by Erwin Van Hove

If you assume that by definition a pipe maker must be an enthusiastic pipe smoker, you’re fooling
yourself. Your favorite artisan might actually be an avid consumer of cigarettes or even a non-
smoker. Sure, at a pipe show he might clench one of his briars between his teeth, but it’ll be out
of a sense of duty rather than pleasure. Mind you, there’s worse. One day I got a call from an
amateur carver who bluntly asked for my public endorsement for the embarrassingly ugly kitsch
he was producing. During conversation he admitted that he never ever smoked one of his clumsy
creations. In short, it seems naive to presume that all pipe makers are expert pipe smokers.

Granted, not all the engineers and mechanics at the Ferrari plant need to drive one of those
legendary racing cars in order to be able to build high performance automobiles. And yet it is
my firm belief that a pipe maker, any pipe maker, should smoke a pipe. His own, obviously, and
those of his competitors. A pipe is not a mere inanimate and standardized object. It’s a breathing
organism with a personality of its own which is the result of the combination of an impressive series
of variables. Each and every block of briar that is transformed into a pipe produces its very own
taste. A pipe is like a cheese : in a joint effort, man and nature manage to turn a single commodity
into an infinite variety of finished products, each with its highly individual character. Now, it goes
without saying that the industrial manufacturers of camembert as well as the small-scale producers
of raw milk goat cheese systematically and conscientiously taste the fruits of their efforts. These
tastings even constitute the basis of quality control. To taste is to ensure customer satisfaction.
Cheese makers are well aware of this.

The crusts of most mass-produced hard cheeses are covered with a fine layer of plastic. It’s
hygienic, it preserves, it protects. Nevertheless, these aseptic cheeses look disappointingly pitiful
next to those with natural crusts of which the multitude of colors, structures and patterns promises
far more complex and authentic gustatory pleasures. Well, the same goes for pipes. Bowl coatings
are used to seal and to protect but they obscure or, worse, sacrifice the character and personality
of the natural product that forms the heart of your pipe. And that’s a shame. Look at the great
wines. Sometimes they are vinified in oak barrels and for sure they are raised in oak casks. In
contact with the wood, they develop more complex aromas and flavors. Between wine and wood
a beneficial synergy is established that no one in their right mind would dare to deny. No wine
grower, no oenologist would ever claim that by coating their barrels with some protective paste,
they would in no way alter that precious symbiosis between the container and the content. Yet,
what would seem like a sacrilege for any self-respecting winemaker, is a common practice among
pipe makers.

Let me ask you : frankly, do you prefer a coated bowl or rather a virgin tobacco chamber ? It’s
a rhetorical question since I know the answer : the vast majority of experienced pipe smokers
prefer a pipe without bowl coating. And you’re in good company : the famous pipe dealer and
connoisseur Marty Pulvers incessantly expresses his predilection for virgin bowls ; the respected

Italian retailer Tarek Manadily downright refuses to sell any pipe that has been coated ; the always
analytical Greg Pease conducted a series of experiments that proved to his highly sensitive taste
buds that a pipe with a coated tobacco chamber will never equal the taste sensations of a pure and
unadulterated one. But what about the pipe makers themselves ? Well, it’s simple : I can’t think of
any European carver I’m acquainted with who coats his personal pipes. And that includes artisans
whose pipes systematically come coated. In short, pipe makers are like the rest of us : they just
love to eye the grain and the shades of a virgin bowl and to caress the luscious flanks of a smooth
tobacco chamber. And, above all, they cherish the magical moment when, during its baptism of
fire, the briar starts to unveil its personality and to reveal its secrets. If connoisseurs, experts and
a majority of pipe makers share a preference for virgin tobacco chambers, how come the pipe
market is flooded with black and grey bowls ? And how to explain this surprising paradox : it is both
among the cheapest, least prestigious pipes and in the high grade niche of the market that we see
the highest percentage of bowl coatings ?

Thankfully, there are still quite a few carvers left who supply you with uncoated pipes. Since it is
neither my intention to praise certain individuals, nor to attack others, I do not feel called to list
their names. Besides I suppose you know them already. Anyway, I salute them and express my
gratitude. In addition to these consistent defenders of the bare briar, there’s a myriad of brands
and makers that I would call hybrid : they offer both coated and uncoated bowls. In a rare burst
of goodwill, I could maintain that this practice suits a noble purpose that is to satisfy everyone.
It is indeed a fact that certain high grade artisans do offer the choice to their customers. That’s
perfect. But when I think of all the brands and makers who only coat a part of their production, I
have to confess my skeptical nature takes over from my goodwill. I cannot help but wonder why
these manufacturers coat such pipe and not such other one. When I observe that a brand offers
for sale a group of pipes of the same series and with the same grade and that some have coated
bowls while most of their little sisters are virgins, when I notice that the most expensive series of a
manufacturer come uncoated while the less prestigious ones sport a bowl coating, I don’t think I’m
being paranoid or exceedingly suspicious when I suppose that maybe certain tobacco chambers
fear the daylight. Is it farfetched to suspect that sometimes a bowl coating serves as camouflage ?
Are you certain all bowls with flawed tobacco chambers end up as fire wood ? Is it out of the
question that a bowl coating hides a sizable fill ? Frankly, I’d be surprised. Caveat emptor.

Finally, there are the hard-core bowl coating fans who coat their entire production. Very often high
grade pipe makers. I confess from the outset they exasperate me. Although I have extensively
discussed the issue with several of them, to this day I fail to understand their ways because their
arguments seem weak and easily refutable. But before addressing their assertions, let us first
try to comprehend why these days we see so many coated high grade pipes. It’s simple, really :
rather than listening to the customer, the contemporary pipe makers imitate their role models.
If Scandinavian, German, American or Japanese star carvers coat their bowls, why would an
aspiring young artisan do things differently ? When I read the forums where young carvers seek
advice from more accomplished colleagues, it strikes me that rather than inquiring about the
necessity of bowl coatings and about the merits of this process, they’re merely interested in finding
what seems like the holy grail : the perfect recipe.

Now then, what about the arguments the pipe makers themselves repeat over and over again to

justify the fact that they so often rob us of the pleasures of a virgin bowl ? Personally, I find them
rather unconvincing. But you be the judge.

A coated tobacco chamber is more beautiful.

Obviously a very arguable argument because of its subjectivity. At best, I can conceive that a black
tobacco chamber suits a blasted pipe with a black finish better than a virgin one, but this argument
strikes me as completely unfounded when it comes to a tan shell or any smooth pipe, be it waxed
only or finished with any type of stain. To me, a flawless virgin bowl that sports its grain and its
natural color, looks much more attractive and appetizing.

A coated tobacco chamber facilitates the breaking in process.

Really ? Did you ever stumble upon a pipe with a virgin bowl that stubbornly refused to form a
cake despite the fact you smoked it according to good practice ? I did not. Or have you found
that your coated pipes break in in record time ? I have not. And have you noticed that the cake
in your coated bowls is obviously of a much higher quality than the one in your uncoated pipes ?
I have not. It must be me. Still, I don’t deny that in theory cake should adhere more easily to the
rather coarse surface of paste coated walls than to a smooth tobacco chamber. Besides, that’s
the reason why certain pipe makers prefer not to polish the inside of their bowls. However, my
personal experiences make me conclude that in practice I don’t notice any difference.

A coated tobacco chamber protects against burnouts.

Every time a pipe maker tries to convince me with this argument, I feel vexed. Because,
fundamentally, this argument is condescending and reveals an undeserved distrust. It presupposes
that I’m either an incompetent smoker or a ruffian who mistreats his pipes. And I don’t particularly
like to be taken for a blunderer or a barbarian. This said, I fully understand that for a pipe maker,
especially for one who is active in the high-end niche of the market, a burnout is his worst
nightmare: not only does it cost him numerous hours of work to manufacture a replacement, it can
also destroy his reputation. Nonetheless, on the one hand I wonder whether the insurance policy
in the form of a bowl coating effectively covers the risk and on the other hand I ask myself whether
the risk really justifies such drastic measures. Throughout three and a half decades I’ve smoked
around five hundred different pipes and I never ever had a burnout. Because I’m an exceptionally
gifted smoker ? I’m sure this is not the case. Because I’ve been incredibly lucky ? I don’t believe
that either. Moreover, although I know quite a few passionate pipe fans and collectors, I have
almost never heard of a high grade pipe that burned out. And when this happens anyway, the
number of possible causes is limited to three : a smoker who overheats his pipe, a major invisible
flaw in the wood or a badly executed pipe. I wonder if a bowl coating can avoid a burnout when a
deep fissure is running near the surface of the tobacco chamber or when a pipe maker for instance
didn’t leave enough wood in the heel. Honestly, I don’t think so. Besides, in these cases it seems
only fair that the customer gets a replacement pipe. That leaves us with the smoker. Now, I cannot
imagine that the customers of high grade pipe makers are clumsy neophytes, careless bums or
ferocious vandals. So, as a matter of fact, with their bowl coatings the high grade artisans are
protecting themselves against the most experienced, careful, fussy smokers in the world. And

in doing so, they go against the wishes of the vast majority of the customers who provide their
livelihood. That’s sad. And stupid.

The taste of a bowl coating is neutral.

Every pipe maker who coats his bowls will assure you that his recipe is perfectly neutral and has
no effect whatsoever on the taste of your pipe. Nonsense. Even if the chemical composition of
a bowl coating is 100% tasteless, it remains a fact that the briar is not in direct contact with your
smoldering tobacco and, consequently, cannot freely release its natural flavor. By definition a
bowl coating is never ever neutral since it conceals the briar taste and hence affects your sensory
perception. That’s not all. Granted, charcoal and dairy-based recipes have the double advantage
of being edible and not to generate off-flavors, but most brands and makers use water glass as an
ingredient. To my palate the result is an artificial taste that, in some cases, can be downright foul.
Worse still, even when you sand down the tobacco chamber to remove the coating, you’ll continue
to detect the taste and, according to Greg Pease, during the whole of its lifespan a coated bowl will
never equal the taste sensations of a pipe with bare walls. Therefore, I cannot repeat it enough :
pipe makers should test, taste, compare.

A bowl coating ends up burning away anyway.

When I make critical remarks about their bowl coatings, usually pipe makers reply in unison it’s not
the end of the world because after a few smokes, the paste will gradually disappear. Gee ! What
a gigantic paradox ! So, they assure me I need a bowl coating to enhance the breaking in process
and to protect my pipe against burn outs and now they tell me that after a few pipefuls, I’ll not only
have to do without the invaluable support I so urgently need in order to build a proper cake, but
also, oh horror, that my briar mistress and I romp about without any protection against the risks of
our burning passion. Seriously, am I the only one here to feel led on ?

At the end of these reflections, I would like to appeal to you. If, like me, you have a strong
preference for bare tobacco chambers, stop resigning yourself to purchase coated pipes you would
have wished to be virgin. End the frustration, break the silence. Instead, don’t hesitate to contact
your favorite pipe makers and to express your regrets and desires. Ask them to remove the coating
from the pipe you’d like to add to your harem. Expressly commission pipes with virgin bowls. Have
the courage of your convictions. Be a knight in shining armor and stand up for the rights of virgins.