The Montague is the stronger stick…being medium/full.
The cigar band(s) is something else. 75% of the cigar is covered by an opaque parchment paper with lots of design and artwork. It has double cigar bands. The main band is simple with the standard RYJ style, wrapped in silver outline, and with a white background and red lettering. The foot band is the same, minus the silver outline.
I have to take the whole thing off to see the wrapper. It is a sandy brown color. There are some really big veins. Seams are totally invisible. There is an oily sheen and feels very smooth. The single cap is well done.
I clip the cap and find aromas of gingerbread, cream, spice, light coffee, and citrus.
Time to light up.
The body strength starts out mild.
The draw is very good and the char line is behaving itself. No touch ups required.
Sweetness pervades the flavor profile. It is a nice start for this stick.
The flavors grow nicely within the first inch.
This appears to be a good morning cigar with coffee, or beer. Coffee if it’s Saturday. Beer if it’s Sunday.
Some of the wrapper hasn’t held up to my chomping at the cap. Clearly, this is a very delicate wrapper.
I near the end of the first third and can analyze this cigar as a sweet, creamy, buttery smooth stick. Most of the spice has disappeared. There are a couple of new flavors: butterscotch and coffee.
The stick is still in the mild position but I don’t mind as this flavorful cigar is tickling my fancy.
The ash isn’t one for hanging tough very long as about ¾” of it fell into my lap.
The wrapper is beginning to crack. It’s -145° here in Milwaukee and almost every time I smoke a cigar, in the morning, I have this problem. Plus I open the window in front of me to air out the smoke and get some unadulterated light. It is not the cigar’s fault. So I’m guessing that I won’t make it to the last inch. I fear the main cigar band is holding it all together. So I slide the cigar band closer to the cap. Fingers crossed.
I am at the halfway mark and can describe this cigar as perfect for newbies. Or gentlemen who like mild, creamy sweet sticks first thing in the morning.
I believe the strength is moving towards medium bodied.
I near the last third and no changes to the flavor profile. This is not a complex cigar. The balance is so so. It does have a nice long finish. And it has character of being very smooth.
All of the seams want to break free now. It’s -29° right now. But tomorrow will be a sun fest with temps going up to positive 14 degrees. Yeah, baby. T shirts, shorts, and flip flop weather. If it gets up to +30 degrees, it becomes a holiday.
As the last third burns down, it doesn’t want to stay at medium bodied. And slips back down to mild bodied.
The flavor profile has slipped a bit as well. Earlier, the wonderful flavors were bold; but now they are just blasé. So clearly, the middle part of the cigar was the sweet spot.
Now the companion cigar, House of Montague, was a cigar with a bigger flourish. Everything about it was very good. I’m afraid that the Capulet doesn’t measure up to that quality.
My biggest issue is consistency. It had none. The draw was good. The char line, while wavy, did not need touch ups. But would I buy this cigar? Probably not.
I’m finishing the cigar in hopes of flavor resurgence. When not reviewing, I might have put it down by now.
One last thing…this is not an after dinner smoke. Especially, if you’ve smoked a few already during the day. The flavor profile is on the dainty side and a charred palate would make it difficult to taste my description.
With less than 2” to go, I’ve completely lost interest in this cigar and put it down. I had high hopes for this blend based on the Montague. Too bad. I do recommend the Montague, though.
Island Studios in the Jamaican section of London. We had just finished recording our studio album to follow the live album. All new songs. They even did me a George Harrison and allowed me one song.
It was called: “I Broke My Leg in Yucca Valley, but My Heart Lies in Palm Springs.”
Those were the entire lyrics. It was a jazzy scat type song in which the bass took a Stanley Clarke type lead line.
Rhythm tracks are always done first and then everything is laid down on top. So my job was done in a week. But we still had 4-5 weeks of studio time left. I much rather hang in the booth than sit at home and watch BBC1. Plus, there was money to always feed us and I learned to love Jamaican food.
Our press agent was a friend of Feliciano and got him to stop by the studio one night. I was pretty excited.
In he walks with an assistant to help him get around and to fill his pipe with weed. He also brought an unknown percussionist named Paulinho de Costa. He went on to be a big deal in the years to follow.
Feliciano had a big mouth and you couldn’t get a word in edge wise. Man, he could talk. Probably doing speed or coke.
He listened to our tunes and jumped up and got help to go into the studio. He pulled out his guitar and started laying down tracks on our tunes. After a while, it got weird. It wasn’t the Curved Air + Jose Feliciano album
He took a break and sat on the couch. Our chick singer had a vocal coach who was currently a big star in Jesus Christ Superstar in London. His name was Derek.
Now Derek was as queer as a $3 bill. No offense but he was a raging queen. But he was a good guy. And was very funny. He loved being gay and would flaunt it til we couldn’t breathe from laughing; we enjoyed his company.
Derek was there the first night Feliciano was there.
And the second night Feliciano showed up as well.
Before the proceedings began, Jose took the floor. Word had spread and the booth was jammed with people.
He sat on the couch. I sat next to him. And Derek sat next to him. Feliciano is blind.
You’d think he would take that into consideration when talking about people because he lit into Derek.
“Did you hear that queer last night?” And then he went on to imitate him. Everyone in the booth froze in horror.
Derek just sat there and said nothing. Finally, he had enough and leaned into Feliciano’s ear, with his hand on Feliciano’s thigh, and said, “Lissssssten Ssssssweetheart.”
For a moment, we all thought Feliciano got his sight back by the way his eyes opened and his glasses flew off.
There was an uproar of laughter in that booth that night. All the time, Feliciano tried back pedaling saying shit like: “I don’t care about how people live their lives, blah, blah, blah.”
Apparently, Feliciano had no sense of humor when it came to himself.
He stood up, made his excuses and shuffled off into the darkness of the Jamaican section never to be seen again by Curved Air.
BTW- He liked my tune the best and even Paulinho played on it. This really pissed off our ego maniac band leader. I never got a copy of that no matter how I begged. Later, I was to learn how nasty these people were.
Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS