This little oil soaked firecracker is a gorgeous cigar. It truly looks like it was dipped in 10-40 motor oil. Construction is flawless as seams are invisible and very few veins. The cap is so well made it is impossible to tell how many there are.
The wrapper is so slick it feels like you’re petting an eel. Be gentle.
The name of the cigar comes from an incident in which a man named Jocko tried to ride a donkey on the Litto Gomez farm in the DR. That’s it. That’s all you have to do to get a cigar named after you.
I clip the cap and find aromas of dark chocolate, spice, and earthiness.
Time to light up.
Very earthy and sweet. A touch of cocoa and creaminess. And a slowly building spiciness.
The draw is a bit tight but then the stick is so jam packed with tobacco, I expected this.
The cigar goes out and I have to re-light it. When I do, I am bombarded with flavors.
The cigar band is poorly placed. I only cut off a quarter of an inch off the cap but now the edges of the band are sticking me in the lips which is not comfortable.
If I were not reviewing it, I would take the band off immediately. So, no big deal.
The draw is now excellent.
Flavors: Spice, cocoa, sweetness, and earthiness. The creaminess disappears. The cigar quickly moves to medium/full bodied.
It ain’t fooling around. I’ve smoked all of the blends including the Ligero and Double ligero and none were as strong as this little guy is. Especially, not this quickly. The little perfecto was born for power.
A new flavor is added: some sort of fruity element. Almost cherry, but not. More like blackberry. And the creaminess enters once more but this time much stronger. The cigar is already very complex.
I hit the bulbous part of the cigar. It only has a few flavors but they are very nice and enjoyable.
The stick is turning out to be earthy more than anything else. It is all about the tobacco.
I don’t believe flavor bomb status is in its future.
I begin the second half and most of the bold flavors are gone now. It is mostly just spice with a little bit of cocoa.
I’m not crazy about this cigar. It seems like a very old school blend that takes 6 months humidor time before it is ready to smoke. I gave it a month.
The kind folks at La Flor Dominicana sent me a 5 pack of what they call their “Event” cigars. A lancero. And the leaf stats are a secret. You can’t buy them and I’m conflicted over reviewing a cigar you can’t buy and I have no information on. I think the wise thing to do is let them rest for several months and make my mind up then.
I have 1-1/2” to go and the strength has reduced to classic medium.
Nothing is happening in the flavor department. Under non-reviewing circumstances, I might just determine the cigar is not ready to review and toss it. Or…maybe this is all the cigar has to offer. I don’t know.
A bit of harshness shows up. And it becomes a little bitter. The stick started out with a lot of promise and now I am disappointed. Forgive me but I think we are done here.
And now for something completely different:
The statute of limitations has long passed and I was a kid when this happened.
All of my mother’s side were gangsters. Part of the Meyer Harris “Mickey” Cohen gang. We moved to L.A. in 1955 when I was 5 because my father wanted to get away from these people. So what did they do? Over the next couple of years, they all moved to L.A. too.
Mickey had just been released from a four year stint in prison for tax evasion so the timing was perfect for my family.
My mother had a big family and her second cousin was the infamous Bugsy Siegel. She had three sisters. One went on to be my mentor. She was the black sheep of the family and loved to date mobsters and married four of them. They all knocked her around. She died of cancer in 2004. Her name was Rhoda Siegel.
The family would slum it and come to our house for big dinners. We lived in the suburbs of Long Beach. My dad got his civil engineering degree and was sales manager for a huge structural steel fab shop.
I had a favorite uncle; Uncle Sam and his wife Mathilda. They were very rich and lived in Brentwood. Right next to Beverly Hills.
I loved spending the weekend with them when I was around 8-9.
They had one grown son but he was in prison. So they doted on me.
They always had a nice party on the Saturday night I was there. It was a gaggle of mobsters. I loved the way they dressed and how the women wore every piece of jewelry they owned.
One night, some guy came in and took Uncle Sam aside in the library. Sam came out and motioned for Larry and Socko. Yes. His name was Socko (The name of the cigar made me remember this long lost incident). And not one of the Marx Brothers.
Sam made his apologies and said he had to do an errand. He took me aside and asked if I wanted to go? I said yes immediately.
He made me promise not to tell my folks about it. I nodded my head in exuberant excitement.
We drove from Brentwood to some seedy part of L.A.
There was a small group of men. And I was introduced around. No one seemed to mind that I was there.
I remember being introduced to a guy named Mickey who said, “Hi ya’ kid. Call me Uncle Mickey. OK?” I nodded.
In the next room of this small warehouse I could hear some sort of scuffle. The men went inside and told me to wait right there. So I sat…disappointed. I had no idea what was happening. I was 8. I didn’t know what gangsters were.
So I got up and peaked through a slit in the beat up door. There was a guy tied to a chair and two men took turns beating him up. I was horrified and full of adrenaline at the same time.
I coughed and gave away my position. One of the men grabbed me and pulled me into the room. The guy motioned me to sit down in the corner and keep my mouth shut.
I had never seen anyone beat up except in the movies. This was worse because the blood was red; not like the black and white movies of the time.
No one said anything the whole time this guy was getting smacked around. Uncle Sam was standing in an opposite corner of the room with a couple guys and Uncle Mickey. I couldn’t hear what they were saying.
And then I heard a blood curdling scream that made me turn my attention from the men speaking to the guy in the chair. They had just hit him in the knee with a huge monkey wrench. Blood spurted everywhere. I started to get light headed.
I ran over to the men talking and grabbed Uncle Sam’s coat and yanked. I begged him to get me outta here.
Uncle Sam laughed and said we would leave shortly. I sat outside. I couldn’t take the brutality any longer. This was traumatizing me.
About 15 minutes later, everyone exited the room except the guy in the chair. Sam told me we were leaving. The men all patted me on the head or squeezed my cheek. Mickey winked at me and said, “See ya soon, kid.” I got a body shiver.
That night I had nightmares. And in the morning I begged Aunt Mathilda to take me home. She said she had errands so I called home and begged my father to come get me. He could hear the fear in my voice and an hour later he was there.
I never told him what I saw and went through. Uncle Sam whispered to remind me to not tell just before I left.
From that point on, I refused all offers to stay the weekend at Uncle Sam’s and Aunt Mathilda’s.
This was just the beginning.
Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS