Placeres Reserva | Cigar Review

Wrapper: Nicaraguan Habano
Binder: Costa Rican
Filler: Honduran, Nicaraguan
Size: 6 x 54 “Box Pressed-Colosos”
Body: Medium/Full
Price: $6.15 by the box at


Thanks to buddy Jason Harding at BCP for the samples.

Kuuts LLC is the Miami based manufacturer of this cigar. A company that until recently only made cigars for Europe. With the introduction of the Miró, it opened the gates for two other cigars: Zapata and Placeres. You can read my review of Miró here.

Placeres, in Spanish, means “Pleasures.”

From web site:
“Distributed by Miami’s Kuuts LLC., Placeres Reserva is a medium to full bodied cigar that features a dark and oily Nicaraguan Habano wrapper with Costa Rican binder and select Nicaraguan and Honduran filler leaves. The Placeres Reserva’s precise box pressed construction provides a clean cool draw, perfectly complimenting its fantastic flavor profile of pepper, cocoa, and spices over a rich tobacco base.”

Placeres comes in 5 sizes:
Marevas: 5 x 42
Estrellas: 5 x 50
Belicoso: 5.5 x 52
Colosos: 6 x 54
Toro Grande: 6 x 60

First thing you need with this cigar is patience. Jason sent me these cigars almost two months ago and it took just about every one of those days for the cigar to be humidor ready. It appears they ship the cigars “wet.” They are very soft on receipt. Now they are as hard as Carlos’ head.

The wrapper is near coal black with even darker mottling. There is the slightest amount of reddish tinge. There is a nice oiliness and it feels very smooth. Seams are invisible. A minimal amount of veins. It appears to have just a single cap but the application of said cap is so impeccable it is impossible to really know. But based on the price range, I’d say it is a single cap. The cigar band is fancy with lots of shiny lettering and design to mesmerize us. There is a soft rectangular box press.

I clip the cap and find aromas of cocoa, teriyaki beef jerky, dried fruit, sweetness, cedar, spice, and leather.
Time to light up.

The first puffs are very sweet with chocolate and cedar notes. The chocolate is very strong. Following the sweetness is a nice floral note. The draw is a bit stiff but opens up with each puff. The char line is on the money. After the two previous reviews of the Fuente Chateau King T and the Leccia Black Special Toro, and their melt downs with the burn issues, I was beginning to question my manhood. (If you question, or interrogate your manhood, do it in private.)

Strength starts out at classic medium. It has that Illusione twang. I know the word twang is reserved for Cuban cigars, but I like to use it as I please.

The spiciness builds from a black pepper to a red pepper and there seems no end in sight of the upward trajectory.

This is a big cigar so it will take a while to get this review finished. Jason was on a good roll for a while and then he started sending me the biggest sticks the lines made. I have repeatedly asked him to send me something in the robusto size for expediency of humidor time and flavor bomb potential. He is a busy man and can’t be bothered with his Uncle Katman’s innermost needs any longer. I am sending him a text telling him I want that selfie back of me posing on the dog naked. The dog was naked. I was fully clothed.

Although, he found a bit of redemption in his most current distribution of samples by sending me Robolos (4.5 x 60). Sort of a half gesture, the Schweinhund!

The transition this cigar is amazing. I gave up on it. It tasted like crap for the first month, 6 weeks…and then it just blossomed.

Here are the flavors, in order: Sweetness, cocoa, jerky beef, floral notes, black cherry, cedar and leather. Sounds like something you’d order at Mel’s Diner.

A bit of salty pretzel works its way into the fray just before the second third starts.

The burn line is spot on. So it wasn’t me or my humidor. It was THEM! (I’m very insecure).

The stick is very close to attaining official flavor bomb status. Flavors are punchy and pokey.

You ever notice how some reviewers use the term linear cocoa or linear coffee? What the fuck does that mean? I’m an engineer and linear means a straight line. How the fuck does a straight line come to play in describing a flavor? Huh? Tell me that! Huh?

The dog is patting my forehead while I mumble, “Cheese, cheese, cheese.” I’m OK now.

The meaty element gives the whole flavor profile a very unique aspect. I swear I can taste the sweet beef jerky with flecks of red pepper in it.

Listening to Peter Gabriel on the TV music channel. Damn that boy was good. Why he hung it up, I will never know. He was the heart and soul of Genesis. You can have Phil Collins (The sellout). And I want you to know that AT&T’s classic rock channel is terrific. All the good stuff and none of the crap…like on your local classic radio station. If I have to listen to Peter Frampton play “Show Me the Way”, live, one more time, I will go climb a tall clock tower.

Back to the cigar. You can thank Jason at BCP for my meandering. This damn redwood tree is jam packed and big and taking forever to smoke. I must have ADHD because I get bored easily and quickly.

This is a good cigar but it is taking its time in getting to the good part…the sweet spot. On the other hand, this is a perfect outdoor cigar. Where you have plenty of time to shoot the shit with friends and don’t want to diminish your supply of sticks to those moocher friends. This is a solid 2-1/2 hour smoke. And for $6, you can’t beat it. And oh yeah, it is a very good cigar.

The second third begins 4 hours later. Or just seems like it.

The flavor profile has not changed a single bit. The only minor change might be that the whole profile is stronger. Flavors are more “linear.”

Strength has reached medium/full.

The chocolate is still leading the pack and makes this stick a Milky Way bar. That chocolate mousse-like flavor and melt in your mouth consistency. Ummmm…I gave up concentrated sugar in 1981. Haven’t had a candy bar or a doughnut since. Not one! I don’t miss the candy bars. But I would kill Carlos for a Krispy Kreme doughnut and it would be worth it to go into anaphylactic shock.

The cigar keeps running at a steady speed just under the radar of flavor bomb status. The stick is delicious but it isn’t singing a Puccini aria to me.

The char line is beautiful. Nice for a change.

And the bloody sun just now came out. And I am at the halfway point.

The Great Katmanzini predicts that the cigar will find its sweet spot in the last third and become a flavor bomb then.

How many classic rock stations play Zep at least three times per hour? That’s what I’m talking about.

Here are the flavors: Cocoa, sweetness, beef jerky, raisin, black cherry, floral notes, spice, cedar, salty pretzel, and leather.

I am also impressed with the cap. With my normal chomping, I have usually destroyed it by now but it is hanging tough.

We got nothing in the house to eat and I was whining to my wife this morning. She was on her way to work and stopped at the Walmart very close to the Polish deli she runs and ran in to get me supplies and then drove all the way back. Now that’s a wonderful wife. That’s the Pompatus of Love.

We only have one vehicle at the moment. A new used one is being donated to the Katman household next month by friends. No longer a prisoner.

Okie Doke. Houston, we have flavor bomb status. The last third begins and flavors explode all over my face like Jenna Jameson’s face. It’s a pearl necklace of wonderful flavors.

The sweetness is fighting for control and trying to put the chocolate down.

Remember when Rod Stewart was cool? Or are you too young? 30 years ago, a friend was murdered in a home invasion and at the funeral, after the service, the minister pushed the button on the boom box and out came “Hot Legs.” Never saw a minister sprint off the podium so fast in my life.

Yeah, I’ve been murdered and I want someone to play the lamest song ever to make the Billboard charts. Now give me “Maggie May” or “Every Picture Tells a Story.” You can shoot me dead in my home if you promise to play those at my service.

This is now the longest review I’ve ever written. Thanks Jason. Send your death threats to him care of BCP.
This is an excellent cigar. But remember, buy them, put them away for 2-3 months and forget about them.

I checked around and BCP has really good prices on this stick. If I were to buy more, I’d go to BCP.

The cigar finishes out cool, complex, balanced, flavorful, and a bushel of nicotine clawing at my brain.

Thanks again Jason. Maybe next time you can send me a 9 x 80 stick?

And now for something completely different:

Why become a bassist?

I was a teen in the 1960’s. Guitar hero was the thing to be. The bass was not a highly developed, stylistic instrument yet. Of course, McCartney was the first to really make that transition. Along with the great bass players in Memphis, Detroit, and Nashville.

I was a runt of a kid in junior high. But I still went to the Friday night dances to listen to the live bands. My friends, who also turned into musicians, went with me.

I glued myself to the spot in front of the stage facing the bass player. That huge boom and chest shattering pounding reached my puny soul. It was primitive. And it’s all I wanted to do. Play thunder.

At age 14, my father bought me a 5 string banjo. It was 1964 and the height of the folk music era. My banjo teacher was the now famous Nitty Gritty Dirt Band banjoist, John McEwen. He taught me how to play the Beverly Hillbillies theme song.

But my buddy Skip made me play bass lines on my banjo while he played guitar. I started saving for my bass. I found a used Hofner at a pawn shop in downtown Long Beach, CA. I paid $80 for it. I was 15.

My father didn’t buy me an amp for almost 6 months so it was a good thing that the Hofner is a hollow bodied bass because if not, I would not have been able to hear myself play.

I took to it like a duck in water. The first bass riff I learned was the opening line in the Mamas and Papas’ version of “Dancing in the Streets.”

My first amp was a Knox. I know, I know. They lasted a year and some salesman talked my father into it.

At the death of my Knox, I was working part time while in high school and bought my Fender Bassman. Now that’s what I’m talking about.

I’m not really sure how it happened, but soon after, I began joining working cover bands. We played all the great songs of the day at high school and college dances.

Skip never applied himself the way I did. Skip joined his first band when he was 21. It was a band that I was in called Homegrown. We were a great band. Fantastic musicians that could mimic all the great hard rock bands of the 60’s and early 70’s. All the hard rock you could stand. We did Led Zep like no one else. So we got booked all the time.

Between the ages of 23-24, I got into the jazz fusion thing with a guitarist and drummer. We would jam at the drummer’s house for 8 hours at a time, several times a week. My playing ability soared. I was mimicking Stanley Clarke, Ron Carter, Jaco, Ray Brown, Tony Levin, and Abe Laboriel (whose son went on to become that massive drummer for Paul McCartney).

Soon after that, Skip got engaged and came up with the idea of going to live in Europe and make our livings playing music. I was in. No urging required.

We became a trio with a singer who fucked up everything by getting into a drunken bike accident and wrapping himself around a tree. He survived but broke his leg into a million pieces.

The one way non-refundable tickets were already purchased and we were committed to find a way to our dream…without a singer. We played in little pubs all over Europe for a few shekels.

We ran out of money fast. We thought we had enough to last 6 months augmented by gigging dough. Wrong.

It lasted a month. So we headed off to England where, if we had to beg on the street, they spoke English. We had enough money to last two more weeks. Our girlfriends got menial jobs at hotels as housekeepers…which pissed them off no end.

But at the end of those two weeks in London, I got the gig with Curved Air. All was solved. I was put on the payroll and my girlfriend quit her job.

Unfortunately, Skip never found work as a musician which really pissed off his wife no end. She hated me.They left for home a year before we did. It ended with their divorce.

From the age of 24-34, I played big time music. As a player, session player, recording studio owner, band manager, production consultant, record producer, engineer, and composer…and producer and director of music videos just coming into their prime.

But at 34, the grown-up genes kicked in. The last thing I wanted was to be a 60 year old man playing in cover bands and a drunk. So I used my education and went straight. I spent the rest of my career as a commercial construction project manager.

But of course, I always played in cover bands in conjunction with my straight job. Right up until a couple years ago when my sky diving back injuries finally got the best of me and I just became too old to lug gear around to clubs. That’s a young man’s thing.

Still have my 1980 Schecter fretless bass and will sit in the living room and play. I’m still a good player without a band. It was heartbreaking to finally admit my playing out days were over. And of course, living in Milwaukee really rang the death knell. What a shit hole for music. We lived in Chicago from 2005-2007 and I played in three bands at once.

God, I miss it.
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2 replies

  1. Monster has a 5er in Robusto for $22 and free shipping.

  2. Thanks. 100% Brazilian Rosewood.