Prince Albert, the only tobacco I know that has a famous practical joke associated with it, is no joke. The aroma in the can (the Prince will forever remain in that can) is fresh and clean, a hint of prunes stored in the pantry next to the cocoa, but still the quintessential smell of pipe tobacco.
I've heard it said that it's simply burley, but more seems to be here than that. Surely there's a bit of Virginia in there as well, but that's a guess; if not, it has to be as smooth as any burley on the planet. Only the most ham-fisted packing and smithy-like bellows-puffing through a nasty pipe can make it bite. Anyone who claims this tobacco bites has no talent for the gentle art of pipe smoking or is simply allergic to tobacco and should give it up entirely. A gravity fill with a gently packed down mound at the top gives a beautiful burn to the end of the bowl, possibly the easiest smoking tobacco one can find. The casing never dominates, barely even coming into play at all. This is what good pipe tobacco tastes like.
Most days start with the Prince for me, as it lays down a baseline against which to compare the more complex smokes to come. I know that there will be no finicky lighting problems, no tongue damage to ruin the more esoteric blends to follow, no funky flavors to stick in my mouth nor overpowering room notes to taint the morning.
Some might say it has insufficient nicotine to launch the mind and body into activity, and they'd be right about that, but it has at least a medium low punch to it. I suppose one could pack it competition style and get an hour from a bowl, but packed more loosely, as I prefer, a half hour in a standard sized pipe results in nothing left but ash. I do not find this to be a disadvantage or a valid complaint against it. It is what it is, a simple, good pipe tobacco that gets little respect among the tin men. Prince Albert deserves better! He's royalty in my book.