High and Dry in New England or In Search of Fresh Pot

I am very forgiving when it comes to mediocre weed. If I don’t like the smell or taste of something, I may choose not to consume it, but I never disparage whoever grew it. Growing really good weed isn’t easy, and the factors that go into producing an especially potent expression of any genetic are so varied and susceptible to fortune that even the best harvests are agricultural gifts.

That said, every cultivator I’ve ever met who was good at coaxing true genetic expression from the plant was also a stickler for freshness, and eschewed dry flower as if it were a harbinger of death, which it may well be. Dry bud is the inescapable result of time, but it also is a choice and generally speaking it should never be sold to an unsuspecting public. It’s like selling someone almost-bad milk, only the consumer has no way to smell it or taste it to ensure its freshness. Not okay.

And yet, that is what I was sold during my first foray into a Massachusetts dispensary last week after moving from Los Angeles to Connecticut. The flower was in fact recommended by the budtender, who in all fairness had to deal with a customer (me) new to the state, but dry does not begin to describe what I bought. The bud looked mummified, which might have been a selling point if it were 4000 years old and still smokable, but it was far from the former and barely the latter. The date of harvest listed on the label read March of this year, making it approximately six months until the day I bought the stuff. A small freshness pack was included, but it was unable to keep the buds from embalming.

Personally, I think the flower had reached the edge of viability and should have been put on sale like they do bread or meat when it approaches its expiration date, but maybe the store had already discounted the eighth I bought for $40 before taxes. I don’t know. This industry has no official expiration date for flower, but experiences like this could eventually create a consumer demand for freshness that over time becomes a new industry standard.

Time will tell, but what I now know is that the problem is not unique to this brand, this store, or Massachusetts. It is industry-wide and probably gets too little attention considering the fact that a reputation for dryness could be a veritable kiss of death for a flower brand no matter where it sits in the quality food chain.

This was driven home to me a year or so ago after a dispensary owner friend in Los Angeles made an off-handed comment about the recent woes of a well-known cannabis brand. We were chatting in the back office of his store, and I noticed he was selling this certain flower, and asked him how it was going.

“Not so good,” he said. “I can’t sell it.”

I was surprised by the answer. “Why not?”

“Too dry. No one wants to buy it.”

The point stuck with me. I did not know if it was a problem with the grower or an issue with delivery, or what, but I knew that if this dispensary was having trouble selling the brand, other stores were as well, and that meant enough time had passed for word to get out that the flower was dry. I also knew that my dispensary owning friend would drop the brand in a New York minute if the problem persisted.

A few months later, I received some flower gifted to me from a brand whose reputation was built on quality. I was eager to test the bud, and so appreciative, but when I opened the package, I was surprised to find cannabis flower so dry that it almost evaporated to the touch. I could tell the underlying genetics were interesting, but it was impossible for the flower I received to express those genetics. In such a dried-out state, it could only hint at its original quality.

I was extremely disappointed, but more than that I was perplexed. Why was it sent to me like this in the first place? The owner of the company wanted me to experience their flower, knowing I would appreciate it, which baffled me all the more. How could I fully experience it in this state? I figured he did not know about it, but that did not negate the fact that their branded unacceptably dry cannabis was out into the world. Nothing could take that back. It could only be corrected.

After that experience, I started asking everyone I met who grew or sold cannabis if they thought a reputation for dry weed could kill a flower brand, and no one said no. In fact, most people did not hesitate before answering yes. The question of course has an obvious answer.

At times, I think the stakes with dry flower are so steep that it needs to be a higher priority for everyone involved in the supply chain of this part of the cannabis market. I know growers who are obsessed with delivering fresh, untouched flower only, and with good reason, but so much of the process is out of their direct control, even if they do their own distribution.

And I guess it’s understandable that a retailer would tolerate selling dry flower, especially their own brands, but isn’t the real downside for them the potential loss of a customer for good?

I know people do not believe that the average cannabis consumer will leave the store without buying something, and there is probably some truth to that, but if you keep sticking that same customer with tumbleweeds, after a while even they will mosey along to greener pastures.

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