Wrapper: Ecuadorian Sumatra
Binder: Nicaraguan
Filler: Nicaraguan
Size: 5.625 x 46 “Corona Gorda”
Body: Medium/Full
Price: $8.00-9.00

Sometimes, I feel like I’m out of the loop. Most of the “A” reviewers work in the cigar industry in some capacity. And they get their hands on everything before anyone else does or they have an endless supply of cigars to choose from. And then there’s schlumps like me who do have a few patrons that send me cigars from time to time; but most of that time, the choice of cigars I review is based on my financial status at the time.

The other thing is that there is this perceived competition amongst the reviewers who write every day. Get that copy out faster than what’s-his-face. And almost all cigars are reviewed with just a few days rest on them. Well, that’s a disservice to the reader. Most cigars aren’t ready to smoke in just a few days and so the reviewer guesses, or even serves up criticism, on a cigar that was never ready in the first place. You will probably know these reviews when you read them. I just gave up being the first on the block to have my review out first. Who cares? So I let them sit, and sit, and sit.

I’ve written for several online stores. I’ve forgotten who some of them were. So I have reviews dangling out there everywhere. So, there have been plenty of times I review a cigar twice. And that’s what I’m doing here.

This Tatuaje 7th Capa Especial has been reviewed by everyone and I’m just cluttering up the space. But I am reviewing a cigar with over two year’s humidor time on it. I betcha’ a buck no one else has done that. At least none of the “A-Listers.”

2011 was the year that Pete Johnson went with an Ecuadorian Sumatra wrapper on this third edition of the cigar. As usual, it was blended at the My Father factory in Esteli by Pepin Garcia.

If you want to know more of the history, read an “A” guy. On with the review.

Man oh man, is this cigar solid. Lots of veins, Invisible seams. A tawny brown, oily wrapper. A little sandy to the touch. Beautiful triple cap.
I sniff and detect lots of cocoa, spice, oakiness and coffee. The dry draw reflects the aromas.

I should add that this stick only comes in the one size which I think is Hot Damn great. My favorite size for flavor.

The first puffs are cocoa and coffee. With a dash of darker coffee on top of the lighter one. That sounds stupid. There is just the mildest of spice which surprises me. Maybe it’s the age. There is a pleasant balance right from the start. The cigar draws nicely and the char line is a bit wavy. But nothing to get my knickers in a bunch. (A bunch of what?)

The pepper emerges from its hiding place. And shoves its weight around. Now we’re talking. The thing that drew me to Garcia cigars many years ago was the spiciness. That was new to me, in that, every cigar had a pepper blast in the beginning. God, I have no idea how long ago that was? 1932?

The stick is at a classic medium body. So experience tells me that the last third is going to having me scooting all over the floor, scratching my ass, like my dog.

Around the first inch and a half, the stick gets creamy and the cocoa gets stronger. Yes. I grab a Diet Coke. I am nothing else, if not predictable. The creaminess tamps down the dark coffee and lightens it like a $5 coffee. I remember 10¢ coffee. And yes I constantly bitch about my age. Look, I’m Jewish and like Woody Allen, we all have that death complex. It’s coming too soon. A stroke is waiting for me around the corner.

Woody once said something I live by….”There are two types of people in the world…the first are horrible…they are in iron lungs, missing all their limbs, etc. And then there is the miserable, which is everyone else.”
How is that not right?

The first third ends peacefully. No major changes except a rise of flavor. The second starts with the same medium body. The stick hits the complexity level so early in the cigar that the balance of flavors seems almost innate. I was expecting a little more body by now. The cigar seems to have sunk a little in the strength department. Just shy of medium. How odd. But then that’s the interesting thing about well-aged cigars. They surprise you. Is this what the blender had in mind? Or was the flavor profile after 6 months of aging what he had in mind. They never say. Because they want you to smoke them in the first week and then buy some more. Heaven forbid they advise you to let them rest for a year.

And then the bud flowers. Citrus. Nuts. Oolong tea. No kidding. And the spice level ramps up to the way Daddy likes. Wow. This came like a hurricane out of nowhere. And actually, I am closing in on the halfway point.

And there is that reviewer’s favorite flavor: sweet caramel. Ba-Zinga! The first third gave no impression that this little baby would flower into a flavor bomb. Lately, a lot of cigars reviewed have been flavor bombs. But the interesting part is when that happens. Some start out of the gate that way. Others…at different parts of the cigar. And always welcome.

The citrus is lemon zest…making the cigar a bit tart to play of the sweetness. Nice.

The last third begins with bold, but muted flavors. Meaning, all flavors were prominent but none above the other. The body is still medium.
If anything leads the pack, it’s the creaminess and cocoa. The spice is close to non-existent. Just something I can feel at the back of my throat.

The lower band comes off easily. The upper band fights me.

The flavors become interchangeable. One pops up and them moves out of the way for another.

Two inches to go and the cigar’s profile changes. The power amps up and is officially full bodied. The flavors explode into a rainbow of components and the spice takes off. The screen on my laptop is wavy. The dog is close by. I have terrible thoughts. The dog is so alluring. WTF?

This cigar is not easy to find. You really have to use your search engine and take your time. There are a few online stores that still have some in stock.

The price point, like most Tatuajes, ain’t cheap. For me, this is a treat. For others, no prob. Gimme two boxes. A lot of stores will limit you to just 5 sticks. So finding a box is difficult.

But a 5 pack is a great way to go. Smoke a couple after a few months and leave the rest to sleep in stasis. I’ve watched “Prometheus” several times.
This was a great cigar and since it was my last, I shall miss it and look forward to having more, if possible.

And now for something completely different:

Dave the Griffgator..Continued:

We were in Amsterdam looking for hash because the Paradiso Club was closed on Mondays. Damn! The band’s American lyricist. A very nice older lady of 40.. .Ha-ha told us where her connection was. She gave us a map. Yes, she traveled with the band. Her name was Norma. She died an early death of cancer. Sweet woman. And my only other Jewish comrade in London.

Stewart Copeland, me and the Griffgator took off on our journey. The city is peppered with canals in which they are used for travel and are lined with thousands of house boats.

You could always tell where to buy weed because the house boat had it growing on its roof. A not very subtle advertising gimmick. But you didn’t know its quality so you took your chances. And even though we were all on the management payroll, we were still relatively poor.

The map got us hopelessly lost. And we started knocking on doors of houseboats asking for directions. One boat invited us in and we were shocked at what we saw. An older American man in his 50’s, wearing an old English wig and sitting on an honest to God throne. Gathered at his feet, were half a dozen young boys in their underwear. The décor was an homage to Liberace. He kindly gave us the right directions, as we would find out, and then we did a Three Stooges routine of getting out the door.

We got to the right boat. Stew knocked on the door. Griffgator had tried to impress on Stew that he should knock instead since he had a black belt in karate. But nobody told Stew anything. And Stew was a big guy so he had a false sense of power.

The door opened, a fist was thrown into Stew’s face, and he crumpled like a cheap suit. The Griffgator charged the big, burly man and cold cocked him with one punch to the neck.

Griffgator stepped over the slumped body and walked over to a big desk. On top of it was a chunk of hashish the size of a dinner plate and about 2” thick. He broke off a piece, put some Guilders down to pay for it and helped me get Stew up and lucid.

The boat owner was still out cold. We ignored him and left. Fortunately, all of us were Americans so we chose to smoke our hash in a pipe instead of that stupid method all Europeans used; they got two rolling papers laid end to end overlapping. They broke up one or two cigarettes and sprinkled the tobacco inside the rolling paper. They then crumbled the hash and sprinkled on to the tobacco. A piece of match book was used and rolled into a tube and place at one end of the unrolled concoction. The whole thing was then rolled into a long joint; with a cardboard mouthpiece. None of us smoked cigarettes and that method gave us the spins. So a pipe was the way to go. At parties, we offered our pipe to the Europeans and they whined that smoking it that way got them too high. Pussies. We laughed and lit the pipe.

The Griffgator was not only a great roadie, but a great road mate. And someone who could take care of the scrawny musicians. And he was a great magnet for good looking women. I liked that. Hail Griffgator!

Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS