Wrapper: Nicaraguan Habano
Binder: Nicaraguan
Filler: Nicaraguan
Size: 7 x 52
Body: Medium/Full
Price: $15.00-$17.00
Humidor Aging Time: 4 Months

Photo courtesy of Famous Smoke. (Famous has three 5 packs for $40.00. That’s a huge savings.)

Today we take a look at the Asylum Dragon’s Milk.

BACKGROUND:
Release Date: October, 2014
Regular Production
According to Halfwheel.com:
“Earlier this year, Tom Lazuka of Asylum Cigars told us about an incredibly interesting project. He would be partner with New Holland Brewing Co. of Holland, Mich. to create a cigar that would be aged in the barrels used to produce the brewery’s Dragon’s Milk.
“New Holland Dragon’s Milk is a milk stout aged in bourbon barrels. It comes in at 10-11 percent ABV and is available throughout the year.

DESCRIPTION:
A very pronounced leafy look with lots of veins. The wrapper is an oily, gingerbread color. Seams are virtually invisible. The cap is seamless but I assume it is a triple cap.

AROMAS AND COLD DRAW NOTES:
From the shaft, I smell floral notes, hops, spice, cocoa, and cedar.
From the clipped cap and the foot, I smell pepper, hay, barnyard, cinnamon oatmeal, hops, chocolate, golden raisins, and cedar.
The cold draw presents flavors of strong notes of ale, red pepper, chocolate, sweetness, hay, cedar, and anise.

FIRST THIRD:
First puffs are chock full of beer flavors. Accompanying the beer, is red pepper, wood, fruit, sweetness, cocoa, and a slightly harsh earthiness.
The char line sucks. Needs a major tune-up.

For me, this is a gimmick cigar. Way overpriced. I think the blenders realized this but committed to the project and used a lot of PR to sell the stick. Let the customers pay for their mistake.

The beer flavor is so miniscule now that I want to laugh. They just dropped off the edge of the earth like the fourth Christopher Columbus ship.

And naturally, it is a long slow smoke. It better get better because it does not make me happy to diss a cigar one after the other.

If I closed my eyes and didn’t see the band, I’d guess it to be a $5-$7 cigar. Just like the Perdomo Craft Series or the Perdomo Habano Bourbon Barrel-Aged blends.
The char line has evened out.

I don’t get the size. An excuse to charge almost $20? Couldn’t do that with a Robusto.
I checked a few reviews and opinions are all over the place. From 80 to 91. I don’t get that. Talk about varying palates.

Any time a manufacturer charges an arm and a let for a single cigar, the reviewer must look more critically of the blend. The price tag is a big deal. For that kind of dough, you can buy 3 lesser priced cigars that will put a smile on your face.
I’ve yet to smile about the Asylum Dragon’s Milk.

I can taste maraschino cherries now. Treacly sweet.
My lips feel like there is a sweetness lingering on them.

As long as I’ve had these couple cigars cooking in my humidor, they should have started with a huge bang that included a hell of an impression. Instead, it starts like a misfiring starting pistol.
The char line goes back to shitsville.

Now a godamm $17 cigar should not have construction issues!

The Asylum brand started off with a lot of hope for the future. If nothing else, its forward projection has been spotty. It is becoming just another cigar line that doesn’t impress.

SECOND THIRD:
Smoke time is 40 minutes.
Zero beer flavor.
There is a nice new cappuccino flavor now. Anything helps…a bit of creaminess and a touch of cashew.
Boredom sets in. And 5” to go. Ov Gevalt.

Strength started out medium body and is creeping into medium/full. But the harshness is gone and it becomes much smoother. A good thing.

Watched GMA this morning with Charlotte. Guess what? The remaining two Monkees have a new album out. Just Peter Tork and Circus Boy. Michael Nesmith divorced himself from anything Monkees once the show was canceled. He lives on his inheritance that he got from mom who invented Liquid Paper. He’s 72. And worth $50,000,000. I do believe that gives him the right to say “Fuck the Monkees.”

Before:

After: (Photo courtesy of Michael Borkson)

I have a short Peter Tork anecdote after the review.

The burn is like a Rum Crook. I’m going to let it do its thing just in case Tom Lazuka comes upon my review.

I found exactly 7 reviews of this cigar. Not dozens. Seven. Should have been the tip off.
Because of the price, one wants to finish it holding out hope it gets better due to the price you paid. On the other hand, you may just say fuck it and put it down because your intuition tells you it ain’t going to get better so why torture yourself?
The flavor profile is all but gone. There is a little hoppiness but that’s it.
Halfway point and I’m on my first hour.

Some nuttiness reappears. I’m now grasping at straws.
The cigar was released in 2014. I can’t believe it is still in production.

Mostly the Big Guys reviewed this cigar. Probably given to them. I have to hand it to a couple of those review sites for telling it like it is. Ratings of 80 and 82. Kudos.
How one reviewer could give this cigar a 91 is beyond me.

By the time I’m finished with the review, processing photos, uploading to my web site, I will have wasted 3 hours on this dog.

Ahhh….”Baba O’Riley” by The Who is on the classic rock music channel. Love that song. I managed a band in Tahoe that really killed this song. I did their sound with a 16 track board every gig. I blew out one of their big woofers in their PA getting the sound really big. My bad.

Time for a break. Think I will go play with the cat.

Back. Time for a story. 1972. Played in a band with the most gorgeous chick singer. She was the perfect blonde. Perky tits. Tiny waist. Couldn’t sing a lick. NO one noticed.
Then she left us to be Eagle’s Don Henley’s girlfriend. While in Europe, the guitarist told me to pick up the latest Playboy. She was Playmate of the Month. Oh lord.
Not one of us got a BJ while she played with us. Now that would be a cool memory.

LAST THIRD:
Smoke time is one hour 30 minutes.
Strength hits full body. And the nicotine is strong. Jesus Alou!

One review said he liked the first two thirds but it was the last third that disappointed. WTF? It’s going to get worse?

There is no way I’m going to finish this cigar.

Since being ill, I have been particularly sensitive to nicotine.

My doc’s latest tests show I have iron deficiency anemia. I’m now a woman.
Explains the constant fatigue.

Except for the strength kicking my ass, the blend is actually getting better; not worse.

Go to “The Katman’s Best 210 Boutique Brands/Blends in the $6-$11.00+ Range” for much better cigars.
Or go to “The Katman’s List of 164 Great Cigars in the $5.00-$8.00 Range” for great affordable cigars.

DO NOT buy this cigar.

Great way to end this review. Zappa playing “Disco Boy” from “Zoot Allures.”
Saw Zappa once on New Year’s Eve at UCLA. He played 3 hours straight with not a single break between songs. And he was loud! No encore or as Zappa put it: “There will be no fucking encores!” When the huge band stopped playing, everyone had tinnitus.

Final smoking time: An eternity

RATING: 77

And now for something completely different:

Butch Patrick is a very personable and charismatic dude. When he is sober, that is.

But I’ve read that he has been on the wagon for a year or two. I am happy for him. Alcohol was killing him.
Unfortunately, back in the early 80’s during my project, it nearly killed me. He was a handful.

The record company, and PR agency, demanded I babysit him at all times when we did promotional tours. Normally, they just send the artist out alone. But Butch couldn’t be trusted to keep appointments.

We did a big Chicago morning show. Same time that ex-Monkees, Peter Tork, had a new band. It was all very young heavy metal guys. Totally strange. We sat in the green room with him, and the band, and all he did was complain about the Monkees. “They ripped me off on the bread. They didn’t let us record our own music. We got no royalties. Blah, blah, blah.”
It got to be disgusting after a while.

That night, we did a nightclub promotion. Peter’s band played. And guess what? 8 out of their 10 songs were all Monkees songs. Made me laugh. Especially since he really didn’t have much of a voice. And then there were his band mates all dressed in black leather and wearing spiked dog collars.

Tork and I traded T shirts. I had the Eddie Munster shirts and he had…guess what? T shirts that had the Monkees’ logo on it. Still have it but couldn’t fit into without cutting myself in half. He couldn’t afford to have “The Peter Tork Band” tee shirts made.

Should have gotten him to sign it so I could sell it on eBay for $10.

That night, Butch and Peter spent a lot of time together. They both were knocking down shots of tequila like mad men. And Peter kept giving Butch coke to keep him from passing out.
Al I could think was oh no. Not again. I would have to pry him loose from the club at a decent hour because we had more promotion to do in the morning.

As was usually the case, I left without him. He had a hotel key. I insisted we share a room. For emergencies, of course.

More than once, I had to bring him out of a drunken stupor to get him up and out the door to do radio or TV.

One day, as the project was falling apart, Butch came to my house in Long Beach; around noon.
He was living with his mother in Gardena.

I was having leftover spaghetti for lunch. And the screen door knocked and in walked Butch. Drunk as a skunk with a beer bottle in his hand.
He started throwing stupid ideas my way on how we could get the project back on track.
I asked him politely to allow me to finish my lunch and then I would gladly talk about it.
But no. He wouldn’t let up.

I kept asking, and then yelling, for him to shut the fuck up.
Finally, I couldn’t take it. And threw my plate of spaghetti against the wall where it stuck like glue. Just like “The Odd Couple.”

He stopped talking and just stared at me and then the spaghetti on the wall.
And then back to his ideas again.

The dumb fuck had driven himself to my house drunk. So I pulled him back inside and put him in my bathroom. I barricaded the bathroom door with the coffee table.
I sat back and watched some TV while Butch screamed.

After 30 minutes, I let him out. I made him drink several cups of coffee and sent him on his way. By that point, I didn’t care if he got caught by the cops. Best thing for him I thought.

To be continued….

Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS