Wrapper: Ecuadorian HVA
Binder: Ecuadorian Criollo ‘98
Filler: Nicaraguan, Ecuadorian, Dominican
Size: 5 x 50 Robusto
Today we take a look at the Bespoke Cigars Daughters of the Wind Pony (Robusto).
Samples were provided by Bespoke Cigars.
Factory: Tabacos de Costa Rica (our stuff, along with Atabey, Byron, Mbombay etc.)
Comes in boxes of 15.
From Bespoke Cigars (Casdagli Cigars):
“To accompany our newly updated Daughters of the Wind line (DotW) we have added a Robusto to the current lineup. We wanted to introduce smokers to our DotW line by providing a more accessible and affordable cigar compared to the larger formats we currently have available.
“The existing formats of the DotW are all medium to large cigars characterized by a rich and full flavor delivered by the rare and expensive tobaccos found in their blend. The tobaccos used in the blend are all between 2 to 5 years of age.
“This new addition will also be made in Costa Rica for Casdagli at the Tabaccos de Costa Rica factory in Puriscal.
“We have been collaborating on special projects with Don Olman for over 6 years now and are confident that our new Robusto is in safe hands.
“The boxes will be the first to exhibit the new “Casdagli” brand name but will continue to show the Colossus of Rhodes within the gold diamond – as diamonds truly are forever,” says Jeremy Casdagli, the founder of Bespoke Cigars.”
From Small Batch Cigar:
“These cigars are hand crafted in Costa Rica by Don Olman Guzman. These blends being dominated by the rich flavours emanating from Peru, Ecuador, and Nicaragua. “The Daughters of the Wind“ is a famous Arabian poem written in the 6th century inspired by the beauty of Bedouin horses. In the early 1900s Demy & Alick Casdagli purchased the Sheikh Obeyd stables just outside Cairo and became celebrated breeders of Arabian race horses. They gained particular success with breeding the Dahman strain with a famous mare called Bint Bint Durra. “The Dahman is a very rare breed famed for its strength, elegance and refinement. We wanted to celebrate this with the launching of a small production of cigars with these attributes.“
Nice looking stick. Seams are nearly invisible, little veinage, a beautifully crafted triple cap, and perfectly filled; not burdened with soft or hard spots.
The oily wrapper is a milk chocolate brown with hints of tree bark. (Woof, woof). With the slightest touch of tooth.
SMELL THE GLOVE:
Oh my. Floral notes galore. Dripping with chocolate and caramel. Baking spices, charred oak, buttered brioche, sweet notes of banana, vanilla, and café latte. A combo of black and red peppers. And black licorice.
The draw is spot on. I put my PerfecDraw cigar poker and tool away for a cigar of lesser quality.
First notes up are already dressed and ready to go to the prom. We have buttered toast, lemongrass, caramel, milk chocolate, white pepper, espresso, an even keeled nuttiness, and some big expectations as this cigar performs perfectly out of the gate.
Smoke just pours from the foot blinding me in one eye. I don my pirate patch and perch my stuffed parrot on my left shoulder.
Perfect resistance on the draw.
More flavors…vanilla ice cream, chocolate sprinkles, mocha java, spiciness at a righteous level for my taste, and a nice charred meatiness.
One thing you can always count on with Bespoke cigars is consistency. They just never miss the mark. Unbelievable.
Strength started out at a pleasant medium and continues that path.
This was a bold move on the part of Bespoke…to put out a less expensive blend to give smokers that normally buy boutique brands in the $9-$12 range a shot at the Bespoke name.
So far, I am more than impressed. I can’t begin to count the $12 sticks that can’t touch the hem of the Pony. But then, the entire Daughters of the Wind line is beyond outstanding.
A great morning cigar. I’ve had my caffeine fix and am now just enjoying a bottle of Michigan water to accompany this adventure. I will check into the hospital as soon as I finish the review.
The Pony has been on a trajectory of serious complexity since the start. Transitions are floating by like Macy balloons. The finish is lip smacking good. I’m kvelling.
Spiciness rises to the occasion with a slap in the puss with some nice black pepper. It pulls some of the more reticent flavors out of hiding; such as black tea, licorice, cumin, and a slight hickory smokiness.
Dudes and Dudettes, this cigar is something else. But please remember those of little patience…Bespoke cigars need some humi time. None of this B.S. of ROTT. Or waiting only two weeks. Patience my dears. Give your baby two months of time at the least and ye shall be rewarded handsomely.
Don’t you just love it when a cigar starts off with some panache and it just keeps getting better and better? No dead ends. No one trick pony (sorry for the pun) syndrome. A true masterful blend that makes your palate spin.
The balance. We need to talk. Nothing is out of place or overwhelming. It is all working in perfect harmony…”All we are saying is give peace a chance…”
I am telling you at this moment as I start to see the halfway point that this is a box worthy cigar. A fiver at the least. You can get them right now from Small Batch Cigar. And you can purchase Bespoke from Cigars City, Cedar Room, and The Clayton.
I like some sweetness in my blends. The Pony abides. Equal amounts of savory and sweet make for a lovely experience.
Strength is upping the ante. We are heading towards medium/full.
I’m trying to conjure up a comparison to another blend. What other blend is very complex, transient transitions, long finish, chewy, balanced, smooth as silk, and flavors coming out of its ears? I know. Other Bespoke blends. I really cannot compare it to any other blend in specific terms. A surprisingly unique blend for such a reasonable price point.
Instead of flavors wavering, they are not only on point as described earlier; but have been thrown into the stratosphere and have become bold and beautiful causing my palate to dance to “Hava Negila.”
Creaminess makes its push. There is a shift in the time continuum. A change is a’ comin’.
Citrus, tea, caramel, coffee, chocolate, malt for the first time, with a deep earthiness.
The Pony is morphing. Complexity reaches the next level.
I have never had a bad Bespoke blend. I’ve never had a so-so Bespoke blend. This is just ridiculous. Casdagli has never given me the opportunity to besmirch his rep. Maybe if he puts out a Quorum by Bespoke, I might have a chance.
Despite the increasing strength of the cigar, in direct opposition, the blend gets smoother with each puff.
The morph is now complete. The whole has become greater than its parts. Bespoke has created a monster in its lab in Transylvania. Or is it Estonia? I forget which. It’s alive! It’s alive!
Jesus Alou and Manny Mota. I love a cigar that keeps surprising me. Will the next puff floor me or just impress? Tomato, tomahto.
The construction…let’s talk. Not a single criticism. No burn issues. Perfect draw. A stalwart rolling process.
No nicotine! Hallelujah my babies…
I never saw this coming. Of course, I had hoped that I would come back as rich and good looking but now that isn’t necessary (unless you ask my wife) because Bespoke has issued a blend that is another in a long line of brilliant concoctions and something that senior citizens living on Social Security can afford. Big smile.
Before they run out, BUY SOME.
I’m in a blissful state in which my mind is one with the walrus and my senses are Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da.
What a glorious morning.
Thanks to Jeremy and Vlada for thinking of me.
And now for something completely different:
A 2014 story:
My wife, Charlotte, worked at a very popular small Polish Deli. They have a huge clientele. She’s German and in the beginning had an uphill battle getting acceptance from the Poles. But my wife is very personable and she soon won them over. And if she didn’t, she threatened to march through Poland and take the country for herself.
Now my wife has a lot of customers that are German. So, on her days off, the Germans don’t show, making the owner bang his head on the wall.
There was a huge Polish Fest at some park in Milwaukee. We were expected to show. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t know anyone, so it meant I’d have to find a solitary corner under some tree and smoke a cigar by myself.
I don’t know what it is but these Polish fests attract the very oldest of the old Poles. I swear no one is under 90. Could have made a fortune with an oxygen bottle fill-up booth. “Get your oxygen here…get it before I run out!”
Young Alan worked part time at the deli. He was in his early 20’s and plays in a Polish band with his father. A duo. They provided the entertainment.
Alan played keys and electronic drums and bass and sang lead vocal. His father played guitar. Now Alan is extremely talented who managed to be a one-man orchestra.
I stood directly in front of the band. I could hear everything clearly…except the guitar and dad’s harmonies.
With the cigar in my mouth, I crept up closer to dad. I stood 6 feet away and I couldn’t hear any guitar! He had the volume off. And then I noticed that while I could see his mouth moving, there were no vocals coming out of the P.A. He was pulling a Milli Vanilli. Ach du Lieber!
Dad smiled at me and I just laughed. Alan had to split the dough with a robot with gray spikey hair. In Polish households, the dad rules the roost and there ain’t no talking back.
As is par for the course, Alan played nothing but polkas. I hate that music more than my disdain for country music. Oom Pah Pah…over and over. Every damn song sounds the same to me. And everyone sang along. This was Jewish hell. If I want to listen to music in 3-4 time, I’ll listen to the “Blue Danube.”
I wandered over to the food line. I left my cigar on top of a tree stump, still burning.
As I got in line and perused all the food, I almost gagged. Really…
I had no idea what I was looking at. It was all mushy stuff. I politely took one of everything and walked away. I headed back to my stump and cigar. My wife was kibitzing with lots of her customers. I later found out that no one else liked the food either. It was catered by a Polish caterer from Birkenau.
I sat on the stump and tried some of the goopy food. None of it had any flavor that I could associate with real food.
In fact, out of the corner of my eye, I could swear, I thought I saw the plate move a couple inches. I think it wanted to commit suicide by falling off the stump.
As I looked around there was the makings of a Nerd Camp movie. I watched as dozens of people just happened to walk near the tree line of the camp ground and fling their plates into the woods. Squirrels would soon die of food poisoning.
This would upset the balance of nature as whatever ate dead squirrels would be spitting it out. I can just see all types of insects raising their little arms in wonder and saying, “What’s with this meshuga squirrel? It tastes like crapola! Oy Gevalt!”
Yes. The insects in most Milwaukee campgrounds are Jewish.
While heading to the Holy Land, they made a wrong turn. Late at night, if you listen closely, you can hear a male bug,” What do you want with me? I picked the leaves up. Always nagging. But ask for sex? Ahhhhhh…..you ain’t so vocal then. And why so stingy with the lox? You saving it for someone?”
And then the reply: “Oy! Every time I pick up your dung, you poop in the same place! What am I? Your personal maid? Gevalt!”
My wife dragged a couple old guys over to me. Oh no. Someone kill me now.
“Phil, this is Czarek and Thaddeus. They looked like cigar moochers. I only brought 5 cigars with me. And I hate giving good cigars to guys that don’t know which end to light or think you’re supposed to stop smoking the cigar when you hit the band.
I said hello.
“Phil, these young men (young? they looked 100 if a day) love cigars and I thought you might want to smoke together?”
Was it still illegal to kill a spouse? Even in Milwaukee?
I handed them the sticks and a cutter. Czarek cut the cigar almost in half and I slapped myself in the forehead. Thaddeus bit the end off like it was a Slim Jim. I came close to passing out.
So, we sat together while they spoke Polish to me. I pretended to understand while I enjoyed smoking my cigar to the nub.
Poor squirrels. Unwittingly killed by the Polish food. Or they committed suicide from the polka music. I’m betting on the latter.
Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS