Wrapper: Nicaraguan Habano Oscuro
Binder: Nicaraguan
Filler: Nicaraguan
Size: 6 x 52 Toro Box Pressed
Strength: Full
Price: $10.50

Today we take a look at the Talavera Edicion Exclusiva Second Edition.
This is an Atlantic Cigar exclusive.
Thanks to my cigar Yoda, Charles Lim, for finding this cigar for me.

BACKGROUND:
Blended by AJ Fernandez and Atlantic Cigar.
1000 jars of 10 cigars each released.
From Atlantic Cigar:
“Talavera “Edición Exclusiva” is a tribute to the celebration of the fine art and history of cigar making. From selecting the finest tobaccos, commissioning the finest cigar makers, and blending this special release, each and every Talavera “Edición Exclusiva’’ cigar has been meticulously produced.

“Talavera “Edición Exclusiva” was first released back in 2015 with an extremely limited supply, only 500 jars were produced and sold out almost instantly. Talavera “Edición Exclusiva” is not a cigar that can be mass produced. Only the finest tobacco cultivated and grown deserve to be called a Talavera “Edición Exclusiva”. For this second release only 1,000 jars can be produced and will be released in a four-part allocation of 250 jars at a time.

“The second edition of Talavera “Edición Exclusiva” will be available in two sizes. Both box-pressed formats, wrapped in a hand-selected high priming Nicaraguan Habano Oscuro wrapper, with a Nicaraguan Habano binder which encloses a core of specially selected proprietary Nicaraguan fillers. This rendition of the Talavera “Edición Exclusiva” comes packaged in classic Cuban silver foil paper and without bands. These cigars are rolled and wet-packed like many Cuban brands, as they will continue to develop and change over time, making the ceramic jar a perfect aging vessel.”

SIZES AND PRICING:
Gordo 6 x 58 $11.50
Toro 6 x 52 $10.50

APPEARANCE:
Not a bad looking stick. An espresso colored wrapper in room light…In sunlight, it glistens with oils on its mottled, reddish/brown wrapper.

Seams are visible but mostly tight. Minimal veinage. I believe it’s a triple cap but hard to tell as the seams are nearly invisible. This is a stocky cigar filled to the brim. Not much resistance; but it smoked without interference the first time I smoked one. The box press is not crisp…but close enough for jazz.

SMELL THE GLOVE:
Some lovely chocolate covered caramel hits the schnoz first. A faint floral note, sweetness that seems to be dried fruit and black licorice…black pepper, green chile, nuttiness, cedar, and honey.

The cold draw presents flavors of chocolate, raisins, caramel, malt, licorice, dried fruit, lots of black pepper, cedar, and honey.

FIRST THIRD:
Despite the cigar being fully packed, the draw resistance is perfect for me. I put away my PerfecDraw draw adjustment tool for my next cigar.

I’m going to start with telling you that the enormous amount of black pepper is causing a sneezing fit before I light the cigar. Now, my sinuses are clogged. I gargle with a cyanide and SARS virus cocktail and I’m good to go…this works great if you get Corona Virus.

Yesterday’s stick spent the first entire inch with a blasting cap full of black pepper so intense…I thought I was going to chuck the cigar. It mellowed out before I pussied out.

And like a ton of bricks falling on your testes, the black pepper attacks with extreme prejudice. Wow. My eyes are watering like those bad days I spent on D Block in Quentin.

The draw is on the money. There is some creaminess and nice nuttiness behind the curtain of spiciness. It is impossible to tell the strength through the barrage of pepper.

Ahh…”My Sharona” by The Knack. Who didn’t love that song in 1979? Raise your hand if you were still a teen back then…OK…put them down, you’re stinking the place up. If you were still a sperm, raise your undescended testicles.

The burn ain’t so hot. My Curse of the Box Press is present and accounted for.

Man, I dig a spicy meatball, but this sucker is blinding me and slipping me a roofie.
Please, baby Jesus, let me get through this without pissing myself. (The cigar improves immensely later…but this is a real test of my miniscule manhood).
Miraculously, the off kilter burn self-corrects. Thank you, baby Moses.

I’ve traversed the first inch without too much scathing pepper throat…although, my eyes continue to water.
Strength is medium.

The PR says this is a special proprietary tobacco filled cigar. Very limited and cannot be mass produced. This is usually code for they found some tobacco in a farm that had been stored and forgotten. Just spit ballin’ here.

Flavors aren’t as good as its smell. Not bad but Atlantic does say that the cigars are ‘wet-packed” when they are put into those ceramic jars to mimic some old-fashioned Cuban techniques. This usually means the aging is up to you. But since they decline to say the actual age of the tobacco, I’m guessing they don’t know how old, or young, it is.

Creaminess, cedar, malt, espresso, slightly earthy, Cheerios, and black pepper.
Just like that, we hit medium/full. The journey to the center of the earth begins.

There is a touch of complexity rearing its head. Transitions are non-existent. The finish is all pepper.

I could find not a single review of this cigar. Plus, I have no idea when the 1000 boxes were released. Obviously, it was sometime in 2019. I found two reviews of the original 2015 version by Pepin Garcia…so, can’t compare the sticks based on those reviews.

“Sweet Jane” by Lou Reed is playing. Can’t touch that. Any time I go into a music shop, I grab a bass and play the opening bass line to “Walk on the Wild Side.” Never fails…always get a few guys come up to me and ask how I played that; as on the record, they used two bassists; one on bass guitar and one on upright bass.

At the moment, it is all savory and no sweetness factors. But sneakily, a tart/sweet dried fruit shows up that is more than welcome. I can only think of dried apricot.
This seems to kick start a nice chocolatey creaminess.

SECOND THIRD:
Without any other reviews available or much info on this blend, I must conjugate and deliberate that these cigars are designed for extensive humidor time. A year from now, everything could change…but by then, there would be none for sale. This may be more of a ‘potential’ review than an actual recreation of the blender’s intent.

Apparently, the 2015 version sold like pancakes. But again, they were blended by Garcia, not AJ.

The stick is calming down now. The spiciness is in fall back mode. It allows the blender’s flavors to come forth. It is 75% savory and 25% sweet. For me, the balance should be better based on what I like. I’m partial to an even balance. While plenty of you dear readers dig the hell out of a savory-only stick.

The burn is hanging tough.
I get the feeling that this is a better cigar than I’m experiencing. Since no instructions are given on its readiness to smoke, I had to guess. I’m swimming in a morass of confusion.
Yet, the cigar’s flavor profile continues to improve in small increments. My gut tells me that this may be a very good blend.

Know what cracks me up? This is an Atlantic Cigar only release. Yet, they post the supposed MSRP of $13.25 per stick. If you are the only one selling the cigar, please explain that bullshit to me. Of course, we cannot forget the cigars come in a fancy ceramic jar. No idea what that does to the cost of the cigars.

Technically, for almost $4 more, you can buy the Casdagli Daughters of the Wind Pony Express I reviewed yesterday. That was a perfect cigar stem to stern.

Strength is now full tilt and the nicotine pours in like a coal chute.
Newbies….Run!
Wow. This baby went from slightly potent to man killer in seconds.
I am now concerned about whether I can get through to the end without screaming for my mommy.

It’s a slow burner. Time slows to a crawl. My eyes water, my nose is running, and my frontal cortex is doing the Macarena.

I’m still a little bummed that this may be designed to be strictly savory. I read the reviews for the 2015 version and they described a nice balance, which is missing for me…again, strictly my tastes and by no means a diss on the blend.

Creaminess is the most prevalent behavior. Any sweetness has disappeared. The Habano Oscuro wrapper should be in play but I believe the guts of the cigar are overwhelming its properties.

I’m at the halfway point. The flavor profile has been linear. No side journeys.
The complexity has not changed from its initial impression. No transitions.
The construction has been pretty good. The burn is giving no angst.

I stare at my laptop screen and its fuzzy.
I fear the last third will take my life.
But then I’ve lived a semi-fruitful life. Only 6200 regrets.

Little dots and splashes of sweetness appear. The apricot, chocolate raisins, and licorice are struggling.

I hit the floor and do 1-1/2 pushups. I’m good now.

At $11 a stick, I’m flummoxed on whether to recommend this cigar. For that price, you can buy a great Southern Draw or Isabela.
Then there is a calm in the middle of the storm. The strength mellows some. The nicotine relents.

LAST THIRD:
I’d like to be cremated and my ashes spread on the shores of Lake Michigan…right where the beach meets the 12,000 plastic bottles.

Sips of water manage to soothe the back of my pepperized throat. But doesn’t release a mélange of flavors.

The screen remains fuzzy as I realize I’m weeping like I do after sex with Charlotte.

I think I get it why no one is reviewing this cigar. Everyone is waiting for the cigar to calm the fuck down.

Joint ventures between online cigar shops and blenders always gives me reason for pause. They go in with the best intentions. But to be honest, most aren’t that great.

Either I will kick start more reviews…or I will be it.

Luckily, the nicotine assault doesn’t get worse. But to be safe, I keep checking my blood pressure. 220/145 is normal, right? I gotta look this up.

A linear experience is not my favorite type of cigar. Transitions are extremely important to my journey. When they get lost in the ether, the cigar seems flat and uninteresting.
At this point, I must question whether I’m smoking the stick too early…or is this the planned experience?

I have more than an inch to go but I’m done.
You are on your recognizance as far as purchasing this cigar from Atlantic Cigar. If you do, stick it in your humidor for a year before smoking; unless you like what I’ve described.

RATING: 81

And now for something completely different:
1975

We were in Amsterdam looking for hash because the Paradiso Club was closed on Mondays. Damn! The band’s American lyricist….(A very nice older lady of 40..ha-ha) told us where her connection was. She gave us a map. Yes, she traveled with the band. Her name was Norma. She died an untimely death from cancer. Sweet woman. And my only other Jewish comrade in London.

Stewart Copeland (The Police) and I took off on our journey. The city is peppered with canals in which they are used for both travel and are also lined with thousands of house boats.

You could always tell where to buy weed because the houseboat had it growing on its roof. A not very subtle advertising gimmick. But you didn’t know its quality; so, you took your chances. And even though we were all on the management payroll and “rock stars,” we were still relatively poor. Magical management accounting ledgers.

The map got us hopelessly lost. And we started knocking on doors of houseboats asking for directions. One boat invited us in and we were shocked at what we saw.

An American man, garbed like a feudal king, was sitting on an honest to God regal throne. Gathered at his feet, were half a dozen young boys in their underwear. The décor was an homage to Liberace. He kindly gave us the right directions (as we would find out) and then we did a Three Stooges shtick of trying to get out the door.

We got to the right boat. Stew knocked on the door. I impressed on Stew that he should knock instead of just announcing we were there. But nobody told Stew anything. And Stew was a big guy; so, he had a false sense of power. We were young.

The door opened, a fist was thrown into Stew’s face, and he crumpled like a cheap suit. I charged the big, burly man and cold cocked him with one punch to the neck.
I stepped over the slumped body and walked over to a big desk. On top was a chunk of hashish the size of a dinner plate and about 2” thick. I broke off a piece, put some Guilders down to pay for it and helped get Stew up.

The boat owner was still out cold. We ignored him and left. Fortunately, all of us were Americans so we chose to smoke our hash in a pipe instead of that stupid method all Europeans used; they got two rolling papers laid end to end overlapping. They broke up one or two cigarettes and sprinkled the tobacco inside the rolling paper. They then heated and crumbled the hash; then sprinkled it on to the tobacco. A piece of match book was used and rolled into a tube and placed at one end of the unrolled concoction. The whole thing was then rolled into a long joint, with a cardboard mouthpiece.

Neither of us smoked cigarettes and that method gave us the spins. So, a pipe was the way to go. At parties, we offered our pipe to the Europeans and they whined that smoking it that way got them too high. Pussies. We laughed and lit the pipe.

I got to go to a lot of cool parties now that I was someone…or so I thought. Every bloody wanker in England smoked cigarettes. Well…I didn’t. I would get dozens of offers of a fag during the length of a party til I wanted to hang myself…so I started carrying an unlit cigarette in my hand so, when I was offered, I would just hold up my hand and they went away.

The unconscious guy had a roommate and he showed up as we were leaving the boat. He apologized for his friend and offered us a ride in his dinghy back to our hotel. We said of course.

The boat was the same size as the one Tom Hanks used in the movie, “Splash.”

The canal was rough from all the tourist boats. We bobbed up and down and swished from side to side. We thought we were going to die.
We got back to the hotel totally seasick. We handed the hash to the other band members and Stew and I retired to our rooms to lay down.

We hunted down cannabis, discovered an old perv, got into a fight, almost drowned in the canal, and made it back to civilization without being killed. Just a typical day of being on the road.

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