Wrapper: Brazilian Mata Fino Maduro
Binder: Dominican
Filler: Dominican
Size: 5 x 50 “Robusto”
Body: Medium
Price: $6.25 MSRP ($2.25 at Famous Smoke)

Back in April, I reviewed the companion blend, the Natural. A wonderful cigar that belies its crazy price point. The only thing I must be adamant about is that you MUST allow the cigars a minimum of 3 weeks in your humidor before you light one up. The difference goes beyond night and day. It is like Carlos and me.

From Famous Smoke:
“La Aurora Escogidos cigars (AKA ‘The Chosen Ones’) are special cigars indeed. Wrapped in your choice of genuine Cameroon or Maduro wrappers, they contain a medium-bodied blend of pristine Dominican tobaccos. At one time you couldn’t get your hands on an Escogido unless you visited the La Aurora factory in Santiago, DR, or received one from a La Aurora sales rep. Now they’re yours for the taking, and at a nice price, too. Try this limited-run, hard-to-find cigar today!”

Escogidos means “The Chosen One.”
What does that mean? Is the stick Jewish? (You know..the Chosen Ones) I check for a circumcised pig tail then realize it doesn’t have a pig tail. Not kosher. So, I have no idea.

Some B & M’s carry the stick but the only online store I found them at was Famous Smoke. I got mine on auction. And they can be had for considerably less than $6.25.

It is a very nice representation of La Aurora blends.

Like its brother, the Maduro is rustic. It is wrinkly, bumpy, lumpy, big twisted tree trunk-like veins, small veins, a sloppy single cap, and the wrapper’s color changes from one stick to stick.

On average, the color is that of dark coffee bean. Some are oily; some are not. Some are very toothy, others are not. All are jam packed with tobacco. There is a nice mottling that is best seen in direct sunlight.

I clip the cap and find aromas of bittersweet cocoa, barnyard, fruit preserves, cedar, leather, and a touch of espresso.
Time to light up.

The draw is on top of things and there is a great whoosh of hot chocolate. Then the tiger pounces…a big blast of red pepper that shears my tongue off at the root. A meaty element joins forces. This is a much heartier cigar than the Natural. But, of course, we would expect that from a good Maduro.

The stick only comes in the robusto size. Which is just peachy keen to me. I love the robusto size. The only sizes that might be more intensely flavored are the petite coronas, coronas, and the lanceros. But for my taste, the robusto is my favorite because you do not constantly fear for the life of your penis because of hot ashes falling into your lap as the likes of the lancero’s life and death rattle.

Sweetness is a bit component for this maduro. With it, comes a cornucopia of dried fruit. There is raisin, dried peach, dried apricot and a dash of Medjool dates. That density of flavor as it squishes around your teeth creating gaping holes in your enamel.

I was told by a dental hygienist once that I should stop eating sweets because I had 3 tooth cavities. Well, I told her that I didn’t eat sweets. She asked if I ate raisins? I nodded sheepishly and she said, “AHA!” Raisins are just as damaging to your teeth as sugar. Drat. I love those big juicy plump babies.

Here are the flavors, in order: Sweetness, dark cocoa, spice, earthiness, dried fruit, coffee, newly added creaminess, cedar, and leather.

And as I’ve smoked 1”, the stick becomes a bona fide flavor bomb. Something magical happens in those 3 weeks of humidor time that refuses to happen a second sooner.

Both the Natural and the Maduro have the uncanny ability to be the last cigar of your palate fried night and still have those flavors.

The char line is spot on. The sloppy cap stays in place. And the burn is cool and even.
The strength is classic medium bodied.

There is an oiliness that lingers on the lips. Like I just put on my wife’s lipstick. Oops.
I never wear her panties. So do not judge. Although, her bra…..well….

Where was I?

It is impossible not to dig this cigar. The thing I don’t get is that these cigars are given away at events. OK. I get that. You can take them home and let them rest. But if you are taking the factory tour, what are you going to do? Smoke it, of course. And it will taste like hay. I certainly don’t believe they only give out well aged sticks to the masses. Just an errant thought.

You get your $2.00 worth with this cigar because it smokes oh so slow. For the life of me, I have no idea how Famous was allowed to sell them. But I applaud Famous for selling them at such a reasonable price. I had won a couple of 10 packs for $16 on cigarauctioneer.com. But they only auctioned off the Naturals. I wanted the Maduro. So, I broke down and paid the $40 for a bundle of 20. Wow..a real spendthrift. The prices vary a lot as Famous seems to have sales on their web site all the time. Sometimes, the bundle is $45, sometimes $40, and sometimes $42.50.

Sure, $1.60 is a great deal on auction but what’s another $8 for a bundle?

The ash is very flaky and doesn’t want to come off in one piece..just crumbles.
I pass the second third because I am so enjoying this cigar. The char line is razor sharp.

A marvelous cigar. And if you don’t try them, you are out of my will.

The strength remains at a nice medium body. The cigar’s flavor profile becomes very complex with a nice balance.

Flavors have shifted: Sweetness, creaminess, coffee, earthiness, spice, cocoa, wood, leather, and dried fruit.

The meatiness returns. It has that NY strip steak flavor. How’s that for being specific?

The last third begins and the red pepper returns like a tsunami. I now have a split tongue.

Clearly, this cigar is a gem. The cigar’s strength has been medium from the start. I cannot believe the price point of these cigars. One explanation is that La Aurora has an endless supply of great tobacco. While boutique cigars must fight for what they get. Hence, the expense. La Aurora has made a regular production cigar that challenges most boutique blends for a fraction of the price.

The cigar is on cruise control during the last third. All the flavors are all that are required for a great smoke.

I make sure I always have these sticks in my humidor….both Natural and Maduro. The cigar is consistent like an 18 year old boy’s erection.

This is for my elderly readers….Remember how you woke up with a pup tent every morning? And then one day, it just lays there like a flounder. Oh now I remember, it coincides with your midlife crisis and your ingesting of blood pressure pills. A bloody catastrophe, bloke.

Creamy chocolate moves to the front of the line barely edging out the spiciness. Coffee is right behind that. The intense creaminess is what really makes this cigar sing. Like a Stravinsky aria. (I’m getting good at this.)

Nicotine kicks in with less than a couple inches to go. The first thing that happens is blurry vision and a flashback to my 20’s.

The cigar finishes perfectly. Nice balance. Complex. Chewy. And flavors blasting away like a phaser set to stun.

I cannot recommend this cigar enough. The price is right. It is a great cigar to share with moocher friends. And a great go-to cigar for you.

NOTE 6-1-14:
I checked the Famous Smoke web site and they are no longer carrying the Maduros except in samplers. They still have the Natural in stock. Fingers crossed that they bring the Maduros back.

Go to cigarauctioneer.com or Famous Smoke and get yourself a bundle.

And now for something completely different:

A chapter from my mini novel called “Blue Star Adjustments” My mother’s family was Jewish mafia. So I wrote about what I observed as I grew up.

I am currently in negotiations with the BBC to turn my story into a mini-series for 2015. No shit.

CHAPTER 3 -UNCLE SAM WANTS ME….TO KILL BAD GUYS

My Uncle Sam was the stereotype of a gangster. He was maybe 5′-7, stocky, balding, slicked back, dyed black hair, dyed black eyebrows, and a pencil mustache. Who always wore see through black dress socks.

Aunt Matilda…I don’t know what she looked like. Always dressed like she was going to dinner and the opera…high heels, bleached blonde bouffant, too much make up for daytime, and lots and lots of jewelry; bracelets, rings, and necklaces…all very expensive stuff.

My parents and I stayed with them for a month. We moved to California in 1955 so my father could start a new career; one that wouldn’t get him killed. Uncle and Auntie lived in a stylish part of Los Angeles. Of course at age 5, the only thing that mattered to me was that they had potato chips in the cupboard and I’d get up early each morning before my mother and my aunt and grab one of those double bags of ecstasy and sit on the floor and watch Captain Kangaroo…and completely finish off the bag.

They got hip to this about a week in when Aunt Matilda complained that she had no idea what happened to the potato chips. I always told the truth when I was young. Busted. Captain Kangaroo was never the same.

Uncle Sam and Aunt Matilda had an entire bedroom designed to show off their massive display of single serving bottles of booze. There were thousands. And after Uncle Sam died, she sold the whole collection for $50K. I wasn’t allowed in that room but I would sneak in and just stare in awe.

My parents moved to L.A. for reasons that I didn’t know. At 5, who gives a shit? But my father had recently graduated from Carnegie Tech (Carnegie Mellon..now) with a degree in civil engineering. Mom and Dad wanted out of that part of Dodge badly so my father secured a job with a steel fabricator in Long Beach. He went out there before us to start our new lives.

My mother and I came out a few months later on the Santa Fe Super Chief where the porters spoiled me and I still have a glass Turquoise Room glass ashtray as a memento.

My mother’s father was a criminal lawyer in Cleveland. He died of a heart attack when I was two. That’s what I was told.

My grandfather greatly encouraged my father to think about a law degree and it didn’t take much coercion. He graduated from Marshall Law School in 1951. Immediately upon graduating, my dad joined my grandfather’s firm. I was told that my father was very happy.

My grandfather disappeared one day. Didn’t go to work. Didn’t come home. Gone baby gone.

The next morning, my grandmother called the cops. This was actually a big deal back then because of my grandfather’s status in the legal community. It made the paper.
Days passed and no word. According to my Aunt Stoney, the cops were diligent.
A body was never found and no one was brought to justice.

Now this really scared my father. And my mother. My grandfather was working on a big case as the defendant’s counsel. The trial was declared a mistrial. My father was not experienced enough to take over and he didn’t like the prospects of this life one bit.

My dad was not a coward, in fact, he was a war hero. A corporal in the Army. He landed at Normandy on Day 1. He was awarded the Bronze Star (3 times), and a Purple Heart for taking a bullet to the left shoulder. He was a brave man.

But now he had a family and everything was different.

It took about a month before things had been put in place so they could move to Pittsburgh and my dad could start school at Carnegie. It only took him two years to finish because he had all of his prerequisites from pre-law.

Until I was 13, I had always been told the heart attack story and my grandfather wasn’t spoken about much, except how much he loved that his daughter had given him his first grandchild; a boy.

My parents decided to go to Hawaii for two weeks in Summer 1963. They convinced Uncle Sam and Aunt Matilda to baby sit me. I was not happy about being away from my friends for that long. What the fuck was I going to do with a couple of old codgers for two weeks?

Things changed in my life for good.

Uncle Sam owned an auto painting place. On my first day there, he took me to the shop with him to spend the day. I remember wearing jeans and a T Shirt. He wore his Gangster 101 get up….I felt like a slob.

The smell of wet paint permeated the place. I got light headed within 20 minutes…even though we were in his private office in the back.

I sat on a small couch in his office and I watched Uncle Sam open a safe. I leaned to my right so I could see past him in front of it. I saw huge stacks of cash and some pistols. My eyes got really big…this business must be extremely profitable!

Uncle handed me a brief case and said “Go sit at that table…the one with the mechanical adding machine. Make yer’ self comfy. I’m gonna’ teach ya’ something about business.”

He plopped a bunch of bills, held together by rubber bands, in front of me. “I wantcha’ to take this pad of paper, and count the money with da’ machine. And be very careful…in fact, you better do it twice ta’ check youse-self.”

I had never seen this much money..ever. But I could do this.
Uncle showed me how to use the adding machine. It was simple.

I finished my first count in 20 minutes and my check count in 15. Uncle Sam was impressed. He had a big smile on his face when I told him that I had counted $72, 650. Uncle bobbed his head up and down in approval. I guess he hadn’t expected that much.

He then pulled more stacks from the safe and told me to continue. It took til lunch time before I had finished my task. It came to around $600,000.
I asked Uncle how he could make so much money painting other people’s cars?
“Let’s take a ride, Little Phil.”

We drove to Cantor’s Deli on Fairfax for lunch. Aaahhh…now we’re talking. I had a huge corned beef sandwich and matzoh ball soup. I was in heaven. And I had a taste of Uncle Sam’s chopped liver with a slice of onion.

Sated, we got back into his Caddy. We drove for about 30 minutes to a place I did not recognize nor did I know what town we were in…but it seemed poor.

The car rolled to a stop in front of another auto paint shop…but this one looked closed.
We got out and walked around to the back. Uncle used his key to unlock the door and it was very dark inside. I told Uncle that I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. He didn’t reply.

I could hear a door open and light flooded my eyes. It was a big room with only a couch and a wood chair inside. It was dank and moldy. The smell of mold was obnoxious.

In the room were four or five men. One was sitting on the chair. He looked scared.
Uncle Sam was hailed as he entered but it turned serious when they noticed me.
“Who’s da’ kid?”

“That’s my nephew. He’s a good kid. Keep your mind focused on da’ matter at hand.”
That seemed to be good enough for the men inside.

Uncle motioned for me to sit on the couch, so I did as instructed.

No later had my butt had touched the couch cushion, that I heard a blood curdling scream!
One of the men hit the seated man in his ear with a closed fist. I didn’t breathe, I didn’t move.
I looked over to my Uncle for some understanding and he glanced at me and looked away.

Then I saw him nod his head ever so gently and the same man hit the seated man in the other ear with a closed fist. His scream made me cover my ears with my hands.

Uncle Sam said, “Phillip…don’t do that. You’ve had your Bar Mitzvah. Youse’ a man now. Act like one!”

I couldn’t put the two analogies together. I lead the congregation one Saturday morning, had a party, people gave me money….so that makes me grown up enough to watch a man being beaten up? So I nodded “OK” to Uncle.

The man leaned into the seated man’s ear and whispered just loud enough so I could hear him..”Where is it?”
There was no response from the bleeding man. His chin was on his chest and breathing hard but he said nothing.

In a blink of an eye, a different standing man put a small revolver to the seated man’s head.
“Are you going to tell us where ….or do I have to count to three?” No response.

I heard the click of the hammer. Panic was welling up inside my chest. I began to hyperventilate. I thought I was going to faint.

Then I heard, “One………..Two…….”
Uncle stopped the count by whispering into the armed man’s ear. The hammer was released to its safe position and his arm came down to his side.

Then he walked over to me and held out the gun.

My head was spinning. What was he doing??? Was I supposed to hold it for safe keeping? Was I supposed to do something with it like check if it was loaded? I didn’t know…..but I took it.

Uncle motioned me out of the room. We went back into the dark.
“Philly….do you know what I do?”
“Uhhh.”
“Well, it ain’t paintin’ cars.” And a huge laugh came from his belly.
“How would you really like to become a man? Really become part of your community?”

I fucking knew what he meant and I was scared out of my mind.
Uncle Sam just stared into my eyes while I was thinking. I couldn’t speak at all. I tried and all I could do was croak.
“Well?”

I nodded my head oh so gently while looking down at the floor.

The door opened and my eyes were again blinded by the harsh lighting in the room.

The seated man must have taken a few more hits while we were outside the room…he was crying and begging. The men standing around him were soulless. No emotion. Just dead inside….their eyes like sharks.

Uncle motioned to my hand. It was a snub nosed .38. And it had a hard trigger pull but it was also double action so I could either pull the hammer back each time I fired or I could just keep pulling the trigger.
The gun was slippery in my hands.

All of a sudden, the room erupted with shouts from everyone, “Do him!! Shoot him in da’ head!! Shoot him in da eye!!! Stick da’ gun in his mouth!!!”

My heart was pumping adrenaline like crazy. I could barely see. I had horrifying tunnel vision and all I could see was this man looking up to me pleading not to shoot him.

The yelling disappeared. The light in the room grew dimmer. All I heard was my own heartbeat.

My hand, with the gun, was hanging at my side. All I could do was look into this man’s eyes looking for evil..looking for that one thing that made him deserve what was coming. My chest was pumping in and out…I began grunting with each breath.

Without thought, I swooped the gun up, pressed it against his chin and shot him.

He slumped to the floor. A few seconds later, I heard moaning.
“You didn’t kill him kid!!! Finish him off!!”

My adrenaline was at full tilt. I shakily stuck the muzzle against the back of his head and shot 4 times. Blood and skull and brains flew up at me and covered me like I had just slaughtered an elephant.

A cheer erupted in the room. Everyone was slapping my back in congratulations. They were all slapping Uncle Sam’s back. “That’s quite a kid, Sammy. That’s quite a kid.”

You can read more at “Blue Star Adjustments.”

Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS

Tags: cigar review, cigar reviews by the katman, cigars, la aurora cigars, La Aurora Escogidos Maduro Cigar Review