Wrapper: Honduran Habana Criollo
Binder: Honduran Corojo
Filler: Honduran Corojo
Size: 8 x 48/60 “Diadema”
Body: Mild/Medium or Medium/Full (Take your pick)
Price: No Longer Available* ($7.00)

I’ve had these cigars forever. This blend was originated in the 1960s and first produced in Nicaragua. And then in 2007, the manufacturing of this stick was moved to Honduras. And the band changed dramatically. A nightmare for me to photograph as it has a shiny aluminum look with yellow letters on a deep gold background.

The Diadema is supposed to be the hardest cigar shape to roll with the Salomon right behind.
It has long since bitten the dust but I found one online store carrying them:
*http://www.cvmcigars.com/p-2724-camacho-diadema-sampler-box.aspx

The Camacho Havana series uses the same filler and binder tobaccos as their Camacho Corojo. Just like the Corojo, selected vintage tobaccos were used for the wrapper. The Habana Criollo.

It came in nine sizes: Gigante, Figurado, Churchill, Toro, Cetros, Monarca, Nacionales, Diademas, and Petit. Some are still available if you Google the hell out of it. But not the Diadema.

The PR states that the Havana line uses “authentic” Corojo for its filler and binder. Is there such a thing as “un-authentic” Corojo? I’d be more than happy if someone wants to leave a comment explaining this to me.

The tobacco was all harvested from Christian Erioa’s farm in the Jamastran Valley of Honduras. This cigar is seen as Camacho’s tip of the hat to the old-style Cuban cigars.

I found several reviews and everyone has a different view of the cigar. Some say it is mild to medium…others say it is medium to full. Since mine has been aging in my humidor for a couple years, we shall see if that time was spent mellowing it or emboldening it.

The cigar is in remarkable shape considering how long I’ve had it. The seams are impeccable and strewn with spider veins. The cap is so flawless, it is impossible for me to tell how many there are. Even, the little nipple at the foot is in pristine condition.

The color of the wrapper is fawn-like in some places and medium brown in others. It has a leathery look to it. There is a nice oily look. And the wrapper feels very smooth.

A behemoth of a cigar this big is going to take a long time to smoke. I will probably take breaks so my palate doesn’t fry. And I will have to come up with a brilliant rock n roll story for the end…just to keep me busy while I smoke.

I snip the cap, and the foot, so as to get what aromas are present. Manny Mota! W preponderance of rich, dark chocolate. Very sweet tobacco, leather and spice. The intensity of the cocoa knocks me out.

Time to light up. No easy feat.

First off, this cigar is foot heavy so holding in my mouth is like holding a Louisville Slugger…hope my front teeth don’t fly out.

The draw is excellent. And there is the taste of leather, slight cocoa, and a slight bitter component. I really didn’t expect to be hit with a huge amount of flavors this early in the cigar. Diademas take their time in developing.

The burn line if focakte…Yiddish for screwed up. It’s all wavy. I have to touch it up or it will canoe very soon.

Spice begins to show. And some citrus and cedar. The cigar is uber mild at this point. Tiny cracks begin to show on the wrapper; no doubt to inconsistent humidification on my part for so long.

I use my Kingpin glue, which I only recently discovered. I had been using the El Ligador which is in a bottle, and a cap with a brush on it. But that, more often than not, destroyed the delicate wrapper than fixed it. The Kingpin is thicker with more viscosity and you don’t have to lift the tiny bits of wrapper coming loose. Just schmear a tiny bit on top of the crack and smear it with your finger. It works more like super glue and dries much more quickly than El Ligador. And the good part is that it only costs $1.49 a bottle for about 3 times as much as the $5 El Ligador.

http://www.rollingpaperdepot.com/index.php?route=product/search&filter_name=kingpin%20cigar%20glue

I am forced to touch up the foot again. Not a good sign.

The flavor of the stick, at the over one inch mark, is becoming quite intriguing. All that wonderful aroma of cocoa and not a bit of flavor of cocoa. It is mellow and subtle spice, sweetness, a tad bit of honey, and leather. The strength seems to be ratcheting up a bit and is moving away from being so mild. Has more oomph to it now.

It’s a dreary day out and overcast. My photos, I fear, won’t have what I want. And I also fear that the damn band is going to be nothing more than a yellow/gold moosh and unreadable. The powers that be use real professionals when they shoot their PR shots of the new cigars. So they don’t have my problems…but what cracked me up is that I ran around Google looking for info, I found photos of the cigar, in all shapes, and they had the same problem as me; the band is just a yellow mess.

I’m halfway through the first third; or where it looks like the cigar swallowed a snake. The spice is stronger and so is the strength of the cigar. In the Camacho PR, it mentions how this cigar is to take us back to earlier times and provide that Cuban taste.

I am old, but not old enough to have smoked a real Cuban cigar back in their hey days. So I wouldn’t know. And the Cubans I have smoked don’t impress me as being any better than the good cigars that come from Central America. Probably, due to all the expatriates that went to live there.

A huge chunk of ash is hanging tough. I really don’t want this thing in my lap. So I gently urge it to come off but the damn thing is welded on.

And as I write that, put the cigar back in the ashtray, the ash gently comes off. Go figure. The char line is looking much better. Fingers crossed I don’t have to touch it up again.

The glued wrapper bits are now invisible to the eye. Or two, if you got ‘em. Damn..It is getting even drearier and it seems like storm clouds are darkening the morning. And on second look, the glue does leave a residue easily seen in the photos.

The second third begins with the same flavors but more strength reinforcing them. The spice level had grown. Again, more oomph. The tobacco sweetness and the honey were great counterparts to the leather and the earthiness.

And now the wrapper is going to shit. Lots of little cracks. This happens because I am careless; moving the cigar from one humidor to the other causing the cigar to go into shock each time. I finally get past the halfway point and with one more touch up, the cigar wrapper is fine.

The strength has reached medium body. And I finally get my cocoa. A smooth, buttery creaminess joins up. The spiciness is making my tongue tingle.

The cigar, while subtle and loaded with finesse, is very nice. The original price point of $7 is remarkable. A Camacho of this distinction only costing $7. Amazing.

The last third begins and this is where the flavor shines. They are bold and bright now. Nothing has been added but nothing has been taken away. It is a fine example of a well-balanced cigar that is smooth and unvarnished.

As you can see earlier in my review, there is one online store selling them. Yes, you can buy other sizes if you look around; but you should definitely try the Diadema for kicks.

The creaminess is screaming laughter. The cocoa is very strong and the other flavors of tobacco sweetness, honey, and leather are right behind.

This is the perfect cigar for newbies and aficionados, alike. You want to impress your golf buddies? Hand out the Diademas and tell them the sticks cost $20. No one will quibble with you. It is an impressive looking cigar with flavors to match.

And now for something completely different:

The band was playing in the port of Dover on the east side of England. It is where the ferries go back and forth to Calais, France. The most miserable two hour trip by boat on the English Channel one can imagine. Vomit everywhere.

Back on track here. We played at the main place to play in the small town…and I have no recollection what it was but I do remember it was a gorgeous town hall; many years old and very ornate; like an old movie theatre.

We played one night there. And word was out that Jeff Beck had come to see us which meant he would want to get on stage with us and jam during an encore number. Now this band didn’t know what they type of music Beck played was like and couldn’t play it if their lives depended on it. But I could. And so could Stewart.

We played out close to two hour performance and on the second encore; we introduced Jeff and asked him to come on stage, where he was in the wings.
He had his guitar with him and it was strapped on and ready to go.

Well, I was always a huge Beck fan and was quite familiar with his movement into the jazz fusion genre just before I left for England. I knew all the tunes on his latest album.

Meanwhile, my band was a typical English progressive band with synthesizers and violin. They sounded like a cross between it’s a Beautiful Day and Jefferson Airplane.

There was a momentary panic on stage because our normal encore numbers wouldn’t fit Beck’s style. So I looked at Stew and began playing a thumping, frenetic riff which was a cross between Stanley Clarke and Ron Carter. Stew was at home with this. The other two guys were idiots and could not keep up. Mind you, they were classically trained musicians and brilliant at what they did; but they hired me because I sounded like the bassist in Jeff Beck’s new band….small world.

They tried to keep up and just played nuance crap to fill in. Meanwhile, Beck, Stew and I were playing “Freeway Jam” from his latest album.

During this, the chick singer merely wafted across the stage grooving to the music as you would expect Stevie Nicks to do. Only our chick was sexier and better looking.

The crowd went bonkers. I was in absolute heaven. After that, we played another tune…an improvised slow blues. Holy shit. I was in double heaven. I was a bass walker and loved the blues. Of course, everything the violinist and the keys player joined in with sounded out of place. There is no place for synthesizers in the blues. Of course, back then, there was no B3 Hammond organ button.

We finished a long 15 minute jam and the roadies took our instruments. We lined up at the front of the stage, put our arms on each other’s shoulders, and bowed from the waist.

We let go and Beck turned and gave me a big bear hug. He did the same with Stew…the others got handshakes. LOL.

We headed back to the dressing room with Beck following us. We were all soaked to the bone. Nerves and exhaustion.

We plopped into big oversized chairs and exhaled for the first time since Beck joined us on stage.

Now the chick singer was still withdrawing from her morphine addiction and her doctor had put her on injections of methadone. She was a wreck most of the time. She was due for a shot before the concert but she said she couldn’t because she got all goofed out. So she waited til the end and did it then. By that time, she was in full blown withdrawal. She liked to make stupid attempts at suicide on a regular basis. It got very old.

And this being the first tour, I was told by management that no one was to know except me and Stew. If the other band members found out she was back to her old tricks, they never would have done the tour.

I threw the chick into the bathroom and told her to do her thing. And then I went back and hung with JEFF BECK!!

Next thing I knew, an hour passed and where was she? Oh no!

I ran back to the bathroom and called her name. No response. Over and over, I called her name to no avail.

So, my head hung as I went back to the group and confessed everything. And told them I needed their help in getting her out of the bathroom.
All of us went there, including Beck. We broke the door down, and sitting on the toilet, was the chick, unconscious and her arm bleeding from where she cut it. Turns out, she used a beer bottle cap to make the cuts so they were superficial and not life threatening.

We slapped her face a few times and she came to. I grabbed her meds, filled the syringe with methadone, tied her arm off and handed the syringe to her. I sure as hell wasn’t going to inject her. She managed to do it and in seconds was animated and full of life.

I told the band I had had it. And walked away with Beck behind me. I told everyone what was going on for the last few weeks and said I was done babysitting her.

Jeff could see the dejection in my face; grabbed me by the arm and took me outside of the dressing room. He then led me to his limo and off we went to his hotel room. He ordered drinks and food from room service and he and I spent the night talking about rock and roll. By 7am, I was re-invigorated and felt great. The man fixed my brain.

And as I began to leave, he told me that anytime I wanted to join up with him, he would be pleased and happy. I was dumbfounded.

He was forming a new rhythm section. I struggled with this for a few days and then called him. I politely declined. I felt my place was with Curved Air.
What a huge mistake.

That’s me playing my beloved Gibson EBO bass. Back in 1971, I was a huge Cream fan ever since 1967 and I finally had the dough to buy one. Jack Bruce of Cream played this bass. And has always played the Gibson but custom made for him. I tricked it out by adding new electronics and an extra Fender Jazz set of pickups to act in tandem with the original Humbucker pick up. I ended up selling it before we left England. I got $1200 for it in 1976. I would love to have it back. Sigh…

Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS