Voodoo from Halo
7ml, 24mg/ml
I'm not that big of a fan of tobacco flavored juice. I lean more toward fruit flavors and deserts. But vaping has become somewhat of a hobby for me and I'm priding myself on building a nice juice shelf with a variety of flavors so how could that be complete without some tobacco flavors? My logic was, if I was going to get some tobacco flavors I might as well get something top shelf, since anything less would probably never get vaped. So I placed an order with Halo for a bottle of Voodoo and a bottle of Tribeca. I'll concentrate on the Voodoo for now, since it seems to have its spell on me.
I paid $12.80 for both bottles (including shipping) which means each little 7ml bottle cost $6.40 (that's $1.40 more than what the cut rate joints charge for a 15ml bottle of juice). I placed my order on November 12 and it arrived on November 20, so Halo doesn't have the speediest shipping but it's certainly no slow boat from China either. Unfortunately, Halo shipped out multiple orders under the same tracking number, which made my tracking number useless since I couldn't track my specific order with it, so it's up in the air when the package will actually arrive.
But alas it did arrive. I took the cap off and let it steep for two days before I couldn't wait any longer. I filled a Protank II Mini with a 2.4 ohm head and screwed on my ego-c twist and set it at 3.8 V. I sat down not knowing what to expect, and I took a vape, then another one, and another one, and . . .
Right off the bat I can tell this isn't merely something someone tossed together like a salad the minute after I ordered it. Voodoo is something well thought out and presteeped. It's something you have to savor in your mouth to really appreciate. There is a consistent but not overpowering tobacco essence to it that lingers on the tongue long after it is vaped, but that is just the stage for a grand opera of subtleties. If you're old enough, you may remember the Mood Ring that changed colors supposedly due to your moods and this is what Voodoo is, the Mood Ring of juices. The flavor evolves depending on what you may be eating or drinking or what you're thinking about or who knows why?
I taste a bit of a snowy February morning when it's time to trek to fourth grade and I only have time to pop two slices of Wonder Bread into the toaster. The toast comes out too dark so I sprinkle a bit of cinnamon on it and crunch away without a care in the world. But is it really that? Or is it the Windmill Cookies in my lunchbox that I eat during recess? No, as a matter of fact it might be the sugar sprinkled roll in the tray under plastic that I carefully take out with a sheet of wax paper and put in a paper bag down at the store after school.
I want to say I taste popcorn but it's not the Jelly Belly buttery popcorn flavor but more like the taste of the drive-in theater popcorn on the lips of my date. I dreamt of tasting those lips for months so now that flavor is fused to everything good and loving and it makes me feel that way on a warm summer night camping in a dark world of chirping crickets with sparks speedily floating up off the fire as I pull the blackened ear of corn from the coals. I toss it from one hand to the other, blowing on it before peeling off the husk letting out a huge ball of steam. The yellow kernels are just slightly burnt but I chomp them off the cob as my friends are playing guitar and singing. Is that flavor the same flavor as the popcorn-lips or are they two distinguishable flavors or is the popcorn Simon and the ear of corn Garfunkel?
And what does this have to do with the smell of your grandfather's sweater, or the kielbasa on his breath, or his pipe burning with rich tobacco in it, or the smell of the pages of the book he is reading to you as you sit on his lap? He has passed away and someone at the funeral smells of patchouli as you embrace your mother and your lips brush her cheek and you realize you have just tasted the salt of your mother's tears. Are you remembering the deja vu from that day or is today the deja vu? For me it was the jerk chicken from the "bad side of town" that I ate in my car while smoking a Cuban Cigar. Who knows why that moment takes me to the hot sand on the beach, to the piles of burning leaves in the distance on a breezy autumn afternoon.
I hid that chocolate bar and ate it in private because I didn't want anyone to know I spent so much money on it. When I was alone I slid off the wrapper as if it was a lover's dress and opened the gold foil as if unlocking the gates to heaven. It was so dark that it only required the tiniest bit to satisfy the palate but nevertheless I ate it in one sitting, tiny bit by tiny bit. But, no, that's not it, it's something else, something else, perhaps the tall glass of oatmeal stout with the two inch foamy head that I had at the fondue restaurant after dipping a strawberry into extra sharp cheddar cheese. What was on my tongue wasn't the masterpiece seen from a distance on the gallery wall, but the intricate brush strokes examined up close. And it was most certainly Maker's Mark and toasted coconut water with the pulp still in it and there I am again, peeling the gold foil off some piece of chocolate, this time a sphere with a cherry inside, because I've been waiting for hours for the glazed ham with pineapple rings on it to be served and now for the love of god they want to say grace!
Well, well, well, I could go on and on with what Voodoo tastes like but I fear it may become a bit too personal.
THE FINAL VERDICT
Voodoo, 10/10. (Possibly the best six bucks you will ever spend.)
Service from Halo, 8/10. (Confusing shipping can cause unwarranted stress.)
