So here’s what happened: a buddy brought a brand-new dab rig to a winter cabin sesh, then spent ten minutes “seasoning” his banger with a bargain torch that sputtered like a broken lighter. The dabs tasted weird, the quartz got cooked, and the whole table smelled like fuel.
Here’s the quotable truth, and it belongs in every dabbing guide: buy a stable torch with real flame control, feed it clean fuel, and treat it like a power tool, not a party favor.
A torch doesn’t just “make heat.” It decides whether your quartz banger heats evenly, whether you scorch terps, and whether your dab station feels calm or chaotic.
I’ve been dabbing for about eight years now, and for the last three I’ve tested torches the same way every time. Same quartz banger (25 mm bucket), same timer habit, same countertop setup with a dab pad under the hot stuff. If a torch can’t behave in that routine, it’s not a daily driver.
A solid baseline setup looks like this:
And yeah, I’m biased, but this is exactly why I keep an Oil Slick Pad on my table. A good oil slick pad (the product, not the vibe) turns a messy rig corner into an actual dab station. Less reclaim on the wood, fewer panic moments.
This sounds dramatic, but the torch is the most underrated piece of dabbing accessories. People will spend $120 on a gorgeous glass rig, then cheap out on the one tool that literally brings the heat.
In 2026, the way people dab has shifted a bit:
So the “torch basics” are not just basics anymore. You want control, consistency, and a routine that doesn’t fall apart when you’re tired.
Here’s what I’d actually shop for, with real-world price ranges:
Budget Option ($15 to $25)
Mid-Range Option ($30 to $60)
Premium Option ($70 to $120+)
My opinion: most people should live in the mid-range. Cheap torches “work,” but they’re noisy, inconsistent, and they train you into sloppy heat habits. Premium is great if you actually dab daily and want the same heat cycle every time.
But honestly, this is where people get weirdly tribal. The fuel debate can sound like sports talk.
Here’s the practical take.
Butane is the standard for dab torches because it’s easier to control in smaller handheld designs. It’s also common in the kinds of torches people use indoors at a dab tray.
Butane is typically the move if:
Propane torches are powerful. Too powerful for a lot of dab routines, unless you’re experienced and careful. They also tend to be bigger and more “hardware store,” which is not always what you want next to your glass.
Propane makes sense if:
People swear they can taste fuel. Sometimes they can, but it’s usually not the fuel type itself. It’s dirty fuel, torch soot from incomplete combustion, or heating so hot you’re basically tasting toasted everything.
If you keep a clean blue flame and you’re not burying the tip of the flame into the quartz, you’re already ahead of the internet.
Flame control is the whole game. Big flame doesn’t equal better dabs. It just equals big flame.
I look at five things when I pick up a torch.
A knob should turn smoothly, and it shouldn’t drift from vibration. If the flame length changes because you set the torch down, it’s not ready.
Tiny plastic knobs also bug me. They’re hard to adjust with sticky fingers. Real life.
If it takes three clicks every time, you will eventually do something dumb. Like keep clicking while the torch is partially leaking and then it finally lights.
It should light on the first click, almost every time.
Set it on a counter. Does it roll toward your dab rig like it’s trying to ruin your weekend?
A torch that lies sideways is not automatically unsafe, but it raises the odds of you setting it down while it’s hot, or setting it down pointing at something stupid.
Single jet is my preference for quartz buckets and low temp routines. It’s easier to “paint” the heat around the banger evenly.
Multi-jet can be nice for larger bangers or faster heat cycles. But it can also create hot spots if you’re not moving the flame.
A terp slurper needs a different heating pattern than a simple bucket. If you rotate between a slurper and a bucket, buy a torch that lets you do both without acting like you’re playing a tiny flamethrower video game.
And here’s the part nobody says out loud. If you’re constantly chasing “perfect temp,” consider whether your problem is the torch, or the fact you don’t time your heat and cool cycle.
A $10 kitchen timer has improved more sessions than any hype accessory.
Fuel quality is where the “my dabs taste off” mysteries usually end.
In my own testing, the biggest difference wasn’t brand hype. It was consistency and cleanliness. I used to buy whatever can was cheapest, and I’d get random sputters, weird smells, and that occasional faint “garage” vibe right after torching.
Then I switched to refined butane and stuck with it for months. Same concentrates tasted brighter. Less irritation. Less drama.
If a can says “refined” and it’s meant for torches, you’re on the right track. More refined usually means fewer impurities, and fewer impurities means a cleaner burn.
Avoid mystery cans that feel like they’ve been bouncing around a trunk since 2019.
Half of “bad torch performance” is user error during refills.
A clean refill looks like this:
1. Turn the torch off, and let it cool fully
2. Go outside, or at least to serious ventilation
3. Hold the torch upside down
4. Press the butane can nozzle firmly, straight down for 3 to 5 seconds
5. Stop, wait 30 seconds, then top off again if needed
6. Let it rest 3 to 5 minutes before lighting, so the gas stabilizes
If you refill and instantly spark it, you’re inviting sputter city.
A clean torch flame is mostly blue. If you’re seeing a lot of yellow, you’re likely running incomplete combustion, or you’re pushing the torch too close so airflow gets weird.
And if your torch is leaving soot on your banger, stop using it until you fix that. Soot equals bad burn. Bad burn equals gross flavor and more crud on your quartz.
Real talk: most torch accidents aren’t explosions. They’re the smaller stuff. Burned fingers. Melted plastic. A torch that tips and kisses a paper towel.
And keep a heat-safe landing zone. That’s where a wax pad or silicone mat earns its keep. I’ve dropped a hot dab tool onto an Oil Slick Pad and just shrugged. If that had been bare wood, I’d be sanding.
Fuel and heat don’t mix with “random drawer.”
Do this instead:
Also, check your torch occasionally. If the ignition gets sticky, clean around it. If the seals look cracked, retire it. Torches are cheaper than hospital bills.
Flying with torches is a headache. Rules vary by country and airline, and enforcement varies by the mood at the checkpoint.
The safest assumption is:
If you want the official word, TSA and FAA guidance is the place to look. They update language and enforcement patterns, and screenshots from forums don’t help when you’re standing in line.
Road trips are easier, but still not free-for-all. Don’t leave a fuel can baking in a summer car. Don’t toss a torch in a glovebox full of receipts and lighters.
And if you’re traveling with glass, like a favorite bong or dab rig, pad it like you mean it. A silicone mat can double as a wrap layer in a pinch, and it beats letting glass clink against itself for three hours.
I’ll tell you what I actually do when I’m choosing a torch, standing there like a dork clicking igniters.
Also, don’t ignore the rest of your setup. The torch is part of a system.
A clean dab station helps you be safe without thinking about it. A concentrate pad keeps tools from sliding. A silicone dab mat keeps hot parts from touching your counter. A decent q-tip cup keeps you from waving dirty sticks around like tiny flags.
If you want to tighten up the rest of your routine, Oil Slick Pad has solid basics. A proper dab pad and a simple dab tray change the whole feel of the sesh.
And if you’re the type who bounces between dabs and a vaporizer, your torch matters even more, because you’re not building tolerance to sloppy heat. You’ll taste every mistake.
I’ve never met someone who regretted buying a safer, more controllable torch. I have met plenty of people who regretted the cheap one that sputtered, sooted their banger, and turned a nice rosin into burnt popcorn.
Build a routine you can repeat. Park your torch in the same place. Use clean fuel. Keep a real dab station with a dab pad under the hot stuff. Your future self will thank you, and your quartz will stop looking like it’s been through a divorce.
That’s the kind of dabbing guide advice that sticks, because it’s not theory. It’s just what works, session after session, in 2026.