Happy Independence Day! Go out and burn someone’s house down with your fireworks!
Not even the Torano web site takes credit for this cigar and there is zero information available except on the CI Conglomerate online store sites.
The cigar is extremely rustic. Full of wrinkles, lumps and bumps. Seams are extremely sloppy. The veins look like tree trunks. The cap is sloppy. Lots of soft spots. In other words, your typical Torano cigar. King of the $6.50 cigar.
The wrapper is the color of dog shit with corn still in it. But oily.
I clip the cap and find aromas of vinegar-soaked vagina, wet pit bull balls, liver sausage, and 2 week old Torano shit.
Time to light up. I can’t wait.
The char line goes awry right away and so I fix it.
I can’t really taste much but for some sweetness and a bit of cocoa. I sense that some creaminess wants to break on through to the other side.
Here is what I don’t get. The word, “Hogshead,” refers to a cask of wine. What the fuck does this cigar have to do with a cask of wine? Unless, the meaning is meant to be literal and that Jack Torano found a hog’s head in his bed one morning when he woke up ala “The Godfather.”
Here are the flavors: Sweetness, cocoa, waning spice, a touch of creaminess, lemon citrus, and the taste you imagine when you watch your dog lick his own balls. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we men could lick our own balls? Think of all the saved marriages.
At the rate this cigar is burning, it should be another 13 minutes before I’m done. Man, it’s like a cigarette. This is a note for the Torano family: PUT MORE TOBACCO IN THIS CIGAR!
But I forget myself. This stick is made just for the CI Conglomerate and no one else. CI has them on sale for $2 a stick for the Robusto. While cigar.com has them for retail at $3 a stick. Thank God for CI’s mellifluence.
I get some salty pretzel. And if I were to be totally honest, it’s not a bad knock around cigar. You can give them to your mooch friends. Give them to children at block parties. Or turn them into blunts.
The char line, amazingly, has hung in there. So has the rest of the cigar. I really expected the thing to fall apart on me; but so far, so good.
Of course, if I were to go for a $2-$3 stick, I would go right to the La Aurora Escogidos at Famous Smoke and buy a bundle of 20 for $40 on sale instead of $45. The Escogidos is a La Aurora event cigar and what is given to tourists who take the factory tour. It is a great cigar. You can read my review HERE. And buy them from Famous Smoke. You can go to cigarauctioneer.com and get them even cheaper. They had the Maduros for a while but they seemed to have disappeared. But the Naturals are great and I actually prefer them to the Maduro.
Flavors begin to improve. Really. Here they are: Cocoa, creaminess, spice, sweetness, graham cracker, lemon citrus, and a bit of leather.
The strength is barely medium bodied. I should mention that I have had these sticks for over two months and paid $2 each for three singles on Cbid. So with two months on the sticks, I’m guessing this is all there is.
The last third begins. There is no complexity. No balance. No long finish. A Macanudo!
The cocoa and the creaminess do become the stars of the show by being strong and potent flavors. This blend will never see flavor bomb status unless you drop acid and smoke one.
I don’t know what I was thinking by buying three of these. All I saw was that it was a new Torano cigar and did no research. If I had known they were only $3 sticks, I wouldn’t have bid.
With all my bitching and pissing and moaning about this cigar, I have to admit that the char line has really behaved itself most of the time and the construction is average…which is better than I expected.
The flavor profile blossoms. No change to it but the flavors really smooth out and get a decent dose of character.
I just notice something on the cigar band. On the very edge, it says, “Batch 11.”
OMG! LMAO! It took 10 other blends to get to this one? Holy shit. I can only imagine what Batch #1 tasted like: Open pustules, raw liver, baby diaper, and cocoa.
The end is near and the char line goes hinky on me and I need to fix it.
And now for something completely different:
Another story about legendary roadie, John Starr.
I wrote all about John yesterday in my review. A mountain of a man; afraid of no one…a gentle giant to his friends.
Back in my youth, the weekend was spent gathering a few friends and visiting the rest of our friends. It was like a roving Tupperware party. And the prizes were hash sticks, hash, hash oil, mushrooms, and weed.
Which made us on a constant hunt for food. Back then, none of us could put any weight on if we tried. So we stuffed our faces without worry.
We all loved to watch John eat. And he enjoyed being watched. His most famous stunt was putting two whole PB &J sandwiches in his mouth at the same time. And swallowing. We always applauded.
One weekend, Mike Cook had some blotter acid. So with all the trips we made, we left behind us in our wake persons frying on LSD.
We went back to John’s house and he was dancing to Sly Stone. He saw us and picked me and Skip up, holding each one of us under an arm and danced with us dangling from his grip. We were frying of course and we couldn’t stop laughing.
Last night in bed, I remembered one more rock story that involved John. We played at a prom dance for 9th graders.
John had decided to do some acid before the gig. And then our lead singer, Mark, did some as well.
Often, we let John come on stage and sing with us. He was actually a very good singer so he never embarrassed us. This one night at the prom he went back on that premise.
He couldn’t sing worth a shit because he was high on LSD. And he just made up the words as he sang.
The band stopped.
John looked at all of us then turned back to the audience and said, “Sorry. But we are all fucked up on acid so please excuse us.”
Holy shit! This was a public school in 1972 with old crones as chaperones for the kids. They went bat shit when they heard what John said. Of course, the kids applauded.
We took our first break and stepped outside for some air and to smoke a J.
The chaperones tried to hide as they observed us.
Before we started our second set, one of the wrinkly old crones approached Mike and told him that we were no longer needed, handed him a check and told to fuck off.
So we packed up while the kids almost rioted.
John went back to the mic and egged them on. The kids started turning over the treats tables and throwing chairs all over the dance floor. They tore down all the decorations.
We made haste and packed and got out of there. The cops showed up about 15 minutes later and arrested a bunch of those kids.
There was never a dull moment when John Starr was with us.
Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS