Finding Identity

For every final product released, the reality is that in order for that one to succeed, dozens didn’t make the cut. In Finding the One, we went behind the scenes of our pheno-hunting process. The careful selection of standout cannabis plants from a diverse genetic pool. From seed to flower, we covered how we identify phenotypes with the right traits for medical use, balancing consistency, quality, and patient needs with every decision.

In our second blog of the “Finding” series, Finding Compatibility explored why no single cannabis strain suits everyone. By looking at the individuality of the endocannabinoid system and the complex role of cannabinoids and terpenes, the blog highlighted why offering diverse, GMP-quality strains is essential for meeting varied patient needs.

Releasing new products? Always exciting. Choosing which ones to release? A bit like trying to pick a favourite child… while blindfolded… in a room full of shouting siblings.

Two of our strains showed such wildly different personalities across phenotypes, it felt wrong to pick just one. Instead of narrowing down the list by strain, we found ourselves diving deeper into the expressions within a single strain and discovering unique characters that deserved their own spotlight. The problem? We couldn’t just call them all by the same name. That would be like referring to identical twins with completely different vibes as “the same one.” Confusing. Potentially misleading. And definitely not Dalgety. So, the question shifted from “which strains should we release?” to “what on earth are we going to call them?”

That’s where the real fun (and mild existential crisis) began.

At Dalgety, collaboration is kind of our thing. We’re a small, tight-knit team, and when the time came to name our new phenotypes, it only felt right that everyone had a seat (or at least a bit of wall space) in the boardroom. Now, let’s set the scene: growers, botanists, comms, and more were all packed into a room with strong opinions and stronger coffees. We’d already been through the pheno-hunting process weeks earlier, meticulously scoring each plant’s look, smell, structure, and standout quirks. The data was ready. The brief was set. Brady, our Head Grower, opened the session.

And the first contribution?

Followed by… a refusal to suggest names.

Not out of apathy, quite the opposite. It was a reminder that naming cannabis strains isn’t a novelty exercise. For many, it’s personal. The plants carry significance, and so does the work behind them. Laughter and creativity are welcome, but flippancy? Not so much. From that moment on, the tone was clear: we weren’t just branding; we were honouring. Honouring the plant, the breeder, the process and the patients who might one day rely on these products.

And since this is pharmaceutical cannabis, we don’t sample the products ourselves. That meant we had to rely entirely on the data, the plant’s lineage, and the complex bouquet of aromas that each pheno offered. Not personal experience.

We started with the simpler one, Marshmallow OG. Two standout phenotypes, but thankfully, this was about as close to straightforward as naming gets. When one of your parents is Chem Dog, you don’t have to be a botanist to guess that something in the lineage is going to shout “Chem” loud and clear. And that’s exactly what one of the phenos did. Bold, gassy, unmistakably Chem-forward. The other? A textbook Marshmallow OG. Classic, balanced, and pretty much perfect. No need to get creative there. Some things don’t need fixing.

We’d already been referring to the strain internally as “MOG,” so when the Chem-forward phenotype revealed itself, the name just… stuck. Chem MOG was born. No committee deadlock. No existential crisis. Just a clean, organic naming moment.

Rare. Beautiful. Almost suspiciously easy.

Unlike Marshmallow OG, where one pheno basically named itself, High Society brought a full line-up of unique expressions to the table. At one point, we were looking at releasing five different phenotypes. Not subtle variations, either. Each one had its own standout traits, moods, and personality quirks. Where Marshmallow OG gave us a classic, High Society handed us a cast of eccentric, complex contenders. And while none of them strayed far enough to warrant a new strain name, they were different enough that simply calling them all “High Society” would’ve caused confusion (and possibly a small riot in the grow room).

So we landed on a format:

High Society: [Name].

A consistent umbrella with room underneath for the individual characters to breathe.

Now we just had to, you know… come up with five brilliant, compliant, non-confusing, non-claiming, doctor-friendly names that still felt like they belonged in the same family. Easy. Here are the organoleptic notes, demonstrating the different expressions you can see from a single cultivar emphasising the importance of “pheno hunting”.

(Notice that there are only 3 phenos…)

One of the first questions on the table:  Do the names need to be connected? Should they feel like siblings, or are we okay with distant cousins?

We toyed with the idea of categories. Could we build around a theme? Would it help make things feel more cohesive? As the only facility in the UK licensed to cultivate, manufacture, and supply GMP-certified cannabis, we knew we wanted the UK to be reflected somehow, if not overtly, then at least as a subtle influence threading through our choices. And of course, with a name like High Society, there was a certain level of elegance, heritage, and prestige to live up to. These couldn’t sound like characters from a cartoon or items on a dessert menu (as tempting as that was at times). They needed to feel grounded in something meaningful.

After much back-and-forth and one suspiciously heated debate over whether “Peppermint Grove” was genius or madness (it was madness), we finally landed on a shortlist of themes: gemstones, quality hierarchies, arcane mystique, sultry perfume, industrial luxe, British countryside, and, of course, sensory profile. Each category produced a flurry of names – some brilliant, some… less so. That’s when it hit us. Forcing all five phenos into one theme was a bit like trying to dress five very different people in matching outfits. At least one was bound to look uncomfortable.

Given how much care and precision goes into producing our flower, saying “that’ll do” just isn’t the Dalgety way. So we did what anyone would do, we made a big list and sent it to leadership.

And… the reaction?

Muted. Respectful silence. Possibly a collective existential sigh. No one hated them. But no one loved them either. The energy in the room said it all: back to the drawing board.

Eventually, clarity struck! Not so much like lightning, but more like a polite knock at the door. We realised that while we could release five phenotypes from this strain, we didn’t have to. With other cultivars already in development, there was no need to force it. Instead, we focused on picking the best of the best: three phenos that truly earned their place. We each put forward two sets of three names. The only rules? No chaos. No duplicates. And no codenames that would turn into confusing or unfortunate abbreviations once distilled into packaging or internal systems.

With a little alignment, a vague inability to stick entirely to the rules, and the Dalgety obsession for detail firmly in play, three names emerged, each appearing more than once on the leadership lists.

So next time someone says, “naming strains must be fun”,  kindly point them to this blog… and walk away slowly…