Wrapper: U.S.A. Connecticut Havana Seed CT #142
Binder: Mexican San Andrés
Filler: Honduran Jamastran, Nicaraguan Estelí & Jalapa)
Size: 6 x 52 Toro
Strength: Medium/Full
Price: $11.75

Today we take a look at the Tabernacle Havana Seed CT #142.
Bought a fiver for $10.30 per stick.
I’ve had them marinating naked for 3+ months.

BACKGROUND:
Released: December 2018
Regular production
Factory: Tabacalera AJ Fernandez Cigars de Nicaragua S.A.
According to Halfwheel.com:
“Connecticut is known best for its mustard-colored shade-grown wrappers and to a lesser degree, the dark, oily broadleaf tobacco, but those two are hardly the only tobacco being grown in the state. In 1875, the Connecticut Agricultural Experiment Station was founded to do exactly as the name implies—experiment. Tobacco is part of what the Experiment Station does and it’s produced a myriad of tobacco varietals over the years.

“As the name of this cigar would suggest, the wrapper is Havana Seed CT #142, a variation of a Cuban-seed tobacco grown in Connecticut. Much of the rest of the line is shared with the original Tabernacle: the same filler components and the same four sizes. That means a Mexican San Andrés binder over a blend of Honduran and Nicaraguan fillers, though Melillo has said there is less Honduran tobacco than the original line.”

From Cigar Dojo:
“Havana Seed CT No. 142 is the technical name for the cigar’s wrapper varietal. The number helps to differentiate the exact strain, as there have been many variations of the original Havana seeds (type 52, for example, is used on Drew Estate’s Liga Privada T52), which were brought over to Connecticut from Cuba during the span of 1860 to 1870.

“In this amount of time, the leaves have been cultivated long enough to essentially be considered a unique strain from their Cuban origins; especially considering the modern advancements of hybridizations, where Connecticut Havana seeds were not involved with the creation of varietals such as Havana ’92, Criollo ’98, Corojo ’99, etc. Instead, Connecticut Havana seeds have undergone their own adaptations to the environment, with type 142 being a seed that was hybridized from former Connecticut Havana variations to be resilient to a tobacco disease known as black shank.”

SIZES AND PRICING:
Robusto 5 x 50 $10.75
Corona 5.25 x 46 $9.25
Toro 6 x 52 $11.75
Double Corona 7 x 54 $12.25
Lancero 7 x 40 $12.75

APPEARANCE:
In room light, this is a very dark coffee colored wrapper. In the sunlight, the oils explode providing coppery/orangish/rust colors.
The stick has some monster sized veins running over, under, sideways, down. Seams are fairly tight. The triple cap is a work of art. Very toothy. Feels heavy in the hand.
The cigar is very hard. I remember thinking that a few months of humi time would fix that, but it remains the same.

SMELL THE GLOVE:
Some immediate floral notes plus hot cinnamon…in addition, I smell dark chocolate, mint, strong cedar, barnyard, strong black pepper, earthy aged tobacco, a touch of strawberries, and malt. The spiciness sends me into a quadruple sneezing fit. My eyes are watering and I can’t see. Someone get me a parrot and an eye patch…a wooden leg would be nice too.

The cold draw presents flavors of dark chocolate, malt, cedar, black cherry, citrus, earthy aged tobacco, black pepper, and creamy.

FIRST THIRD:
As hard as the stick is, the draw is just how I like it. My PerfecDraw draw adjustment tool has turned me into a cigar resistance snob. I use it all the time. Just the slightest resistance out of norm, and I’m plunging my poker down the stick’s throat. Takes a few seconds and I get the draw I need.

It’s also a great nubber. I don’t show that often because I find it difficult holding my beast of a camera with one hand while I take close up photos of a cigar. Can’t do it. I will try today. If it’s fuzzy, it’s me, not you…it might be you.

We start off with a blast of black pepper. Strength ain’t kidding around as it seems to hit medium/full almost immediately.

I know this stick has been around for a year and you’ve probably snagged yourself some and have made up your own mind how you feel about the blend. That’s OK. I’m just adding my two cents. Feel free to point out to me where I’m full of shit or where you utterly adore me. Both work for me.

Creamy chocolate pudding arrives with a kick in the arse from the spiciness of the black pepper.
It’s maltier than expected with hints of a good lager. The potential is toot suite on the money as I can tell right away this is going to be a good pick for the second day of 2020. Better than that pre-2020 review of the La Palina Paley’s Vault. What a scam.

There is a deep oily flavor that seems like melted butter. The finish is the first thing to catch my attention. Neither complexity nor transitions have kicked in but that long lingering finish is a great start.

I ran out of batteries for my butt plug so I’m going to do this review sans plug.

The burn is fairly clean. And it is an official slow burner. Packed jam up and jelly tight…this baby will take a good 90-120 minutes to finish.

It’s getting nutty now; like most of you. You know who you are. There is a slight hint of Boston Baked Beans; peanut style. A touch of sweetness surrounding a flaccid peanut element.

I read several reviews from the cigar industry reviewers and this cigar is something of a chameleon. Everyone tastes something new and different. I like that. Most really like the blend. And it is not a limited production of 350 cigars. You can buy it anytime you want. It won’t become a ghost of Christmas past.

One reviewer described bubblegum as a flavor. I don’t taste it but that’s the wonder of the palate.

Very creamy. It’s like lying on your back in the cow stalls while the farmer squirts milk into your mouth via the squeezed teat. The trick is not to be stepped on or peed on.

The difference between the Tabernacle Havana Seed CT #142 and my last review is that this cigar actually tastes like it is stacked with truly aged tobacco. The La Palina tasted like it was stuffed with your kid brother’s dirty socks.

The ash is hanging tough as I approach the second third…do I finagle the thing to make it last so I get the money shot photo of a nice long ash…or do I take the chance of the cigar’s ash falling on to my nuts causing screaming and writhing? I’ll let you know.

Complexity is mild. Transitions are fair to middlin’.

I remember now that Halfwheel actually kept tasting a metallic element. My heart was in my throat reading that.

And then with half an inch to go before the second third, the blend opens up like a beautiful flower. Complexity slams it home. Transitions begin to do a conga line. Nuances begin to form. The balance of savory v. sweet is now apparent.

I get a Teriyaki beef jerky component. Smoky meat…like when you fall into a campfire wearing only your swimming suit. Never happened to me.

The sweetness is comprised of butterscotch, chocolate pudding, malted milk balls, and a sweet vanilla shake.
There is a tangy component that could be anything at this early juncture. It will disrobe and show itself soon.
The complexity is ramping up. Now we’re talking. Some great blends start off with a bang…others have to warm up.

SECOND THIRD:
I am now experiencing black coffee for the first time. The cigar is a champ and allows the ash to hold on without setting my testicles on fire…don’t you hate it when your love walnuts exhibit flames and smoke? I can now safely disengage the ash so as not to cause unintentional screaming.

Construction is top notch. The burn is exemplary. Normally, I can type pretty fast but whenever I get to the word, exemplary, I must slow down and think through it. Just thought I’d throw that in for no reason.

The complex nature of the blend is kicking ass now. Nothing linear about this baby. It continues to grow and breathe.

Unless something radical happens, this will not become a flavor bomb. It is subtle and nuanced with rucksack of interesting flavors…but it is the earthy, aged tobacco that is screaming laughter.

One of my friends in the cigar industry who wants to remain anonymous as he would prefer to keep working in that business told me that there is a lot of lying going on about how aged cigars really are. A lot of bullshit goes on about this matter. Most cigars get the bare minimum of aging while their P.R. tends to differ. What’s a little horseshit between manufacturer and its customer base?
The point is…this cigar reeks of age. Like me.

Now I smoked one of these Tabernacle Havana Seed CT #142’s a couple weeks in and was really disappointed. So, I waited. I am being rewarded. Be patient, always. Try that first stick when you can’t stand it any longer; and then wait.

This blend is a perfect example of the whole being greater than its parts. Smokers who don’t dissect flavor profiles will really dig this cigar. Its balance continues on a path of supreme tranquility and Propofol induced dreaminess.

I’ve always worn boxers. No idea why. This ever happen to you? You’re in the kitchen before anyone is awake; standing in your sleep wear of boxers and tee. You sleepily open a drawer to grab a spoon and you slam that damn drawer not noticing that your schmekel has been released and finds itself squashed like a flat worm in that closed drawer? Your screams waking everyone up and they all come running asking what’s wrong while you find the courage to say, “Nothing.” Me neither.

A sip of water and flavors go bat shit crazy.
I really don’t drink so I have no advice as to what pairing this cigar would be good with. I’d like to start drinking but I’m a wuss who has a cocktail or a beer and then wants to nap 20 minutes later.

We have an odd mixture of creaminess and smokiness. Like dunking your bacon into a cup of vanilla ice cream. That sounds good, actually.

At the halfway point, this blend is belting out: “For a good time, call Doris at 1-877-Blow-Me.”
My anniversary and birthday are coming up so I’m looking forward to my annual sex. This time, I hope it’s with my wife. The cat usually hides for days before these celebrations. I feel bad for the little fucker…he has no nuts.

Smooth. Elegant. Pure balance. I’m digging it.
I reviewed the original Tabernacle 3 years ago and went ape shit over it. I also reviewed the Menelik by Foundation (My #21 for 2019) 3 months ago and doubled up on the ape shit. Nick Melillo has a knack.

Strength is an easy going medium/full. Not a lick of harshness or any over the top issues with it being a strong cigar.

The buttery element has been ever present. It creates a really nice finish.

You ever lose cigars? You swear you didn’t smoke one or more of what you’re looking for but can’t find them in your humidor. And your brother in law has been nowhere near your shit. Like the missing socks in the dryer.

Flavors make a leap…dark chocolate, malt, creaminess, buttery, smoky, sweet things abound, cedar, and black coffee. They have all been nuanced, but now, they are walking the walk.

The Tabernacle Havana Seed CT #142 is a very interesting blend. I’d love to have a box of them. But I never see them on auction. Too soon, I guess. That, and the stick is so popular, they keep selling at their normal price points. No need to bargain basement them.

Ever notice how often you see Oliva cigars on those auction sites? That’s because they are one of three massive companies that control everything.

A new flavor: lemon custard. That was the tanginess hiding from me earlier. I think I can even taste some lime in the mix.

LAST THIRD:
This is one of the most balanced blends I’ve smoked. It’s not earth shattering but it is a work horse. No sudden jolts.
I seem to have bypassed that metallic taste that Halfwheel had to endure.

The Tabernacle Havana Seed CT #142 is a great $10-$12 stick. And you don’t have to run out immediately and buy them because everyone has them.

Sometimes, I will get sucker punched and buy some limited-edition blend that sells out in a month. Meanwhile, I realize that a review 3 months later might be useless. Sometimes, I just don’t think.

Creaminess is the biggest asset this blend possesses. It is near Cuban-like.

Crap. I remove the cigar band and it is so tight that it rips some wrapper. Out comes my PerfecRepair cigar glue from Dr. Rod. Fixes the problem.

Speaking of Dr. Rod Kurthy…this is one funny mother fucker. I hate that he is funnier than me. He sends me videos of him poolside smoking cigars I’ve sent him. Always makes me laugh out loud. I’m trying to convince him that we should do some video reviews together. Still working on that.

This is just a damn lovely blend. Constantly growing in complexity and balance. This cigar fits my palate to a tee.

And dear nephews and nieces, no nicotine poisoning. The strength is inching towards full tilt but remains smooth as Dr. Rod’s tush…yeah, he sends me photos. Sometimes, I think he indulges in too much nitrous oxide from his dental office.

Led Zep’s “Black Dog” is playing. I remember what a bitch it was to learn that song in 1971. Those time signatures were a mind fuck.

Naturally, all I had to do was mention it…nicotine has arrived. I drop my 14lb bowling ball on my foot to resuscitate myself.
Still, the blend surges with flavor. A beautiful set of transitions.

What makes the Tabernacle Havana Seed CT #142 special is that it is a great herf blend. When I get an incredibly complex cigar, I prefer to smoke it alone so I can focus. But with this unique blend, no distracting conversation can distract the purpose of the cigar to entertain and enjoy.

To use your PerfecDraw draw adjustment tool as a roach clip…I mean nubber, you need to insert it just below the cap at a 45-degree angle so it is easier to smoke without the fear of setting your beard on fire.

The spiciness goes from a mild background flavor to an upfront experience. Some real oomph.

This was a fun review for me. A great cigar. No, I’m not all that entertaining when I like what I’m reviewing; but I prefer a good cigar to a piece of shit I can rail against.
The cigar ends without a lick of harshness or bitterness. A real champ.
Get some.

RATING: 93

And now for something completely different:

Yes, I plan on continuing my stories about my illicit drug use when I was a young man.

It was the first time I took acid. 1973. I was 23.
A good friend, and band mate Mike Cook, now passed (prostate cancer), came over with some blotter and we decided to make the day of it.
Two friends and I had rented a house in Santa Ana, Ca. They were gone for the day…so just me and Mike.

We had recently moved into the house less than a month earlier. And while putting the very first thing into the rented moving truck, I had an accident and broke my wrist. My 10-speed bike I’d had from the age of 13 did me in.

I took a flying leap trying to drive the bike up the ramp and just as I got to the top, I ran out of steam and fell sideways to the ground, four feet below. My feet were in the rat traps so the only thing I could use to break my fall was my right arm. Snap!

A whole bunch of friends had accepted our invitation to help all us move from our 3 different abodes.
I walked back into the apartment where everyone was drinking and smoking joints and I said, “I think I broke my arm.”

My oldest buddy, Skip, grabbed it…looked at it and said I was fine. He now makes antibiotics for farm animals.

That day was horrendous. It ended up being a 15 hour move. And to make things much worse, no one knew how to drive a stick on that big truck but me. The stick seemed like it was 6 feet tall. And each time I had to use it, I screamed out in pain.

On the way back from Riverside (where the third friend was moving from), one of the guys said he would drive the truck. Why he let me drive that whole time in so much pain is beyond me.

Mike and I were in the back with the door closed. It was pitch black. And the pain was making me crazy. It had now been 12 hours since I heard my wrist snap.
Mike told me to take a hit of hash, which I did. Then the pain went from 0-60 in 4.4 seconds.

That night, we partied in the new place and everyone had to put their two cents in by grabbing my arm, while I screamed, and told me I was OK.
Two days later, on Monday, I went to an orthopod and all he did was look at it as he passed me in the hall and told me it was broken. But an X-ray was in order.

Anyway, back to the acid story.
Mike handed me the little piece of blotter paper and we sat on the living room floor and listened to records and read our Hippie counterculture comics. The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers remain supreme.

45 minutes later, the acid hit me. Whoa. You cannot explain what taking acid is like to someone who has never taken it. Like Jimi said, “Are You Experienced?”

Mike got real paranoid and did a lot of stupid things.
Two things stand out in my memory.

The first being that Mike told me he was worried that I would hit myself in the head with my cast and split my head in two. So, he spent a lot of time holding my arm to make sure that didn’t happen. I kept saying, “OW!”…a lot.

The second was that a song came on the radio called “Frankenstein” by the Edgar Winter Band. It was an instrumental. A synthesizer part came on and we began to freak so Mike yelled at me to turn the radio off.
I crawled over to the radio and it might as well have been the dashboard on the NASA shuttle. I had no idea how to do anything. All those knobs confused me so we had to leave it on.

That evening, friends stopped by and one took me for a ride in his new sports car. I was still frying and he knew it so he drove like a maniac scaring the shit out of me.
That’s the nice thing about friends. They are always there to take advantage of your situation.

Late that night, the stuff wore off and the hallucinations stopped. I was a limp noodle.
I took it another time when we went to Disneyland. That was a huge mistake. Standing in those long lines; frying. It felt like everyone in line knew what was going on.

And the third, and last time, I took acid was on my 25th birthday in London. It was the perfect trip and around a dozen or so of my musical friends took it with me. It was a great night and I made the decision to never take it again. Go out on a good experience.

In the early 70’s, we dabbled with hallucinogenics. I did peyote a couple of times but I’m not a fan of vomiting so that had a short shelf life for me. Now, I did like Psilocybin…magic mushrooms.

We’d go out to Skip’s family cabin in Yucca Valley (not far from Palm Springs) and we’d spend the weekend with friends partying.

My favorite memory from that time is when we downed the mushrooms and hung out in the night air. There were cots lined up outside. Big sky in the high desert. No clouds. Just a gorgeous sky of brilliant stars.
I’d lay on the cot and was not able to see anything in my peripheral vision except sky. Within moments, it felt like I was flying to the moon. I was a space traveler. Freaky experience.
Now I take cholesterol meds.

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