Wrapper: 10-year San Andrés Maduro
Binder: Indonesian
Filler: Nicaraguan
Size: 5 x 50 Robusto
Strength: Medium/Full
Price: $10.50

Today we take a look at the Stolen Throne Crook of the Crown.
Samples provided by Stolen Throne Cigars Co.

BACKGROUND:
According to Cigar Federation:
“Welcome to the BRAND LAUNCH of Stolen Throne Cigars!
“No…it’s not just a new blend release or a line extension. This is the first launch of this entire brand…ANYWHERE!

“Full-bodied and Medium+ strength. Flavors are bold and balanced. Big notes of espresso, black pepper, and cream. The extra-aged wrapper adds sweetness and earth. Additional hints of leather, caramel, almond, and cocoa.

“Crook of the Crown is expertly blended using some of the most luxurious tobaccos available!
“NOTE: We highly recommend getting as much of these as you can. Just imagine if you had the first release of Tatuaje or RoMa or something like that! Phenomenal collectable value! *shipping begins 6/10.”

From JR Cannon, co-owner of Stolen Crown Cigars:
“We’re a new boutique company that had our release May 30th in Virginia Beach.

“The Crook of the Crown is a medium plus smoke that offers a nice clean spice with heavy espresso notes and a deep smooth sweetness from the well-aged wrapper.
“We’re in Atlantic Dominion Cigar Shop. People may also contact us direct by our Stolen Throne Facebook page.”

SIZES AND PRICING:
Robusto: 5 X 50 $10.50
Toro: 6 X 52 $11.00

APPEARANCE:
Nice looking cigar. That 10-year-old Mexican wrapper shimmers and shines. The oily espresso colored wrapper has a minimal amount of veins and tight seams. The triple cap is seamless and sits atop the stick like a crown. (Sorry).

The cigar is packed solid but in smoking the two previous sticks in preparation for this review, I found no plugs whatsoever. It was clear sailing. It also means it’s a long smoke which is why I chose the Robusto over the Toro to review. These babies take their time and the Toro would force me to write contemporaneously for an additional half hour or so. And we know that no one wants that.

I like the cigar band and hallelujah! No skulls!!
The foot is closed.

SMELL THE GLOVE:
Big fat aromas of chocolate, mint, black pepper, caramel, dark coffee, creamy, malt, raisins, curry spices, cinnamon, smoked brisket, cedar, green tea, pine needles, and raspberry. Wow.

The cold draw presents flavors of Worcestershire sauce, black pepper, green chile, black coffee, bits of milk chocolate, malt, green tea, dried fruit for sweetness, smokiness, berries, green mint, and cinnamon.

FIRST THIRD:
I have found the next big thing. The Stolen Throne Crook of the Crown blew me away from the first puff ROTT. No shit. I’ve only smoked one premium brand that is capable of gutting your palate from the get-go and that’s Isabela cigars.

I don’t know how limited this cigar is as both JR and Lee gear up with their new company to crank out as many cigars as possible. Imagine smoking the best Ezra Zion, Nomad, Southern Draw, Roma Craft, and Padron all at the same time. Once again, no shit. And less expensive than all of those companies’ main line of cigars.

And the fact that it is ready to go upon receipt makes this blend pure gold. (I guess I’ve given away the end of the review).

The draw is spot on so I am able to put away my PerfecDraw draw adjustment tool away for a cigar whose construction is not as viable.

I light up and immediately get into the lotus position. Well, in my head, I’m able to contort so let’s say my shoulders come to rest, my head spins like a broken Howdy Doody doll, and my palate goes into shock at the onslaught of flavors.

It starts with a heavy complexity chock full of constantly twirling flavors that encompass the description of aromas I described. Except, the palate slams these flavors home by a factor of 5.

Transitions hear the starting gun and take off like a jackrabbit. The balance is immediate.
Strength hits a nice medium+; which is a good place for this old palate.

Smoke spews from the foot and cloaks my mini man cave like my toupee collection was set ablaze.

I cannot even imagine what serious humi time will do for this blend. I’ve had these cigars for only days and they are ready to go. Additional humidor aging can only bring the blend some rounded edges to smooth the experience out a scoche.

The flavors: Creaminess, black pepper, green chile, espresso, malt, dried fruit, cedar, mint, cinnamon, summer berries, raw almond, vanilla toffee, and chocolate mousse.

The green chile is a real surprise. I love chile rellenos because I grew up in SoCal and I’ve had the best so that flavor is hard wired in me and there is no equivocation that this is the real thing. I dig a pony.

The creaminess accelerates with no end in sight. It drags with it a more potent chocolaty element that also, curiously, accentuates the green tea and chile. The flavor combo is oh so different than most cigars I’ve smoked.

A crazy mixture of interesting conduits to our puny brains that locks the synapses in the open position. This is heaven and I’ve only smoked an inch. (There is a dirty entendre in that last sentence somewhere but it’s early so I will have to pass).

You don’t have to spend $12 or $15 or $18 for this brilliant blend. I have no idea how long Cigar Federation will be carrying them so if I were you, I’d stop reading me and buy as many as you can afford without your wife cutting your balls off.

I can’t say enough good things about the smooth balance. I have absolutely no criticisms or R rated things to say to describe this cigar. It’s pure manna.

And you don’t have to act within an hour to snag yourself a fiver because the amount of sticks offered is ultra-limited.

Every puff is an adventure for my palate. The strength maintains its medium+ attitude. The cigar has a slight edge to it that probably comes from smoking it early; but I find that edge sharp and inspiring. As a result, allowing the cigars to cool their heels in your humidor for a couple of months will just create a slightly different smoking experience.
Win/Win.

SECOND THIRD:
Zero construction issues. Free bird.

Every puff of the Stolen Throne Crook of the Crown is twice as complex as the puff before it. A sip of water and my head explodes.

This is an absolutely perfect cigar for my palate. Nothing is missing except my grasp of reality and a longer appendage.

Don’t let the naysayers tell you there is no such thing as a perfect cigar. All it means is that at any given time, a blend can satisfy everything your brain can expect from a great blend. It doesn’t mean it’s 10 times better than any other cigar on the market…that would be missing the point. It simply means that I am as sated as King Louis VXI after a meal of four different bowls of soup, a whole, stuffed pheasant, a partridge, mutton with garlic gravy, two pieces of ham, hard-boiled eggs, three heaping salads, and a plate full of pastries, fruits, and jams. That’s what smoking the Stolen Throne Crook of the Crown is like.

I cannot understate how complex the cigar becomes with each passing minute. As I said earlier, I am blown away. I could smoke these all day long and 5 times on Sunday.

The intensity makes huge demands for your attention, it is imperative you smoke your first stick on your own with no distractions.

The sum of its parts completely takes over now. Individual flavors are a thing of the past as this cigar blend whirls around the universe picking up precious elements and handing them to you with a pink bow attached.

The finish is a party in your mouth. It’s long and erect….er…wait…

Did you buy yourself some yet or are you petting your wallet urging it to display the green and wondering if you really need that kidney transplant that badly? Tell the wife that this was a cigar emergency. If she doesn’t buy it, make her dinner and buy her some flowers and have the best 5-minute sex romp you are capable of.

I’m having a gay old time here. (I’m dating myself with that comment). Hopefully, no one inside the Wisconsin government reads this review as dating yourself in this state is illegal.

Steve Winwood is playing. I love that guy. Perfect accompaniment as I am in a state of complete happiness.

If you ignore my advice, you will find yourself sitting in a corner with a dunce cap on while your friends refuse to share with you their Stolen Throne Crook of the Crowns. I’m not sharing mine.

The flavor profile is like a Whac-a-Mole with essences of intensity popping up with no warning…smothering your puss in tobacco heaven.
This, my dear friends, is a unique cigar.

LAST THIRD:
I don’t believe it matters what you choose to accompany this blend in terms of liquid refreshment. The boldness will overcome any influence a libation will incur. And only accentuate it a million different ways.

No new flavors but what I’ve listed is more than enough. It’s about the tobacco and the aging and the blending. A perfect tobacco sausage that opts for enlightenment rather than a killing time moment in your dreary life of catalog brands…and cigars covered in skull drawings.

I cast all my stash aside and fit the cat with a tray and neck strap and send him out to the neighborhood to sell them so I can buy the rest of the stock that CF has.

As far as I know, JR and Lee are just dipping their toes for the first time into blending. They’ve belted this blend out of the park. This is going to be a hard cigar blend to follow up. I’m betting they can do it. But you need to get on board with the Stolen Throne Crook of the Crown first so you can appreciate the brilliance of this new blend…and revel in the mastery of JR and Lee.

BTW- Today is the first day that Cigar Federation is selling these cigars. Before today, you could only pre-pay and wait.

The construction remains perfect. The burn has been incandescent without a single issue. The strength is a constant. No surges. The blend is a linear adventure with widespread tentacles for your enjoyment.

I finish an entire bottle of water for this review because I’m greedy and every sip unveils a new surprise with every puff. Sort of like smoking a box of Cracker Jack and then choking to death on the special prize inside.
The Stolen Throne Crook of the Crown refuses to disappoint. Listen to your Uncle Katman and snag these cigars from Cigar Federation. Let them know your uncle sent you, please. I don’t get anything out of it but I just would like to let them know who the messenger was.

Many thanks to JR Cannon and Lee Marsh for providing this exquisite blend. You boys should be mighty proud of yourselves.

RATING: 100

And now for something completely different:
1975

I have absolutely no recollection where Curved Air played that night; other than it was in England. Back in the mid 70’s, there was no place to grab a bite after a concert. They had these rest stops with a cafeteria every 25 miles on the freeway. So, we stopped to get some food in our gullets around 2am.

They had a very limited menu and each rest stop had the exact same food. I always got scrambled eggs with simmering hot tomatoes on them, bacon, and toast. I didn’t like English sausages. So that was it. All of your choices. Oh, I left out the chips. That was what Sonja always bought. A plate of French fries. She was a junkie who insisted on eating vegetarian. Go figure. We were young.

The place was completely empty as we picked our table. Darryl had excused himself to hit the loo. Meanwhile, limos pulled up with the members of Pink Floyd in them.

They got in line at the cafeteria and then Darryl got in line behind them and his head almost exploded when he realized who they were.
The band picked a table right next to ours. We said our hellos and then scarfed.

Darryl sat down…he didn’t notice that the band was sitting right next to us. He was drunk.
And then he bellowed: “Do you know who is here? PINK FLOYD!!!!”

We all started laughing. So did Pink Floyd. When Darryl assessed the situation, he was so embarrassed; he ran out to our limo and sat it out while we ate.

Nick Mason, their drummer, sat a foot away from me. Everyone in Europe knew who Curved Air was.

Nick was very down to earth and we shot the shit for a good 30 minutes. Very funny guy and he enjoyed my company because I used to be a very funny guy.

I always had my cigars with me. The same Cubans that guitarist Larry Coryell gave me when we did a few dates with him in Switzerland…so this seemed like a good time to bring them out. Mick, in our band, snagged one. So did Stew. Only Nick of Pink Floyd took one. So, we sat there another 30 minutes smoking leaving poor Darryl in the limo by himself.

We said our goodbyes and headed to our cars and the drive home. Darryl was really pissed off that we made him wait. He was the prima donna of the band. We just laughed and paid him no mind.

Sometime later that year, PF played a concert in London. I contacted Nick who had given me his phone number and he got us backstage passes. Only me, Stew, and Sonja went. Let me just say that was a great night.

And now for something completely different – Part 2:
A little rock n roll…1975.

I know a lot of you tire of my ex-rock god stories. But they are fun for me to re-live. And my musician readers can relate. After all, I lived through the days of legendary arena rock bands starring guys that are now old men like me.

Normally, Curved Air headlined those big arenas in England and Europe; but on occasion we supported a world class band; like Jethro Tull.

Let me say this: Ian Anderson is a tool. Like Frank Zappa, he never did drugs, did not approve of drugs, did not allow his band mates to use drugs and looked down his nose on anyone that used drugs. And by drugs, I am talking about the Hippie drugs: weed and hashish. In Europe, weed was almost never seen because of the climate and the difficulty to smuggle it.

Meanwhile, hash had more bang for the buck in terms of smuggling, and worth more.

Amsterdam was always our first stop of an 8-week tour on the Continent. We stocked up on hash and weed. And damn near smoked it all on the way back to the hotel.

Somewhere in Europe, we hooked up with Jethro Tull for 4 gigs. It was just the two of us on the bill.

We met the band and all was going well. We jammed with them for hours on end prior to sound checks. It was a lot of fun. Especially, since Anderson’s flute playing was jazzy and our violinist and our keys player…both classically trained dug the intricate chordal changes. Things got wild. Anderson loved us because of our musicianship. I had a great time trading riffs with their bassist, Jeffrey Hammond. I showed him how to play like Stanley Clarke and he showed me Jethro Tull riffs.

And then it became a dark and stormy night.

Each night, the band, except for Anderson, would hunker down in Curved Air’s dressing room, prior to the concert, and smoke dope with us. Our band leader, Darryl the violinist, never did drugs, but had a more enlightened view of things. He drank like a fish and enjoyed us as we got our goof on.

On the third night, we could hear Anderson SCREAMING for his band mates. The guys made a quick exit through a second door just as Anderson entered our dressing room. He smelled the pot and saw us smoking da’ herb, mon. He was livid and infuriated.

He said, “I know my guys were in here smoking dope with you. Where did they go?” His face was beet red…and breathing hard and his chest was heaving.
We just shook our heads and hunched our shoulders in response…with a stoner’s blank expression of “I don’t know, dude.”
Off he went.

He never found them smoking. They had clustered somewhere else and completely denied smoking dope when Ian Anderson found them. This really put me off on Anderson. It wasn’t like they were shooting heroin.

The next night, the boys were back in town; or rather, back in our dressing room having a good time. We laughed like idiots for the longest time and then Anderson walked in and caught them red handed.

He screamed like a banshee. Now, here were some of the most famous rock n roll guys in the world, at the time, and they cowered under the idiocy of their band leader.

They all retreated to their own dressing room and then Anderson started in on us.

Before he got too far, all five of us gave him the finger and told him to fuck off. Spittle was coming from his mouth and this stopped his tirade dead in the water. He stared at us for a moment and turned heels and left.

He didn’t allow us a sound check that night. Bastardo!
And we were never allowed to tour with them again. Methinks a whole lot of bands never toured with Jethro Tull twice.

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