Wrapper : Ecuadorian Habano

Binder : Nicaraguan

Filler : Dominican

Size: 6 x 60 Box Pressed

Price: $13.50-$14.00

This cigar was a gift from my friends, Mark Cowlin and Mike Glynn at Rocky’s Cigars. They don’t carry them as they are only available in New York City.

The wrapper is medium brown with some red hue visible in the light. It is firm to the touch, and the sniff-o-rama produces a wonderful array of cedar, peaches, and toast. There is also a tinge of nutmeg and cinnamon.

The stick has a nice triple cap. Lots of tiny veins make their home on the wrapper. The complex nature of rolling this cigar means that only #9 torcedores rolled this baby.

I punch a hole with my combination Montecristo pen and punch. It slides from the cap easily.

Right off the bat, I get the taste of leather, wood, and honey. The draw is perfect and so is the char line.

At the 1” mark, I taste sweet coffee. And along with that, there are some nice baking spices that I smelled prior to lighting the cigar.

The ash is hanging like a mountain climber to the rock.

And then it gets very creamy. It really accentuates the coffee taste. There is a deep earthiness to this stick and it is very complex. Generally speaking, this stick has just about every flavor in the book…except I pick up no spiciness. Earth is its primary demeanor. With a swirling sweet fruitiness…obviously from the Ecuadorian wrapper.

So far, the body is at medium with no indications it will get stronger.

The burn line is no longer dead nuts perfect but considering the ring gauge, that is normal. But then the line corrects itself.

Now I’m getting what other reviewers call a stone fruit flavor. I was never quite sure what that meant, other than something like peach or apricot or nectarine. It was a sticky sweetness.

The coffee turns to a dark espresso into the second half. Complexity is at its core. Flavors are so dense, it’s hard to describe them…but they all stem from the earlier descriptions.

During the last third, I finally get some pepper on the tongue. And the body is beginning to ramp up a bit.

The triple cap is beginning to get a bit sloppy. That disappoints me.

I finish the cigar out thinking what a privilege it was to smoke. It’s a shame I won’t smoke another one again. This was a fluke due to the generosity of the folks at Rocky’s.

Although, if you live in New York state, I would put the arm on them and ask them to pick up a few for you.

Overall impression is that this was an excellent cigar experience. Yes. Experience. Almost 2 hours of delight and pleasure.

And now for something completely different:

A tale of New York City…Back in the late 90’s, La Guardia Airport was going through some renovations. I was senior project manager for the high end foo foo gingerbread stuff. I worked for a company in Phoenix and had to fly there regularly.

What I didn’t know going into this was the stranglehold the unions had.

The Ironworker union business agent had decided to charge us triple time without cause or reason. We went back and forth for a month on this and I got no where. The owner of my company was a weasel who told me to take care of it but would not get involved himself.

Every time I arrived at the job site, my hired NY crew were nowhere to be seen. Other trades would get on their radios alerting my men that I was there so by the time I got back to where they were supposed to be working, there they were with an Alfred E. Newman look on their faces…”What? Me worry?”

I finally demanded a meeting with the Local BA. I had to scuttle this triple time thing in the bud or we would take a horrendous loss on the job.

We were to meet at the Waldorf Astoria. It was winter and very cold.

I stood in the lobby waiting. They were late. Sending me a message.

And then they walked in. Four guys in trenchcoats. All of them huge guys.

And they all sounded very New York.

“Hey. How you doin’?”

The BA and I shook hands but the other 3 refused. We went into the empty dining room and sat down.

The BA and I sat at one table and the other 3 sat at tables all by themselves. They had surrounded me.

“Didja’ know that I’m the third BA in a year for this local?”

Gulp.

“Yeah, that’s right. The last BA just disappeared one night about 3 months ago. Hasn’t been seen from since. I got the job.”

Double gulp.

And then he leaned into me and asked why I was causing so many problems? I told him that there was no basis for charging me triple time during ordinary working hours.

All four of them laughed hard.

“Look here, kid…I say it’s triple time so that’s what it is. Capiche?”

I told him my budget would not allow for that.

They laughed again.

I was literally pissing my pants.

When I insisted that we pay them standard pay, one of the guys opened his coat to show me his shoulder holster. Never said a word.

“You should know how t’ings run around here, kid. It goes like I say it goes. Capiche?”

My mouth was so dry, I couldn’t speak so I just shook my head. I didn’t have a shoulder holster.

And with that, they got up and marched out the front door of the hotel.

I went back to my hotel and said, “Fuck it.”

I laid down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. What if I had really pushed it? Would I have disappeared?

I called the owner of my company and told him how it went. He was pissed off at me for not “handling” it correctly. I got mad. I yelled into the phone, “Well, why the fuck don’t you fly out here and straighten it out?”

Click.

Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS