New York City Diesel is a strain as sticky as the tarry streets of NYC

by DGO Pufnstuf

And it’s just as smelly, too — but we mean that in the very,very best way. (Oh, just read the review already.)

What are you reminded of when you hear the words “New York City diesel”? Is it the heat radiating off the tarry streets in Brooklyn? Is it the acrid stench of gasoline that’s fueled by bumper-to-bumper traffic in the busiest city in the nation? Or is it something else entirely?

Well, while I can’t answer that question for you, I know what the answer would be for me. Prior to last week, my answer would have been the hot pavement in the middle of NYC. But now that I’ve reviewed the New York City Diesel strain from Prohibition Herb, that phrase reminds me of some very, very good weed.

If the name of that strain sounds familiar (more familiar than just some random city-themed strain), you may actually be acquainted with it in some way. That’s because the New York City Diesel strain isn’t unique to Prohibition — it’s been around for a very long time — but it is one of the new premium strains on the dispensary shelves. And, between the nearly 27% THC and the fat as heck nugs, it looked pretty darn excellent to me, so I had to try it.

Let me tell you this right now: It did not disappoint.

For starters, this really is a gorgeous strain. I’ve come to expect the majority of Prohibition’s strains to be pretty, but this one is next effing level, you guys. A straight up 10 out of 10. The buds are bright green and layered with thick, orange hairs, so you don’t even have to squint to see that this one is a true redhead.

And, when I took a closer look at the goods after I got home — i.e. I popped open the lid on the jar — I’m pretty sure I gasped very loudly at what I saw.

I had picked up an eighth of this strain, but what I found was that there were only three nugs of weed in the jar — but it wasn’t because I was shorted. Nope. There were only three nugs in that eighth because one of those nugs was, I kid you not, taking up most of the room. It was the fattest little porker I have ever seen.

We’re not talking about a nug the size of my thumb, either. We’re talking a nug that was the length of one of my fingers — and twice the width. A true fatty bobatty right there, and I was not upset about it.

I was so impressed, in fact, that I had to take a picture of it in comparison to my hand to show all of my friends who live in non-legal states. I’m not sure they really appreciated getting pics of my giant weed, but maybe they should make better life choices and move to Colorado or whatever.

And, once I was done upsetting my remotely located friends, I put the giant fatty back into its resting place and picked out the smallest nug from the jar to get to smoking. While I would normally just tear it up with my fingers because I’m lazy, these big booty Judys were so sticky that they weren’t easy to tear. So, into the grinder it went.

That was a smart accidental move, my friends. As I ground that sucker up, it produced what is quite possibly the best smell I’ve ever smelled from a nug. Turns out these nugs smell like a brilliant mixture of citrus, spice, and incense, but I was so impressed with the sheer size of them that I’d almost overlooked it (or oversmelled it) entirely. Reminiscent of New York City traffic smells it is not.

Actually, let me let my notes do the talking on this strain’s scent. In my notes, I jotted down the following: “I’ve never loved the smell of weed before. Not like I love this smell.”

And it’s true. I do love the smell of this strain, down to the depths of my soul. In fact, I just opened the container again while typing this to get just so excellent.

I also loved the effects. Much like the scent, the effects of New York City Diesel were freaking lovely. I found myself chatty, happy, and ready to discuss any and everything with anyone I could trap in my web of extroversion.

It also shifted me into a bad idea machine, but I was very amused with the creativity that my grey matter was producing. If you need me to illustrate that point, I will tell you that I vaguely remember suggesting that we should start a new article series where we watch every single episode of Days of Our Lives while stoned and report on them. That, my friends, is what we call a terrible idea. That soap opera started in 1965 and has been on for 57 fricking seasons, which means there are approximately 14,000 episodes. It would take a literal eternity to watch them all — and I’d be beyond broke from replenishing my weed stash to do it.

Still, at the time it seemed like a brilliant idea and I would not let it go.

I also don’t want to let this strain go, and I mean that. It got to the point where I thought about swapping the review out with something else instead so I didn’t alert anyone else to the existence of this strain. I didn’t want y’all snatching up all the goods before I could replenish my stash (with approximately an eighth containing three more giant nugs).

But I know that’s selfish, and that ain’t my jam, so I guess I’ll share. If you want to jump on the New York City Diesel train, be my guest. Just please, please — I implore you — leave at least some of it on the shelves for the rest of us. It’s only fair.

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