Wrapper: Ecuadorian Habano
Binder: Nicaraguan
Filler: Nicaraguan, Dominican
Size: 6.25 x 60 “Immenso”
Body: Medium/Full
Price: $7.75

This cigar was initially released in June, 2011. I bought this one about two months later.

This stick has been sitting in my humidor for at least 21-22 months and it looks like it’s been knocked around a bit as it was moved from one humidor to the other. So, my fingers are crossed that it doesn’t melt like an ice cream cone on a hot day on me.

While the 2011, version is somewhat rare, they are still available. Just Google and search. The wrapper has seen better days. But it is very smooth and the triple cap is expertly done. There is the slightest of an oil sheen. The seams are invisible and there are a lot of spider veins.

I clip the cap and smell…..lots of eye watering spice, cocoa, raisin, cedar, strong nutmeg, tobacco sweetness and some baking spices; like cinnamon and maple.
I light up.

The first puffs are sweet cocoa and spice. The baking spices are very strong. The cigar is incredibly flavorful right off the bat. The draw is perfect and all that smoke is clouding my vision. The red pepper keeps movin’ on up until it tastes like a Garcia blast of spice. Clearly, 22 months of humi aging hits the spot. Because the flavor explosion is that of a much smaller cigar.

The cigar also has a meaty taste. Very savory while at the same time, filled with different types of sweetness. Not only is there cocoa, but sweet tea, a buttery pie crust, raisin, maple syrup, and a touch of salt.

Surprisingly, the char line is pretty damn good. And the beat to shit wrapper is hanging tough.

I’ve been a fan of the Carrillo line for a few years. But when I was really poor, it was disheartening waiting for the humidor to do its thing. These blends are not the type that 2-3 weeks does it. So I smoked a lot of Carrillos that were not ready, and I knew it.

It takes a good 15 minutes to smoke halfway through the first third. The flavors, while all still apparent, are a bit muted now. Those first puffs were just exploding on my palate. I guess the cigar wanted to be set free.

This is proof positive of what I’ve said all along. My preference for smaller cigars is mostly financial. A good Immenso takes quite a while to get to the “blender’s intent.” But once reached, it is every bit as delicious as a robusto or corona.

The ash hangs tough and I am afraid that its age might cause the ash to be more delicate than it appears and I will be wearing it soon. But being a whore for a good photo, I try to wait it out and hope I win the waiting contest.

The first third comes to an end. A very eventful end. I don’t think any more flavor could have been crammed into this stick.

I am now behaving like a lunatic, holding up the ashtray underneath the cigar ash while I puff on it. Someone should invent a stand to hold the cigar at 90 degrees upright. That way you can remove it and show the photo off to your friends on FB. Or if you are a Podunk reviewer, like me, it makes a hell of a statement on your blog.

Damn. The ash breaks off. But at least it’s not on my lap. I get up in the morning and the first thing I do is down an Atkins Shake, open the curtains and windows and plotz at the dining room table where my laptop sits. We no longer eat at the table as it has become my work station and is full of cigar “stuff.” So we eat at the couch like most Americans. We live in a big house. Two floors plus a huge basement. But no accommodations for a breakfast nook in the kitchen.

The char line begins to get wavy. I really don’t want to touch it up because once that starts, it never seems to end. Not to mention, what the constant charring of the wrapper does to the taste.

The wrapper is now in the funky-looking stage near the foot. Improper humidification, getting knocked around a lot, etc. It has that dry stream bed look. Hopefully it will end by the time I get to the band. I will try to hide it unless impossible. In spite of that, the new ash is rock solid.

The flavors are just outstanding. Everything I described earlier is even better. Nothing has gone away. Instead, they have become bolder and more intense. The body begins to move from medium to just shy of full.

The halfway sees the addition of smooth creaminess. This completes the flavor profile. The cocoa makes a giant leap from the addition of the creaminess. The spice is in the background.
I’ve never allowed a Carrillo cigar to rest this long and I have a new respect for E.P. Clearly, what I taste is what he wanted everyone to taste. Not the taste of just a month or two of humidor time. I seek out Cbid to get more of his blends. And then show the patience of Job and allow them to age properly. Because, while this was a tortuous wait, I have been rewarded in spades.

I always review first thing in the morning when my palate is fresh. And I taste components in the flavor profiles that I won’t taste after my fourth cigar of the day. Yes, you can fry your palate. That’s why I drink Atkins Shakes. First, because I am dieting; and, second, it clears my palate.

The funky dry stream bed effect is now gone.

This will be a 2-1/2 hour smoke.

The last third begins at the two hour mark.

The flavor profile has become very complex. The spiciness is all but gone. Leaving a wonderful array of flavors. And the strength has moved to very full bodied. The Nic spins have hit.
I know most of you can’t let cigars rest for two years, but some can. I highly recommend this cigar. But be patient.

And now for something completely different:

1974
Curved Air’s first tour was with the original members of the band. I was the only new addition. They were very nice people. They treated me well. Of course, that would change. Politics.

A PR photo shoot was planned to be at Miles Copeland’s house in St. John’s Wood. A block away, was the famous EMI Studio, or known as Abbey Road Studio. It was the only road in London that the city stopped putting up street signs. They painted the name of the road on block walls in front of houses. Tourists stole the signs about 15 minutes after they were installed.
Stewart lived in a flat about 3 doors down from the studio. We were really poor. Management only paid us 50£ a week to survive on. But they also paid our rents. On the road, the pay doubled.

Stew and I hung out together a lot. So we had dinner together all the time. He showed me his poor man’s dinner of cooked spaghetti with melted butter and four brussel sprouts on it. Actually, it was very tasty. And cheap.

I had only known the band a week when we did the photo shoot. We hadn’t even rehearsed yet. Darryl, the leader and violinist of the band picked me up in his little Triumph. A two seater with a bit of a tiny storage area behind the seats.

After picking me up, we headed to Miles’ house. The shoot was a lot of fun because I had never done anything like this before. I was only 24. And my first foray into big time music.
Getting into his car required a can opener and a shoe horn. When the photo shoot was over, we immediately went to the bar in the house and helped ourselves. Miles wasn’t around. Miles had one of those 200 year old houses that was lavish and historical.

It was time to leave and Sonja asked for a ride home to Hampton. I allowed her the front seat and I found myself jammed into the back like a small piece of luggage. Man, that was uncomfortable.

It began to just pour buckets on the way. And it was rush hour. Both of them smoked cigarettes and I have never smoked a cig in my life. The windows had to be closed because of the torrential rain. Not even a crack open. Pretty soon, I got car sick. The cigarette smoke and the cramped quarters and the stopping and going really did a number on me. I begged them to open a window but when they tried, the rain came in.

We finally dropped off Sonja. I was sick as a dog and it had taken us a good hour to get her home.

I got in the front seat and told Darryl how car sick I was. He laughed and told me he had the cure. We stopped at a pub. He told me the cure was a snifter of brandy. I had my doubts but I was new to the band and played along.

Well, as you can imagine, the brandy only made it worse. We got back in his car where I immediately puked on his floor. We pulled over, in the pouring rain, and he made me clean it up. He was gagging from the smell and sight of what I did. I got the dry heaves.

All I could think of was that I wasn’t making a good impression on my boss.

The car’s windshield wipers didn’t work right and Darryl had to keep putting his arm out of the window and use a rag on the glass so he could see.

We got to a four way stop controlled by Bobbies. Darryl couldn’t see and went right through the stop. A Bobbie in the middle of the road stopped us and began to yell.
Darryl explained and the cop let us go. Darryl drove about 30 feet and hit a different Bobbie controlling traffic. He was going slow and just knocked him over. All of the cops descended on us and the yelling did not help my stomach. But they let us go with a warning.

An hour later, I was finally home. Where I went straight to bed and lay there moaning for God knows how long.

They never let me hear the end of that. For over two years, that story came up every 20 minutes in mixed company.
I have never written about this. Why I did now? Who knows? I must suffer from PTSD from that incident.

L-R: Florian Pilkington-Miksa, Francis Monkman, Sonja Kristina, Darryl Way, and me.

Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS