You’d be hard-pressed to find a gummy shortage in any corner of the edibles market. Most edible companies use THC or CBD distillate to infuse their gummies, and typically separate them into 10-milligram pieces. “All of the bright packages and kaleidoscope of flavors could lead you to believe that infused candy possibilities are endless,” wrote Kate Ryan for Weedmaps. “But as a gummy connoisseur, let me tell you: most weed gummies are virtually indistinguishable.”
In a market where most weed gummies are nearly identical on a chemical level, the search for a canna-infused chewable treat that separates itself from the pack ultimately becomes a matter of presentation, form, flavor, and personal taste. If there’s a major difference in how a gummy makes you feel, it’ll depend on whether the gummy includes other cannabinoids and terpenes (even in trace amounts), as well as one’s own genetic predisposition to absorb cannabinoids through digestion.
As someone who’s tried just about every popular gummy in Southern California, and whose body is generally receptive to edibles, Kanha’s infused gummy belts hit a sweet spot for me between familiarity and innovation in both presentation and effect.
For this review, I’ll be taking a look at Kanha’s new Sour Cherry Limeade infused belts.
Kanha belts come in your typical, heavy-duty resealable bag with all the usual information displayed on the front label, including quantity (two belts), THC content (50 milligrams THC per belt, with five 10-milligram servings per belt), and flavor (emphasizing sour to distinguish it from Kanha’s regular, sweeter belt line).
One standout element of the label, however, is a white line near the bottom containing bold, black, capital-letter print that reads “for the high-dose consumer.” This product’s relatively subtle but distinct framing distinguishes it from your typical 10-milligram gummy. Though the label also indicates that the product can be eaten in moderate-dose, 10-milligram segments, designating it as a 50-milligram total, high-dose product is a significant sea-change.
On the back of the package, there’s a section that elaborates on the “high-dose consumer” angle, suggesting dosing flexibility that retains the consumer who prefers moderate, controlled doses without ditching the advertised high-dose functionality altogether.
Again, most of this is a matter of presentation. And sure, one could just as easily buy a tin of 10-milligram gummies and take five of them at once to theoretically get the same effect. There are also plenty of chocolate bars and other edibles that are one high-dose piece theoretically divided into 10- or 5-milligram segments. Still, the fact that this gummy product guides consumers to make their own choice about dosing with flexibly high-dose parameters makes it a significant and worthwhile outlier.
When I opened up my bag of Kanha Sour belts, I was a bit taken aback by the heft and texture of them. Other gummy “belts” I’ve tried have been ultra-thin and, frankly, not particularly tantalizing in terms of texture or taste. These belts have a delightfully sweet flavor, while the sourness is more of a subtle accent.
Overall, these belts offer a consumption experience that’s significantly more enjoyable than competing products I’ve tried.
In light of the product’s “high-dose consumer” designation, I decided to test out its effectiveness by breaking off three segments for a total of 30 milligrams of THC. This would give me an idea of how effective the product is in high doses while still being a little cautious for my first run. I figured taking a dose between 10 and 50 milligrams would also give me some idea of what to expect on either end of the spectrum.
I broke off three segments of one belt and ate them at about 6 p.m., about an hour before dinner. I should mention that I was particularly impressed with how easily breakable the belt segments are, though as a whole piece, the belt felt and looked very much like one seamless gummy treat. Anyway, an hour passed, almost to the minute, before I felt the effects kick in, subtle and creeping at first, then all at once, like a slow-mo mad psychedelic rush of blood to the head.
That hour between consumption and activation was one of those between hours where you kind of forget you took an edible because you’re just lost enough in the mundanity of now or whatever else is going on. My wife had just got home and we were engaging in our typical “how was your day” decompress session. As the hour passed and I found myself in that, “oh yeah, am I feeling this yet?” phase of the creep-up, my wife was in the middle of telling me this spooky real-life ghost story she’d heard from someone at work. Then the universe timed it just right so the climax to her story hit right when I got that bang-boom-pow “oh yeah, I AM feeling this” feeling. But a bad trip this wasn’t. When it hit, it hit hard, but not alarmingly or anxiously, as frequently happens with high-powered edibles.
The rest of the night played out like one long chill-beat jazz hop playlist, the type of high that slowed down time enough for me to scarf down a good meal but still feel like I was savoring it. After dinner, I streamed a couple of shows and found myself enjoying them and (mostly) following them even as my mind raced with thoughts and impressions and multiple threads of ideas.
It was a bit of a rapid-fire mind trip, but one I enjoyed and felt in sync with. And through it all, I felt my limbs loosen and warm up with high-potency tingles. At some point, I was worried I’d start to get the shivers, which is always my first sign of an edible high about to go bad, but the shivers never came, and neither did my usual bout with mild paranoia.
By the time I thought about looking at my watch it was a quarter to 10:00. I was still high, but had been on the downslope for roughly a half-hour. That’s when my body sank further into heavy relaxation, the mind haze started to lift, and my eyesight became sharper again.
An edible — or any high-potency weed product — hits right for me when I feel in sync with the chaos of all possible sensory input l both lost and found on a perpetual free-fall dive through the great void that contains everything.
Thirty milligrams of Kanha’s Sour Cherry Limeade candy belt put me in that exact space for sure, curbing anxiety and paranoia while relaxing the body and totally flipping the dial on all head-buzz frequencies. Plus, it’s a tasty treat presented in a fluid, consumer-friendly form.
So if you’re a high-dose consumer, this is a gummy worth seeking out and conveniently trying at your own pace.
Featured image courtesy of Kanha/Weedmaps
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