Hoi An

“Where is this from?”

“Hoi An.”

This is a common answer from old-timers in the oud world to refer to Indo-Chinese oud, which also includes Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar, and Vietnam.

While some might be thinking, “Why can’t they tell you exactly where it’s from?” it’s part of the old-school tradition, which I’ve been greatly influenced by, to not focus too much on definitions and technicalities, but on the aroma.

Some of the best noses I know in the oud world are clueless about the differences between ‘microcarpa’ or ‘sinensis’, but they’d trump this kind of academia any day by simply pointing at an aquilaria and know what kind of oud you’d get from it. 

They’re from the small-leaf-big-leaf school. They think of Hoi An and the Golden Triangle, unperturbed by lines drawn on a map. 

As usual, the best way lies down the middle. That’s what makes Hoi An an ironic oud…

While the raw materials that went into the distillation do herald from Hoi An, we pursued it scientifically. Because it wasn’t just another run-of-the-mill co-distillation, we were able to get notes that wouldn’t otherwise exist; create a new smell that hints at familiar ground, only to tread into unknown terrain a few minutes later.

You’d get the subtlest whiff of that dried apricot tone you’d smell in Cambodian ouds from the 70s and 80s, only to be thrown off track by a cool resinous oceanic breeze you’d expect from Sri Lankan oud (which, FYI, depending on who you ask, counts as Hoi An…)

That walla-patta-like aquamarine cool somehow got injected with a shot of pineapple (unusual for any oud), which then – smell deeper – lets you discover how that exciting pineapple note got entangled in notes of oolong and mimosa. 

Smell deeper yet, and you run into this white flower tea fest flooded in a succulent tone that’s…… imagine cucumber and lemon blossom dripping into a bittersweet pool of Nha Trang stirred by… did I just smell green apple?

Wearing tech goggles when you study oud has its place and its perks. But there’s another approach which is actually the way of most old-timers – to simply indulge in the aroma without intellectualizing anything – no thoughts of copper-steel, shotgun or double helix, Laos or Pursat…

Just those cucumber frangi blue fruity oolong vibes that fill your mind not with questions but a psychedelic whirl of colors that lets you just… bliss out.

Sure, saying “Hoi An” might not cut it if you want to find a specific smell again – then you’d want to pinpoint a jungle or species or distillation style, fair enough.

But what if an oud is so unique you can’t discern where exactly it’s from, nor can you replicate the scent again because it’s such a unique feat to have pulled off in the first place – does it matter anymore?

In this case, Hoi An might well be the best answer you could get! 

So, zen down and smell up and let this oud take you wherever it wants. Take a swipe and let go, as if you’re smelling oud for the first time and you know nothing yet.