Everyone has tried the El Centurion, I trust.
From My Father web site:
“Back in 2007, the Company released El Centurion as limited edition just in 3 sizes. At the time, only 850 boxes of each size were made. : Many of our supporters have asked for us to bring back the cigar that left waiting more. El Centurion is coming back in four sizes. It consists of all Nicaraguan Tobacco with the filler composed of Criollo, Corojo Habano, and Sancti Spiritus; together they give this classic a 3/4 to Full Body strength. The wrapper is a Sun Grown Criollo 98. The packaging is really classic and stylish, according to brand name and come in Boxes of 20 cigars as a regular production.”
As most My Father cigars, this is a well-constructed cigar. Hard but with the right push. A wrapper that is the color of dark chocolate and some toothiness.
There is a nice oiliness to the cigar. Seams are tight and lots of small veins populate the shaft. The triple cap is impeccable. The cigar band is pretty but simple.
I clip the cap and find aromas of teriyaki beef jerky, sweetness, brown sugar, spice, leather, cedar, yeasty bread, and cocoa with a dash of espresso.
Time to light up.
The draw is spot on. It is sweet and spicy. It has a big dose of lemon citrus. I buy sugar free lemon crème cake from Walmart and the lemon and sweetness is intense. That’s what this reminds me of. The black pepper slowly builds, step by step, inch by inch, slowly I turned….sorry…went back to my vaudeville days.
There is one flavor that eludes me that the A List reviewers use a lot: Chalky. I have not smoked a cigar, ever, that tastes chalky. I guess my palate ain’t as good as I hoped. (What the fuck is chalky?)
The cigar burns very slowly as it is packed to the hilt with tobacco. That’s OK.
The El Centurion Toria Limited Edition costs a few more shekels than the original release but it is nothing compared to the satisfaction/gratification ration received from this well-done stick.
The char line is dead nuts. A woody flavor becomes much stronger into the second inch. The citrus becomes stronger as well but sharing its flavor with an orange. Takes some of the zing out of the citrus. I liked it better when it was purely lemon.
Creaminess appears and makes the slight hickory flavor of meat stand out a bit. The black pepper keeps movin’ on up. Relentless like my first girlfriend with a bone.
Short of the end of the first third, the cigar becomes a marvelous flavor bomb.
Here are the flavors, in order: Creaminess, spice, sweetness, citrus, cocoa, smoky meat, cocoa, espresso, cedar, leather, and wood.
The combination of all these flavors presents an overall profile I’ve yet to experience. It is quite enticing and unusual. I’m sure the long aging has melded flavors together that would not be tasted under normal circumstances.
The second third begins. Even with the rarity of the cigar, Atlantic is giving its VIP Club members a substantial savings on singles, 5 packs, and boxes. If you bought a box, you would be just shy of the yearly dues. That’s right. I made my bones with the first two purchases made and after that, it was all cream.
The cigar is just plain fucking delicious. Butterscotch enters. And just flies me to the moon with exaltations of decadence in blending.
I love this cigar so much that I stop typing and buy more El Centurion Toria Limited Edition at Atlantic Cigars. They have 3 singles left, one 5 pack left, and the boxes are in stock. When these cigars are gone, they are gone, baby, gone.
The balance is better than perfect. The finish is long and chewy. The complexity is outstanding.
The creaminess mixed with the butterscotch and citrus are out of this world. This is my last cigar, but I am not panicking because I have more coming. This is a cigar that should be the first one of the day to be able to pick up on the subtle nuances.
The strength started out at medium. As the second third began, it moved up to medium/full. I am now at the halfway point and it has reached a gentle full body. No nicotine yet.
This cigar is very smooth with its transitions.
I sit staring out the dining room window taking in the sunshine and slight breeze causing the very old trees to sway their branches. And just letting the cigar’s flavor profile hold me in a cocoon of warmth and happiness.
When I do purchase cigars, I have switched my preference to coronas instead of robustos. Flavors seem to be more intense.
The 5-5/8 x 46 size of this cigar is perfect for the flavor profile. I’ve reviewed the regular El Centurion back in September of 2013. A wonderful cigar in robusto size. But nothing like the cigar I am reviewing today. Sometimes I look back at older reviews and cringe. My writing style has morphed over the years to a point I am more comfortable with and probably more reader friendly.
With a third still to go, I’ve invested over an hour in this stick. And I don’t want it to end.
Some nicotine shows up. But it is still mild.
I removed the cigar band a while back and was surprised to see how beautiful it is.
And now for something completely different:
We were playing in Dover, England. Right on the east coast of England.
The chick singer was still going through her out patient rehab. Her schedule was to do her methadone after a concert. She said she couldn’t do it before going on stage because she was too high. The problem that occurred was that by the time we finished playing, she was overdue for that shot. And would begin withdrawal.
That night in Dover, we had three guests that played with us on stage during our many encores.
There was violinist Jean Luc Ponty. And violinist Jerry Goodman of Mahavishnu Orchestra, and lastly, guitarist Jeff Beck. I was in seventh heaven. Our band leader was a violinist and watching the three of them trade riffs was just crazy. Then Jeff Beck joined the tradeoffs and it was super crazy. I could barely remember what I was supposed to be playing on bass.
Back in the dressing room, I threw the chick singer into the bathroom to change and told her we would go back to the hotel ASAP for her injection. She was already showing signs of withdrawal.
But I was so enthralled with the three guests, I forgot about her. I mean, how often do you get a chance to bullshit with three legends.
I ran to the bathroom and knocked on the door. No answer. She had been in there for over an hour.
I tried opening the door but could not. I started yelling her name. No response.
We had managed to hide her drug issues from the rest of the band because they swore they would never go on tour with her again if this shit happened again.
I went over to the band members and told them everything and I needed help getting her out of the bathroom.
We broke the door down. She was sitting on the toilet, fully clothed and totally out of it.
She had blood dripping from her wrist.
She had used a bottle opener on her skin to open it. A halfhearted suicide attempt.
One of the people allowed into the dressing room was a doctor. He quickly cleaned her up and we got her back to the hotel and got her to inject herself. Moments later, she was wide awake with no recollection of what had happened.
I was really pissed off at her. We had to cut short our confab with Goodman, Ponty, and Beck to take care of her.
Now I laugh about it. Regardless of how she fucked up the evening, I got to play with my musical heroes. Especially, Beck.
Back in the 1970’s, there were few big arenas and everyone played at universities. And more often than not, the students learning musical production would record our performances and then send us cassette tapes. I can’t think of one school that had a good team of people. So the recordings were terrible. I still have the recording of that night and once in a while, I listen to it. I get caught up in the wonderfulness of it all and don’t give a thought to how the chick ruined the evening.
My favorite part of the jam was when everyone dropped out except for the drummer, Beck and me. Beck went into his hit, “Freeway Jam.” I knew the song well from before I came to England and played it in a cover band. It was an instrumental.
All of a sudden, I was part of the Jeff Beck trio. Beck surprised me and gave me a solo in the middle. I was oozing sweat and blood. But I pulled it off. I closed my eyes and played my ass off.
Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS