Wrapper: Pennsylvania Broadleaf
Binder: Nicaraguan Habano
Filler: Nicaraguan Ligero
Size: 6.2 x 56 Torpedo
Body: Very Full
When they started marketing a reality TV star along with the cigar line, I turned my back on it. Clearly, no one was taking this cigar …so let’s try stupid P.R. instead. When I got my CI catalog in the mail and saw this new Diesel blend called, “Wicked,” I figured just another gimmick.
Well, let’s see.
The cigar looks to be dipped in motor oil. Construction is not consistent and goes from a little sloppy to very good. I am doing a little sloppy one today. The wrapper is extremely rustic and reminds me of the candy bar scene at the club pool in “Caddyshack.”
Marketing got the look of the cigar down perfectly. Black wrapper, Black doom saying cigar band, and a blood red band at the foot that is nearly half the length of the cigar. It’s also a very big cigar. 56 ring gauge is actually bigger than I can to stick in my mouth. But since it comes in one size only, I have no choice.
I sniff around and get a hearty tobacco smell. Very earthy. Some spiciness. And some cinnamon/cocoa at the foot.
I clip and light.
Upon first puffing, I get cocoa and some nice organic tobacco sweetness. It hits medium body immediately. The draw is superb. Char line looks good.
Red pepper kicks its heels and meets the cocoa in the flavor profile. In fact, it’s very strong in that department.
A citrusy note enters the picture…like orange zest. It is a nice complement.
Earthiness quickly becomes the dominant profile. The char line continues to show it is well made.
Who the hell is Shorty Rossi and why should I give a shit about him? I cannot stand reality TV shows. They make my skin crawl. I am a movie man. Or the educational channels. If I want my brain to turn to mush, I choose a movie, not Shorty. There are now so many good TV channels that illuminate your world and make it entertaining that I don’t even get why there is a need for the the Big 4 Prime Time Evening TV shows. I watch Modern Family. And……..I’ll get back to you on that.
The stick is burning nicely. A nice flow of limited flavors and the feeling of a solid, well-made cigar in the hand fits perfectly on this rainy Milwaukee morning.
As the first third ends, nothing of any major note occurred. But as I start the second third, I get lots of creaminess that seems to descend from nowhere.
Now we’re talking….the cigar has become a big orange zesty spicy chocolate bar.
I grab a Diet Coke.
At the halfway point, the power really ramps up into high gear. I’m doing this review with only an Atkins Shake in my belly. And clearly, this cigar is aiming to shoot me to the moon.
I get a very dark, sweet flavor…tastes like an aged red wine. And some very dark cherries.
The spiciness has ratcheted a bit down. And the flavors are now muted.
I am assuming that since this is a Diesel, this is a Fernandez cigar but I have no proof of that…its characteristics remind me more of a Tatuaje than something by A.J.
For such a big cigar, the burn is amazingly consistent. The taste of dark cherries is becoming more prominent.
Now, the price. Depending on the quantities you buy, this is a $10.00-$12.00 stick. That’s a lot of dough and I deem it overpriced. I would be much more comfy if it was in the $7.00-$8.00 range. I believe the marketing machine went hog wild on this by slapping some sort of ridiculous mythology and a fancy blood red band on the foot to make this cigar something from the gods.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s a superbly well-made cigar and every effort was made in providing a pleasurable blend….but, if I think of all the other sticks out there for this price, I’d grab them before I’d grab a Wicked. Say, Paul Stulac’s line of cigars. Now those cigars are worth $10.00, plus some.
As the last third begins, the cigar becomes a show off. Creaminess in big milky waves hits the beach head. Cocoa and cherries bring the profile to the front of the stage…and the spiciness brings it all home.
Since this is a CI/Cigar.com concoction, you will be able to save a few bucks by purchasing it on Cbid where you will probably be paying the correct price for this cigar.
I’m starting to feel the cigar in my belly now. And my vision is blurring…sort of like the first time I had sex. Minus the money shot, of course.
The creaminess is what keeps bringing the cigar to my lips. And a swig of Diet Coke allows me my chocolate soda experience. Chocolate syrup, seltzer, and ice cream. Mmmm.
I slow the proceedings way down as the nicotine buzz I’m getting is quite strong.
The creaminess brings out espresso and leather. This cigar is so damn earthy; it should have grown from the ground like carrots.
It takes me another 35 minutes to finish the last 2”. I’m swirling now.
These last 2” provide a magnificent complexity. This has to be a Fernandez blend. It is stronger than his Man O War Ruination (which I love), and probably the strongest blend he has concocted.
This stick would have better suited my needs as an after dinner smoke, not pre-breakfast.
But all in all, this is a great stick. You won’t be disappointed. But the price still nags at me.
And now for something completely different:
This was the third day that my doctor had prescribed allergy medications for me. Nothing worked. So what does he do? He prescribes Claritin. I ask the pharmacist if it would make my sleepy? He replied it would not.
I went home, had some cereal, took a Claritin and headed off to Tobacco World. I bought a “My Father” cigar by Garcia and was about 2/3 done when I nodded off. My glasses are darkly tinted and I was not facing anyone. It wasn’t until the cigar fell on my lap and lay there for a minute before the crew rang the alarm. The cherry of the cigar was burning a hole in my crotch. The yells, screams (my own), and the searing pain of testicles on fire brought me to my senses. Tim threw a glass of tap water on my crotch as I jumped around trying to get my jeans off. Two guys had to restrain me so Tim could aim accurately. I kept yelling that my balls were on fire and that my penis would be next. I began to recite all the Hebrew prayers I remembered from my Bar Mitzvah.
Everyone made a circle around me. My pants were around my ankles. There was a large burn hole in my boxers, exposing my junk. Fortunately, these were older guys and a little exposed sack did not offend them.
here were 4 older men on their knees (no mean feat) staring at my genitalia. They were looking for burns. I haven’t seen my stuff in years without the use of a mirror. Meanwhile, customers came in and out and did their business and quickly left. Tim kept asking if he should call 911? All yelled, “NO.”
Tim went into the back and grabbed some paper towels and wetted them and ran back out. One of the men applied the compress to the affected area. My head rolled back and I moaned in relief. I asked if Tim had any Neosporin. He shook his head yes. I asked which of the guys was going to apply it. I have never seen men, over 70, bounce to their feet that fast in my life. They patted me on the shoulder and pointed me towards the restroom.
There was a younger man in his 30’s there who proved to be of no help. Could I blame him? No. He asked me while I was duck walking, with my pants around my ankles, to the restroom, “Does that hurt bro?”
In the bathroom, I could not see the testicles in question. The mirror was too high. I needed a hand mirror; unlikely to be found in this bathroom. Carefully, I touched my scorched genitals. I let out a diminished whimper, “Mommy.”
I decided to run some cool water on my crotch. Now there could only be two ways to do this. 1) Get on my knees in front of the toilet and dunk them, while constantly flushing, or 2) Stand on some phone books and lean into the sink. Number 2 was my choice. As the cool water flowed over my ball sack, I stared at myself in the mirror. I was embarrassed and could not imagine leaving the rest room. A moment later, the top phone book slid off and I came crashing down on the lip of the sink. I let out a primal scream that had everyone running to the rest room. I was stuck with my package hanging in the sink and my feet dangling in midair. I screamed at the top of my lungs, “HELP ME!!!”
They lifted me off and helped me get my pants back on. I limped out of the bathroom, and not being able to face them, said my good-byes. As I opened the front door, I saw an ambulance drive up. Oh God, no.
I quickly waddled out to my car and drove home. All that is left, is for me to return today, and take the punishment much worse than the pain.
I’m going to stop at Walgreens on the way to Tobacco World and pick up a blow up hemorrhoid pillow so I can sit comfortably for the next few days.
Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS