Future! The second attempt!

So, iPhone app so I can write and post wherever I go? Sounds sweet, right? WRONG! because it didn't work the first time I tried it. Let's hope this isn't a repeat of the iClove fiasco. May that story never see the light of day...




Look! A pretty cigarette dispenser! Neat!



- posted from the future!

The (half) Truth Shall Make Ye Fret!

And so, my darling larvae, we return once more to contemplating the true nature of clove cigarettes, which go also by the kenning of 'kreteks.' What I am to impart to you is both boon and burden. For, if you will allow me to take a quick detour into philosophical fancy, isn't all knowledge a boon, really? And are we not all as sentient beings burdened by our consciences, also, to be ever vigilant and responsible with its wielding?

Alright, I'm through fucking with you now, let's get down to Serious Business.

A few weeks ago, Avid Reader Dave posted some very interesting information on a subject I have been curious about for a long time. Namely, Djarum's mysterious kretek flavouring sauce. A certain Malachi de Aelfweald, quite an interesting and entertaining blogger, has posted on his own site the Djarum company's own internet-published recipe for the sauce:

Djarum Kretek recipe

Casing Flavour compound:
(per 100 parts tobacco)
maple sweet: 0.2
chocolate: 0.2
licorice: 0.4
plum casing: 0.3
coffee: 0.35
dried nangka: 0.35
dried fruit: 0.15
total casing flavours: 1.95

the casing flavours are water-soluble and suspended in:
humectants: 0.7
invert sugar: 0.5
water: 5

Top Flavour Compound (Top Dressing):
Havana: 0.8
Manila: 0.4
Strawberry: 0.3
Pineapple: 0.35
Pisang ambon: 0.25
Clove enhancer: 0.25
Pruimen: 0.05
Aniseed oil: 0.3
Cassia extract: 0.3
Salak cider: 0.1
Vanilla: 0.2
Orange: 0.25
Total top flavours: 3.55

A top-secret sauce containing, among other things: 
cinnamon
jackfruit
banana
vanilla

Where he found it on Djarum's website is a mystery to me. I  went there to see for myself what else was written about their manufacturing process, and I could find nothing after several minutes of clicking around. Sir Malachi, you possess more patience than I am capable of. Or, a better intrinsic knowledge of the working of corporate websites. Your pick.

But back to the point. This seems, at first glance, to be quite helpful, but it's not. Thanks, Dave, for trying, and thanks to Malachi, but as far as rolling our own kreteks goes, this is almost completely useless.

Let's look at the categories in order. 'Casing Flavour Compounds.' What's the casing flavour refer to? The paper, or the tobacco? In that case, what the hell is the 'Top Flavour Compound (Top Dressing)? Then there's the 'top-secret sauce' of which only a few ingredients are listed. There could be a hundred others, for all we know.

Then, the numbers next to each ingredient are well-nigh meaningless without more information. The numbers are sort-of identified as referring to 'per 100 parts tobacco.' It seems to imply that for 100 grams (g) of tobacco, one would use, for example, 0.2 g. of maple sweet, with 0.2 g of chocolate, et cetera, et cetera.  But wait! This falls flat if the 'casing' or the 'top dressing' refer to the cigarette's paper, because then a whole hell of a lot of ambiguity is thrown into the mix. These arbitrary 'parts,' are they then mixed up in amounts proportionate to the amount of tobacco being rolled, or are they per cigarette paper? For that matter, how much tobacco per cigarette? How big or small are these cigarettes?

Now for the ingredients. Maple sweet? I assume they mean maple sugar, or a preparation of maple syrup, but really, it could be anything. Chocolate, licorice, yeah, sure. Powdered, boiled, stirred, not shaken? Plum casing. The casing of a plum? The skin? Coffee, sure, who doesn't love coffee, but brewed, or just ground up and crammed in there? Dried nangka I had to look up, and it's either jackfruit, the largest of all tree-bourne fruits, or some kind of curry. No clue. Dried fruit, but which kind(s)? Then, these are all mixed up and suspended in water, invert sugar and humectants. Water's easy, as is invert sugar (sucrose hydrolysed into glucose and fructose, two monosaccharides). Humectants are just moisturizing agents. Could mean anything, really. Hand-cream? Vegetable oil? You get it.  Havana and milana I can only assume are types of fruit, because I doubt Djarum would use a Cuban city and an Italian porn-star for ingredients. Pisang ambon is a Dutch liqeur, clove enhancer could mean either cloves or something that makes cloves taste better, pruimen is the dutch word for prunes, aniseed oil is oil made from the anis seed (quite tasty as tea -- the seeds, not the oil), Cassia is Chinese cinnamon, and salak is snake-fruit. Thene there's a whole shitload of secret ingredients.

All in all, good to know about, but useless to try to emulate. The recipe is fiddly, badly written and/or translated, and contains many ingredients that not even I, who lives in New York fuckin' City, can easily aquire. Not to mention the lack of directions, no hint as to how any of these things are prepared, or even where they're supposed to be applied, tobacco or paper?

So use this as a springboard for your imagination, and use it as a reference, but don't bother trying to follow these directions. You'll end up flossing with your bootlaces, and that's just gross.

Moist & Dry vs. Dry & Moist

Alright, kiddoes, after too long of a break, I've got a little surprise for you all that will make your weeks of agonizingly lonely me-less life bearable again. Not only did I go through another experiment, I also tested the products, and will be reviewing them in this post. "My Goodness, an experiment AND a review, all in one post? You must be magic!" I hear you exclaiming. Yes, my pets, I am, indeed, magic. Now, assume The Position, so that I may once again enlighten you in the art of Rolling Your Own Clove Cigarettes.

So, we've had some trouble with our cigarettes, which I won't go over, because it gets old. However, if you're a new-comer, please read through Experiment 1 and its failure, as well as Experiment the 2nd and its failure. Sure, they've all failed so far, but I honed my methodology until this, Experiment Numero Tres (that means 3), and there are important things for you to learn about in those older posts, like rolling techniques we simply won't go through here.

Now for the theory. The previous DIY kreteks failed because they were too moist and drew like a pencil, or too dry, and gave me a sore throat and crack-lung. Those that were too moist used a moist tobacco and fresh, finely-ground cloves, while those that were too dry used a dry tobacco with crushed cloves, which were dryer than the finely ground cloves. The theories we will be exploring in this third experiment will be a moist tobacco with a dry clove, and also (as an added bonus), a dry tobacco with a moist clove. Theoretically, this would bypass the problems encountered before, but which one will be the winner? Stay tuned to find out!

So, the first part of this experiment will be the moist tobacco with the dry clove preparation. Since I ran out of the Bali Shag we used in the first experiment, I went out and discovered that the Tobacconist's shop was out, so I purchased a pouch of Drum tobacco, instead. It is comparably moist, while having a bit more of a robust flavour than the Bali Golden Shag, which is quite mild. Now, for the cloves, I decided to go with store-bought ground cloves. The home-ground cloves were too moist, and those crushed with mortar and pestle came out a bit chunky. So, store-bought. Now, these store-bought ground cloves are very dry, and very finely ground. Powdery, even. They don't smell as strong as the freshly-ground ones, but what the hell. Subtle can be nice, too. For this batch, I used a handful of tobacco and 2 tablespoons of the ground cloves, then forced the mixture, kicking and screaming, into the empty cigarette tubes using the Rizla rolling machine. For instructions on how to use these things, go back to Experiment the First, where I take you step by step through the process.


The second batch tests out the dry tobacco and moist cloves theory. So, I went back to the American Spirit tobacco, pictured at right, and ground up some whole cloves in my tiny blender. A regular sized-blender should work also, as would a coffee grinder or food processor type thing. Any electrical choppy/blendy thing. You know, with a motor, and sharp blades that go round and round really fast, the kind of thing you should NEVER EVER put your fingers in. Well, except you in the corner. You should totally put your hand in there, just to show everyone else what happens.* Really, I'm sure you'll be fine; it's a valuable life lesson. Keep grinding the whole cloves until they've been chopped into tiny tiny pieces, and the whole mess looks kind of like the sample I've prepared, seen at left. It's finely ground, but moist, and so kind of sticky, and the aroma is unbelievably strong and wonderful. For this second batch, I used about a handful of the tobacco, and only about a teaspoon and a half of the cloves, because they're so strong. Then, into the filter tubes with the whole mess, using the Rizla machine again.

So, I promised a review of these beautiful smokables, and you shall have it. I smoked both of these blends over a period of two weeks, and they actually both held up rather well to scrutiny. The moist tobacco/dry cloves blend was a little light on clove flavour, and took slightly more effort to draw than a regular cigarette, but it was entirely bearable. The second batch, with the dry tobacco/moist cloves mix was better than the first batch in my opinion, since the clove flavour was much more pronounced, and I like that sort of thing. The dry tobacco did dry out my throat a bit, but the moist cloves prevented it from becoming a problem. The Perfect Kretek is not here yet, but this is very promising. The key, I think, is to establish a blend of 1:3 or 1:4 moist:dry tobacco and then use the moist fresh-ground cloves for the flavouring. This is what I shall attempt to perfect over the next few days, and an update shall be posted once I've got it down pat. Until then, my little cherrybombs, keep experimenting!

Post Script - If any of you have anything to say, such as success stories, Epic Failzzes, tips for your fellows, or pleas for aide, comment comment comment. I can't help you (or ridicule you) if you don't talk to me.


*DISCLAIMER: Do not actually put your hands (or any other soft fleshy part) in a blender. I don't care how pretty the spinning blades look, it's a stupid idea and if you do such things, it's your own damned fault you end up hand-less, you damned fool.

Tobacco Means Tobacco, You Pricks!

All work and no play makes my blog a very dull read. So it's a good thing that DIY anything is a pleasant mixture of work and play, eh? However, it never does to fall into a routine, for nothing kills the fiery passion of lusty clove-smokin' brigands quite like the same old, same old of real life. So, today, my scurvy curs, you get to take a break, as I give you: Storytime!

Once upon a week or so ago, your Statuesque and Erudite muse went questing for DIY supplies. Along the way she, that is to say, I, decided that what I really needed was a nice cigarette case in which to carry my creations around, instead of the semi-crushed empty packs that spoke only of hopeless longing and despair. I thought about it for a moment, and decided that the best place to find supplies and also a decent selection of cig cases would be in the Village, spanning from about West 4th Street all along St. Mark's Place.

A bit of background for those of you not from NYC -- the Village is a neighborhood in Manhattan which is split into West and East. West Village, traditionally (as of 10 years ago, anyway), houses well-off young business people, and is a hub of the Gay/Lesbian/Transgender community. Also, many and varied sex-shops. Seriously. You need a bright purple leather teddy with lime green feather trim and peek-a-boo nipple holes? Go to the West Village. The East Village used to have a lot of punk rock kids (I should know, as I was one of them), vagrant artists, tattoo shops, off-beat clothing stores, used record/movie stores, and its crown jewel, CBGB's. That's all gone now, and has been replaced with 'vintage' clothing stores, J-Pop restaurants, and one hell of a lot of hipsters who like the idea of living in a center of Punk Rock subculture, but can't stand the stench. Oh, and CBGB's was killed, and its lesser zombie self reanimated in Las Vegas. Fuckin' gentrification. Gone are the days when you could get an eighth of shit moonshine for under $5 without getting carded, take it to a community garden and get wrecked with some other people with silly hair and angry clothing, then sleep it off in the subway station. Not anymore, 'cause now there's rules and stuff. Oh well, the punk rock scene was at it's best in the late '70s and early '80s anyway. I wasn't involved till the the late '90s, whereupon it went all mainstream. Quicker than you could spit, little Avril Lavigne look-alikes took over, no one bothered making their own clothes, buying them pre-ripped, pre-studded, and pre-filthed, overpriced and funded by mummy and daddy's credit cards. Pathetic.

However, the one thing both West and East Village have in common are headshops, thinly disguised as tobacconists.  Now, these shops come in all sizes and specializations, from the ratty little corner deli with a couple of pipes and some flavoured papers, to the shiny gleaming superstore boasting displays of bongs and intricate hookahs, with two dusty pouches of Top rolling tobacco, just to keep up appearances. I am, of course, excluding the street vendors, who hawk their illicit paraphernalia on a little collapsible table, and chat with customers blatantly about what kind of pot is best, but I'm only excluding them because they're not licensed to sell tobacco. All of these, including the street vendors, do have one thing in common: a small, grubby, hand-written note tacked up somewhere that says, 'for tobacco smoking use only.'

Now that you've got all the essential background information, I can continue my tale. I went to this section of the city in search of a nice cigarette holder. If you don't know what they are, I will tell you; they are metal boxes, shallow, hinged on one side so they open up like a book, with a metal bar or some elastic on the inside, so that the cigarettes you place within won't fall out. They come in different sizes and proportions, some long, some short, some thicker, some shallower. Plain or ornate, with silly decals or pretentious paintings. An old Altoids tin works also, and is more customizable, but sometimes it's nice to buy yourself something nice, which is precisely what I wanted to do on this particular occasion.

I approached the bored and rude art school dropout at the first store I came upon, which I thought showed great promise. This was one of the larger stores, that sold fifty different kinds of bongs, had a dizzying rainbow of hookahs, and a virtual menagerie of bowls shaped like dragons and piglets and unicorns. I inquired after their cigarette holders, whereupon the pretentious almost-human sighed, put down her Sharpie (with which she was painting her nails), and pulled a strange cedar box out from under the counter. 'What is this?' I asked, perplexed. 'A cigarette holder?' she contemptuously replied. 'But it only holds one cigarette, what the hell use is that to me?' I rejoindered. 'Ohh, you're talking about tobacco cigarettes, not tobacco cigarettes, right? Yeah, we don't have anything for your type here.' I happily imagined the glass menagerie coming to life and mauling her slowly as I exited the shop, certain that the next store wouldn't be quite so stupid.

The next store over, a smaller shop with not as large a variety of bongs and bowls, and with the added bonus of carrying hookah tobacco, was staffed by an Indian man who, at the moment of my entrance, was busy flirting with some tourist ladies. I looked around the shop, peered into the glass cabinets, and waited patiently to catch his eye, so that he'd maybe do his goddamned job and help out a valid customer. Alas, no luck. I interjected, across the inane prattling of those Ohio bimbos 'Hey, do you have any cigarette cases? To hold cigarettes?' whereupon he looked up, sighed, and handed me the same thing the talentless graphic designer had, a little painted joint hider. He even commenced to explain that, 'It is made of cedar, police dogs no smell, sniff sniff, you tobacco is safe, you no go jail. Good? Fifteen dollah.' When I tried to explain what I was actually after, his countenance went blank, and he shrugged as if confused, saying he'd never heard of such a thing. I left, once again, amidst daydreams of pain and destruction.

This kept on happening all throughout the East Village, and into a good part of the West Village as well. Large and small shops alike just automatically assumed that when I said 'tobacco' or 'cigarettes' I really meant 'tobacco' and 'cigarettes.' The italics, if you haven't realized by now, means marijuana. They all seemed confused and slightly put out when I finally got the point across that no, I did NOT mean marijuana, pot, weed, reefer, grass, or The Gange. I eventually just went home, empty handed and a hair away from immanentizing the eschaton.

A day or two later, I went to a tobacconist's on 14th Street, almost exactly between the West and East Village territories, since I did actually need to get some tobacco and a few other supplies (which are, as yet, a secret to you, my little ducklings), and what did mine eyes behold? A glass-fronted, well-lit, artfully-arranged cabinet, presenting an enchanting variety of cigarette cases. Entranced and hardly believing that this vision before me was more than stress-induced hallucination, I perused. I eventually chose one case, longer than wide, with an antiqued picture of a young lady in a white bonnet. It's nicer than it sounds. Elated, I purchased my parcels, and skipped off homeward. The very next day I passed by a flea market, and stopped to peruse its wares. Third table down, I found another glorious cigarette holder, square shaped, all silver and etched with a motif of flames surrounding an engraving of Baron Samedi. All for around $2. Score!

The moral of this story, then, my chickies, is that good things don't come to those who persevere and wait patiently for providence, but, rather, that good things come to those who are fueled by lakes of fiery hatred for their fellow man, and whose burning, searing rage flows out of them through soothing dreams of mass mayhem and chaos, sending tendrils of energy to the loom of the Moirae, tweaking the strings of destiny they weave to bring to the infuriated that which he or she so desperately and angrily desires. That's how I did it, and So Should You!

The End.

I Get Knocked Down, Then I Get Up Again - With A Sore Throat

I know, I know. I'm a harsh mistress. 'Do This,' I command. 'Try That' and so on. And how do I reward you for obeying my every whim? Neglect! Ridicule! Callousness and Sarcasm! But seriously, my pets, don't protest so. It's unseemly. You've presumed too much, as if I didn't have it all in hand, well controlled. Whatever happened to discipline, eh? Naughty lungs must needs be punished...

And, if you've been smoking the Second Experiment's kreteks, as I have, those lungs would be thoroughly beaten. Now, the second experiment attempted to fix some problems that arose from the First Experiment, namely, that the tobacco and clove preparation both proved too moist, and were unsmokable. So, we fixed this problem by using a dryer tobacco, and a dryer clove preparation, never thinking that we might have fixed it too much.

At first, the second round of cigarettes were very enjoyable, easy to smoke, well-flavoured, and with the crackling we all know and love so dearly. The only problem I initially found was that some of the chunks of clove -- which in this preparation we crushed roughly in a mortar and pestle-- were too large, so that some puffs were extra super clove-y. A problem that not only is not a problem for some folks, but that is easily solved by expending a bit more effort with the next batch's clove-crushing. 'Not bad,' I thought to myself, and I baked a congratulatory pie.

This love affair, as so many do, lasted all of two days, whereupon the skies turned grey and all joy was for nought.

I awoke, one morning, with a scratchy, dry throat, which progressed as I smoked more of those delicious death-sticks, until my melodious voice was somehow switched out for a hoarse rasp. I refused to blame the cigarettes, though they certainly irritated my brittle carbon-coated bronchii, instead attributing the cause to the rain, or the unseasonable cool evenings. But alas, a discrepancy; there hasn't been any rain, and I haven't been out in the fresh and cool since early spring.

So, this second batch was just as bad as the first, though more insidious and deceitful in its awfulness. Well, perhaps not as bad, since these I was actually able to smoke, instead of sucking and sucking and receiving nothing.

I shall leave you with that, my dears, until next time, when I shall once again let you partake of the cup of knowledge, for the insignificant fee of undying allegiance and a lifetime of minion-hood...

DIY Kreteks Experiment 2: The Return

After my late-mid-afternoon cup of coffee, I decided to be kind to you, dear readers, and not to let you wallow in suspense over my ingenious solutions to the previous clove cigarette failure. The despair you must have felt truly awes me. How you must have refreshed the blog page, frantically, madly hoping against hope that I, your Fragrant Goddess of Smoking Science would once more step down from the heavens to cast my gift of illumination upon you. Rejoice, mortals, for thy wishes have been granted! I have come among you, Caffeinated and Radiant, to guide you, yet again, on an Adventure of Great Importance.

In this experiment, we shall forget (temporarily, so don't fret) about the flavoured clove cigarettes, and focus on the basic kretek. Mainly this is because the flavoring-by-added-paper technique failed so abysmally, and while I have some ideas for ways around this, you are not yet ready to venture down these uncharted avenues. Soon, my chickies, soon.

Firstly, let's go over the supplies. We are still using the Rizla Rolling Machine as we did in the first experiment, as well as the same cigarette filter tubes. If you need a refresher, I go over the machine -- and its use -- in this post. So clicky clicky. However, we are switching to Natural American Spirit Original Blend ($38.00 for a 150g canister) tobacco, and preparing the cloves a bit differently, so you'll also need a mortar and pestle (varied prices), or a comparable hand-held crushing/grinding utensil.

The cloves, as before, are regular old supermarket whole cloves. On the right and the left are pictures of the cloves as they come in the package, and what they look like close-up. Go on, guess which is which! If you get it right, you get a Hearty Thumbs Up!

The tobacco, American Spirit Original Blend, is available in the large canister (shown) and also in smaller pouch-packages. The pouch is usually priced around $10.00. I chose this for the second attempt because, compared to the Bali Golden Shag, it is much dryer, so that should solve the smokability problem caused by the Shag's moisture levels. However, the taste is still very enjoyable, though a bit mellower, and it's preservative-free, with no tar or other additives. Quite nice, I must say.

As you might have extrapolated by now, we are going to prepare the cloves by using manual labor. We are doing it this way because last time the cloves were ground up too fine, which resulted in two unfortunate side-effects; no crackling and a moist, hard-to-smoke cigarette. Hopefully, this will solve both problems. Place a small number of whole cloves into the mortar, and crush them with the pestle. Start off by thumping the pestle straight down on the cloves, and once they've been smushed a bit, roll the pestle around in a circular motion, rubbing with some force against the well of the mortar. Unless you've the upper body strength of a naked mole-rat, it should take less than a minute to grind the cloves to about the coarseness shown at left. Don't worry if some pieces are bigger than others; that's kind of the point. Now, I like using a mortar and pestle for all my coarse grinding needs, but if you don't have access to a set, you can put the cloves on a flat, non-porous surface and roll an empty wine bottle over them until you reach about the same consistency as above. This might take a bit longer, but it'll still be less time than going to the store and trying to find and buy a mortar and pestle set. Also, you'll have had wine! And who doesn't love wine?

To finish up, then, mix a small handful of the American Spirit (or any comparably dry tobacco you may prefer) with about a teaspoon of the cloves, pack it into the Rizla machine, and fill your filter tube. A suggestion -- since both the cloves and the tobacco are dryer than the Bali Shag and the super-fine cloves, you'll need more of the clove-tobacco mixture to pack the machine to the desired density. Remember to keep the density even through the length of the machine, but also be sure not to pack it too tightly, so that you'll actually be able to push the mix into the empty tubes.

Once again, congratulations! You've stuck through to the end, you incredible person, you! It is time now to roll myself a few packs' worth, and dedicate myself, in the name of Science, to cigarette enjoyment for a few days. Next post will contain my blatherings about the experience, so stay tuned, and may the Clove be with you.

First Experiment Results -- Of Doom!

For the past few days, I have faithfully smoked the products of our first attempt at clove cigarettes. I have made myself into a guinea pig for you, fellow clove-lovers. Life and Limb have been placed ceremoniously upon the line, in the pursuit of life, liberty, and the perfection of clove-iness. It is with mixed emotions that I report that while life and limb remain intact, perfection is, as yet, out of reach.

All right, so I was pretty sure the first try wasn't going to be a complete success, but I had no idea it would be such an abysmal failure. Seriously, guys. This was not just a normal, everyday Fail. It was the oft-reported, seldom-true Epic Fail. I, personally, can blame no one but you, dear readers. Absolutely. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves. No cake for you.

Let's go through and try to find where we went wrong, shall we?

The regular, unflavoured kreteks we made weren't bad, so long as you've the lung-power of a mountain-climbing blue whale. They draw like a pencil. Go, right this moment, to your desk, grab a pencil. #2 works best. Put the eraser end into your mouth, light the other end, and try to smoke it. Now you understand. I think this particular problem stems from both the type of tobacco, as well as the preparation of cloves we used. The tobacco -- Bali Golden Shag -- is tasty, sure, but too moist, especially when mixed with freshly ground cloves, which also are very moist. Not to mention, the name 'kretek' comes from the crackling sound the cloves make when they burn, but these cloves were too finely ground, damping the smoke, and also, not crackling. Other than that, though, the flavour itself was very pleasing. The clove element was very noticeable, and the Bali Golden Shag is an enjoyable smoke, so long as you can actually get it into your lungs. I rolled a few with a more loosely-packed mixture, thinking that perhaps the cigarettes were just too tight, but that was a bit of a disaster as well, since the paper burned more quickly than the tobacco/cloves filling, and the cherry just kept on falling off. Unsmokable.

The cigarettes with the flavoured papers rolled over the regular kreteks were even worse, if you'll believe it. The papers, being lightly sweetened with saccharine, did recreate the wonderful sweetness of a real clove. Alas, that was the only pro making a valiant stand against an onslaught of cons. Apart from being just as difficult to smoke as the aforementioned regular cloves (for the same reasons), the extra paper, being of the slightly flame-retardant kind, kept extinguishing the cigarettes as I took hyperventilation breaks from all the pulling I had to do to get even the smallest bit of nicotine. Not to mention, though the extra burning paper did give a slight cherry taste, it mostly produced a lot of harsh smoke. Again, unsmokable.

Both of these also gave me a highly unpleasant feeling of light-headedness. No, not the kind you'd get from illegal substances, the kind you get when you're not getting enough air. Thankfully, I am a very resourceful and clever young lady, and I have a few ideas for our next attempt. Too bad you'll just have to tune in next time to find out what they are. Muahahahaha!

Ye Cannae Be A Pirate If Ye're Sittin' In Yer Seat

Suicidal levels of coffee fueling my productivity, I finally consulted Wikipedia's Kreteks entry. After mentioning the origin of the name 'kretek' and expounding a quick history, Wiki lists the ingredients in these most delicious of nicotine-providers as tobacco, cloves, a 'chef's special sauce' (hurr hurr), and sacharrine, which coats the cigarettes once they've been rolled and provides that ephemeral sweetness which lingers upon your lips after each sensuous puff. Which means we have a platform off of which to jump! And thus was I lead to acquire these Basic Supplies:

Cigarette filter tubes, 200 ct ($5.99), a Rizla cigarette making machine ($4.99), Bali Shag (Golden Shag blend) tobacco ($7.99), ground-up cloves ($0.79), and flavored rolling papers ($1.50), any and all of which can easily be found at any Tobacconist's for similar prices. Well, except the cloves, but you can get those at any supermarket. Now, since I know some of you out there like the regular, non-fruity kreteks, I'll give myself extra work and quest not only for the perfect Cherry Clove, but also for the elusive Perfect Regular Ol' Clove. I feel that's pretty fair, and if you don't agree then something is terribly wrong with you. The plan, as far as I've planned it, is to make tobacco and cloves somehow become 'in' the filtered cigarette tubes, for the basic kreteks, then to wrap the cherry-flavored papers around one, making it a cherry-flavoured smoke-able clove delight-stick! Yes, I also am fully aware that some of you have never rolled your own anything, ever, so I'll go slow. Each step will be explained as though you were Wee Bairns. Wee Smoking Bairns!

So! First things first, the cloves. I actually just got a small package of whole cloves from the local supermarket, forgot that I was chronicling everything with my camera, and ground 'em up in my tiny blender until they were as finely chopped as possible, which, as you can see because I finally remembered to take pictures, is pretty fuckin' fine. Now, one thing you have to realize, the cloves are not powdery, they're more like brown sugar -- that slightly moist, sticky consistency. The aroma, also, is so heavenly, and unbelievably strong, that I defenestrated Wiki's suggestion of 1:3 clove:tobacco, and went, instead, with a handful of tobacco and about half a teaspoon of ground cloves. The Bali Shag itself, which I picked from my days of hand-rolling, is a sweet smelling tobacco, golden brown, slightly moist. It's not overpowering, nor is it harsh, though it does have quite a bit of flavour.

Now comes the tricky part, right? Wrong! Well, actually, sort-of right. There is an element of trickiness, but trust me, and ye'll be fine. The machine is quite easy to use once you've the feel of the thing. Open, there is quite an obvious compartment in which to put the tobacco. When you close it, the top packs the tobacco into a cylindrical form, holds onto the cigarette tube, and slides over, pulling the tube over the packed tobacco. You have to push it back to the starting position in order to release the cigarette, since the top hooks into grooves that prevent unexpected opening when the tobacco is getting pushed through.

The next bit is the 'tricky part,' primarily because, for best results, you will need to slog through a period of trial and error. Packing the cigarette properly makes all the difference, too loosely packed and your cigarette will burn fast and harsh, too tight and your machine won't be able to push the tobacco into the filter tube. If you fill the compartment to about the level shown at left, you ought to be fine, but also mind that a different kind of tobacco might pack differently. At any rate, the packed end product ought to look like the photo at right, be slightly springy to the touch, and have an even density through the length of the cigarette.

Next, you have to place the filter tube onto the machine. The tube is actually very fragile (It's a hollow cylinder made of fucking paper), so it's VERY IMPORTANT to be gentle with it. If it crinkles slightly, do your best to straighten it out. If you crush it with your ham-like hand, you big klutz, you're fucked. Same deal if you rip it. Only solution at that point, so it's not a total waste, is to save the filter ends for future experiments. Don't freak out, though, I had to go through five of the fuckers before I got my system down to minimize tube-crumblage. I found that holding it only by the filter and slowly twisting it onto the white attachment (see photos at right) causes the least stress on the paper. Then you just close and slide, and you've got a clove cigarette!


At this point I made several more the same way, and separated a few to try the flavoring-by-paper idea. The flavoured papers are silly looking things. This particular kind is cherry-flavoured, so there are giant technicolor cartoon cherries on the papers themselves. Which automatically shouts "I GOT WEED" to any cop within view, but also causes an amusing half-hour to ensue, unless of course you actually do 'got weed,' in which case you're screwed, what the hell were you thinking advertising it so blatantly, you idiot. Buuuut, I digress. Papers. Right. Put the paper cherry-side-down, with the gum up and farthest from you. Align the finished kretek with the edge closest to you, and roll it up. Keep the paper rolled snugly to the cigarette, else you'll find yourself holding a tube of flavoured paper, with your cigarette on the floor at your feet. Once the rolling has been satisfactorily done, lick the gummed edge and smooth it down. Again, this is something you'll get the hang of once you do it a few times, because if you lick the gum too much you'll lick it completely off, and the paper won't stick to itself, but if you don't lick it enough it won't be moist enough to be sticky. Better not enough than too much, though, since you can always lick more, but it's hard to lick less. Unless you have a time machine. In which case, call me. I mean, if you've succeeded, congratulations! If you've failed, Shame On You.
Now, I'm off to make a couple packs' worth of these guys, and shall smoke nothing but these for a night and a day. So stay tuned, kiddies, Reviews are Forthcoming!

Unconscionable Bastards (A Short History)

Once upon a time, about a decade ago, I started smoking (gasp!). But, you say, weren't you just a wee gel then? And yes, yes I was, I reply. I decided, one day, when I was bored and skipping social studies lecture, that I needed a new activity to burn off the nervous energy all that excess coffee and Surge gave me. (Remember Surge? Pre-Red Bull super caffeinated nuclear green soda pop? Ah, those were the days.) So, I went to the local bodega-that-sells-to-underage-kids, and bought a pack of Newports. Why Newports? I dunno. I liked the package. After the first few horrible puffs, some dry-retching, and initial light-headedness, I was, once and for all, a Smoker. This, I thought, is what I want to do for the rest of my life. And so far, so good. I eventually learned to hate menthols, and went for regular and extra-strong cigarettes, experimented a bit with roll-your-owns, dabbled in lights, tasted some novelty flavours, and eventually settled happily with cherry-flavoured kreteks.

Cherry Djarums firmly in hand, my habit soon settled into delicious routine; a routine which would carry on, I thought, indefinitely. Until Obama signed into law the Family Smoking Prevention and Tobacco Control Act in May of 2009. Now, a warning: it's very very dense, and super long. Boiled down though, it pretty much prohibits tobacco advertising around schools, imposes larger warning labels on tobacco packages, and (this is the important bit) BANS ALL FLAVORED TOBACCO PRODUCTS -- except for menthol. Supposedly, because flavoured tobaccos attract children. Right, 'cause kids love them some cloves. Suffice it to say, Indonesia, the primary exporter of kreteks to the U.S. was fucking pissed about this. And who do you think the foremost lobbyist of this act was? Fucking Phillip Morris. A company that makes menthol and unflavoured cigarettes. Sounds fishy? Well, it is. This act, supposedly, was instated to cut down on underage smoking. Well, we've already got laws for that, how about enforcing them?

But no, says Our Wonderful and Infallible Government, let's put in some new laws to get rid of all the delicious cigarettes on the market. Oh, but not menthols. Too many people smoke those; we'd have a riot on our hands. Nevermind that menthols are the most popular amongst young smokers, and are scientifically formulated specifically to attract the younger crowds, while also being harder to quit. Yeah, let's not talk about that. Now, go to any high school or junior high, and look at the half-smoked cigarette butts littering the sidewalks. For every hundred Newport butts, you might find one clove butt, and that one was probably enjoyed by a passing college student. An increasingly disgruntled and annoyed college student. A college student who, without her delicious tasty nicotine sticks, might well snap and pummel an unsuspecting octagenarian for wheezing too loudly. And why? Because her favourite smokes are nowhere to be found. Banned. Illegalized. While the pubescent teenager is still loudly enjoying a menthol cigarette made to suit his or her sensitive palate. However, my fellow downtrodden clove-lovers, a solution presents itself to mind! Let's band together and FUCKING MAKE OUR OWN!

So stay tuned, kiddies, and I'll work my twitchy, caffeinated little ass off to find the perfect recipe for the perfect flavoured clove cigarette. My experiments, successes, and failures shall be chronicled here, for your smoking pleasure. Oh, yeah, and an added bonus? It'll almost definitely save you money. Cigarettes are fucking expensive. DIY is cheap.