The Barking Dog Bit. My Venture into Pipe Smoking – Dr. Ed Iannuccilli
Dr. Ed Iannuccilli, Contributor
The Barking Dog Bit. My Venture into Pipe Smoking – Dr. Ed Iannuccilli
Coffee, walks in the frigid Albany winter air, jumping jacks, a little jazz music, multiple breaks to chat with roommates ‘shortened’, while at the same time prolonged, those study hours. Not even my favorite, the sardine sandwich on toasted wheat with more coffee, helped.
My friend smoked a pipe. I liked the smell. “Fred, do you enjoy the pipe?”
GET THE LATEST BREAKING NEWS HERE -- SIGN UP FOR GOLOCAL FREE DAILY EBLAST“Yes, I do. And it helps me stay awake to study.” That’s it. I’ll get a pipe; my objective simply to stay alert during my study hours. Maybe I might even enjoy it, though enjoyment was not my goal.
Not knowing where to start, I approached the task as I did everything in those days; scientifically, I thought. As a pipe apprentice, I had no basis to compare anything, certainly not what to expect regarding tobacco. I guessed I would figure it out as I went along. After all, how hard could it be?
After trying a couple of commercial pipes, one a bad corn cob, I needed to have my own. I learned of an elderly Italian gentleman who was an expert craftsman.
In his cellar, he had stacks of beautiful briarwood. “Some of these pieces are over fifty years old,” he said, caressing the burl with pride, his hand so tight around it, I didn’t believe he would part with it. I picked one with the purest looking chunks and returned two weeks later to pick up the extraordinarily beautiful, unique, smoking machine. Now, I needed to learn how to smoke and clean it. I studied.
“What tobacco do you smoke, Fred? Cherry Blend?”
“That’s it. I have the perfect pipe for it.”
Pipe smoking became a passion, so much so that I smoked throughout the study evening. I liked the smell of Cherry Blend. “What the heck is that smell?” my roommate barked one night as he closed my door. “I can hardly see you!”
My blazing, raw palate and tongue never acclimated, but I thought that if I smoked more, they would toughen. Nutty, earthy, woody taste . . . nope. No better. I had no taste at all.
My shirts, papers and books shared the tell-tale signs of ashes gone astray; charcoal burns everywhere. Marathon piping was not a good idea. OK, time to modify this.
“Fred, the pipe is killing me. I can’t taste anything, and my tongue is sizzling.”
“Try Barking Dog tobacco. A barking dog never bites.” Barking Dog came in a nice tin. It was better, but because I could not moderate my puffing, it bit. I made it bite.
When your objective is to stay awake, it is unfair to the pipe. So, I finally put it away, never to be seen or smoked again.
I took to catnaps and sardine sandwiches.
Dr. Ed Iannuccilli is the author of three popular memoirs, “Growing up Italian; Grandfather’s Fig Tree and Other Stories”, “What Ever Happened to Sunday Dinner” and “My Story Continues: From Neighborhood to Junior High.” Learn more here.