chocolate and wanted to go HAM. The powerful cannabis flavor was a clear signal to my whole brain, dinosaur included, that, “Hey, one is enough you grabby-ass chocolate freak.”
Each serving of the Blasted Toffee contains a stiff 10mg of THC, and each bar contains 10 servings. But my taste buds told me everything I needed to know about how this chocolate would affect me as soon as I put it in my mouth. This was going to get me stoned and not in a mature, dignified way. This was going to get me dumb stoned, college freshman stoned, laugh at everything stoned. And when the onset arrived, approximately an hour after I’d eaten it, I made a beeline for Netflix, where I noticed Austin Power’s Goldmember had just dropped. When I tell you that movie 100% holds up, Beyoncé is a good actor, and Shagadelic will never not be hilarious, please chalk it up to me just being very, very stoned.
After the movie ended, I thought it might be nice to adventure into the wild—of suburban Portland. The body high was bright and bubbly, and I wanted to maximize that energetic feeling. I packed my family into the car with no other plan than to have my husband drive us… somewhere. There was beauty and failure in this harebrained idea. We took a scenic drive along the river before landing in a neighboring suburb for some over-the-top ice cream cones. Everything felt positively perfect until the resulting sugar crash coincided with the descent of the high, coalescing into a perfect storm of cranky hunger and foggy indecision. My prevailing thought was that this whole high would have been better spent at home where hilarious movies, creative projects, and delicious food options were plentiful. I made a mental note to course correct on round two.
“The bottom line is this is a zippy and stony medicated chocolate.”
My second session was marked by all the delicious highs of the previous day: the effervescent and easily coaxed giggle fits, the bouncy energy, and the peaceful placidity of being truly stoned to the bone. Instead of scouring my streaming platforms for more Mike Meyers comedies, I watched one episode of Tidying Up with Marie Kondo (which is very zeitgeisty, if you’re not on board yet). I then decided to spend a long overdue afternoon organizing my sewing area, which had for weeks been overcome with piles of yardage. I arranged my huge selection of fabrics by color, pattern, weave, and weight. This was a substantial project and one I certainly found overwhelming while high, but the grown adult in me was able to channel all of the distracted stoniness into the kind of creative focus one needs to separate several pounds of printed velvet, vintage polyester, and faux fur into neatly folded, color-coded stacks.
The bottom line is this is a zippy and stony medicated chocolate. While it may provoke a need for adventure, the stony head high could be at odds with that physical need. So, if you venture out, for the love of Pete have a clear plan. Otherwise, an afternoon spent in the company of some classic Austin Powers, a super-simple, time-consuming project, and all the creature comforts you can afford is likely your best bet.