Wrapper: Ecuadorian Habano Rosado
Size: 5 x 50 Robusto
Price: $7.80 (A buck less online)
Today we take a look at the My Father La Gran Oferta.
I’ve had my samples simmering in my humidor since August.
Factory: My Father Cigars S.A.
Release Date: July 2018
“Over the years, My Father Cigars, Inc. has released a number of new lines based on either brands or artwork that previously existed—including Flor de las Antillas and The Judge—so it was no surprise when the company announced another addition in that same vein would launch during the 2018 IPCPR Convention & Trade Show.
“That line is named La Gran Oferta—which translates into the great offer—and features a blend made up of an Ecuadorian Habano rosado wrapper covering Nicaraguan tobaccos in the binder and filler. According to the company, the brand “features stunning artwork created after a very old cigar brand that sold under the same name, around 1913.”
“Rolled at the My Father Cigars S.A. factory in Estelí, Nicaragua, La Gran Oferta launched in five different vitolas, all of which are packaged in 20-count boxes.”
SIZES AND PRICING:
Robusto 5 x 50 $7.80
Lancero 7.5 x 38 $10.00
Torpedo 6.125 x 52 $8.80
Toro 6 x 50 $8.40
Toro Gordo 6 x 56 $8.90
The first thing I notice is how hard this cigar is. Gonna need to get poked. The very oily wrapper is typically espresso chocolate brown. Tight seams. Loads of veinage. A perfect triple cap. And a billboard full of double cigar bands and footer band.
SMELL THE GLOVE:
I should remove all the paper from the cigar so I can find a place to stick my nose that isn’t covered by cigar bands. Instead, I insert the cigar directly up my nose about 2” and snort away. First up is an equal amount of chocolate and floral. Followed by espresso, barnyard, spicy black pepper, sweet factors, cedar, malt, hay, and a nice creaminess.
The cold draw presents flavors of malt, espresso, barnyard, cedar, black pepper, and creamy hot cocoa.
The draw is a bitch so I grab my trusty PerfecDraw cigar poker and tool and fix the plugs.
Clouds of smoke fill the room as the flavor profile kicks in. Big elements of chocolate, espresso, creaminess, black pepper, black cherries, malt, cedar, and graham cracker. OK. Nothing extraordinary but a great start.
The cigar is very light in the hand. Odd that there were plugs in such a lightly filled stick. My guess this is going to be a quick smoke.
So far, this is behaving like any My Father blend. No surprises. But solid blending. I’ve been a fan of Garcia for ages because he is consistent. And his blends always please my palate.
Complexity is making its move around the 1” burned point. Transitions are minimal. The finish is full of cocoa, mint, pepper, malt, and creaminess.
I’m having some minor burn issues probably due to the sloppy rolling. Shame, Pepin.
The ash is very fragile and unless I dispose of it, it will end up burning parts of my body I really like.
Sure as shit, the first disengagement of ash falls directly into my lap. Fortunately, my son in law is a cop and got me a Kevlar insert for my lap. Keeps me toasty too as it’s below freezing and the windows are open.
Very flavorful as the cigar inches towards the second third in a quick step motion. I predicted this correctly. A Robusto should give you at least 60-75 minutes of smoke time. I shall finish the first third in 15 minutes. Uncle Pepin went cheap on filling the cigar correctly. And there is just a constant burn issue that due to the lousy rolling won’t go away.
Well, that was quick. 15 minutes.
I had hoped that this would be something special like so many other My Father blends but it turns out it’s more like a 2nd. Don’t get me wrong, it is a flavorful cigar but just doesn’t possess the oomph we expect from Pepin Garcia.
Strength is straight on medium.
Complexity is at a minimum level. Transitions are just OK. The finish is doing its best.
Chocolate, creaminess, black cherries, malt, espresso, mint, potent citrus, hazelnut, black pepper, cedar, buttered toast, vanilla toffee, and butterscotch. Nice.
On a different note, I am glad I no longer have a subscription to Cigar Aficionado. Their number one cigar of 2018 is the E.P. Carrillo Encore Majestic. What a dud. I rated it a 65! These people are out of their minds if they think that smokers buy into all their shit and chicanery. And when will they stop inserting the same Padrons over and over again? Oh wait…ad revenue. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.
I normally take a halfway point photo but this baby is burning down faster than a 4th of July sparkler.
The My Father La Gran Oferta is priced accurately at around $7. I can’t speak for the bigger sizes as the price point jumps exponentially. I doubt I’d ever pay $10 for the privilege of smoking this blend in a lancero.
This is roughly the same price as the regular My Father…which provides more bang for your buck.
Now I’m not sure why Garcia even marketed the La Gran Oferta. It doesn’t add anything significant to its catalog. And doesn’t stand out as a cigar I’d want a box of.
Perfect. Joe Cocker…”With a Little Help From My Friends.” Gotta love it. John Belushi too.
Big flavor improvement as we head towards the last third. Bolder. A first look at some balance. Transitions are on the move. And the finish is spewing thunder.
Nuance and subtlety finally show themselves. This blend has more than enough time to blossom. Plus, Garcia is known for producing cigars that don’t need 6 months of humi time. It is the only brand I can think of that I can go into my favorite B&M and grab one and smoke it right out of the cello and be pleased.
Man, I can’t type fast enough to stay ahead of the My Father La Gran Oferta’s burn. Was this supposed to be a cigarette?
The cigar is missing important components. While very flavorful, it lacks the all-important “Garcia Oomph.” It lays there like a flounder.
The strength would be better served if it could escape from the world of medium impact. In fact, not only is the cigar not getting stronger as we near the end, but I believe it is becoming weaker. It’s now more in line with mild/medium. Bummer, dudes. So, no nicotine and no punch gut.
The Byrds are playing. Back in the day, they were referred to as the American Beatles. I have a great story about when they were stars back in the mid 1960’s and a friend and I got back stage through subterfuge to hang with the band and interview them. We were 16 and pretended to be newspaper reporters. I would think my Kodak Instamatic camera should have been the give away that we were lying but the boys in the band were gracious and enjoyed having Elliott and I there at The Golden Bear in Huntington Beach, CA.
Oh my. Spectrum cable classic rock is playing King Crimson. That must be a first.
In a self-serving way, I’m glad this cigar is burning faster than Elon Musk’s career. I’m freezing my tuchas off.
And it ends. I’m not sure the cigar lasted 40 minutes. Wham bam, thank you Pepin Garcia.
And it ends with a whimper. Mild and less flavorful than the middle. Disappointed.
To be honest, I wouldn’t bother purchasing this stick. There are so many good cigars at the same price point out there that the My Father La Gran Oferta is low on the totem pole. A real shame as I expected more.
Here is Why You are Really Reading Me Cause It Ain’t for the Reviews, Honey Pie:
Curved Air’s first tour was with the original members of the band. I was the only new addition. They were very nice people; at first. They treated me well. Of course, that would change. Politics of Dancing.
A PR photo shoot was planned to be at Miles Copeland’s house in St. John’s Wood. A block away, was the famous EMI Studio, also known as Abbey Road Studio. It was the only road in London that the city stopped putting up street signs. They painted the name of the road on block walls in front of houses. Tourists stole the signs about 15 minutes after they were installed.
Stewart lived in a flat about 3 doors down from the studio. We were really poor. Management only paid us 50£ a week to survive on. But they also paid our rents and expenses. On the road, the pay doubled.
Stew and I hung out together a lot. So, we had dinner together all the time. He showed me his poor man’s dinner of cooked spaghetti with melted butter and four brussel sprouts on it. Actually, it was very tasty. And cheap. That’s right. Only 4 brussel sprouts. Two per man.
I had only known the band a week when we did the photo shoot. We hadn’t even rehearsed yet. Darryl, the leader and violinist of the band, picked me up in his little Triumph. A two-seater with a bit of a tiny storage area behind the seats.
After picking me up, we headed to Miles’ house. The shoot was a lot of fun because I had never done anything like this before. I was only 24. And my first foray into big time music. Plus, it was my chance to meet the band and SONJA!
Getting into his car required a can opener and a shoe horn. When the photo shoot was over, we immediately went to Miles’ bar and helped ourselves. Miles wasn’t around. Miles had one of those 200 year old houses that was lavish and historical.
It was time to leave and Sonja asked for a ride home to Hampton Heath. I allowed her the front seat and I found myself jammed into the back like a small piece of luggage or rat dog. Man, that was uncomfortable.
It began to just pour buckets of rain on the way. And it was rush hour. Both Darryl and Sonja smoked cigarettes and I have never smoked a cig in my entire life; hand to God.
The windows had to be closed because of the torrential rain. Not even a tiny crack open. Pretty soon, I got car sick. The cigarette smoke and the cramped quarters and the stopping and going really did a number on me. I begged them to open a window but when they tried, the rain came in.
We finally dropped off Sonja. I was sick as a dog and it had taken us a good hour to get her home.
She invited us in and Darryl accepted because he wanted a drink. Darryl could drink his weight in brandy. Sonja immediately came on to me. I must have been pale as a ghost and ready to blow chunks from the car ride. She rubbed herself up and down against me. First time at that age, I couldn’t get a boner.
I got in the front seat and told Darryl how car sick I was. He laughed and told me he had the cure. We stopped at a pub. He told me the cure was a snifter of brandy. I had my doubts but I was new to the band and played along.
Well, as you can imagine, the brandy only made it worse. We got back in his car where I immediately puked on his floor. We pulled over, in the pouring rain, and he made me clean it up. He was gagging from the smell, and sight, of what I did. I started to get the dry heaves.
All I could think of was I wasn’t making a good impression on my boss.
The car’s windshield wipers didn’t work for shit and Darryl had to keep putting his arm out of the window and use a rag on the glass so he could see. Meanwhile, I used another rag to get rid of the fogged wind screen. (That’s what they call a wind shield in the UK)
We got to a four way stop controlled by Bobbies. Darryl couldn’t see and went right through the stop. A Bobby in the middle of the road stopped us and began to yell.
Darryl explained and the cop let us go. Darryl drove about 30 feet and actually hit a Bobby controlling traffic. He was going slow and just knocked him over. All the cops descended on us and the yelling did not help my stomach. But they let us go with a warning. In America, we would have both been gunned down in the car. Bobbies were pretty even keeled blokes. They had to be. NO guns. Just a night stick.
An hour later, I was finally home. Where I went straight to bed and lay there moaning for God knows how long.
They never let me hear the end of that. For over two years, that story came up every 20 minutes in mixed company.
Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS