Wrapper: Nicaraguan Corojo ‘99
Binder: Nicaraguan Corojo ’99
Filler: Nicaraguan Criollo ‘98
Size: 6.25 x 54 Torpedo
Price: $8.00 (Can be had for a buck less if you look around)
Today we take a look at the Casa Fernandez Buena Cosecha Corojo.
Thanks to my young friend, Tyler Jeffery at Havana Lounge & Cigar, for turning me on to this blend.
This cigar has been on the market since last summer. And I could only find one written review and a couple video reviews. This does not bode well for the finish line. But Tyler, who has a very similar palate to mine, liked it…so I’m giving it a shot. If I find out he’s full of shit, I will visit his family.
I need to come up with a boiler plate explanation for every review instead of writing it from scratch each time. From the very first review 10 years ago, I have found writing stream of consciousness and contemporaneously without editing and going straight through the entire cigar experience makes my reviews a better read as it hopefully puts you in the moment with me as I smoke and write.
Debuted 2017 IPCPR trade show
Blender: Arsenio Ramos
Buena Cosecha Corojo translates as Good Harvest Corojo.
Factory: Sabor Aganorsa S.A
100% AGANORSA tobacco.
A very pretty cigar with a slick wrapper colored like exotic caramel and cinnamon. Seams are tight and hard to find. Very few veins. A gorgeous attack of the application of the triple cap. Flawless. And lastly, it has a crisp box press. Even the cigar band is a thing of art; harkening back to what appears to be a retro 1950’s appeal.
SIZES AND PRICING:
Robusto 5 x 50 $7.00
Toro 6 x 50 $8.00
Torpedo 6.25 x 54 $8.00
AROMAS AND COLD DRAW POINTS:
From the shaft, I can smell…lawdy, lawdy Miss Clawdy…heavenly aromas of crème brûlée, milk chocolate, malts, cedar, coffee, caramel, deep dark molasses, assorted dried fruit, red pepper, more cream, orange zest, and a touch of black licorice.
From the clipped cap and the foot, I can smell caramel, Crème brûlée, milk chocolate, red pepper, malts, cedar, coffee, lots of sweetness, orange citrus, and licorice.
The cold draw presents flavors of salty pretzel, cedar, orange citrus, red pepper, chocolate, coffee, and cream.
Man, I’m glad I have a PerfecDraw cigar poker…no shit. This little bugger has saved me a bloody fortune in cigars. The Casa Fernandez Buena Cosecha Corojo has a plug around the cigar band. A couple swipes of the poker and you can drive an Edsel through it. I would never pitch a product like I do with this one if I didn’t absolutely, 100% believe in its value to me and my beloved readers. I have received so many emails from you my friends that bought the device telling me it was the best cigar accessory they ever bought. And the price is down now. How’s that bad?
OK. Eyes forward and sit up straight.
This is a big cigar for me. I’m more of a robusto or corona gorda kind of guy. I like the intensity those smaller cigars bring to the table. This is a big torpedo. And as such, I expect some serious warm up time before it begins to perform.
All box presses give me char line grief. This baby is no exception as a run starts early and requires quick action.
I’m immediately slammed by plutonium levels of Corojo red pepper. I can hear my nose hairs sizzle. Followed by a big tobacco taste that is pleasant and intriguing. Creaminess is next in line which gives first breath to a variety of malts. Dried fruit is a nice touch. There is a saltiness that doesn’t over power. Pretzel is standing at attention. Espresso is definitive. A light cocoa element hovers about.
With only half an inch smoked, the cigar displays the type of complexity usually hoped for somewhere further down the line. Tyler appears to be right…for a change.
Transitions are warming up. The finish is nicely done so early in the game.
Grand Funk is on the classic rock channel. I loved those guys even though the critics hated them. I loved the bassist, Mel Schacher. He played some fantastic riffs. And I bet you didn’t know that his earlier days were spent in the 60’s band, Question Mark & The Mysterians (“96 Tears”).
The Corojo is lighting my fire with its potent and zesty spiciness. I’m a spice junkie. No idea why but a blend that can introduce high levels of pepper and yet remain balanced and complex is my desert island blend.
The char line hasn’t needed a single touch up and is acting like a real mensch.
A big blast of Tupelo honey rests upon my tongue and coats my teeth. I swear that my lips feel sticky.
I am having trouble reconciling the price point of the Casa Fernandez Buena Cosecha Corojo. This is a $7 or $8 stick. And it appears to be on track for becoming a killer blend. Of course, having the goods on AGANORSA tobacco all to themselves; or who they select to sell it to, has a big impact on what I taste. CF could have easily charged and arm and a leg for this stick. The proverbial $12 stick that manufacturers seem to love.
Charlotte was feeling down in the dumps with all the shit going on. So I took her to Havana Lounge & Cigar with me yesterday. My wife has never spent time in a cigar shop. She smoked a Moontrance. Got sloshed in the middle of the day and had a great time. Her mood was elevated for the rest of the day. It’s a baby Jesus miracle what a few hours in a good cigar shop can do for the soul.
I’ve hit the first sweet spot. Huge complexity. Beautiful transitions. Perfect balance. A tasty finish that coats my teeth like toothpaste. And only 1” from the second third.
I’m getting an unexpected root beer flavor. With the heavy cream, it’s like drinking a root beer float. Vanilla pops its head up. The orange influence gives it a real tang that keeps the sweetness from going too far.
The Casa Fernandez Buena Cosecha Corojo is a fine cigar. My gut tells me that it will continue to get better and more interesting as we progress. No fear of it taking a dump on me. In fact, remember when Casa Fernandez was the flavor of the month around 4-5 years ago or so? Everything they put out was fantastic. Then they took a big dump on themselves and began putting out shit. But the folks at CF realized this and regrouped. In the last year, they’ve been able to pull their pants up from around their ankles with a new mindset about their blending. And what a nice gift to its loyal customers to bring the Buena Cosecha to the table at an affordable price.
The cigar oozes a long list of complex flavors…I have a joke about ooze but for the folks that read me while smoking the same cigar would not think it is funny. See. I can be considerate and big hearted. Even if it doesn’t ring true.
The honey and the orange are dynamite. I mean, really…this is highly unique and can’t remember tasting this combo in such high concentration.
Smoke time is 40 minutes.
Yesterday was 85 degrees. Today…56 and lots of rain. I might as well be living in Oregon.
Deep Purple is playing. Toured with them for a bit in Europe and remember someone calling the cops on us when both bands took a swim late after the gig. It was reported that a bunch of naked women were swimming in the pool. The cops didn’t ticket us but got lots of autographs.
The Casa Fernandez Buena Cosecha Corojo is on cruise control. In a good way…it keeps pumping out delicious incentives to keep interest high and boredom low.
Transitions get beaten to death by me. But your Uncle Katman knows of what he speaks. Maybe the most unsophisticated of new cigar smokers may not consciously be aware of it in a good blend, but it is supremely important to the likability of the cigar.
Transitions occur as a result of the complex nature of the leaves and technique of the blender. A beautiful byproduct of real passion for impressing the masses. If flavors keep moving, it becomes a physics equation that is impossible to prove. One gets caught up, if focused, in the overall effect the cigar has upon your palate. I get questions all the time about the physics of cigar smoking and why things happen the way they do. I have to reply total ignorance on this matter. I’ve yet to find a real answer on why things happen the way they do when a blend is a classic.
The usual suspects of online cigar stores that have the best prices like Small Batch Cigar and Atlantic Cigar are selling this stick for $7. This is unheard of for a blend of this quality.
A 20 count box can be had for $140. In today’s world of overpriced cigars, this is a winner of a deal.
Even at this early point, I can highly recommend you search and destroy whatever you need to do to purchase this cigar.
In my head, I’m using the copyrighted and patented method of rating cigars called The Katman Method. It means I reach down to scratch my ass and out comes a score. By now, rating is so subjective that it doesn’t matter the method. You compare this cigar to the thousands of different blends I’ve smoked over 50 years and let my gut do the talking.
Construction is immaculate. A well-made cigar for the same price as a Gurkha. I’ve seen it all now.
I should have mentioned earlier that I’ve had this cigar naked in my humidor for nearly two months.
Yesterday, at Tyler’s, I bought a 2018 Viaje Cache. Tyler has boxes of the blend. And they are barely moving due to the lack of interest from most customers. Yet, try to find them online. A real crap shoot. (414) 258-8219.
Smoke time is one hour 20 minutes.
Some way or another, I will find a way to purchase a box. Now, I really don’t understand why there are only a handful of reviews for the Casa Fernandez Buena Cosecha Corojo. This is a great cigar. Normally, a lack of reviews causes impending doom on my part. Instead, just confusion.
This cigar is a locomotive. Giant plumes of smoke rise from the foot like a house afire.
Strength started out as medium. But now hits medium/full. Nicotine is aboard now as I find my vision diminishing.
We had a little Chinese last night. One thing Jews know is how to find the best Chinese restaurants. The last 6 months I lived in London we had moved out to a little burg called Edgeware. Primarily a Jewish occupation of the town. 8 pubs. One grocer. And 3 Chinese restaurants. On the weekend, lines formed around the places. Back in the day on the road, we only ate in Indian restaurants or Chinese restaurants. English food back then was horrifying. I’m sure it’s better now since all those American fast food chains moved in. I lived there when, in 1975, the first McDonald’s showed up. I drove 45 minutes to get a hamburger. This is because Brits had no clue how to make a decent burger and McDonald’s was close enough for jazz.
Jesus Alou. The Casa Fernandez Buena Cosecha Corojo increases its beatific rise in astounding my palate. Smooth as my old tush. Hairless…mostly.
Last list of flavors: Creaminess, honey, malts, orange citrus, caramel, espresso, chocolate, dried fruit, cedar, lighting hot pepper, molasses, vanilla, and caramel.
I know I’m not very clever or witty when I write a review about a cigar I like. But the important factor is providing positive info to you on a good purchase. I’ll try to be funnier tomorrow.
This big torpedo has every bit of complexity as a much smaller stick. It doesn’t matter which size you choose. Of course, it appears that this torpedo requires a 2 hour commitment of time. But if it’s a good time, then ride, Sally, ride.
And now for something completely different:
Continuation of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame drummer, Hal Blaine Chronicles…
I have so many fun stories associated with Hal, it is hard to choose.
Let’s see….Hal invited me to lunch on his yacht. Along with some other session player friends. I don’t remember their names. A nice bunch of Jewish boys. Hal liked to invite the young studio players because they reveled being in his company. Hal was going through a rough period in the early 80’s…another divorce. And the heydays of the L.A. Wrecking Crew were dissipating quickly. Bands were made up of musicians since the early 70’s and didn’t need a faux band to do their recording for them. Hal was despondent that his date book was never full.
So Hal ordered from Canter’s Deli on Fairfax.
We had a smorgasbord of Jewish comfort food. I refuse to list them because I live in Milwaukee where there is not a single decent Jewish deli. Well…not one that should be allowed to call itself Jewish. All crap. I have to go to Chicago to indulge…90 miles away. Just like Cuba and Florida.
We lit up a doob before we ate. Hal didn’t partake. And stories were told. I was amongst the big league of L.A. musicians. So I mostly listened until Hal told them I played with drummer Stew Copeland of The Police. After all, The Police were still in their heyday.
We laughed so loud and hard we thought someone would complain and call the cops. Does pot make you paranoid?
For fuck’s sake, we were on a docked yacht in Marina Del Rey. Who the hell is going to complain?
I’m one of those guys that loves to hear stories. I’d much rather shut the fuck up. You have no idea how many musicians I knew that got jealous when I told my stories and got all shitty. Not me. I loved listening to bits of history. I loved music since I was a little guy. And being in the presence of musicians that could relay their experiences, dropping names like crazy, about how they lived through the golden age of the birth of rock music was mesmerizing.
Again, I cannot remember names but one guy asked if wanted to see his new studio?
We were stuffed to the gills with some of the heaviest food on the planet. And Hal had 20 years on us…so he must have felt paralyzed. And then the same fella brought out dessert: Colombian marching powder. Wham! I was no longer lethargic.
Off we went. This guy owned a studio…or should I say STUDIO!!
It was in the Hollywood Hills surrounded by homes of musicians and movie stars. The view was to die for.
To make a long story short, we all sat down and grabbed an instrument. Luckily, I was the only bassist. I’m very intimidated at jam sessions when there is another bassist on hand. Insecurities.
We started jamming on “Sugar, Sugar,” by the Archies. LMAO. We were all high and laughing hysterically. One of the guys had actually played on the record. There was no Archies. Totally a conglomeration of studio cats.
We played for about an hour. And then in walked Bobby Hatfield and Bill Medley…The Righteous Brothers. Hal had called them from his car on the way to the studio.
I almost shit myself. I had met them once before when I interviewed them for my PBS TV show in 1982. They barely remembered me.
The drummer had lit up another doob and Bill walked over and took it from him. And then laughed a huge belly laugh. After a few drags, he handed it to Bobby.
I knew what was coming and I did not know a single song in their catalog. Oh fuck!
I took the studio owner aside and asked if he had one of those giant music books with 1000 songs in them? He did and it had all the boys’ songs. Whew.
Unfortunately, it was a piano book with the bass lines for the left hand of the piano. So I did some wood shedding when we began to play.
Bobby and Bill made it absolutely clear that no recording will go on. They were very stern about this. They didn’t want any boot legs showing up. I thought that here was my only chance to play with these guys and I’d have no record of it…so to speak.
The first hour, we jammed on a bunch of R & B tunes that everyone knew. They said they were in no hurry to sing their songs. And besides, we weren’t paying them. But they graciously accepted that we all wanted to play their hits.
Little Latin Lupe Lu was a mind fuck of an experience. This was the most fun song of the session. It lasted at least 30 minutes.
And then the sun set around 8pm on this California summer day. And guys were talking about getting home before their wives beat them. That was OK. We had played for 5 hours. And I was adrenaline soaked.
Hal drove us all back to his boat where our cars were parked. His Bentley could hold a lot of people but we still ended up sitting on top of each other.
A few months later, Hal called me and gave me Bill’s phone number. Their bass player was sick and couldn’t play that Friday and Saturday at their own club in Orange County. Been there many times and once in a while, they showed up to perform.
I called Bill and he asked me if I wanted the gig? )($&KUE$%&((*%#@%*_?????!!!!
“You know our songs, right?”
Times were arranged.
I spent the next few days learning every one of their hits. I spent zero time at my recording studio. This was too important and I wanted to be asked back.
I barely slept the night before.
For two glorious nights, I was in the Righteous Brother’s Band.
I’ve got photos of me on stage but they are buried in one of our many photo boxes in the basement.
After the gig, I was taken aside by Bill Medley who told me I did fine but that I played too many notes. Drat.
That was the only time I got to play with the Righteous Brothers.
Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS