Like most people who identified as a “stoner” at some point in their lives, my first edible experience was terrible. After smoking cannabis regularly for about three months in college, I assumed I had the tolerance of a 300 lb grown man and ate two whole cookies from a medical dispensary (before things were tested). I proceeded to have a three-hour panic attack while watching Alice in Wonderland in 3D. I didn’t try another edible for six years.
Then I moved to Portland, got my card, and got to know the rates of potency and lab result labels on the strictly regulated shelves in Oregon. The next time I tried an edible, it was a 5 mg lozenge from a state-licensed edible maker. It was like the anti-anxiety pill I never knew I could experience without