Crème de Figue is subtle. At first, its coarse grind is off-putting. Granular, the snuff looks like the sawdust of Circassian Walnut. The half-filled tin is insulting, but the content’s 15g weight is exact. Upon opening, it smells like a bag of ordinary pipe tobacco. Upon uptake, you get a little burn and barely anything to taste. At first Crème de Figue treads lightly but then rhythmically builds, like Maurice Ravel’s Boléro, slowly adding intensity and flavour, layer by subtle layer. The snuff is dry, yet bonds itself to the nostrils by humidity of the nasal cavity. Its rough grind prevents the throat drip associated with dry powders and uses the Arak to release the essences of fig, molasses, vanilla and Spanish cedar into the pallet. Very long in the nose, the pleasure unwraps itself slowly like the wax paper of saltwater taffy. After a goodly moment you bring the tin to your nose to discover the familiarity that lurked within it all along: the rejoicing memory of the humidor at your favourite cigar shop.
On the back of the tin, under the health warning, in a print too fine for my unassisted eyes to see, the following manufacturer’s instructions are written: “REFRIDERATE AND KEEP TIGHTLY CLOSED AFTER OPENING”. Sir Walter Scott fabricates artisanal snuff in which the ribs and stalks of the tobacco leaves have been removed. No preservatives are added and not all ingredients are torrefied. As such, tins must be refrigerated after opening. This is very unusual for snuff and not every pinch reviewer is aware of these explicit instructions. Not heeding the order may alter the flavour and negatively affect the snuff taking experience.