Gurkha. Who doesn’t like Gurkha? An online store sent me a 5 pack of these two months ago. I lost the guy’s name and don’t remember the name of the store.
Obviously, I have nothing to review. So I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel by taking a look at the Gurkha Beast.
Now you know…that the Gurkhas supplied to B & M’s are different than the Gurkhas supplied to online stores? The B & M’s get the good stuff and the online stores get the drek.
Only 1000 boxes of 20 are produced each year.
Being such a big cigar, I have no idea if two months is enough humidor time. I don’t care.
Here we go.
I have all 5 cigars sent to me. And I notice that there is a great variation in the wrapper’s color, texture, construction, and overall look.
I choose the best looking one. It is virtually seamless. Very few veins. A beautiful triple cap. Perfectly round. Ever roll your cigars like a pool cue? Try it.
The cigar is absolutely jam packed with tobacco and feels like I’m holding a block of cake plutonium. (I keep a couple pounds at the bottom of the dog kibble just in case we have to take off from Milwaukee but not forgetting to nuke it first. (If that comment doesn’t get me put on some Homeland Security list, nothing will.)
The wrapper is a very dark coffee bean color but with a minimal amount of oiliness. More of a matte finish.
I clip the cap and find aromas of spice (It makes me do three quick sneezes), cocoa, coffee, cedar, nuts and leather. I cannot believe how strong the spicy aroma is. It is like being in the kitchen and making habanero salsa in your food processor. Even the dog runs and hides.
Time to light up…I always slowly toast the foot and this log will take a while. Do something constructive while I do this….
It only takes 17 minutes to toast the foot. Not bad.
It tastes very nice. I expected nothing, to be honest. The draw is great and the smoke pours from the foot covering the laptop screen.
The char line goes wonky on me so I fix it.
Having this huge log in my mouth reminds me of something:
“Anything you put in my mouth you’re gonna lose.
“Naw, you don’t understand. You do that and I’ll put all eight inches of steel in your ear.
“All right. But you should know that sudden serious brain injury causes the victim to bite down hard. In fact, I hear the bite reflex is so strong they have to pry the victims jaws open with a crowbar.
“Where do you get this shit?
“I read it. You know how to read, you ignorant fuck?”
The first person to guess the correct movie wins my undying love.
The strength is medium right on the nose.
I always feel like Tony Soprano when I smoke a cigar this big.
Strangely, I am not getting much of a spice kick; especially after those sneezes from the aroma of the spice. I get a bit of red pepper on the tongue but after smelling it, I expected a Garcia Blast. Nope. Another surprise from Hansotia.
The cigar levels out at “Nice.” I’ve smoked 1-1/2” and it is just nice. Flavors have not changed one bit.
The cap is holding up to my heavy chomping. That surprises me. Trying to hold a cigar this big between your teeth is what made me think of that “Shawshank Redemption” quote.
I’m closing in on the start of the second third and this cigar is exactly what I thought it would be. Plus, let’s face it; for any Gurkha to have a chance at being a good cigar needs 9-12 months of humidor time. Not the 2-3 months I gave it.
If I were doing a blind taste test, I would guess that I am smoking a $3 bundle cigar.
The wrapper begins to crack between the secondary cigar band and the foot. Damn! I read a few reviews before this one. Not to crib notes, but rather, see what others think of this cigar. And EVERY single one complained about the big crack in the cigar. Are you telling me that a large crack developing is S.O.P. for this cigar? Holy shit! What happened to quality control? And no, this is not the good stuff made for B & M’s. When I asked the guy that sent them to me which one it was, it put him into shock.
He said he paid for the good stuff but wasn’t sure if he got it. He told me he would get back to me and never did. I think he was taken to the cleaners. So now, you can’t even trust your local B & M because he could have gotten scammed.
The second third began a bit ago. And not a single change to the flavor profile. None.
It’s only chance of redemption is the last third. (Notice how I get the name of the movie into my review again? Aren’t I the clever lad?)
This pisses me off that I was so desperate to write this morning, that I had nothing to review except for this hunk of shit.
But starting today and through the week, I shall be getting new cigars for review. Common sense should dictate that I allow the cigars at least 2-3 weeks rest, but you know your Uncle Katman…never one to be patient.
One package I bought from Small Batch Cigar:
LFD Event Only 10 Count Sampler
1 – Coronado DBL Corona 5 x 47
2 – Mystery Cigar Comes only in this pack
3 – Cameroon Cab. No. 4 54 x 6 3/4
4 – Reserva Especial
5 – Ligero 400 Oscuro 54 x 5 3/4
6 – Ligero Torpedo 54 x 6
7 – DBL Ligero Chisel
8 – Grand Mad No. 5
9 – Mambises 48 x 6 1
10 – Double Ligero Oscuro 49 x 6 7/8
After my 10% coupon code of leafenthusiast, it was only $62. Ten great LFD cigars at $6 each. Of course, finding the info and leaf stats on these cigars is going to be difficult at best but that’s 10 reviews for one purchase.
I’m still waiting for something to happen with this Gurkha Beast. I’m at the halfway point and nothing has changed. This is ridiculous.
The music is blasting away in the living room. A Janis Joplin song is playing. Remember the movie, “The Rose?” It starred Bette Midler and was loosely based on Joplin’s life.
Around 1982, I got invited to the “It Went Platinum” party for The Police’s “Zenyatta Mondatta” album. I took a radio DJ friend with me and the party was huge…500 people.
And then I saw her. I was standing right next to Midler. I caught myself staring. She was so tiny and wore no makeup. She looked like any other Jewish yenta.
I got up the nerve to tell her who I was. And about Sonja who had tried to live like Joplin and that The Rose reminded me so much of Curved Air. Midler was very polite and seemed to be sincerely interested. So we talked for a bit and when her escort, probably her PR guy, said they had to mingle…she snapped at him and said, “Can’t you see I’m having a conversation here?”
The guy new his place and shut up.
I explained that if she met Stewart Copeland, she would probably meet Sonja because they were married now. It all tied together.
It was a thrill to meet Midler. And have a real conversation with her that was relevant.
I really want to put this dog turd down. Not a single change in over 4” of cigar. But I am holding out hope that the last third will perk things up.
I will have invested two hours in smoking this wretched thing. I honestly don’t know why anyone, in this day and age, buys Gurkhas anymore. It must be the newbies. And the price? Holy shit. Almost $8 for this stick? LOL!
I check Cbid and the going price for one of these sticks is $2. That says it all.
When I checked out other reviews of this cigar, not one of the A Listers touched it. All I could find were reviewers I had never heard of. And they wrote nothing like me. In other words, their reviews were no more than 300 words. Mine are normally around 1800-2000 words. I like to write mini novels. But then, you knew that.
The cigar is now beginning to taste as it should have two hours ago.
I said I wouldn’t touch up the char line but I want to be done and over with this so I touch it up to accelerate the end of this monkey turd.
AND DON’T FORGET THAT I HAVE TWO CONTESTS GOING ON.
THE FIRST IS FOR A 20 COUNT BOX OF CAFE LATTE FROM STOGIE BOYS. AND THE SECOND IS THE RIOT 45 FROM STOGIE BOYS..A FULL 20 COUNT BOX.
JUST CLICK ON THE CIGAR’S NAME TO ENTER.
And now for something completely different:
Charlotte has made a lot of friends through running the big Polish deli in Milwaukee. Not only do Poles come, but Germans as well.
So, I hear, “I will be back in a few hours.” A lot. As she visits her German customers who invite her over. She returns to describe the most delicious food I’ve ever heard of.
I stopped asking, “What about me?” After an afternoon, or evening, of listening to people speak mostly German the whole time. My German is rudimentary at best.
Sunday, I got invited, and I went to, a German Club picnic at Heidi and Michael’s house. Actually, it is two clubs. Berliners and Bavarians.
It was hot and muggy and I hate muggy. Makes me ill.
There were around 30 people there. And no shade left.
We sat at the only table being directly hit by the sun. I was schvitzing like crazy. Soaked.
Sitting to my right was a fat Wisconsin woman (Aren’t they all?) and her skinny welder husband. Both thought they were very funny because while no one laughed at what they thought was funny; they picked up the slack and laughed at everything they said themselves.
I wanted to shoot myself.
I was looking forward to some good German food.
It was all drek. I couldn’t believe that all these Germans, about 2 years from the grave, couldn’t cook.
I ended up throwing 90% of my plate of food away.
When all the food was eaten, the horror of my life occurred.
One of the guests brought his accordion and sat down right next to me. He then proceeded to play German Oom pah pah songs while everyone sang in German.
I thought I was at a Third Reich meeting. And it felt like everyone was wondering where was my Jewish star sewn to my sleeve.
A woman sat down while Charlotte and Heidi took a walk around Heidi’s huge yard. Apparently, no one….I mean no one….liked this woman. She wasn’t that bad looking. Thin and wearing a loose fitting moo moo. Bleached blonde hair and bad teeth.
The women hated her because she only spoke to the men. Compared to the German folk, I was a little skinny guy. They all ate like someone was going to take their food away from them. One serving after the next. It was like visiting a pig farm. And the pigs knew I was a Jew.
I’m sitting there and she turns to me and exposes a tiny shrunken breast. All I could think of was where was Dr. Mengele when you need him?
In my right ear was constant accordion noise playing polka music that all sounded the same to me. I was packing my Glock because we had some errands to do afterwards. I actually thought of shooting the accordion and then killing 13 more people. After that, I would be out of ammo.
Meanwhile, Heidi’s son was working on our 1977 Buick Le Sabre. The brake light was on and it beeped incessantly. He told us there was a leak in the brake line. He spent from 9am-2:30pm working on it. He didn’t replace it but he cleaned the leaks and repaired them with all kinds of goop and tape.
I stayed on his ass to finish it. I kept getting, “Only 20 more minutes” for hours.
I was only at the party for 2-1/2 hours. Everyone refused to speak English. So I sat there sweating like a pig. My back was killing me from sitting in a plastic patio chair. And now I was getting nauseated from the humidity.
The car was done.
Gert told me that we still need to take the car in to get the brake line replaced. He spent 5-1/2 hours gluing it together. And when he finishes he still tells us to take it to a pro. What a giant waste of time. But he didn’t charge us a dime so he had a good heart.
I pulled out of the garage and we got about 2 blocks away when the beeping started and the brake light went on. And it stayed that way all the way home.
I will never ask to go visit her friends again unless I can take the Israeli Defense Forces, or Mossad, with me to interrogate them about where were they in 1944.
I had nightmares, last night, of large beer halls and women in dirndls selling 5 gallon bottle sized beers along with shaved white radish in the box hanging from their necks. Now that’s some fun. Drinking strong beer and eating white radish.
It smelled like a slaughter house.
And I kept seeing that shriveled breast staring at me and following me to the bathroom and then down the line of the buffet…. calling my name.
I sensed all my dead relatives spinning at the speed of sound in their graves.
I had pasta salad for dinner.
Do you think killing an accordion player is a punishable offense? Or would that be a misdemeanor? Maybe just a ticket?
Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS