Wrapper: Mexican San Andrés Maduro
Binder: Mexican San Andrés Criollo, Nicaraguan
Filler: Mexican San Andrés Corojo and Criollo, Nicaraguan
Size: 5.25 x 50
Price: $8.50 MSRP (Around $7.00 online)
Today we take a look at the Casa Turrent Serie 1901.
Many thanks to Eric Chen for the sticks.
Debuted at the 2015 IPCPR trade show.
Release Date: August, 2015
Factory: Nueva Matacapan De Tabacos
The April, 2016 issue of Cigar Aficionado gave this cigar a 94 rating.
According to CA: “A dark, pressed robusto. Each puff envelops the palate with cocoa powder and coffee before a sweet, luxurious finish redolent of caramel and black cherry.”
From Altadis USA web site:
“Alejandro Turrent was born into the cigar business. He is the fifth generation of the industry’s oldest and most esteemed family of cigar makers and tobacco growers. In 1880, his great-great-grandfather, Alberto Turrent I, emigrated from Cuba to Mexico’s fertile San Andrés Valley with a pocketful of Cuban tobacco seeds and founded the business that has become a cigar dynasty.
“Today, Alejandro is President and co-owner, along with his father Alberto Turrent IV, of Nueva Matacapan de Tabacos, Mexico’s largest cigar makers and growers of tobacco. Among the cigars for which the factory has become known are the legendary Te-Amo brands, the sought-after Te-Amo World Selection Series and the highly regarded A. Turrent and A. Turrent Six Generations brands. The tobaccos grown by the Turrents on the family’s 2,000 acres are among the most prized in the industry, and are found in such prestigious brands as Montecristo, Macanudo, and Padron, to name a few. The Turrent’s San Andrés Morrón maduro wrapper leaf is considered by aficionados to be one of the finest available.”
SIZES AND PRICING (All box pressed):
Robusto 5.25 x 50 $8.50
Torpedo 5.5 x 50 $9.00
Gran Robusto 5.75 x 52 $9.50
The wrapper is a beaut. Oily, mottled, espresso bean with fairly tight seams and lots of veins. The caps are a little verklempt and inconsistent. Looks like one roller was a little drunk when he applied the triple cap.
There is a nice amount of tooth on the skin. The box press presents a consistent rectangular shape.
The gold plated double cigar bands are a bit over the top but, all in all, a nice looking stick.
AROMAS AND COLD DRAW POINTS:
From the shaft, I can smell chocolate orange liqueur, kiwi, spice, cedar, floral notes, and leatherearthwood (?)
From the clipped cap and the foot, I can smell a 3 sneeze dose of red pepper, dark chocolate, sweet fruit, cedar, floral notes, and charred meat.
The cold draw presents flavors of peanuts, dark chocolate, red pepper, kiwi, malts, espresso, buttery pie crust, and charred meat.
The draw is a bit tight. There is a plug at the top of the cigar; but nothing a cigar awl can’t fix. This is one issue that I see often with tight box pressed cigars. They shove the tobacco together like a German sausage and make it so dense that no living organism can survive. Which at least keeps you from getting MERSA.
The other issue that bothers me is I can never get a clean burn on a box pressed stick. Never, never, never. I don’t know if I’m mentally challenged…or don’t remember how to light a cigar. But at least this is only an $8 stick and not a $20 cigar.
Strength is medium body.
A nice, well rounded character forms….including flavors of malts, chocolate, red pepper, caramel, cherries, kiwi, orange liqueur, dark roasted coffee, lots of charred meat, creaminess, buttery shortbread cookies, and licorice toffee.
Just as I finish that sentence, a lovely amendment of nuts arrives on the scene: No. Not testicles in cream sauce…rather; marzipan, almonds, and Brazil nuts.
The char line is a little off but not near the tipping point yet.
Strength hits medium/full fairly quickly.
Complexity kicks in. Transitions start roaming the earth like Moses.
Ever been to the Dead Sea in Israel? I have. My gramps took me to Israel and Europe when I was 15. I kept a journal. It was 128° and you are not allowed to swim in the water because of extreme salt content. The salt is so corrosive and so thick that when our tour leader said the hell with it and ran into the water, he literally floated on his back on top of the water. Maybe a couple inches were beneath the water but the rest of his whale sized body was laying on top of that body of water. Back then, we got driven around in a tour bus with NO air conditioning. Yeah, that was fun but it was 1965 before air conditioning was invented…at least in Israel.
The Casa Turrent Serie 1901 has a terrific quality. There is an “It” quality. Very complex and a perfect cornucopia of favors that meld together like Spock and Kirk taking a shower together.
Smoke time is 35 minutes.
The black cherry and caramel description that Altadis uses is spot on. The charred meat is especially strong along with a bit of hickory mixed in. The Courvoisier component gives the blend a special sweetness and tartness.
Damn. This baby is burning on all six cylinders now.
The last four reviews got lousy ratings. Lousy cigars. But now…at last…finally…a great cigar…at a reasonable price.
The Casa Turrent Serie 1901 is exactly what I expect from a $15 blend.
My only criticism is that I have no luck with box pressed cigars and burn issues.
Barely into the second third, the Casa Turrent Serie 1901 is an impressive experience.
Flavors pile on to each other like a rugby scrum. All fighting for top dog.
I could smoke this cigar all day long.
I believe it was a smart idea for Turrent to keep all three sizes at medium range. Loads of flavor, price point on the money, and no giant Gordo that takes 6 months before you taste anything.
This cigar deserves my after review rants about personal things in my life.
The first part is sort of serious but not the second part. You have most probably read the second one before so you will probably skim it to see if I fixed the grammar.
The draw is easy. The fully packed cigar is a slow roll making even a robusto seem like a journey.
Tom Petty is on the music channel. Back in the early 80’s, I had a friend who was a radio DJ. Petty was in town to play an L.A. arena. My buddy got us 4th row seats in the center.
We didn’t know why, but we were surrounded by hundreds of chicks and not one single person with a Y chromosome. The two of us sat there and I’ve never felt more gay in my life.
Although, now that I’ve been with the same woman for 33 years, this may trump that one off feeling of being gay. You can watch all the Erectile Dysfunction commercials you want but once you’ve been married over 30 years, sex doesn’t come often enough to validate the cost of a Cialis.
It’s like being 18 again with that permanent boner. You wait til the old lady has had her third glass of wine, two hits on the bowl, and then jump her. Works every time. And my feelings of being a homosexual disappear until 6 months later when I go through this process all over again. And it doesn’t have to be my birthday.
I checked out a few reviews of the Casa Turrent Serie 1901. And for once, I agree with all of them. We all have different palates so the flavors have twists and turns that separate us from being identical….but the basic framework of the blend seems to be the same.
I reach the halfway point at nearly 55 minutes. Definitely get your money’s worth for a robusto.
The Davidoff Yamasa, Caldwell Savages, and Espinosa Alpha Dawg can’t even touch the hem of this great blend. And except for the EAD, price point at half the others.
I read one review that gave the Casa Turrent Serie 1901 a terrible review…with a low rating. I don’t get it. The other reviewers raved about it like I am currently doing. And Cigar Aficionado giving it a 94 is pretty spectacular. Other reviewers all gave the cigar ratings in the 90’s.
This just proves you have to find a reviewer that has a similar palate as yours and stick with him. I read something funny. I don’t remember the reviewer’s name but he declares there are rules to reviewing. The big one is that no review should be more than 150 words. Shit I broke that rule before I got to the “Background” description. Crazy stuff. And I do believe the reviews are predicated on “earthleatherwood.”
I’m shitting myself over the Casa Turrent Serie 1901. I have a massive boner 3-1/2” long. Yeah, I’m excited. (What you may or may not know is that we Jews have little pee pees but while they may be short in stature, they are 4” in diameter…sort of like a bathtub plug.)
Heeeeere’s Johnny: Chocolate, malts, coffee, creaminess, cherries, Courvoisier, hickory smoked meat, caramel, cedar, creaminess, buttery shortbread cookies, a multitude of roasted and salted nuts, and licorice.
Eric, my son, I hope to adopt you. You will have to convert to Judaism so I will sedate you during that process; especially if you aren’t circumcised yet.
The Casa Turrent Serie 1901 is manna from the gods. This is one fine blend.
One criticism from a reviewer said that Mexico doesn’t really know how to make good cigars. Bullshit. How many cigars with San Andrés wrappers, binders, or fillers do you love? I rest my tuchas.
Smoke time is one hour 20 minutes.
Strength is a raging full body. Nicotine moves in to destroy my brain cells.
Anyone old enough to remember the band “Moody Blues”? A 60’s band that was the most pretentious and godawful band on the planet. I want to throw my lighter at the TV screen.
The biggest impression the Casa Turrent Serie 1901 is making on me is how ideally smooth it is. The complexity is through the roof. The transitions can’t be kept up with.
I found several online stores selling this size for $7.00! This is absolutely nuts and phenomenal at the same time. If I was rich like Aaron Hamamoto, I’d buy a box.
You MUST buy this cigar. Do not pass Go. This is the best deal for a cigar of this quality I’ve had in ages. Mexicans don’t know how to make good cigars. Ptooey. Of course, my friend Miguel Castro would disagree but he has more serious issues at hand. He is worried about being deported…yes, he was born and raised here and therefore a citizen but still….you never know.
And now for something completely different:
Wait….before I post another re-tread story, I want to express something.
The last 18 months has caused me to have a singular depression that I have never experienced.
After playing an instrument for almost 50 years, it is heartbreaking to discover I can no longer play because the brain can’t remember what to do.
As my ability to play bass began winding down, I hadn’t a clue what was going on or why what once came natural was disintegrating. I couldn’t play scales, I didn’t recognize notes on charts…I didn’t know my bass neck….I felt stupid. It never occurred to me I might be ill.
Over the last 18 months, I’ve attained some realization; but it came hard with great resistance. Doctor after doctor had different diagnoses. Meanwhile, I had every health issue that one person can handle at one time. I became overwhelmed with serious illnesses.
A couple doctors told me that 2016 is the year that my age caught up with me. I refused to believe it at the time.
Introspection, common sense, and thanks to a very smart friend, I have been able to get my artistic soul to accept the reality of ‘so be it.’
Everyone who has a beloved hobby, athletic skills, and an artistic nature wonders what it will be like when they get cold cocked with life’s other plans. Not being able to participate in something that is hard wired is distressing to say the least.
Once it occurs, it is nearly impossible to convey the sadness. It is like trying to explain what LSD is like to someone who has never taken it.
The process is very much like the 5 stages of grief and loss: Denial and isolation, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.
I have gone through those 5 stages. Finally, 18 months into the process, I’ve reached acceptance. Most of the sadness is gone. I learned to cope.
During my early struggle with anger, I found it impossible to listen to or enjoy music.
With the “acceptance” came a hunger to listen to as much music as possible. It was like being 16 again. And that hunger included watching all those MTV Live concerts. I’m digging the shit out of it.
So now I sit back while watching these concerts; all arrogant and shit…and criticize every bassist I see and tell myself that I’m better than him. Or I could play every bit as good.
I’m not angry anymore.
What have I learned?
I’ve learned not to take anything for granted. Life is a trip. One moment you’re smiling up at the sun….and the next moment, life is cruel. There is no timeline. It just happens when you ain’t looking.
My greatest joy, besides my memories, is that I had the foresight to write down a shit load of my experiences right here on this cigar review web site. I’ve canonized myself for my daughter and my eventual grandchildren. I’ve written my own biography with my only intention to entertain you.
Before I become too ill, or too stupid, to continue to write, I think I will start a new blog with only my personal stories on it. This way my loved ones don’t have to wade through thousands of reviews. That’s my next project.
Of course, some of those stories are so raw and X rated that I doubt my daughter will allow her children to read about their grandpa til they are teens.
It’s been a good run and I thank you all for enjoying my adventures and idiocy.
I am happy.
And now for something completely different….really:
Island Studios is in the Jamaican section of London. We had just finished recording our studio album to follow the “Live” album. All new songs. They even pulled a George Harrison and allowed me one song on the album.
It was called: “I Broke My Leg in Yucca Valley, but My Heart Lies in Palm Springs.”
Those were the entire lyrics. It was a jazzy scat type song in which the bass took a light Stanley Clarke-type bass riff.
Neither Darryl (the violinist) nor Mick (the guitarist) could figure what to play so they threw their hands in the air and left the recording area. It ended up being a bass solo and drum song. Drummer Stewart Copeland got it. I had worked with Stew, on that tune, for a month before coming to the studio.
For some reason, if you go to curvedair.com and go to the Old Website, and then to News, then MP3 Tracks & News Archive, there is a very early version of my song. It is horrible. It was before the guitarist gave up. It was before Sonja gave up and her vocals are horrifyingly terrible. You need phones or a decent sound system. It isn’t even mixed. So why would they put it on the top of the list of tunes? To embarrass me? But why embarrass Sonja? Don’t get it.
For this album, rhythm tracks were done first and then everything was layered on top. So my job was done in a week. (A really stupid way to record) The coolest way to record is have every player do his thing right along with the other band members. It has a much rootsier and live sound. Layering makes it sound stiff and technical.
Even as I whizzed through my parts on the album, we still had 4-5 weeks of studio time left. I preferred to hang in the studio than sit at home and watch BBC-1. Plus, there was petty cash to always feed us and I learned to love Jamaican food.
Jose Feliciano was touring Europe and had never been to England. England was all abuzz.
Our press agent was a good friend of Feliciano and got him to stop by the studio one night. I was pretty excited. We were a week away from finishing the album.
Feliciano brought a then unknown percussionist named Paulinho da Costa. He went on to be a big deal in the years to follow.
Feliciano had a big mouth and you couldn’t get a word in edge wise. Man, he could talk. Yeah he smoked dope but he must have been doing uppers like a madman.
He listened to our tunes and jumped up. He got his assistant to help him into the studio. He pulled out his guitar and started laying down tracks on our tunes. After a while, it got weird. It wasn’t supposed to be the “Curved Air album starring Jose Feliciano.”
During a break, he sat on the couch in the booth. Our chick singer had a vocal coach who was currently a big star in the rock opera “Jesus Christ Superstar” in London. His name was Derek.
Now Derek was as queer as a $3 bill. No offense but he was a raging queen. He was a really good guy. And he was very funny. He loved being gay and would flaunt it til we couldn’t breathe from laughing; we enjoyed his company.
Derek was there the first night that Feliciano was there.
Feliciano showed up the following night as well.
Before the proceedings began on the second night, Jose took the floor. Word had spread and the booth was jam packed with people.
He sat on the couch. I sat next to him. And Derek sat on his other side.
Feliciano is blind. But you knew that.
You’d think he would take that into consideration when talking about people behind their backs (or in front of their backs) because he lit into Derek.
“Did you hear that queer last night?” And then he went on to imitate him. Everyone in the booth froze in horror.
Derek just sat there and said nothing. Finally, he had enough and leaned into Feliciano’s ear, with his hand on Feliciano’s thigh, and said, “Lissssssten Ssssssweetheart.”
For a moment, we all thought Feliciano got his sight back by the way his eyes opened and his glasses flew off.
There was uproar of laughter in that booth. The whole time, Feliciano tried back pedaling; saying stuff like: “I don’t care about how people live their lives, blah, blah, blah.”
Apparently, Feliciano had no sense of humor when it came to himself.
He stood up, made his excuses and shuffled off into the darkness of the Jamaican section never to be seen again by Curved Air.
BTW- He liked my tune the best and even Paulinho played on it. This really pissed off our ego maniacal band leader. I never got a copy of that song no matter how I begged.
During the official play back and release party at RCA headquarters in London, I remember that when my song was first heard by everyone, they did a double take.
“What the hell is this?”
They hated my song. Was it too progressive for a progressive rock band? No, it was too jazzy. Such backwards thinking by the suits.
I took a lot of crap and they dropped the song from the album. I was not happy.
It was the only truly original song on the album but it was just too much for them. The album went on to being the lowest selling album in Curved Air’s career of more than 20 albums. Yeah. I was the asshole.
Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS